VAYICHI: Preparing Ourselves To Die

0
678

LIVE LIKE MORTALS

The idea of death has always fascinated me. In my teens, becoming my conscious of my own mortality and its hopeless inevitability made me think more deeply about life and the purpose of my existence. Far from scaring me, the idea that we are mortal indirectly brought me closer to the Creator and the Tora . It was Ribbi Meir’s (טוב מות) explanation of how mortality confers “purpose” to life, and an invaluable metaphor by Borges –in the story “The Immortals”– that delves into the difference between hours (or days) and the coins. The coins are identical, one and the other; they are replaceable, interchangeable, and fully recoverable. Time, however, cannot be recovered or replaced. The hours or the days are not the same because, unlike the coins, the days expire; they “pass away”. A day that passed is a day that died that will not be repeated and will never return.

THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF TIME

We can correct many errors and faults. If we take someone else’s money, for example, eventually, we can replace it. But there is no way to make up for the lost time. It is impossible to rectify a wasted day. Borrowing a biblical metaphor, זה ספר תולדות אדם, our life is like a book, a notebook that we write – that writes itself, as it says in “untane toqef” – with every action we perform. Many books are full of flawed pages, mistakes we make over and over again. But if we do Teshuba, if we repent, we can correct them, make amends. A notebook with corrections is not a bad notebook. The “terrible” notebook has many “empty” pages. Days, weeks and months are blank because we did not do anything relevant that is worth registering in our book of life. I believe there is no worse way to face death than to feel that our life is an empty notebook. That we waste time surviving and forget to live with meaning. That is the only death that should horrify us. The one that comes after a life lived in vain.

DEATH WITH EGYPTIAN EYES

This week’s Parashah is mainly devoted to the description of the death of our patriarch Jacob. The emphasis of the biblical story, judging by the number of verses that the Tora dedicates to each topic, is focused on the shock and mourning that was experienced in Egypt when Yosef’s father died. In the delicate negotiations between Yosef and Pharaoh so that his father could be buried in the land of Israel, as he had requested before he died, in the preservation, mummification, and transfer of Jacob’s body; his funeral; the impressive procession that accompanied him and his monumental burial. The Biblical text says little about the moment of his death. But the Midrash makes up for it with so much depth, beauty, and realism. Making it clear that Ya’akob Abinu’s life was significant, and thus, he faced his death without fear.

DIE SATISFIED

The Torah tells us that at the time of his death, our patriarch was in his bed, fully conscious, and surrounded by his children and possibly his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren. Awareness of the last moments of life is a “privilege” that most patients cannot access today. In its quest to prolong life and reduce pain, modern medicine means that very few patients “expire” conscious, alert to the end, and surrounded by their loved ones instead of being surrounded by machines, tubes, and wires. (On this very delicate subject, I recommend the book “Being Mortal” by Dr. Atul Gawande). The Midrash enriches the description of the death of our patriarch by providing an exquisite detail. Before he died, Ya’aqob wanted to ensure that all his children followed his path: that they were, and would continue to be, loyal to the Abrahamic covenant and that none had abandoned or intended to abandon the way of the Almighty. We cannot blame Ya’aqob for his suspicions. Abraham and Yitzchaq had sons who strayed from their fathers’ paths and assimilated into their wives’ families. In the last minutes of his life, with the last of his remaining strength, Ya’aqob asks his children – he needs to know – if they will continue on his way. The Wise Men reconstruct that profound final dialogue between the dying father and his sons: Jacob asks them if he has any doubts about the existence of God, unique and invisible, Creator of heaven and earth. The response of his children could not have been better. : “SHEMA ISRAEL HASHEM ELOQENU HASHEM EJAD”. “Listen, Israel [our father, Jacob’s new name. All of us, your children, affirm that ] HaShem is our God and that HaShem is one”.

WHEN DEATH IS NOT SCARY

Jacob, on his deathbed, ends his life hearing from his sons the official declaration of Jewish principles, which is also the pledge of allegiance to Judaism that his descendants express daily. At that moment, Jacob realizes that his ongoing hardships and suffering—147 years of struggle literally from the womb—had not been in vain. In the last minutes of his life, Yaaqob realizes that his family, “the children of Israel”, united physically and spiritually, are now ready for the next step: becoming the people of Israel. The Tsadiqim, the just men and women, prepare all their lives to die like this. To leave this world with the incomparable existential satisfaction of feeling that your life has not been in vain.