Saturday, January 7, 2012

Parashat Va'Yechi


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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