SALT | Vayechi 5785

MOTZAEI

Parashat Vayechi is perhaps best known for the famous berakhot Yaakov bestows upon his sons just prior to his passing. Chazal and the commentators understood these berakhot as prophecies relating not the individual sons, but rather to the tribes that will emerge from them. In this presentation, then, Yaakov establishes basic norms and guidelines to be applied to Benei Yisrael in future generations.

Arguably the most famous such guideline is Yaakov's appointment of the tribe of Yehuda as the seat of royalty among the nation: "The scepter shall not budge from Yehuda…" (49:10). In what has become a very famous passage, the Ramban, in his commentary to this verse, understands this blessing to a Yehuda as a halakhically binding provision, forbidding any other tribe to usurp the kingship from Yehuda. The tribe of Yehuda is granted exclusive rights to Jewish royalty, and anyone else who establishes a monarchy is doomed to destruction. As historical evidence of this theory, the Ramban, almost astonishingly, point to the Chashmonaim, the family of kohanim who overthrew the Greeks, reinstated the Temple service, revived Jewish tradition, and established their own kingdom. The Ramban himself emphasizes that the Chashmoanim deserve credit for literally saving Torah; if not for their heroism and self-sacrifice, Torah would have been forgotten, Heaven forbid, from Kelal Yisrael. And yet, since they violated the halakha by which only the tribe of Yehuda can rule over Am Yisrael, and, despite their being kohanim, established their own monarchy, they were severely punished. As Chazal teach us, not a single descendant from the Chashmonaim remains; they were all killed.

In light of these comments of the Ramban, the timing of Shabbat Parashat Vayechi carries with it a certain saddening irony. Just two weeks after the celebration of Chanukah, when we revel in the Chashmonaim's victory of light over darkness, of Torah over assimilation, we are reminded of the downfall of that great and holy campaign of the Chashmonaim. Sadly, the victory did not last. The Hasmonean dynasty quickly degenerated into a reign marked by corruption and greed, and was ultimately crushed by the Romans. If on Chanukah we celebrate the Chashmonaim's triumph, on Shabbat Parashat Vayechi we are reminded of their collapse. The Chanukah victory presented a remarkable opportunity, an opportunity that we tragically allowed to slip out of our hands.

Appropriately enough, in the week of Parashat Vayechi we also observe the fast of Asara B'Tevet, which occurs tomorrow. This day commemorates the beginning of the Babylonian siege of Jerusalem which lasted a year and a half until the destruction of the First Temple. Why do we commemorate this event, which merely led up to the destruction? Of what importance are the "way-stations" along the tragic road to Tisha B'Av? Perhaps what we commemorate is not the siege itself, but the warning signal it was meant to serve but went unheard. The prophet Yirmiyahu, prophesying in the name of God, pleaded with the Judean kingdom to surrender to Nevukhadnetzar, the Babylonian emperor, and submit to his rule. God had issued an irrevocable decree granting the Babylonian empire seventy years of power and control over the region. But the last three kings - Yehoyakim, Yehoyakhin and Tzidkiyahu, stubbornly disobeyed, accused the prophet of sedition, and continued their hopeless campaign of resistance. The final siege of Jerusalem should have served as a final warning signal to King Tzidkiyahu and affirmed the prophet's position. Instead, this signal met on deaf ears. Yet another lost opportunity.

By observing the fast of Asara B'Tevet, we thus commit ourselves to correcting the mistakes of our ancestors, who let opportunities slip by not obeying the warning signals sent by God. As the Rambam famously comments in the beginning of Hilkhot Ta'aniyot, tragedy and crisis must bring on a process of introspection and teshuva, it must awaken us to our own errors and lead us to improve. If the monarchs of the first and second commonwealths lost their opportunities, hopefully we will be wise enough not to miss ours.

