The parasha’s opening line summarizing Yaakov’s lifespan fits with the substance of the entire parasha, which focuses on Yaakov’s farewell to this world: Jacob lived seventeen years in the land of Egypt, so that the span of Jacob’s life came to one hundred and forty-seven years. (Genesis 47:28).[1] Amid the technical details and lack of sentiment, a surprising fact emerges: Yaakov descended to Egypt after two years of the famine. Yosef had informed him that five more years of famine were still expected in the Land of Canaan, and that it would not make sense to stay there:

It is now two years that there has been famine in the land, and there are still five years to come in which there shall be no yield from tilling. God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance. So, it was not you who sent me here, but God; and He has made me a father to Pharaoh, lord of all his household, and ruler over the whole land of Egypt. “Now, hurry back to my father and say to him: Thus says your son Joseph, ‘God has made me lord of all Egypt; come down to me without delay. You will dwell in the region of Goshen, where you will be near me—you and your children and your grandchildren, your flocks and herds, and all that is yours. (Genesis 45:6-11)

Yaakov had descended to Egypt because of this. However, the famine had ended over a decade before, and Yaakov was still in Egypt.

            Rabbi Zadok HaKohen of Lublin, in his comments to our parasha, stresses an additional surprising aspect that comes from this verse. The element of surprise is typical, but it, too, leads to the same conclusion: Yaakov’s life in Egypt is comfortable and desirable for him and he is not rushing to abandon it:

We find in the Torah that the details of the life of Yaakov are not written clearly, but are alluded to, as is written in Megilla 17A: Why were the years of Yishmael counted? In order to relate the longevity of Yaakov's life - to teach us that he was blessed (by Isaac) at the age of 63, and that he was 14 years in the study halls of Shem and Ever (although this was never explicitly stated anywhere in the Torah itself). This is true especially when he arrived in Egypt and said to Pharoah: The days of my sojourn are 130 years, and since we know that he lived 147 years old, we know from this that he was in Egypt for 17 years. If this is the case his age is obvious, and there is no need for us to be told his final age of 147 years. There is therefore no need to mention both his final age or his 17 years that he lived in Egypt (we could derive one from another quite simply (ed))! (Pri Zadik, Vayehi)

According to these words or Rabbi Zadok, the detail relating to the short and final time period in Yaakov’s life stands out as an exception from the descriptions of his life events until this time. The details of Yaakov’s earlier past are not explicit, and it is upon the readers to glean and deduce things like what happened at which year of his life. Here, though, it is easy for us to calculate the number of years that Yaakov spent in Egypt because we know how old he was when he descended to Egypt and at what age he died - the Torah takes the time to tell us that it is a period of seventeen years.

According Rabbi Zadok, this seemingly superfluous detail points to the quality and intensity of these years. In this respect he follows the idea brought in the Zohar , according to which the Torah began with the “He lived” instead of “He dwelt” in order to teach that Yaakov revived, as it were, during this time period. Rabbi Zadok includes some explanation of the Zohar:  “The 17 years that Jacob was in Egypt revived some of those bad years which befell him” (Rabbi Zadok HaCohen of Lublin, ibid.) and continues: “… and only in Egypt did he merit to complete them in his holiness”

            Yitzhak was called upon to be a pure “whole offering” – to remain in the Land of Israel; but Yaakov, in complete contrast to him, reveals himself in the darkness of exile and in the depths of the impurity of Egypt. This possibility of growth and development specifically under difficult conditions is a possibility that is thought of as “closed off.”

            Rabbi Zadok emphasizes the surprising nature of this revelation and explains that, in truth, it was throughout the long years of exile that “specifically in exile…  the secrets of the Torah were revealed…”  Indeed, the renewal and innovation of important parts of the Oral Torah, including enormous branches of its commentary, came together outside of the Land of Israel. And as long as prophecy cannot occur outside of the Land of Israel, it is clear that Torah, processed by human beings, grows and increases especially in exile.

            It is possible to attempt to explain the reasons for this development in a number of ways. The simple answer is reminiscent of Rembrandt’s paintings. In these paintings, the dark background and surroundings allows for multiple hues of light to be visible. So, too, the darkness of exile is fertile ground for discussions, deliberations and debating fine points. The light is discernable in the midst of darkness, but in a place filled with light, the hues and nuances are not noticeable.

            Another vantage point on the blossoming that can take place in exile can be learned by pondering life’s existence and its significance. There are many ways to relate to existence and to define it in terms of joy and abundance, if life is full of these elements. But there are other ways of relating to it; to evaluate the strength of life by the enormous lack that is in its shadow. In Ethics and Infinity, Emmanuel Levinas writes of presence of absence, describing silence as booming. He compares the sense of that absence and silence are tangible and roaring to the presence of God before Creation – the total presence.  

            But there is also another approach to exile.

As opposed to viewing exile as a deafening absence that booms, which germinates life itself, and as the ground upon which one can reach Godliness, one can relate to exile as a change of address, and as a new place to live. Man’s nature is to wander, and may very well live in a number of places. The place where someone chooses to live can become a basic means of sustenance. However, it is possible to relate to one’s home as creating structure. In this sense, a home can stabilize a person and turn his life into something concrete. Location and positioning call for a certain type of internal thought, of blossoming convergence and retreat that enables devoting the necessary attention to internal substance and personal strengths.

            In this sense, Yaakov’s settling contrasts with his pursued wanderings, and with “Few and hard have been the years of my life” (Genesis 47:9).

            Now he is settled comfortably and receives a context. Of course, this process must also involve the refreshing of various strengths and concentration that comes from being settled in one place. Indeed, as Rabbi Zadok writes, exile creates a general spiritual decline, but it enables personal growth and development, and it is fertile ground that develops all sorts of things. Nevertheless, at the end of the parasha, Yaakov wishes to reveal the End to his sons. He wishes to see beyond the lush and fertile soil where he has been living and prospering.

            The Sefat Emet quotes his father as saying that knowing the date of the end of exile makes exile too easily bearable. In this he reveals that exile is a metaphor for darkness and absence. When he explains his father’s words, we see the end as a frame that covers and hides, like sunglasses, which filter the sun’s rays and their potential damage – a way of protecting growth. But exile is not ever the true catalyst, and is not a force in and unto itself. His saying that revealing the ending would make it not an exile at all – reveals another point.  When the diminishment that enables a person to develop his own voice dissipates, it leaves a person facing a more complex picture, full of voices – each of which has an element of truth. This broad view, revealed at the End of Days, which includes all sides and details,  humors the individual, supporting his relative stance – and finally unites all of the voices into one harmonious whole.

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