December 22nd: Vayigash
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Sometimes the English words used in Biblical translations are as hard as the Hebrew to understand. An example is the word Sojourning. The Hebrew is yagur or lagur, to live/reside in a place, but, in the case of Abraham and Sarah and later Jacob and Leah and Rachel, they reside in many places. The lives of our ancestral semi-nomadic shepherds meant following the grasses that grow seasonally in various valleys around a region. This circuit, moving from pasture to pasture, is what the Torah means when it says Eretz M’gurayhem / the Land of Their Sojournings.
Many of us are also sojourners. Whether for education, better employment, or safety, we too often find ourselves seeking new pasture lands. We may not have goatskin tents, but some need both hands to count the number of cities in which we have resided. The difference between us and the Patriarchs and Matriarchs is that for them sojourning is a lifestyle—while we try to establish a sense of permanence. When we move, that permanence is disrupted, and we are like Tevye and Golda in the final scene in Fiddler on the Roof. Tearfully packing up to leave Anatevka, they sing what many Jews have sung over the years:
“Anatevka, Anatevka. Underfed, overworked Anatevka
Where else could Sabbath be so sweet?
Anatevka, Anatevka. Intimate, obstinate Anatevka,
Where I know everyone I meet.
Soon I’ll be a stranger in a strange new place,
Searching for an old familiar face
From Anatevka.”
In our Torah portion, Jacob prepares to leave Canaan, Eretz M’gurav / the Land of His Sojourning. Accepting the invitation from Pharaoh, Jacob travels to Egypt seeking refuge from the great famine and yearning to see his long-lost son Joseph. “So Israel set out with all that was his, and he came to Beer-sheba, where he offered sacrifices to the God of his father Isaac. God called to Israel in a vision by night: ‘Jacob! Jacob!’ He answered, ‘Here.” And God said, ‘I am God, the God of your father. Fear not to go down to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring you back, and Joseph’s hand shall close your eyes.’ So Jacob set out from Beer-sheba. The sons of Israel put their father Jacob and their children and their wives in the wagons that Pharaoh had sent to transport him; and they took along their livestock and the wealth that they had amassed in the land of Canaan. Thus Jacob and all his offspring with him came to Egypt: he brought with him to Egypt his sons and grandsons, his daughters and granddaughters—all his offspring.” (Genesis 46.1-7)
Jacob lives his last seventeen years in Egypt (Genesis 47.28), and when he dies, Joseph brings him back to Canaan—to be buried in the Cave of Machpelah in Hebron. A life of sojourning concludes with his parents, grandparents, and wife Leah—finally a place of permanence.
As we meditate on Jacob/Israel’s life of impermanence—his sojourning, two lessons come to mind.
The first is taught by Hillel: “Do not be sure of yourself until the day you die.” (Avot 2.4) There are many experiences in life and many tests. They are all important, but what has happened in the past does not tell us how we shall experience the next episode or perform on the next test. Every moment of life offers a new opportunity—a new possibility to be human.
The second is a bit less optimistic and hearkens back to the most famous story of Jacob’s father and grandfather—the time when Abraham almost sacrifices Isaac. That story is remarkably unsettling and speaks of shattered trust. Does Isaac ever—in his more horrible nightmares—imagine his beloved and trusted father holding a slaughtering knife at his neck? Does Abraham ever—in his most horrible nightmares—imagine taking that knife to his beloved son? It is too much to consider, and yet we are bidden to hear this story over and over again. It comes yearly in the cycle of Torah readings and is a standard portion every Rosh Hashanah. And, the traditional Siddur has worshippers read Akedat Yitzhak (the Binding of Isaac) every single weekday morning. What a way to start the day! Why?!
Perhaps the message is that one never knows what the day will bring. One never knows whether the things upon which we depend will be dependable, whether the ground on which we stand is stable, or whether the legs and feet on which we stand will work. We hate to dwell on the vagaries of life and the dangers that could upset our expectations, but they could happen. We hope and pray that they do not, but…
This is where you can fill in your own struggles and fears. There are the scary things that can happen to our bodies and minds. There are the scary things that happen in society and in places of intellectual acumen. We work and pray for good outcomes, but what do we do if the news is bad?
Jacob’s advice is twofold. Enjoy and appreciate the blessings we have and be ready to greet the unknown. Though we may live in brick or wooden homes, we are also sojourners—moving from moment to moment, from experience to experience, and from opportunity to opportunity. The only thing that is permanent is God’s Presence.
“Fear not…for I shall be with you...wherever you go.” (Genesis 28.15)
“B’yado afkid ruchi, b’et ishan v’a’irah.
V’im ruchi g’vi’yati, Adonai li v’lo ira.
Into God’s hand do I entrust my soul,
Both when I sleep and when I wake,
And with my soul also my spirit
When God is with me, there is no fear.” (Adon Olam)