SUNDAY

Yesterday we discussed the famous comments of the Ramban in his commentary to Parashat Vayechi (49:10) that there exists a prohibition for any tribe other than Yehuda to establish a monarchy. According to the Ramban, Yaakov's blessing to Yehuda, "The scepter shall not budge from Yehuda" expresses not merely a promise, but an imperative, as well, granting this tribe exclusive rights over Jewish kingship.

However famous these remarks are, this position of the Ramban is not universally accepted. The Rambam, in the first chapter of Hilkhot Melakhim (halakha 8), writes, "If a prophet appoints a king from among the other tribes of Israel, and that king followed the paths of the Torah and mitzvot and waged the battles of God, he is a king, and all the laws regarding kingship apply to him, even though the main kingship belongs to David… " The Rambam here mentions no prohibition against establishing a monarchy from a different tribe; in fact, the halakhic status as king that the Rambam affords such a monarch appears to sanction such an appointment. This position becomes even clearer in the following halakha in the Rambam: "The kings of the Davidic line are the ones who will remain forever… But if a king should arise from among the rest of Israel, his kingship will cease from his family." Here, too, the Rambam does not forbid or condemn the establishment of a non-Judean monarchy. His guarantee that such a monarchy will not endure is presented not as a punishment for transgressing any halakha, but rather as a natural consequence of the fact that only the Davidic dynasty has been promised eternal kingship. Thus, establishing a monarchy does not violate any prohibition, but the kings must understand that their rule is temporary.

Our understanding of the Rambam's position must also take into account his comments when presenting his famous thirteen articles faith, in his commentary to the mishna (Sanhedrin, Perek Chelek). In formulating the twelfth article, the belief in the coming of the Messiah, the Rambam writes, "Included in this principle is that the king over Israel is only from the Davidic line and from the offspring of Shelomo; whoever does not accept this family has rejected the Name of God and the words of His prophets." At first glance, one could interpret these remarks to mean that we may not accept any monarchy that does not hail from the House of David. In truth, however, this is not the case. Belief in the coming of the Messiah necessarily entails believing in the eternal reign of that Messiah and his descendants. Since the house of the Messianic King will rule forever, believing that someone from another tribe can establish this Messianic monarchy constitutes a rejection of the divine promise that only the Davidic line will earn eternal kingship. (It would seem that for this reason, perhaps among others, we may not confidently afford Messianic status to anyone unless we can ascertain his having descended from the Davidic dynasty.) This does not, however, outlaw the establishment of a temporary monarchy from a different family or tribe.

The Ra'avad, in his critique of the Rambam in Hilkhot Melakhim (1:10), presents what may appear as yet a third view. He maintains that even an eternal dynasty can emerge from a tribe other than Yehuda. According to the Ra'avad, the kingship of the wicked King Yerovam, who established the Northern Kingdom during the reign of Shelomo's son, Rechavam, could have lasted for eternity. Only due to Yerovam's iniquity was his dynasty ended. Theoretically, however, an eternal dynasty may be established from any tribe. Importantly, however, the Ra'avad does not at all imply that such a dynasty could replace the House of David. To the contrary, he explicitly writes that this kingship would exist alongside and subordinate to the reign of the Davidic kings. Thus, even he agrees that the true eternal kingship belongs exclusively to the tribe of Yehuda and to the family of King David. Given this qualification, it is questionable whether in fact the Ra'avad's position indeed constitutes a third position. Conceivably, the Rambam, and even the Ramban, could accept such a notion. A "kingdom" that remains secondary to the kingship of David's family cannot be said to be truly a monarchy; the Rambam and Ramban may very well allow for the eternal reign of a family from a different tribe if it acknowledges the primacy of the Judean kingdom.

MONDAY

Ironically, the parasha entitled "Vayechi" - literally, "He [Yaakov] lived" - tells of the passing and burial of Yaakov Avinu. In among the most famous passages in the entire Talmud, the Gemara in Masekhet Ta'anit (5b) cites the comment of Rabbi Yochanan that Yaakov Avinu actually never died. The Gemara cites a proof-text from a prophecy of Yirmiyahu (30:10): "But you, have no fear, My servant Yaakov… I will deliver you from far away, your offspring from their land of captivity." By addressing Yaakov himself together with his offspring, the verse implies an equation between them: just as Yaakov's offspring survive, so does Yaakov remain alive.

