Have you ever stumbled upon an old Sticky Note that says something absolutely nonsensical? If the note made no sense, why did we write it in the first place? Well, firstly it wasn’t nonsensical then. Secondly, a one-time flight confirmation number, daily schedule, or grocery list are totally relevant for a singular moment. But what about the information you write down that *is* a little more long term? Maybe a ~deep~ quote you thought of, or a good icebreaker activity— that has a little more lasting power, right? Obviously our momentary Sticky Note ideas are obsolete after their singular time has passed. But our unique insights should have a bit more of a shelf life! But what about beyond this? How does anything truly last? How can *we* last? As we learn in this week’s parsha, that which lasts is that which is rooted in G-dliness.
A CT scan manual would be worthless in 1901 if CTs only came about in the 70s, a toddler's sock won't fly for your 10-year-old, and a 2011 iPhone charger with the wrong insert is unhelpful for your iPhone 12. These hollow, physical things have no lasting power. But the Torah? We're thousands of years later and you're sitting here reading an email about the parsha.
We learn from every word choice, every letter, every space in lines in the Torah and so of course we also learn from this parsha's first word -- ויחי // Vayechi, "and he lived." This parsha focuses almost exclusively on the death of Yaakov (Jacob), but it begins saying how long he grew to live — 147 years. And for all of these years, Yaakov Avinu (Jacob) was alive. This was because he was wholly connected to G‑dliness, living for the sake of G-d.
When on his deathbed, does Yaakov tie up his own loose ends or speak of his own greatness? Aside from commanding his burial place, Yaakov spends his last hours giving blessings to his children and grandchildren. And even ensuring that he is buried in Maarat HaMachpelah (the Cave of Machpelah) is an act that binds his direct descendants to their ancestors: Avraham (Abraham), Sarah, Yitzchak (Isaac), Rivkah (Rebecca), and Leah, who are all buried there.
Our sages say that the word “death” is not used to describe Yaakov’s “expiration,” meaning he is still living today. But weren’t Yitzchak and Avraham also very righteous? Even though their deaths are specifically mentioned, what is different about Yaakov?
Rashba (Rabbi Shlomo ben Aderet) points out that both Avraham and Yitzchak had wayward sons. Avraham had Yishmael (Ishmael) and Yitzchak had Esav (Esau), both who strayed. Yaakov however had 12 sons, all who became the shevatim (tribes) and carried on Yaakov’s legacy.
This is one of the reasons why we are called B’nei Yisrael (the Children of Israel, aka Jacob). Yaakov is also the most prolific (children-wise) of our avot (forefathers), which helps with the efficiency of his legacy. So if Yaakov spent his life living for the sake of G-d, this means he lived for the sake of the future. This is a future he didn’t get to see, but one that ensured the continuation of his people and the ideals that he believed in.
On Shabbat, parents bless their daughters that they should be like Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel, and Leah — the Imahot (foremothers). It would make sense that parents would bless their sons to be like the Avot (forefathers) , but they don’t. Parents bless their sons that they should be like Yosef’s (Joseph) sons Ephraim and Menashe (Manasseh).
For full text, email me at shirajkaplan@gmail.com or join my email list here.
