Shaarei Shamayim

VAYIGASH 5771

“When You Have To Take The Keys Away, What Then?”

The story of Joseph reaches its dramatic climax in today’s parsha. Joseph threatens to imprison Benjamin accusing him of stealing his special silver chalice and Judah steps forward pleading, “Please don’t do this to our father, take me instead.” Joseph cannot contain himself anymore as he realizes his brothers truly regret what they had previously done to him. And in what could be the most dramatic moment in the entire Torah (Gen. 45:4-5), he reveals himself to his brothers. He tells them: “I am Joseph your brother. Don’t worry. What happened to me was Gd’s doing.” He then instructs them to go back to Canaan and fetch their father and come to live with him in Egypt because the famine would continue for some 5 years.

You would think that when he heard that Joseph was still alive, Jacob would be so overjoyed that he would pack his bags and set out to Egypt at once. But, for some strange reason, he seems to hesitate. He detours to Beersheba and offers sacrifices to Gd there, as if he’s not sure whether he should go down to Egypt and hoping Gd would tell him what he should do. And there he has a dream where Gd appears to him and says: Yaakov, Yaacov! And he answers: Hineni, “here I am.”

Note that the word hineni is usually used in the Torah when someone is being called to go on a difficult or dangerous mission. What was so difficult about going down to Egypt to meet his long lost son? In the dream Gd says to Jacob: Al tira, “Don’t be afraid to go down to Egypt, for I will go with you, and I will bring you back, and Joseph’s hand will close your eyes.”

“Don’t be afraid?” Why should Gd have to tell Jacob not to be afraid? Was there any doubt in his mind that, as the father of the prime minister, he would be treated well? And yet Jacob was evidently afraid. Why?

Rabbi Jack Reimer sent me a Dvar Torah by Rabbi Michal Shekel, the executive director of the Toronto Board of Rabbis, that suggests that Jacob, at this stage in his life, is very different than the brave and adventurous Jacob of his earlier years. When he had to flee the anger of his brother Esav and go to uncle Laban’s house, he left right away. When he got there, he rolled a huge stone off a well for the shepherds to water the flocks—by himself! He worked for his father-in-law, and did well. By the time he left, he had made his father-in-law a rich man, and he himself had become rich. So we see that Jacob was bold and successful.

Then we see how he divides his family and his possessions into 2 camps, so that, if Esav attacks one, the other one will be able to get away. From here we see that Jacob was decisive and resourceful. Then he wrestles with a mysterious stranger all through the night and wins, showing us that he was also powerful. So why then is Jacob so hesitant when it comes to going down to Egypt to see his son, who he thought might be dead?

Rabbi Shekel suggests that the answer is found in the verse (Gen. 46:5): Vayisu b’ney Yisrael et Yaakov avihem, v’et tapam, v’et n’sheyhem ba-agalot asher shalach Paro laseyt oto, “The sons of Israel lifted their father Jacob, and their little children, and their wives into the wagons that Pharaoh had sent to transport him.” Why did they have to “lift” Jacob into a wagon like a child? Why didn’t Jacob get into a wagon—or better yet the driver’s seat—by himself?

The answer is that Jacob was not the same person who had once traveled by himself to uncle Laban…or had once lifted a heavy rock off the top of a well…or wrestled with a stranger and won. Jacob was now an old, weak, feeble man. And so his sons had to lift him into the wagon.

This is why Jacob was frightened. He understood that he was no longer in charge of the family, but that his children were. He understood that, when he went down to Egypt—leaving home and business behind—he would no longer be able to work or to lead or to control anything.

This is something that may happen to all of us if we live long enough. There may come a time—like it or not—when we will have to give up our autonomy and will no longer be able to make decisions for ourselves. There may come a time when we will no longer be in charge of our lives. And that is a frightening reality.

In our world, there are 2 moments that mark the transition into old age. The 1^st is when you give up your driver’s license. We live in a world in which you cannot get to the mall, or the doctor’s office or anywhere except by driving. And so giving up your driver’s license is a major traumatic event. It’s like losing your legs. From the day you give up your license, whether you do it voluntarily or under pressure from your children because you have had too many accidents, you’re no longer independent, but at the mercy of others. And when that day comes, all of us feel a little bit like Jacob whose children “lifted him into a wagon.”

The 2^nd traumatic turning point that may come to all of us if we live long enough is when we have to leave the home that is familiar to us, the home where we know where everything is, the home that we are so accustomed to, and move into a different kind of a home.