This peculiar passage is commonly understood as referring to the spirit of Yaakov Avinu, which never died. So long as Benei Yisrael remain in existence, the persona of Yaakov, the values and ideals he embodied, live on. He cannot be said to have passed on from the world so long as the nation that bears his name and perpetuates his heritage lives.

One problem, however, arises according to this standard explanation based on the discussion recorded in the Gemara. Rav Nachman asked Rav Yitzchak, "For naught did they eulogize him and embalm him?!" Rav Yitzchak responded, "I extract this from a verse - 'But you, have no fear… '" Rav Nachman's question implies that he understood this notion, that Yaakov never "died," literally; he therefore wondered why, as the Torah records in Parashat Vayechi, the Egyptians embalmed Yaakov's remains and his sons eulogized him. This assumption appears to remain at the Gemara's conclusion, as well. Rav Yitzchak responds simply that the verse in Yirmiyahu suggests that Yaakov indeed never died; he does not clarify to Rav Nachman that the comment is to be taken metaphorically.

A possible explanation of this Gemara is suggested by Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda to Parashat Vayechi. Quite simply, once we interpret the original comment that Yaakov did not die as a metaphor, then we may similarly understand Rav Nachman's question metaphorically, as well. Rav Nachman asked, is it really possible that the idea of "Yaakov" has not perished? Could it really be that after so many years of persecution, so much assimilation, after all that has befallen the Jewish people, that there could still exist any remnant of "Yaakov"? Hasn't "Yaakov" already been "embalmed" and "eulogized," haven't people both from within and without written epitaphs for the Jewish religion and the Jewish people, haven't so many of us despaired from ever regaining the glory of our past and fulfilling our national destiny? Can we really believe that the metaphoric "Yaakov" is still alive?

Rav Yitzchak responds with a resounding yes. The prophet Yirmiyahu, who saw Benei Yisrael at their very lowest point, who beheld with his own eyes the spiritual and physical destruction of the Temple, Jerusalem, and everything they represented, promised that the idea of "Yaakov" accompanies his offspring wherever they go, to whichever level they plummet, through every calamity they suffer. "Have no fear, My servant Yaakov" - come what may, "Yaakov" will always live.

TUESDAY

Parashat Vayechi begins with Yaakov's request of his son, Yosef, that he transport his remains to Canaan for burial in the family plot of Me'arat Ha-machpela. Yaakov introduces his request by asking Yosef to perform for him "chesed ve-emet," literally translated as, "kindness and truth" (47:29). Rashi, citing a Midrash, famously comments that the Torah considers the kindness performed on behalf of the dead "chesed shel emet," or true kindness. Rashi explains, "because he does not anticipate anything in exchange." The straightforward reading of this passage implies that most favors done for other people are de facto partially - though clearly not entirely - insincere; part of our desire and interest in helping others involves the expectation that the favor will one day be returned. This element obviously plays no role when helping those who have passed on and can therefore no longer return any favors.

Rav Yaakov Neiman, in his Darkhei Musar (as cited by Rav Yissachar Frand), questions this common reading of this Midrash in light of a comment in Masekhet Ketubot 72a. The Gemara there explicitly states that one who tends to the burial needs of another will himself earn a proper burial; likewise, one who delivers eulogies for those departed will be eulogized after his passing. It thus emerges that this mitzva, too, of tending to the needs of a deceased person, carries with it substantial reward. What, then, distinguishes this type of kindness from all others, such that Chazal refer to it as "kindness of truth"?

We could perhaps answer very simply, that the quality of "chesed shel emet" has nothing to do with the Almighty's reward for the given mitzva. To earn this level of chesed (kindness), one need not perform an act for which he is unaware of any divine reward. He merely must help another person without any expectation of payback from the beneficiary. Such an act of kindness is performed only when tending to the needs of the dead.

