רפואה מן התורה
Healing from the Torah
Ethel
was a spry and feisty 98 year old woman from the Bronx. I visited Ethel weekly for almost a year, and
when she finally died I would say we had become friends. What began as general
visitation turned into talking about seemingly every subject under the sun,
such as family, politics, careers, sports, Judaism, her journey of getting old,
which lead into a conversation about regrets and her need for reconciliation
before, as she put it, “I am too dead to dance!” When I asked her about her desire for
reconciliation without going into any detail she said, “you know, it’s always
family.” Well, one Monday morning I
received a phone call from my office to go and visit Ethel at the request of
her son, which I thought was strange because Ethel and I see each other on
Fridays. When I arrived Ethel was in her
bed (she always sat in her big armchair), her breathing was labored, her hands
clenched tightly and the skin on her forehead wrinkled. After some initial time
that included the vidui prayer (confessional) and my listening to her son share
his thoughts I interjected, “Mike, do you have anything you need to say to your
mom before she dies?” With that, Mike
leaned over and whispered something into his mom’s ear for what seemed like forever,
then with tears running down his face he kissed his mom on her cheek and backed
away. I did not say anything but put my
hand on Mike’s shoulder and cried with him.
But then, after a few moments had passed, Ethel’s labored breathing
became effortless and her clenched hands slowly opened revealing her palms as
the skin on her forehead turned as smooth as a baby, it was really amazing to
watch. It must have been no more than
another 5 minutes before Ethel just stopped breathing, finding what she needed
to ultimately let go.
Before driving away from the
facility I sat in my car and reflected on what had just happened, realizing
that my year of visits with her was over and that I lost a friend in a person
that I had come to greatly value. But I
also reflected on Mike who lost his mom after having some type of
reconciliation with her, while at the same time Ethel died in peace, her need
for resolution over “you know, it’s always family” seems to taken place right
before my eyes. Now, although this part
of Genesis is more so focused on Joseph, here in Parashat Vayigash,
Jacob is once again intertwined into the larger story, and as with Ethel,
speaks to “you know, it’s always family.”
Still, while we do not read about the end of Jacob’s life until next
week, the ground-work for it begins this week.
As such, we last heard from Jacob in Genesis 37:35 when he was
told that his son Joseph was dead, responding to this news “he refused to be comforted” by his family, vowing that he would “go
down to the grave” mourning his son Joseph, and Jacob “wept for him.” For the next 22 years Jacob was a prisoner to
his grief and his pain, living what Rabbi Raphael Samson Hirsch calls a
“dull monotonous life,” having no aim or purpose. Then one day Jacob is approached by his sons who
after returning from Egypt in search of grain say to their father in an almost a
matter-of-fact way, יוֹסֵ֣ף חַ֔י וְכִֽי־ה֥וּא מֹשֵׁ֖ל
בְּכָל־אֶ֣רֶץ מִצְרָ֑יִם, “Joseph is still alive; yes, he is
ruler over the whole land of Egypt.” Jacob responds precisely like you
think he might. Cognitively his reaction
is, כִּ֥י לֹא־הֶאֱמִ֖ין לָהֶֽם, “for he did not
believe them,” but emotionally he responds, וַיָּ֣פָג
לִבּ֔וֹ, “His heart went numb,” whereas spiritually it took a divine
intervention from God who said to Jacob, “I Myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring
you back; and Joseph’s hand shall close your eyes,” what a beautiful picture of his son being there when he finally dies. Reacting in his chaotic excitement Jacob says,
בְּנִ֖י חָ֑י אֵֽלְכָ֥ה וְאֶרְאֶ֖נּוּ
בְּטֶ֥רֶם אָמֽוּת, “My son Joseph is still alive! I must
go and see him before I die.” Once
that was Jacob’s mindset all bets were off, so he proclaimed per Ibn Ezra, רַב
לִי זֹאת הַשָׂמֵחַה, “I am very Happy!”
When Jacob came face to face (Vayigash, he approached) with Joseph after
all those years we read in a Midrash, “When my sons came to me, and told me that
Joseph was dead, I cried out: ‘I am destined to die twice,’ but now that I see
that you are alive, I am assured that I did not die, but only now will I die.”
Hence he said: Now let me die” (Midrash Tanchuma, Vayigash 9:2). It
seems odd to me that he did not say “It is good to see you” or “I love you,” but
only “Now let me die,
since I have seen your face, that you are yet alive”
(Genesis 46:29). Rashi interprets
Jacobs words as “I had thought that I would die two deaths, in this world and also
in the world to come, because the Divine Presence departed from me and I
therefore thought that God would hold me responsible for your death. Now, since
you are alive I will die only once, in this world” (Rashi on Genesis 46:29). R’Hirsch sees Jacob’s response as a phrase of jubilation as he “felt himself at the
zenith of possible happiness” and was now ready to end his life content with
self-forgiveness real or imagined. But
for Avivah Gottlieb Zornberg it was more specific and in that moment of meeting
“the anxiety that would not let Jacob die in peace” departed. Not being able to resolve the pain of losing Joseph
was like a death, hence dying twice, but knowing his son was alive made it that
when the time comes to die, he was now ready.
I never found out what took place
between Ethel and Mike. Yet on one hand whatever
took place allowed her to die in peace, while on the other hand it was also a
reminder to me that peace is much more than an end of life thing, or even
yearly at Passover as we reflect on what keeps us “enslaved.” Peace is a daily gift, for me expressed most
meaningfully in the prayers called the Nessim shel Hayom (miracles of
the day), or traditionally referred to as the Birkat HaShachar (morning
blessings), a set 15 blessings that begin each day. Of those blessings the one that I am still learning
how to internalize and wrap by head around is, בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה
יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם שֶׁעָשַׂנִי בֶּן חוֹרִין,
which means; “Blessed are you Lord our God sovereign for the universe for
making me to be free.” It would be
another 17 years before Jacob dies, and for me and you, who knows if it can be tomorrow
or 30 years from now (if not more), but we do not have to wait for our death to
be free of an unduly cluttered mind, emotions or spirit, which is why our mindfulness to Torah is so valuable. Today, with this virus controlling our society,
many of us feel like prisoners, isolated from loved ones and friends, our
physical situation has caused many to lose a sense of personal freedom. Freedom is elusive but attainable, something that
we need to find and then keep guarded because it is precious. There is much we can learn from this parsha,
but I was reminded how free Ethel looked when she breathed her last breath as it made me also recall how free she was to live before she died. For us freedom is something that we may never
obtain the way we want, but neither are we at liberty to neglect searching
for it (Perkei Avot 2:16).
Shabbat Shalom
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