Standing At The Crossroads of Life--Vayechi

Standing At The Crossroads of Life
D’var Torah for Parashat Vayechi
By Rabbi Boaz D. Heilman


I am writing this during the last few hours of my current visit to Israel. I love visiting my family here. We usually don't do much traveling, just between my mother's flat in Haifa and my brother's house near Tel Aviv. Yesterday, however, we went to the Armored Corps Memorial in Latrun, near Jerusalem. It was a moving and impressive experience. Tanks and armored troop carriers from World War I and up through the most recent clashes are represented there. A memorial wall inscribed with the names of the fallen soldiers who served in the Armored Corps cuts through the heart of the memorial. At the center of the complex stands an old building--a combined police station and prison compound--built by the British during the Mandate period. The British chose this spot because of its strategic location--on a high hilltop overlooking the road to Jerusalem.

During the war for Israel's independence, the Jordanians overran the hill. In attempting to retake it, many Israelis lost their lives. Though they did not succeed in recapturing the building, the Israeli forces at least managed to keep the Jordanian forces enclosed in the building, unable to join their fellow Arabs in the struggle. It wasn't until 1967, during the Six Day War, that the old police station finally fell into Israeli hands. The museum and memorial were built over a period of some 10 years, concluding only recently. Expansion plans for the future include a museum for the Jewish soldiers who fought during World War Two.

By coincidence, as we were visiting there yesterday, a large unit of soldiers was rehearsing for the closing ceremony of their basic training. Later that evening, in a formal and highly impressive ceremony, they would take their oath as the newest members of the Armored Corps. As we watched from the observation balcony high ontop the old British police station, the drill sergeant made them repeat their moves over and over until he was finally somewhat satisfied.

At one point, the soldiers drilled their entrance from two opposite sides of the amphitheater. As the sergeant called out directions, a military march blasted from loudspeakers, reverberating throughout the site, echoing from tank to tank. At that very moment, at the Trappist monastery across the road, church bells began to sound the hour. It was a jarring experience--listening to the modern sounds of the march, watching the newest and most up-to-date soldiers about to take their place in the ranks of the Israeli Defense Forces, and hearing the ancient bells of the monastery as they called the faithful to prayer.

This overlay of times and cultures typifies Israel. Modern and ancient roads overlap; new--and not so new--villages lie on top of mounds in which are buried remains of ancient civilizations. It was easy to imagine this very spot where we were standing as a military outpost where peoples struggled throughout history. It's possible that the Biblical King Saul had established a fort on this very spot as he tried to force the Philistines back to the strip of land along the southern Mediterranean from which they expanded into the heart of the Israelite territory. Certainly the Babylonians had gathered their armies there as they laid siege on Jerusalem, as did the Romans nearly six hundred years later.

History repeats itself in an endless loop. Only the names and weapons change. We modern Israelis carry our past with us--sometimes with honor and pride, sometimes less so.

It's the same with our Jewish tradition. Wherever we are, Jerusalem or Boston, Tel Aviv or Sudbury, though we always modernize and always adapt to new times, philosophies, languages and customs, we still carry our identify as Jews. We carry our past invisibly within us, and our past shapes us as much as does our present. Taking our traditions along with us on all our paths, we carve new paths into the future, creating new customs along the way.

This layering of history and cultures is reflected in this week's Torah portion, Vayechi (Genesis 47:28—50:26). This parasha brings to a close the story of Jacob. Before he dies, Jacob calls Joseph to him and asks to see Joseph's two sons, Menashe and Ephraim, born to Joseph in Egypt. Jacob blesses them, allotting to them an equal portion among his own sons, uniting tribes and generations and making sure the legacy of Abraham and Isaac continues securely into the future.

Then, calling in each of his other sons, Jacob blesses them. He does not forget their past. He remembers the pride, the violence and even the treachery that was a part of their past. But he also knows that the future will be shaped by their choices from this point on. He knows that the reconciliation between Joseph and his brothers was the first step toward redemption. Jacob understands Judah's role in taking responsibility for Benjamin and leading his brothers, and he calls upon Judah to continue doing so.

With full clarity, Jacob realizes that his children are now wiser for their cumulative experience. From this vantage point, as the past closes in on the present and as the future begins to unfold, Jacob can predict the paths upon which life--and God--will lead B'nai Yisrael, the children of Israel, the People of Israel.

With similar perspective, when we stand at the crossroads of life, when we can see the past and the present merge and become one, we too can understand better the road that we are on. Refreshed and strengthened, our spirit regenerated, we can march onward without fear or trepidation, knowing that with every step we take, we fulfill the obligations and duties entrusted to us by the past.

Jacob learned the lessons of life the hard way; each moment, each turn in the path brought its own lessons. In blessing his sons, Jacob knows the path ahead of them is not going to be any easier than his own. For a moment, this knowledge almost overwhelms him. Yet, as his joy at seeing Joseph is surpassed by the added pleasure of seeing Joseph’s two sons, he becomes certain of yet another truth. He now knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that the blessing bestowed by God upon him and his forefathers will remain the heritage of B’nai Yisrael, the People of Israel, far into the future, from generation to generation, down to our day and even beyond. It is with this knowledge that the future of his people is secure that Jacob can finally breathe his last. His story is concluded; the story of Israel can now begin.



© 2012 by Boaz D. Heilman