Rav Neiman, however, suggests rereading this Midrash such that it presents us with a profound insight. Generally speaking, a person will have a tendency to anticipate some type of reward for his good deeds; our natural, instinctive preoccupation with our own comfort, luxury and security engenders this hope of reward and payment for our performance of mitzvot. When someone performs a mitzva involving death, however, he does not anticipate any reward - at all. This is because involvement in this important mitzva profoundly affects one's perspective; confronting the phenomenon of death means confronting the reality of one's own mortality. Such an experience naturally leaves its mark on one's psyche. His perspective on life changes such that he no longer cares about his own personal reward. He becomes disinterested in his material well-being and focuses his attention on his eternal possessions, his spiritual pursuits, that which lends meaning and substance to his life. In this sense, therefore, this holy work constitutes "chesed shel emet" - it is the truest kindness of all, a kindness that simply does not allow for any ulterior motives or selfish interests.

WEDNESDAY

Towards the end of Parashat Vayechi the Torah briefly discusses the family of Yosef, noting that he lived to see his great-grandchildren: "Yosef lived to see children of the third generation of Efrayim; the children of Makhir son of Menashe were likewise born on Yosef's knees" (50:23). What does the Torah mean when it describes Makhir's children as having been "born on Yosef's knees"? Targum Yonatan ben Uziel translates this clause to mean that "when Makhir's children were born - Yosef circumcised them." At first glance, this seems to mean that Yosef himself served as the mohel for his great-grandchildren. However, the "Peirush Yonatan," the commentary on the Targum Yonatan, suggests that the Targum Yonatan actually means that Yosef served as the "sandak" at these beritot. Meaning, he held the baby during the performance of the circumcision.

If so, then this Targum Yonatan provides a source for the common practice of designating a sandak to hold the baby on his lap during the ritual of berit mila. A more explicit source appears in the Midrash Tehillim 35, which tells that when Avraham Avinu prepared to circumcise himself, his body trembled. The Almighty therefore held him, as it were, in place to allow him to perform the berit mila. In commemoration, we, too, appoint a sandak at every berit mila, as ruled by the Rema in the Shulchan Arukh (Y.D. 265:11). The work "Zikhron Berit La-rishonim," however, notes the custom among certain Italian communities to appoint two people to each hold one leg of the baby during the circumcision. A very early custom, cited in the Teshuvot Ha-ge'onim in the name of "Ha-chasid" (identified as Rabbi Chanina Ha-chasid of Jerusalem), requires that the father himself serve as sandak, though this is clearly not the common practice.

The Rema (ibid.) cites a fascinating ruling of Rabbenu Peretz concerning the appointment of a sandak. Rabbenu Peretz compared berit mila to the offering of ketoret (incense) in the Bet Ha-mikdash and on the basis of this comparison arrived at a surprising halakhic conclusion. In Masekhet Yoma 26, the Gemara establishes that no kohen (besides the kohen gadol) was permitted to offer the incense more than once a lifetime. The ketoret had a unique power to bring wealth and prosperity to the one who offered it on the altar. Chazal wished to grant this opportunity to as many kohanim as possible, and therefore instituted that no kohen may have this privilege more than once in his life. Given the parallel between circumcision and ketoret, Rabbenu Peretz ruled that a father should not appoint as a sandak anyone who has served in this capacity before.

