Introduction to Parashat Hashavua
Yeshivat Har Etzion

Parashat VaYechi – Ya'acov's Death

By Rav Michael Hattin

INTRODUCTION

Parashat VaYechi constitutes the concluding section of Sefer Bereishit and the final chapter in the saga of Yosef and his brothers. Now nearing the end of his life, father Ya'acov finally achieves repose and peace of mind. Comfortably settled with his reunited children among the verdant marshes of Goshen, Ya'acov and his extended family enjoy both political protection as well as material largesse that are extended by the god king himself, through the loyal agency of none other than Yosef his beloved son. Yosef had been but a lad of seventeen when the evil machinations of the brothers had cruelly wrenched him from his father's embrace. For twenty-two years doting father and favorite son were painfully separated, the former convinced that Yosef had been torn and consumed by vicious beasts, the latter never entirely certain whether in fact Ya'acov his father had not come to be convinced by the other brothers that the family dynamic was more healthy in his absence.

In the end, Divine providence orchestrated events with remarkable precision that, like most expressions of God's involvement in the arena of human affairs, is more obvious in retrospect. Famine forced the brothers down to Egypt to unknowingly cross paths once again with their estranged but now all-powerful brother. Recrimination was followed eventually by reconciliation and at long last, Ya'acov and his entire household descended to Egypt. Overjoyed at the prospect of being reunited with Yosef, Ya'acov's tired and broken spirit was revitalized, but that personal exuberance was tempered by the unsettling prospect of Israel leaving Canaan's hallowed earth behind for what Ya'acov suspected would amount to a sojourn of centuries on foreign soil. As their laden wagons paused for the night at the southern gateway of Be'er Sheva, God reassured the sleeping patriarch (much as He had at Beit El so many years earlier) that He would be with him and would one day return him and his descendents to their land (46:1-4). Fortified by the vision, Ya'acov continued his descent to Egypt.

The final seventeen years of Ya'acov's life were thus spent in Egypt, neatly closing the circle of the saga of separation that had all started when Yosef was seventeen years old. Fittingly, it is the narratives of father and son and extended family, torn apart and then brought back together, that conclude the parashiyot of Sefer Bereishit.

A UNIQUE GRAPHIC FEATURE

Ya'acov dwelt in the land of Egypt for seventeen years. The days of Ya'acov – the years of his life – were one hundred and forty-seven. The day of Ya'acov's death drew near…(47:28).

Although the opening verse of Parashat VaYechi does not strike us as out of the ordinary insofar as content is concerned, it does nevertheless incorporate a rather unique graphic feature. Every other parasha in the Torah begins as a new section, separated from the parasha that preceded it by a visual break in the text. But Parashat VaYechi begins graphically as the unbroken continuation of Parashat VaYigash. The final verses of Parashat VaYigash are cohesively joined to the opening verses of Parashat VaYechi:

Israel dwelt in the land of Egypt in the region of Goshen, and they established themselves in it, and they were fruitful and multiplied exceedingly. Ya'acov dwelt in the land of Egypt for seventeen years. The days of Ya'acov – the years of his life – were one hundred and forty-seven. The day of Ya'acov's death drew near…(47:27-28).

In the system that is employed in the Torah scroll to separate text into smaller sections, breaks in the text are referred to as either "open"/"petucha" or else "closed"/"setuma." An "open" parasha means that the sections are separated by a line that is left blank. In other words, where the text of the previous paragraph concludes, the remainder of the line is left empty and the new paragraph begins only on the next line. A "closed" parasha, on the other hand, is separated from the preceding section by a space in the text, but the new paragraph begins on the same line. Generally speaking, the thematic pause afforded by the "parasha petucha" is greater than that afforded by the "parasha setuma." Additionally, in the Torah scroll itself, verses may be regarded as separate sentences, but are not numbered. But there is neither a parasha petucha nor a parasha setuma that separates the end of Parashat VaYigash from the beginning of Parashat VaYechi, indicating that the Torah scroll treats both parashiyot as one continuous narrative.

