In our Parashah, Yaakov Avinu takes leave of his children and passes away. Our Sages relate that, before his passing, Yaakov wanted to reveal to his children the “Ketz” / “End,” but that information was hidden from him. R’ Hillel Zaks z”l (1931-2015; Rosh Yeshiva of the Chevron Yeshiva in Yerushalayim) writes that we do not even know what piece of information Yaakov meant to reveal; it could not have been the date when Mashiach will come, R’ Zaks notes, for that is not preordained, but rather is dependent on our deeds. Moreover, many Sages throughout history have tried to predict when Mashiach would come; obviously, they did not think that they knew something that was hidden from Yaakov. In short, we do not know what Yaakov was planning to reveal before Heaven prevented him from doing so.
As a general matter, R’ Zaks continues, there are two types of exiles. When Bnei Yisrael first went down to Egypt, they were given a hint that it would be for 210 years (see Bereishit 42:2 and Rashi z”l there). Likewise, when the Jewish People were exiled to Bavel (Babylon), they were told that the exile would last 70 years (see Yirmiyah 25:11-12). In both cases, however, no one knew when the count started (see Daniel ch.9); therefore, no one knew when the Ketz would be. Thus, says the Gemara (Megillah 12a), kings Belshatzar of Bavel and Achashveirosh of Persia both made feasts celebrating the “failure” of the Jewish People to be redeemed at the end of 70 years (as each of them erroneously counted the years, with disastrous results for both.
Nevertheless, continues R’ Zaks, the fact that there was an announced Ketz, even if no one knew how to calculate it, was some consolation to our ancestors in Egypt and Bavel/Persia, giving them something to look forward to. In contrast, our current exile has no Ketz, as we say in Ma’oz Tzur, “There is no Ketz / end to the days of evil.” Of course, we believe that our exile will end, but we have no hint of when or how. That is why Midrash Rabbah refers to our exile as “the depths”--like the depths of the sea, which even in our age remain largely unknown. This “mystery,” R’ Zaks writes, is meant to test our faith and increase our reward for not losing hope. (Ha’rofeh L’shvurei Lev: Mo’adim III p.77)
“He blessed Yosef and he said, ‘Elokim before Whom my forefathers Avraham and Yitzchak walked . . .’” (48:15)
R’ Leib Mintzberg z”l (1943-2018; rabbi and Rosh Yeshiva in Yerushalayim and Bet Shemesh, Israel) notes that the Torah speaks in a number of places of the Patriarchs walking “before” Hashem. In contrast, the Torah commands us (Devarim 13:5), “After Hashem, your Elokim, you shall walk.” The reason seems to be, writes R’ Mintzberg, that once the Torah has been given, we must walk in the way that Hashem has already shown us--i.e., we must keep His Mitzvot. The Patriarchs, however, were not commanded to keep the Torah; there was nothing for them to walk “after.” Instead, their role was to blaze a new trail based on their understanding of what Hashem wanted. (Ben Melech Al Ha’Torah)
“And as for me, I have given you Shechem--one portion more than your brothers, which I took from the hand of the Emorite with my sword and with my bow.” (48:22)
The Gemara (Bava Batra 123a) asks: Did Yaakov take Shechem with his sword and bow? Do we not read (Tehilim 44:7), “For I do not trust in my bow, my sword does not save me”? (Even if Yaakov did fight for Shechem with weapons, why would he attribute his victory to those tools, not to Hashem?) Rather, says the Gemara, “My sword” refers to prayer, and “My bow” refers to beseeching G-d. [Until here from the Gemara]
R’ Eliezer Ben-Zion Brok z”l (1904-1985; founder and Rosh Yeshiva of the Novardok-Bet Yosef Yeshiva in Yerushalayim) writes in the name of R’ Avraham Yoffen z”l (1887-1970; Rosh Yeshiva of the Novardok Yeshiva in Bialystok, Poland; New York; and Yerushalayim): Why did Yaakov call prayer his “sword” and “bow”? Because that is the reality. (Prayer is the most reliable weapon we have.) That we don’t see this as a fact and live our lives accordingly reflects a shortcoming in our Emunah / faith. (Hegyonei Mussar p.10)
“Then Yosef fell upon his father's face; he wept over him and kissed him.” (50:1)
“He ordained a seven-day mourning period for his father.” (50:10)
R’ Moshe Scheinerman shlita (Brooklyn, N.Y.) asks: We are taught that we are supposed to accept suffering with love. Moreover, as believing Jews, we know that everything that happens is for the best. Why, then, is mourning not only permitted, but an obligation?