The Noda Bi-Yehuda (Mahadura Kama 86) was asked as to whether or not one must abide by this ruling cited by the Rema, and he expresses considerable skepticism in this regard. He notes that this halakha has no basis in the Talmud and raises several possible difficulties against it. Ultimately, the Noda Bi-Yehuda observes the common practice in many European communities whereby the local rabbi serves as sandak at every berit performed in his synagogue. Evidently, he concludes, the ruling of Rabbenu Peretz was not accepted as authoritative halakha. The Vilna Gaon also questions this ruling, observing that, quite simply, the equation drawn by Rabbenu Peretz is refuted by empirical evidence: many people have served as sandak without subsequently becoming wealthy. The Gaon notes, however, that Rabbenu Yehuda Ha-chasid, in his famous "tzava'a" to his family containing various laws and customs based on Kabbalah, indeed writes that one should not serve as a sandak more than once a lifetime. Common practice today, however, is to allow one to serve as sandak as often as he likes. In fact, the aforementioned passage in the Targum Yonatan with which we began appears to contradict this ruling, as it tells that Yosef served as sandak for the "sons" (in the plural) of Makhir. Rabbi Yaakov Blum (a mohel in mid-20^th century New York), in his work "Berit Olam," writes that on the basis of this Targum Yonatan some have suggested that even according to the ruling of Rabbenu Peretz a father or grandfather can serve as a mohel for as many sons or grandsons as he wishes.

THURSDAY

Rashi opens his commentary to Parashat Vayechi by asking, "Lama parasha zo setuma" - "Why is this parasha 'closed'?" Normally, the Torah scroll divides different sections of text by paragraph breaks, by leaving several blank spaces or even an entire empty line before continuing with the text. Such a division can be found in between every two parshiyot in the Torah, with the exception of Vayigash and Vayechi; no physical break exists in the Torah scroll between the end of Parashat Vayigash and the beginning of Parashat Vayechi. Parashat Vayechi is thus described as being "closed"; it has no "entranceway" as one proceeds to this parasha from the previous one.

Rashi, based on the Midrash, identifies this "closed" quality as symbolic of the "closing of the eyes and hearts of Israel as a result of the suffering of the subjugation" in Egypt. As Parashat Vayechi tells of the passing of Yaakov and his sons, which is immediately followed by the bitter slavery in Egypt, this parasha is "closed," symbolizing the hopelessness of the situation that unfolds.

One question to be asked concerning this comment of Rashi is his underlying presumption that indeed Parashat Vayechi introduces a new "parasha" in the formal sense of the word. True, we consider this parasha separate from Vayigash in our arrangement of the weekly Torah reading. But does this necessarily mean that we view the opening verse of Vayechi as the beginning of a new formal section of Biblical text? Why does Rashi assume that a paragraph break should have appeared at this point?

The Maharal of Prague, in his Gur Aryeh, suggests two reasons why Rashi made such an assumption. First, he claims that our practice of designating Vayechi as a separate parasha does, indeed, reflect a tradition dating back to Ezra that this opening verse of the parasha marks the beginning of a new formal unit of Biblical text. Therefore, a demarcation to this effect in the Torah scroll would normally have been mandated. Secondly, the Maharal suggests, the content of Parashat Vayechi clearly sets it apart as a separate parasha. The final section of Vayigash described the plight of Egypt during the years of famine and how Yosef dealt with the situation, concluding by noting Benei Yisrael's prosperity during this period. Parashat Vayechi returns to the story of the private affairs, so-to-speak, of Yaakov's family, beginning with Yaakov's request that he be buried in Canaan. This shift in subject matter would warrant the introduction of a new parasha.

A much more creative - and complex - approach to understanding this comment of Rashi appears in the work "Bekhor Shor" on Masekhet Pesachim (6b - cited by the Pardes Yosef on this parasha). The final verse of Parashat Vayigash tells of Benei Yisrael's high fertility rate in Egypt. However, the Midrash (Shemot Rabba 1:11) informs us that the rapid population growth developed only after the bondage began (contrary to the simple reading of the first chapter of Sefer Shemot). Yet, a different Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 96:1) claims that the bondage did not begin during Yaakov's lifetime. These two Midrashim raise a problem regarding the chronology as recorded in the Torah. Parashat Vayigash concludes with a comment concerning Benei Yisrael's rapid reproduction, which the Midrash claims emerged only after the slavery began, whereas Parashat Vayechi tells of the end of Yaakov's life - during which time Benei Yisrael remained free men. At first glance, this is really not a problem at all; a famous rule dictates that "ein seder mukdam u-me'uchar ba-Torah" - the Torah does not necessarily follow chronological sequence. It should not surprise us, therefore, to read of Benei Yisrael's rapid population growth before we get to Yaakov's death. However, this principle comes with an important qualification: it applies only to different parshiyot. Adjacent units of texts are not necessarily presented in proper chronological order. Within a single section, however, we must assume correct chronology. Therefore, Rashi had no choice but to assume that Parashat Vayechi begins a new parasha, in order to justify the Torah's non-chronological presentation.

