This week’s portion – Va’Yechi (literally, “and he lived,”
as in “and Ya’akov lived in the Land of Egypt for 17 years”) – is the last
portion in the Book of Genesis. Thus,
we celebrate a new “first” today: We are about to end, for the first time in
our cycle, the reading of one of the Five Books of Moshe. And this time we
conclude the first of these books – probably the most significant of the entire
canon. It is only fitting, therefore,
that this week’s Portion is a portion full of endings: Thus, for example, both
Ya’akov, the last of Judaism’s three “Founding Fathers,” and Yoseph, his most
famous and beloved son, end their lives in this portion. In addition, as we are about to learn in the
next Portion, a new king is about to take office in Egypt, a king who “did not
know of Yoseph”; put differently, the era in which Yoseph – the Jewish
foreigner – was the most influential person in all of Egypt has also come to an
end. Add to that this week’s Haftara as well, and you would learn about the end
of King David’s life – the end of arguably the greatest king we have ever
had.
The very fact that three of Judaism’s greatest legends end
their lives in the course of only one portion – and the very last portion of
Genesis at that – is not coincidental. Rather, it sends us a clear message on
the issue of life ending in general; but it also tells us something quite
unique about new beginnings. In my post
today I would like to shed some light on these two complimentary – though
sometimes considered contradictory – issues, demonstrating the powerful notion
that “every end is also a new beginning.”
I. Every End….
The end of one’s life may often be used as an opportunity
for reflection. Some people like to
depart this world with an act symbolizing the true meaning of their life.
Others would like to leave behind something defining their legacy. Still others
would like to be remembered by “famous last words.” Let us examine for a moment
how two of our greatest protagonists, Ya’akov and Yoseph, chose to end their lives.
We begin with Ya’akov.
At the center of today’s portion is Ya’akov’s blessings, given to each
of his twelve sons – who later became the Twelve Tribes of Israel. These blessings are extremely complex in
content and meaning, and I cannot dwell on their meaning here; suffice it to
suggest that Ya’akov opens his last address with the following cryptic
words: “Gather ‘round and I shall tell
you what will happen to you at the end of days.” (Gen. 49:1)
But in a wider sense, how does Ya’akov choose to actually
end his life? To me at least, the answer is very interesting: He chooses to
depart this world in the exact same way that his father did. Indeed, the
similarities between Ya’akov’s end-of-life story and that of Yitzchak’s are
striking. Both men, the biblical text
informs us, could hardly see at the end of their days (compare Gen. 48:10 (“And
the eyes of Israel were heavy of old age”) with 27:1 (“And Yitzchak turned old,
and his eyes became too dark too see”)); both question the identity of their descendants
standing before them for blessings (compare Gen. 27:18 (Yitzchak’s question to
Ya’akov: “Who are you my son?”) with 48:8 (“And Israel saw the sons of Yoseph,
and he asked: ‘who are these people?’”)); both first bless the younger rather
than the older, despite the explicit law to the contrary (compare Gen. 48:14
(Israel blesses Ephrayim first, although he is the younger of the two), with
27:28 (Yitzchak blesses Ya’akov first, though he is the younger twin)); and,
most strikingly, both refuse to renege on their wrongful blessings once
notified of their error (compare Gen. 48:19 (Ya’akov refuses to recognize his
mistake), with 27:38 (Yitzchak refuses to recognize his)).
The end of Ya’akov’s life, therefore, can be seen as an act
of unification with his father – “Ma’assei Avot, Siman Le’vanim” – the “deeds
of the fathers are signs for their sons.” (Midrash Tan’chuma, Lech Lecha,
9). To make this symbolic gesture even
more concrete, Ya’akov insists that he would be buried right next to his father
– at the famous site bought by his grandfather Avraham many years prior. His last wish fulfilled by his sons, Ya’akov
arrives at his final resting place where he is forever united with his father
and grandfather.
