TORAH TALK
Vayeshev: Genesis 37:1-40:23
Bring Some Light into the Darkness
Vayeshev: Genesis 37:1-40:23
Bring Some Light into the Darkness
Years ago a former congregant was seriously ill and facing surgery she did not know if she would survive. When I visited her in the hospital she was very agitated and fixated on a promise her mother extracted from her on her deathbed. Shelley was beside herself because she believed that she had not fulfilled her promise to her mother, and here she was facing her own mortality, worrying that she might die with the promise unfulfilled. There was nearly no comforting her, except to help her imagine the peace of mind she had given her own mother about whatever fears and concerns had agitated her as she was dying.
Such a scene is not uncommon but it is fraught with peril. What a dying person says and what their loved ones “promise” in the face of death can be haunting and remain unresolved. Perhaps the dying person has all their faculties and is coherent and cogent in their requests and bequests, but perhaps not. Either way, the family member left alive cannot seek to verify or clarify after the fact once the person is gone.
I recalled this interaction this week while reading Parashat Vayehi. The final parasha of Genesis brings the age of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs to a close in a dramatic deathbed scene. It paints a picture of Jacob having called together his children before his death, elicited an oath from Joseph to bury him alongside Abraham and Isaac in the Cave of Mahpelah, blessed his grandsons Ephraim and Menashe, and issued a last will and testament for his sons.
It is the only deathbed scene recorded in the whole of the Torah, and there is extraordinary detail offered. Jacob knows he will die on foreign soil and is very concerned about being buried in the ancestral grave. No one is to be buried in Egypt, so Jacob’s request is bound up with the divine promise of redemption and nationhood in Israel.
The Testament of Jacob brings together three distinct narratives. The patriarchal promise of Abraham is to be fulfilled by the twelve tribes of Israel; the Jacob narrative which began with divine assurance of numerous descendants, now ends with children and grandchildren around him; and finally, the narratives of Joseph and Judah that have been intertwined for nearly ten chapters, dominate the poem, foreshadowing the interrelationship between the historic kingdoms of Joseph and Judah that will emerge.
Several rabbinic interpretations point to Jacob’s desire to tell his sons what will happen to them in their lives. The will, however, is filled with curses and blessings, censure and praise, not to mention the historic and geographic observations that foreshadow the future. The midrashim imagine that the sons tell their father they are unified, they are a family, and their father has nothing to fear. The biblical text as well carries the imprint of desired shalom bayit—peace in the home—for immediately after Jacob’s death, the brothers send a message to Joseph that Jacob had hoped there would be reconciliation and forgiveness between Joseph and his brothers. No such conversation is recorded in the text itself, but it moves Joseph to tears.
If we are lucky enough to share any final thoughts with those we love before they—or we—leave this life, let them not set us up to fail. Let them be reflective of how we lived our lives, our loves, our values, our passions, and our hopes for a future we will not get to see. Instead, let the words be those of reconciliation, forgiveness, love, and gratitude that will strengthen us, and those whom we leave behind, forever.
Listen: Who Tells Your Story (Hamilton Mixtape, feat. Common & Ingrid Michaelson)
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yael Ridberg
Such a scene is not uncommon but it is fraught with peril. What a dying person says and what their loved ones “promise” in the face of death can be haunting and remain unresolved. Perhaps the dying person has all their faculties and is coherent and cogent in their requests and bequests, but perhaps not. Either way, the family member left alive cannot seek to verify or clarify after the fact once the person is gone.
I recalled this interaction this week while reading Parashat Vayehi. The final parasha of Genesis brings the age of the Patriarchs and Matriarchs to a close in a dramatic deathbed scene. It paints a picture of Jacob having called together his children before his death, elicited an oath from Joseph to bury him alongside Abraham and Isaac in the Cave of Mahpelah, blessed his grandsons Ephraim and Menashe, and issued a last will and testament for his sons.
It is the only deathbed scene recorded in the whole of the Torah, and there is extraordinary detail offered. Jacob knows he will die on foreign soil and is very concerned about being buried in the ancestral grave. No one is to be buried in Egypt, so Jacob’s request is bound up with the divine promise of redemption and nationhood in Israel.
The Testament of Jacob brings together three distinct narratives. The patriarchal promise of Abraham is to be fulfilled by the twelve tribes of Israel; the Jacob narrative which began with divine assurance of numerous descendants, now ends with children and grandchildren around him; and finally, the narratives of Joseph and Judah that have been intertwined for nearly ten chapters, dominate the poem, foreshadowing the interrelationship between the historic kingdoms of Joseph and Judah that will emerge.
Several rabbinic interpretations point to Jacob’s desire to tell his sons what will happen to them in their lives. The will, however, is filled with curses and blessings, censure and praise, not to mention the historic and geographic observations that foreshadow the future. The midrashim imagine that the sons tell their father they are unified, they are a family, and their father has nothing to fear. The biblical text as well carries the imprint of desired shalom bayit—peace in the home—for immediately after Jacob’s death, the brothers send a message to Joseph that Jacob had hoped there would be reconciliation and forgiveness between Joseph and his brothers. No such conversation is recorded in the text itself, but it moves Joseph to tears.
If we are lucky enough to share any final thoughts with those we love before they—or we—leave this life, let them not set us up to fail. Let them be reflective of how we lived our lives, our loves, our values, our passions, and our hopes for a future we will not get to see. Instead, let the words be those of reconciliation, forgiveness, love, and gratitude that will strengthen us, and those whom we leave behind, forever.
Listen: Who Tells Your Story (Hamilton Mixtape, feat. Common & Ingrid Michaelson)
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yael Ridberg