They used to call these places “old age homes.” But now we they’re “retirement homes” with names like “Sunrise Senior Living,” “Endenbrook,” “The Renaissance,” “The Towers,” but the reality is that they are old age homes. And the day we leave our familiar homes and enter one of these places is a very scary day—no matter how well the grounds may be kept, no matter how fancy the furniture or how rich the program of activities may be—just as it was a frightening day for Jacob when he went from being the head of the house and family business in Canaan, to being taken care of by his son, Joseph, in Egypt.

If you go to visit one of these “retirement homes”, they give you a tour, and they tell you that there are 3 parts to most of them. The 1^st is called: “Independent Living.” It’s where the people who are reasonably well, live. There’s a fine dining room so that you no longer have to shop for food or cook any more. There are movies and clubs and discussion groups so that you can fill your day with activities.

And yet I must tell you that I am not sure that “Independent living” is the right name for these places. You have some independence, but there are rules and you had better keep them if you want to stay. Lunch and dinner are served at certain hours, and you had better show up on time, or you will not be served. You will have a living room and a small kitchenette, and one or maybe 2 bedrooms—much smaller than your home was.

And always, there will be the awareness that there are 2 more sections that await you. The next section is what they call “Assisted Living.” This is where you go when you can no longer care for yourself by yourself. And then there is one more section. It’s for the people with late-stage Alzheimer’s or other debilitating illnesses. These 2 sections are kept out of sight, and yet every single resident in “Independent Living” knows exactly where they are and when one of his neighbors gets moved there.

No matter how plush, expensive or impressive these places may be, no one ever enters without a sense of trepidation. Who will I be when I live there? I used to be a lawyer or a doctor or a rabbi or the head of a household? I used to have power and control over others. Who will I have control over here? Perhaps not even myself? Will I be looked upon with respect? Will people know who I used to be? Or will I be carted around in a wheel chair, the way Jacob was lifted into a wagon by his children when he grew old?

And now we can understand why Gd tells Jacob not to be afraid to go down to Egypt. For Jacob, this is more than a geographical move; it is a move in status. It is giving up a good deal of control of his life only to be taken care of by others. And so Gd reassures him by making 3 promises to him (Gen. 46:3-4). He says: Anochi eyreyd imcha, “I will go down with you to Egypt.” You need not be afraid of being a stranger in a strange land, for I will be with you. That’s a very reassuring promise. Jacob may find that he’s a greenhorn there, who doesn’t know the language of the Egyptians. He may be bathed and dressed and moved about by a Philippine or a Hispanic, whose language he also doesn’t understand. But at least one thing he can hold on to. Wherever he goes and whatever he finds there, Gd will be with him to give him the strength to meet any challenge.

This is why—if you have to go to a facility like this or if someone close to you has to go—it’s important to choose a facility that has Shabbos services. Even those who hadn’t gone to shule in years need these services. People that haven’t sung the Shabbos melodies for years remember the words that they used to sing in their childhood and now sing them out again in their old age. And as they sing these nearly forgotten melodies, you can see a big smile light up their faces. I know; I’ve led many such services. For these songs remind them that they’re not alone, that Gd is with them in this new and unfamiliar place.

And then Gd makes a 2^nd promise to Jacob. He says to him: Anochi a-alcha gam alo, “I Myself will bring you back from there.” What Gd is saying in this promise is that you and your people will not disappear in Egypt. You and all that you stand for and all that you believe in will not disappear in this new land that you are going to. You will not lose who you are!

And then Gd gives Jacob one last promise: V’yosef yashit yado al eynecha, “Joseph will close your eyes when you die.” He may be a tremendously important man—so busy all the time—he will make the time for you during your years in Egypt as well as at the end. And armed with that promise, Jacob is able to go down to Egypt unafraid. And so it is with us.

Jacob went down to Egypt with some apprehension, because he understood what a profound change this would be in his life. But he went down reassured because of the 3 promises that Gd made to him: that He would be with him in Egypt, that He wouldn’t lose himself…and that Joseph would be there to personally take care of him.

May all of us live to a ripe old age like father Jacob. And may we be blessed with the same 3 blessings. May we move from a life of power and authority to a life of convenience and care with dignity when our turn comes. May we hold on to ourselves and to some measure of control and independence, even when we must live in “independent facilities.” And may we have children and grandchildren at our side, as Jacob did, to make our lives a blessing, even then, and even there. Amen!

                                                Rabbi Mark Hillel Kunis

                                                12/11/10