The end of Yoseph’s life, in contrast, is almost
diametrically opposed. Instead of uniting with his family, Yoseph’s main
concern is with himself. Instead of thinking of his fathers’ legacy, Yoseph is
more concerned about his own. Recall that as a child, Yoseph had a dream (two,
in fact) where his brothers bowed to him as if they were his servants. The brothers, obviously, hated him for that.
Near the end of his life, however, this dream comes true. This week’s Portion
tells us how:
Now that Ya’akov, the patriarch, is dead, the brothers
became fearful that their younger brother will “hate us and finally revenge all
the evil things we have done to him.” (Gen. 50:15) In attempt to prevent such a measure by Yoseph, the brothers – in
their final act of trickery and deceit towards their brother – concoct a
hypothetical “last will and testament” ordered by their joint father, according
to which Ya’akov ordered that Yoseph would forgive his brothers for all their
evil doings. (Gen. 50: 16-17) Yoseph, who probably knows they are lying (surely
his father would have told him of such a request), not only forgives them, but
bursts again into tears. (Recall the dramatic settings at the beginning of the
previous portion, where Yoseph orders all the servants and advisors out of the
room only to immediately burst into tears in front of his shocked brothers,
followed by his confession that he is their lost sibling.). He then reassures them that no harm would
befall on them. Hearing that, the brothers actually “fall [on their knees]
before Yoseph” and say: “We are your servants.” (Gen. 50:18) Thus, the young boy’s dream becomes true on
the eve of his death.
And by that last act Yoseph parts this world. On the one
hand, he has all his dreams fulfilled; on the other, he leaves no meaningful
legacy. And Ya’akov? His days on this
earth, according to his own testimony, were “short in number, and full of
sorrow”; yet his legacy lives on to this day, as one of the greatest of in all
of Judaism. Indeed, to this day we are all the People of Israel – the sons of
Ya’akov.
The Portion may be sending us a message here. While we
cannot control the way we come into this world we may very well attempt to
choose the way in which we part it. We may choose to think only about
ourselves. We may also choose to think about our descendants and of our loved
ones. In any event, the choice is ours and no one else’s to make.
II. ... Is Also a New Beginning
Other than a reflection on endings, Genesis’ last portion
may also offer a lesson in new beginnings. True, in order to fully comprehend
that lesson one must turn the pages and continue to read the first chapter of
Exodus. Still, in this case the game is worth the candle.
In Exodus 1:6-8, we find the following very succinct but
beautiful description: “And Yoseph has passed, and so did his brothers, and so
did that entire generation . . . And a new king rose over Egypt, and he did not know Yoseph.” The notion that Yoseph, the most significant
figure in Egypt (and the region) for nearly 80 years was not known by the new ruler gives us pause; yet at the same time it
sounds extremely familiar. Just like
every president (all over the world, not just here in the U.S.) wishes to
distance himself as much as possible from his predecessor, so does the new Pharaoh;
he simply refuses to be defined by the legend of his famous predecessor and his
right-hand Yoseph.
But in a deeper sense, the separation from Yoseph and his
generation – in essence, the separation from Genesis – is necessary to
understand the story of Exodus. Indeed
the book of Genesis is unique in many respects, not the least of which is the
fact that all the key figures – local and domestic, plebes as well as kings –
recognize the power of Abraham’s God (and therefore, to an extent at least,
also believe in Him). This is true, to be sure, for Yoseph’s Pharaoh as well –
who recognized time and again the power of Yoseph’s God. But this is not the
case when we examine the remaining four books of the Chumash (or the other 23,
for that matter, of the entire Tanach).
Here we find people – and kings – who simply refuse to acknowledge Our
God’s powers and presence.
But “Mai’Az Yatza Ma’tok” from the unfortunate came the
sweetest of all (Judges 14:14): As a
people, we needed someone like Pharaoh who refuses to believe in our God so we
can leave Egypt and re-settle in the Promised Land. In a sense, therefore, we
needed someone who “did not know Yoseph” in order to really escape Yoseph’s
land. And thus, Yoseph’s end truly
marks a new beginning for us – the beginning of an independent People of
Israel.
Shabat Shalom,
Doron
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