FRIDAY

Yesterday we discussed Rashi's opening remarks in his commentary to Parashat Vayechi, where he observes that the Torah scroll does not introduce this parasha with a paragraph break, as it normally does when beginning a new parasha. Rashi explains that this "closed" introduction of Parashat Vayechi symbolizes the "closing of the eyes and hearts" of Benei Yisrael, the sense of hopelessness and despair that overcame them with the onset of the Egyptian bondage.

One obvious question that emerges from this passage which we (conveniently) ignored yesterday is, does not the bondage begin only next week, in Parashat Shemot? Parashat Vayechi tells of Yaakov's final days as well as those of his children. We read about the enslavement of their offspring only in the beginning of Sefer Shemot. Why, then, would the Torah allude to the despair associated with the slavery already here, in Parashat Vayechi?

Rav Shimon Schwab, in his Ma'ayan Beit Ha-sho'eiva, suggests that already with the passing of Yaakov, the first signs of the bitter slavery appeared. Later in the parasha, we read of Yosef's petition to Pharaoh that he be allowed to leave Egypt to bring his father to burial in Canaan (49:4-5). Chazal (cited by Rashi, 49:6) add that Pharaoh granted Yosef permission to do so only because Yosef had taken an oath to this effect to his father. Knowing that only through this oath would Pharaoh allow Yosef to leave, Yosef makes specific reference to it when submitting his request. Is it not strange that the second-in-command in the country will be denied the right to take a temporary "leave of absence" for about two weeks? Why must Yosef contrive a clever method of obtaining an exit visa? Furthermore, Yosef expresses his wish through messengers, Pharaoh's servants. Why couldn't Yosef come to Pharaoh himself and ask him directly? Rav Schwab demonstrates from here that already at this point, Yosef is demoted from his prestigious position in Egypt. He no longer held his title as viceroy, and Benei Yisrael's "diplomatic immunity," so-to-speak, was no longer assured. Hence the onset of the slavery in effect begins here, in Parashat Vayechi, when Yosef appears to have been demoted from his post. Rav Schwab adds that herein lies the meaning of the "closing of the eyes and hearts" of which Rashi speaks. We have understood this metaphor all along as a reference to hopelessness and despair. Rav Schwab, however, suggests that it means a type of blindness, a lack of awareness of where things are headed, an inability to see the unfolding of a certain process. The first seeds of oppression were being sown before their very eyes, but Benei Yisrael did not see it happening. Their eyes and hearts were closed, their vision obfuscated by the hopeful but realistic confidence that their previous good fortune could never be taken away from them.

One question that remains to be addressed is what led to Yosef's sudden fall from power. One might suggest that this resulted from the end of the famine from which Yosef had saved Egypt. According to the Midrash (see Rashi, 50:3), Yaakov's arrival brought an early end to the famine which was to have lasted seven years. This improvement of economic conditions perhaps led the Egyptians to believe that they no longer had any need for Yosef. So long as his skill and acumen was necessary to sustain the economy, he held his high position; once the Nile River retained its usual level and provided irrigation for the country, Yosef was no longer needed. During Yaakov's lifetime, however, Yosef retained his position as a result of the people's respect and honor for Yaakov; Chazal in fact claim that the entire country mourned Yaakov's death specifically because he had ended the famine. Once Yaakov died, however, they no longer had any reason to remain loyal to Yosef, and he was therefore deposed from his office of viceroy.

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