Parashat Vayechi, Genesis 47:28-50:26

Though it is our adult nature to worry about "what if," we can gain so much more by treasuring what is.

Girls can be cruel. If you look different, don't wear the "right" clothes, have hair that cannot be styled to the latest look, have parents who speak with an accent or countless other superficial differences, the girls in school will let you know. You don't get invited to parties. You are the last one picked for a team in gym. That's grade school. It gets worse in high school. Janis Ian  stated it so eloquently for those of us who couldn't come close to making cheerleader:

I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
and high school girls with clear skinned smiles
who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth

Janis Ian, At Seventeen 

Boys don't have it any easier. Some of the problems are the same: wrong look, wrong family, and wrong interests. These lead to the same problems: Last one chosen for the team in gym; forget even trying out for the school team. You work up the courage to ask a girl out only to be rejected because you're not the football-player type.

The unfairness of seventeen is that life appears magical for some and cruel for others. What we come to see decades later is how much team captains and last-players-chosen have in common. How could we know at seventeen that those for whom everything went right would also face obstacles in their lives, situations that make us appreciate how we are blessed?

Joseph found out at seventeen (Genesis 37). He was the favoured son, the one with the fancy clothes. Joseph was the one who had an attitude: His dreams told him that everyone would bow down to him. At the same time the jealousy that he brought out in others brought him much suffering as he was sold into slavery and eventually imprisoned for years (Genesis 37, 39-40). Yes, he was blessed by God, but it was maturity that brought a noticeable change in attitude: a humility and gratefulness to God for the gifts bestowed upon him.

Seventeen is significant for Jacob as well, but for him those years are at the end of his life. Va-yehi Ya'akov, Jacob lived seventeen years in the land of Egypt (Genesis 47:28). What an odd way to begin a parashah that contains two deaths, that of Jacob and that of Joseph. Perhaps because we know these two events will occur here at the end of the book of Bereishit, the very word va-yehi stands out.

Jacob’s final period is described as a time of yeshiva and of hayyim,
settling down and of living. … it is Jacob, the mortal man, who is described at the opening of the Parsha as “living” in the land of Egypt, an apparent redundancy that releases unexpected resonances.

For if the English word “lived” is ambiguous, its meanings divide, in Hebrew, into the two connotations of “settled, resided” and “was alive.” Va-yehi, therefore, carries a peculiarly questioning ring, as if to impress a meaning of unexpected, almost incongruous vitality. After those many years of suspended vitality in the darkness of Joseph’s absence, Jacob’s life is rediscovered and sustained in the land of Egypt. This is the opening statement of the Parsha, its virtual redundancy belied by the force of the word va-yehi, “he lived.”

Aviva Gottlieb Zornberg, Genesis: The Beginning of Desire, p. 352

The Torah could have described Jacob's stay in other words: va-yeshev (he dwelled) or va-yagor (he sojourned). Yitzhak ben Moshe Arama, in his 15th century commentary Akedat Yitzhak, explores the choice of va-yehi. According to Arama this refers to the quality of Jacob's life in those last seventeen years. He found fulfillment during that time.

This is all the more surprising given Jacob's description of his life in last week's portion, a scant 21 verses ago:

Joseph then brought his father Jacob and presented him to Pharaoh; and Jacob greeted Pharaoh. Pharaoh asked Jacob, "How many are the years of your life?" And Jacob answered Pharaoh, "The years of my sojourn [on earth] are one hundred and thirty. Few and hard have been the years of my life, nor do they come up to the life spans of my fathers during their sojourns." Then Jacob bade Pharaoh farewell, and left Pharaoh's presence.

Genesis 47:7-10

He may come across as a kvetch (complainer), but Jacob discovers that life gets better. No, he's not channeling Pollyanna, nor is he seeing the world through rose-coloured bifocals. Surely Jacob had his share of difficulties in his latter years. We know that his sons were still unsure of their relationship with Joseph, because they verbalize their concerns that Joseph will seek vengeance once Jacob is dead: "What if Joseph still bears a grudge against us and pays us back for all the wrong that we did him!" (Genesis 50:15). We know you can't reach Jacob's age and not have physical issues. And life had taken an unexpected turn. He would live out his last days away from his homeland, a reluctant emigrant, an exile at the age of 130.

What changed between his meeting with Pharaoh and the end seventeen years later is his attitude. This is not to belittle any issue that he faced - or that any of us face. Jacob made some horrible mistakes and experienced profound loss. It is easy to empathize with his statement that Few and hard have been the years of my life (Genesis 47:9).

We know too well what he means. Today there are people who find themselves battered by economic situations beyond their control. There are always those who have been hit with ailments and infirmities that nobody deserves. There are situations that spiral out of control and rip families apart. There are so many ways in which we all can say Few and hard have been the years of my life.

But what a waste to dwell on that! If we look closely at those years we will find a kernel, a precious seed that can be sown and harvested in whatever time is allotted to us: the successes of a child, the growth of a grandchild, a new friendship, the devotion of a pet, even the seemingly clichéd joy of a hobby, the first snowfall, or the sunset whose beauty moves us no matter how many other sunsets we have experienced.

Two years ago, the Washington Post ran an experiment in the Washington DC subway system. One of the world's greatest violinists played some of the most beautiful and complex pieces of music on his $3.5 million Stradivarius for 45 minutes as people were rushing to work. This was a free public concert by Joshua Bell. The result?

In the three-quarters of an hour that Joshua Bell played, seven people stopped what they were doing to hang around and take in the performance, at least for a minute. Twenty-seven gave money, most of them on the run – for a total of $32 and change. That leaves the 1,070 people who hurried by, oblivious, many only three feet away, few even turning to look.

…But the behavior of one demographic remained absolutely consistent. Every single time a child walked past, he or she tried to stop and watch. And every single time, a parent scooted the kid away.
Gene Weingarten, Pearls Before Breakfast, Washington Post, April 8, 2007

Though it is our adult nature to worry about "what if," we can gain so much more by treasuring what is. Appreciating "what is" fertilizes the seeds that will nourish our lives.

For Jacob, the effect was profound. Those last seventeen years he lived a life so full of vitality that he was able to verbalize abundant blessings for his children and their children (Genesis 48-49). Perhaps it was nothing more than acceptance of his life "as is," and what a blessing this is in and of itself.

When you are young, seventeen years is such a long time. When you are older, it is precious, because it is so short. The blessing bestowed on Jacob in those last seventeen years was the ability to achieve the point of tranquility. This is a blessing in which we all can share no matter where we are in life:

Ben Zoma says:
Who is wise? The one who learns from all people…
Who is mighty? The one who conquers his desire…
Who is rich? The one who rejoices in his share…
Who is honored? The one who honors others…

Pirke Avot 4:1

Hazak, hazak ve-nithazek (may we go from strength to strength)
and Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Michal Shekel