CHAPTER AND VERSE

It should be noted that this system of organizing the text of the Torah into smaller sections by employing the parasha petucha and the parasha setuma has absolutely no connection to what we refer to today as "chapter and verse." The more familiar division of the text of the Hebrew Bible into chapter and verse receives its final form relatively late and is actually not the product of Jewish tradition. It was Jerome, a prominent fourth-century Church father responsible for translating the Hebrew Bible, Apocrypha, and 'New Testament' into Latin, who first introduced the basis of the now universally accepted system of numbered chapters and verses. His translation, undertaken for the benefit of the common people, was known as the Vulgate (from the Latin 'vulgata' or 'popular'), and became the official Scriptures of the Roman Catholic Church. Stephen Langton, a 13^th century English cardinal and later the Archbishop of Canterbury, refined Jerome's work by dividing the 'Old Testament' books of the Vulgate into the chapters and verses as we now know them. Ironically, the impetus for his work was the desire to facilitate disputations of the Scriptures with the Jews, by introducing a more uniform method for citing references. In any case, these divisions into chapter and verse were accepted by all subsequent translations and, with the invention of the printing press, eventually found their way into the printed Hebrew editions as well.

Often, Jerome's divisions are at odds with the traditional Jewish separations of the Biblical text. A local example may be provided by the opening of Chapter 47 of Bereishit that begins with Yosef announcing to Pharaoh that his father and brothers have arrived with their flocks and have settled in the land of Goshen. Yosef then proceeds to present five of his brothers to Pharaoh, who respond to the king that the family has from time immemorial been occupied with the herding of sheep:

Yosef arrived and said to Pharaoh: "my father and my brothers, their sheep, their cattle and all of their possessions have arrived from the land of Canaan and they are in the land of Goshen." He took five from among his brothers and presented them to Pharaoh. Pharaoh said to his brothers: "what are your occupations?" and they responded to Pharaoh "your servants are herders of sheep, both us as well as our ancestors." They further said to Pharaoh: "we have come to sojourn in the land for there is no forage for your servants' sheep because the famine in the land of Canaan is severe. Now, please allow your servants to dwell in the land of Goshen…(47:1-4).

In the Torah scroll, however, the above section is not regarded as a new paragraph but is joined to the end of Chapter 46, where Yosef greets his arriving family and immediately advises his brothers to emphasize their shepherding heritage. This is in order that they might be permitted to dwell in the land of Goshen far from the Egyptian centers, where sheep (the bane of agriculturalists everywhere) are regarded as anathema. In other words, where Langton has divided the story of the brothers' arrival into two sections – the one describing their meeting with Yosef, the other their audience with Pharaoh – the Torah scroll has but one. It should be noted that some of the modern Jewish translations of the Hebrew Bible (such as the 'Jerusalem Bible' by Koren Publishers, Jerusalem, 1992) have attempted to remedy the situation by incorporating the traditional divisions into their translated text.

THE MIDRASHIC READING

It is important to realize that sometimes, the text's internal divisions may be critical tools in assisting us to evaluate its intent. After all, a verse does not stand only by itself, but must be understood as part of the larger context. The interpretation of a passage may hinge upon how it is connected to the verses that precede and follow it. How then to understand the lack of any break at the opening of Parashat VaYechi?

The verse states that "Ya'acov dwelt." Why is this section more closed (and joined graphically to what precedes it) than any other section of the Torah? It was because at the time of Ya'acov's demise, the minds and hearts of Israel were closed on account of the pain of the oppression, for they started to oppress them…(Rashi, 11^th century, France based upon Midrash Rabbah 96:1).

The above Midrash addresses our issue by suggesting that at the time of Ya'acov's death, the oppression and servitude began. Israel was enslaved by the Egyptians, and their hearts and minds were now robbed of any nobler dreams by the imposition of bondage. Apathy took the place of hopefulness, numbing routine replaced conviction, and the intellectual horizons of the Israelites – so refreshingly broadened by the experience of Egyptian life along the banks of the sapphire-blue river – were suddenly truncated and confined. Now, with all of the pleasantries stripped away, only one remaining truth could ensure their survival: meeting the quota of bricks. This painful "closing of the Israelite mind" is alluded to in the text, according to the Midrash, by the complete closing of the Parasha's beginning. There is absolutely no break between the opening verses, anything at all to indicate respite or else a proverbial breathing space.