R’ Scheinerman offers several answers:
R’ Moshe ben Nachman z”l (Ramban; 1194-1270; Spain and Eretz Yisrael) writes (in his commentary to Devarim 14:1), “The Torah does not prohibit crying, for it is natural to cry when loved ones depart, even when they are only leaving on a journey.” R’ Scheinerman explains: Since Hashem made it our nature to cry when someone goes away, it must be a proper reaction, so long as it is measured and not excessive. Indeed, the 13th century work Sefer Ha’yashar (whose authorship is uncertain) teaches that it is a sign of a defect in a person’s soul if he is not moved whenever he hears that another Jew has died. Excessive mourning, on the other hand, could be interpreted as a lack of belief in the eternity of the soul.
In his work Torat Ha’adam, Ramban gives two more reasons for mourning: (1) to give a person an opportunity to reflect on the insignificance of Olam Ha’zeh / this physical world, and (2) to reflect on where one is going, and thus to repent. This, writes R’ Scheinerman, is the message of the verse (Kohelet 7:2), “It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for that is the end of all man, and the living should take it to heart.” This also is the message of Pirkei Avot (3:1), “Look at three things and you will not sin: where you came from, where you are going, and before Whom you are destined to give an accounting.”
R’ Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin z”l (the “Netziv”; 1816-1893; rabbi of, and Rosh Yeshiva in, Volozhin, Belarus) adds another reason: Mourning shows honor to the deceased, which is a very important end in itself.
Lastly, R’ Simcha Zissel Ziv z”l (1824-1898; the Alter of Kelm) writes that mourning is a way of participating in the pain of the deceased, who is now undergoing an exacting judgment in Heaven, as every person must do eventually. The Alter compares this to seeing someone carrying a heavy load and helping him with that load. This would explain, R’ Scheinerman adds, why there is a Halachah that if a deceased person leaves no mourners, the community should designate mourners for him. (Ohel Moshe: Badei Nechamah ch.1)
Shabbat
R’ Aryeh Finkel z”l (1931-2016; Rosh Yeshiva of the Mir Yeshiva in Modi’in Ilit, Israel) notes that Shabbat is associated with “Shalom,” a term that encompasses peace, harmony, and completion. For example, we welcome Shabbat in Lecha Dodi with the words, “Bo’ee / Enter in Shalom, crown of her husband.” In Ma’ariv, we expand the last Berachah before Shemoneh Esrei by adding multiple references to Hashem’s “Sukkah / shelter of Shalom.” The angels who visit us on Shabbat are called, “Angels of Shalom,” as we say in Shalom Aleichem. And, for many, the greeting on this day is “Shabbat Shalom.”
R’ Finkel continues: The Mishnah (end of Uktzin) teaches that Hashem found no vessel suitable for holding blessings other than Shalom. Shabbat, we are taught, is the source of all blessings. It follows, therefore, that Shabbat itself is “Shalom.” This explains many Halachot of Shabbat. (The purpose of lighting candles in honor of Shabbat is to avoid the fights that would occur if people were tripping over each other in the darkness.) Halachah even dictates that one should sharpen his knives before Shabbat lest the frustration one experiences because of a dull knife lead to quarrels in the home.
R’ Chaim ben Attar z”l (1696-1743; Morocco, Italy and Eretz Yisrael; the “Ohr Ha’Chaim Ha’kadosh”) quotes the Zohar which teaches that the seven days of the week parallel seven Tzaddikim. The day of Shabbat parallels Yosef, who is described as the essence of Shalom. How so?
R’ Finkel explains: We read (Bereishit 45:1), “Yosef could not restrain himself in the presence of all who stood before him, so he called out, ‘Remove everyone from before me!’ Thus no one remained with him when Yosef made himself known to his brothers.” Midrash Rabbah states that, in doing so, Yosef behaved irresponsibly, for his brothers could have killed him. Nevertheless, Yosef felt that it was worth endangering himself in order to spare his brothers from embarrassment.
R’ Finkel concludes: Midrash Yalkut Shimoni teaches that the ultimate Shalom will come about in the merit of the love and Shalom that Yosef showed his brothers. We read (in our Parashah--50:21), “He comforted them and spoke to their heart.” Says the Midrash: If Yosef could comfort his brothers and speak to their hearts, how much more so can we be assured that Hashem will speak thus to Yerushalayim, as we read (Yeshayah 40:1-2), “Comfort, comfort My people -- says your Elokim. Speak to the heart of Yerushalayim . . .” And we read further (Yeshayah 51:3), “For Hashem will comfort Zion, He shall comfort all her ruins, He shall make her wilderness like Eden and her wasteland like a garden of Hashem; joy and gladness shall be found there, thanksgiving and the sound of music.” (Yavo Shiloh p.411)
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