Shabbat VaYigash: Now I Can Die

וַיֹּ֧אמֶר יִשְׂרָאֵ֛ל אֶל־יוֹסֵ֖ף אָמ֣וּתָה הַפָּ֑עַם אַחֲרֵי֙ רְאוֹתִ֣י אֶת־פָּנֶ֔יךָ כִּ֥י עוֹדְךָ֖ חָֽי׃ 

Then Israel said to Joseph, “Now I can die, having seen for myself that you are still alive.” (Gen. 46.30)

This is the time of year for darkness, and as light recedes our metaphors turn to death. The solstice festivals summon light, as if some part of us still feels as the first humans did according to the midrash:

יוֹם שֶׁנִּבְרָא בּוֹ אָדָם הָרִאשׁוֹן, כֵּיוָן שֶׁשָּׁקְעָה עָלָיו חַמָּה, אָמַר: אוֹי לִי, שֶׁבִּשְׁבִיל שֶׁסָּרַחְתִּי עוֹלָם חָשׁוּךְ בַּעֲדִי, וְיַחְזוֹר עוֹלָם לְתוֹהוּ וָבוֹהוּ, וְזוֹ הִיא מִיתָה שֶׁנִּקְנְסָה עָלַי מִן הַשָּׁמַיִם. הָיָה יוֹשֵׁב בְּתַעֲנִית וּבוֹכֶה כׇּל הַלַּיְלָה, וְחַוָּה בּוֹכָה כְּנֶגְדּוֹ. כֵּיוָן שֶׁעָלָה עַמּוּד הַשַּׁחַר, אָמַר: מִנְהָגוֹ שֶׁל עוֹלָם הוּא.

On the day that Adam the first man was created, when the sun set upon him he said: Woe is me, as because I sinned, the world is becoming dark around me, and the world will return to the primordial state of chaos and disorder. And this is the death that was sentenced upon me from Heaven. He spent all night fasting and crying, and Eve was crying opposite him. Once dawn broke, he said: Evidently, the sun sets and night arrives, and this is the order of the world. (BT Avodah Zarah 8a)

The days shorten and then they lengthen again; the light wanes and then once again returns. The dark is a natural part of the process, as is death. Yet we are rarely ready for the natural process of life and death to manifest itself in our own personal reality.

יְמֵֽי־שְׁנוֹתֵ֨ינוּ בָהֶ֥ם שִׁבְעִ֪ים שָׁנָ֡ה וְאִ֤ם בִּגְבוּרֹ֨ת ׀ שְׁמ֘וֹנִ֤ים שָׁנָ֗ה וְ֭רׇהְבָּם עָמָ֣ל וָאָ֑וֶן כִּי־גָ֥ז חִ֝֗ישׁ וַנָּעֻֽפָה׃ 

The span of our life is seventy years, or, with strength, eighty years; but the best of them are trouble and sorrow. They pass by speedily, and we are in darkness. (Psalms 90.10)

In our parashat hashavua the patriarch Jacob is old, and aware that his days to live are numbered. After he sees his most beloved son Joseph again in life, he exclaims “now I can die” (Gen 46.30). His life is now complete, at least, complete enough for him. 

Is it possible that we might ever feel like Jacob; complete, and ready to die? Human nature is famous for always wanting more, for dreaming only of that which we haven’t yet realized. In ancient Jewish legend, Alexander the Great serves as the ultimate example of this:

אֲמַר לְהוֹן לְרַבָּנַן: מַאי הַאי? אָמְרִי גּוּלְגֻּלְתָּא דְּעֵינָא דְּבִישְׂרָא וּדְמָא [הוּא], דְּלָא קָא שָׂבַע. …דִּכְתִיב: ״שְׁא֣וֹל וַ֭אֲבַדֹּה לֹ֣א תִשְׂבַּ֑עְנָה וְעֵינֵ֥י הָ֝אָדָ֗ם לֹ֣א תִשְׂבַּֽעְנָה׃” 

[Alexander] said to the Sages: What is this? Why does this eyeball outweigh everything? They said: It is the eyeball of a mortal person of flesh and blood, which is not satisfied ever. …The eye is never satisfied while it can see, as it is written: “The netherworld and destruction are never satiated; so the eyes of the human are never satiated” (Proverbs 27:20).  (BT Tamid 32b)

We want to see more, do more, be more, experience more. We are not constituted to want to die, or to be ready to die; rather, life seeks to live, to stay alive. This is natural – but so is the birth, and death, of each person, just as the sun rises and sets.

In Jewish tradition there is much musing upon the process of dying, of the waning of the light of day. Our ancestors noticed that when we are aware that we are near death, no matter our age or experience, we begin to consider the days of our lives. The Zohar suggests that HaShem is doing the same thing:

אֶלָּא הָכִי תָּאנָא, כַּד קוּדְשָׁא בְּרִיךְ הוּא בָּעֵי לְאֲתָבָא רוּחֵיהּ לֵיהּ, כָּל אִינוּן יוֹמִין דְּקָאִים בַּר נָשׁ בְּהַאי עַלְמָא, אִתְפַּקְדָּן קַמֵּיהּ, וְעָאלִין בְּחוּשְׁבְּנָא. וְכַד אִתְקְרִיבוּ קַמֵּיהּ לְמֵיעַל בְּחוּשְׁבְּנָא, מִית בַּר נָשׁ. וְאָתִיב קוּדְשָׁא בְּרִיךְ הוּא רוּחֵיהּ לֵיהּ, הַהוּא הֶבֶל דְּאַפִּיק וְנָפַח בֵּיהּ, אוֹתְבֵיהּ לְגַבֵּיהּ. 

As we have learnt, that when the Holy One desires to take back a person’s spirit, all the days that the person has lived in this world pass in review before HaShem. (Zohar on VaYehi)

Every day ends; every sun sets. Each day matters exactly as much as the one before it, and the one after it. So it is, too, with us; each of us is born, and each of us will die, and each of us matters, exactly as much as each precious, irreplaceable reflection of holiness. 

Long nights are made for contemplation. May each of us find time and space and ability to consider how we are spending our days, and what it means to feel complete.