While the Midrash seems straightforward enough, its reading raises a number of questions. Most glaringly, all indications in the text point to the fact that even after Ya'acov's death, the good life in Goshen continued, at least until Yosef and the other brothers had also passed on. There is no textual evidence whatsoever to support the Midrash's contention that the servitude began with Ya'acov's death. Additionally, while the Midrashic approach may explain the lack of any break at the Parasha's opening, it fails to explain the implications of this fact. Namely, that the absence of a break actually indicates a cohesive connection to the section that preceded our Parasha. Perhaps, then, there is another way to understand the Midrash and thus shed light on its more profound message.

UNDERSTANDING THE MIDRASH

Recall that Parashat VaYigash concluded with a glowing assessment of Israelite success in setting down roots in Goshen: "Israel dwelt in the land of Egypt in the region of Goshen, and they established themselves in it, and they were fruitful and multiplied exceedingly" (47:27). Arriving as displaced foreigners but enjoying the protection and patronage of the powers that be, Yosef's brothers quickly adjusted to their new life and seized the opportunities afforded by Goshen's riches. The "establishment" (vayeAChaZu) of which the verse speaks describes not only economic wellbeing but land ownership as well. In fact, the Hebrew root of the word A-Ch-Z means "to grasp" and therefore constitutes an apt description of their unqualified triumph at amassing real estate, riches and political capital. The people multiplied and grew exceedingly, and no doubt with that transformation some of the shepherding traditions were necessarily shed. Perhaps even the collective memory of Canaan's rocky hills as their rightful home and hearth began to fade, as life upon the Nile exerted its irresistible allure.

Our Parasha begins with intimations of Ya'acov's death, as his last days are played out against the backdrop of material comfort and bathed in the warm glow of his loving children and grandchildren. Ya'acov, who had been seized with dread at the thought of leaving Canaan, now stands to pass from the scene. While his descendents vow to uphold his legacy and the dream of one day returning home, he is circumspect. In his heart of hearts, he realizes how difficult it will be for them to tear themselves away from a complacency that the shepherd can never afford to entertain, but that the farmer and the landowner cultivate with a vengeance. And so the conclusion of Parashat VaYigash is joined to the opening of Parashat VaYechi: "Israel dwelt in the land of Egypt in the region of Goshen, and they established themselves in it, and they were fruitful and multiplied exceedingly. Ya'acov dwelt in the land of Egypt for seventeen years. The days of Ya'acov – the years of his life – were one hundred and forty-seven. The day of Ya'acov's death drew near…"(47:27-28). And what the Midrash refers to as the "pain of the oppression" and the "servitude" are not references to bondage and brick pits but rather to bounty and belongings. Israel achieved success, amassed wealth and power, and with that blessing their minds and hearts began to become indifferent and unmoved, swept up by dreams of attainment, less sensitive to visions of a higher purpose, and progressively blinded to thoughts of their national destiny. In short, therefore, Ya'acov's imminent death would not only constitute the passing of the family patriarch and the close of an era, but the acceleration of the process of Israel's immersion into Egyptian culture as well.

For millennia, now, the people of Israel have dwelt in exile. Dispersed across the globe, they have sought refuge in every imaginable climate and under the aegis of every imaginable form of government. Often, their presence has been barely tolerated, sometimes they have been oppressed and decimated, and occasionally they have been welcomed and sustained with open arms. But in our very success in those few-and-far-between lands we have sometimes forgotten our mission as a people, our sacred legacy, and our inalienable connection to our land. The death of Ya'acov in this week's parasha, according to the reading of the Midrash, thus reminds us of the spiritual perils and challenges that continue to underlie our exile experience even to the present day.

Shabbat Shalom