Finding Life in Egypt

Parashat Vayechi, Genesis 47:28–50:26

David Nichol, Ruach Israel, Needham, MA

Our parasha begins, Vayechi Yaakov be’eretz Mitzraim, “Jacob lived (vayechi) in the land of Egypt.” The language of this opening line is somewhat unexpected. Why say that Jacob lived in the land of Egypt? In English translation it’s perhaps unremarkable, but there are other verbs that might have worked in Hebrew. Perhaps “dwelt” (vayeshev), as Isaac did in Canaan (Gen 37:1), or sojourned (vayagor), as Abraham in Gerar (20:1). It might well be translated “and Jacob really lived in the land of Egypt.”

Rabbi Yehudah Leib Alter of Ger (known as the Sfat Emet, 1847-1905) notices this as well:

Scripture could have just said, “Jacob was in the land of Egypt.” It wanted to teach that he was truly alive, even in Egypt. “Life” here means being attached to the root and source from which the life-force ever flows.

The Sfat Emet is getting at an irony here. The reader expects Jacob to “sojourn” instead of “truly live” in Egypt because, as when Abraham moved to Gerar, moving to Egypt looks on its face like a detour, a distraction in the arc of Jacob’s life. He is supposed to build up a great nation in the land promised to him and to Isaac and Abraham before him. Relocating the entire mishpacha to Egypt—right when they are poised to take the next step in growing into a nation—seems like a step in the wrong direction.

Indeed, we have evidence that Jacob himself feels this way. When his sons report the happy conclusion of their trials and the news of Joseph, Jacob’s heart “goes numb,” and only the strong evidence that his beloved son lives strengthens him to make the leap (Gen 45:26–28). Even after he sets out, God must give him further encouragement:

God called to Israel in a vision by night: “Jacob! Jacob!” He answered, “Here.” “I am God, the God of your father’s [house]. Fear not to go down to Egypt, for I will make you there into a great nation. I Myself will go down with you to Egypt, and I Myself will also bring you back; and Joseph’s hand shall close your eyes.” (Gen 46:2-4 JPS)

If we can read into the words of God’s encouragement here, Jacob is afraid that he is “shorting” the promise to become a great nation—selling the savings bonds before they mature, if you will. And what would keep his family of 70 people from assimilating into the greatest empire of the time? On paper, he would be giving up on the promise. To that end, God reassures him that this is in fact part of the story.

Yet this still doesn’t explain why Jacob is, in a sense, doubly connected to the “source of all things” while in Egypt. To understand this use of vayechi—related to chai, live—we must look at several earlier uses of that word in this narrative.

When Joseph can no longer hold back from reuniting with his brothers, he asks an unexpected question: “Does my father still live (Ha’od avi chai)?” (45:3). This is so confusing that the JPS translates it “is my father still well”? It’s unexpected because he already knows that his father is alive . . . it’s precisely so he won’t die that Judah pleads to bring Benjamin home!

The next cluster of occurrences of this word is when Jacob learns the news from his sons:

And they told him, “Joseph is still alive (od Yosef chai); yes, he is ruler over the whole land of Egypt.” His heart went numb, for he did not believe them. But when they recounted all that Joseph had said to them, and when he saw the wagons that Joseph had sent to transport him, the spirit of their father Jacob revived (vatechi ruach Ya’akov; literally, “the heart of Jacob became alive”). “Enough!” said Israel. “My son Joseph is still alive (od Yosef beni chai)! I must go and see him before I die.” (Gen 45:26-28 JPS).

Using these words in this way, the Torah is telling us more than the banal fact about Jacob staying alive and not dying for a certain number of years. Rather, he was revived; there was a quality about his life in Egypt that even surpassed the life he had in Canaan without Joseph.

I don’t think the text is saying that during his twilight years in Egypt Jacob “lived life to the fullest,” as in, he went to lots of parties, or that he took up woodworking, or started learning the saxophone. My guess is that with this choice of words, it tells us that Jacob was able to rekindle his faith that his life had meaning beyond what he could comprehend; God’s promises were not going to fizzle out when bad things happened.

This struggle is not foreign to us today. We may not literally be in Egypt, but we live in a world where redemption is incomplete, its processes hidden from us. Where are the nations beating weapons of war into implements of agriculture? How will our judges and counselors be restored as in days of old? Having left Egypt literally, we remain there figuratively: in exile—not just us but all the nations of the earth.

The metaphorical resurrection of Joseph restored Jacob’s ability to see God’s hand in both what he could see and what he couldn’t. In the same way, the resurrection of Yeshua enlivened the eyes of a handful of Jews in first century Judea. Having escaped Egypt only to live under the thumb of the Greek, then Roman empires, our ancestors perhaps could no longer perceive the arc of their story. They certainly would have been discouraged to learn that Jewish sovereignty would be another two millennia in coming.

Just as Jacob must reconcile the story he imagined with the way God was actually intending it to play out, so the first followers of Yeshua needed to adjust their expectations of what national redemption looked like.

Jacob’s heart is revived by his sons’ report that Joseph still lives, and rules over Egypt, but not right away. His heart first fails him and goes numb. According to the Ramban (Nachmanides, 1194-1270 CE) he is speechless and remains still for hours, and his sons have to yell Joseph’s words into his ears for the entire day, until the wagons arrive. And then, after hearing the words over and over again, and upon seeing all the bounteous goods from Joseph, his heart revives.

For those of us whose hearts are still numb, may we see Yeshua’s goodness to us in such quantity that it arrives by the wagonfull. And for those of us who have already seen it, may we truly live, connected to the source of all things, even as we live in Egypt, where the story’s arc is hidden from us. And may God, who brought us here, bring us back soon.