In Parashat Vayehi Yaakov prepares for his death by taking three distinct actions:
First, he ensures that he will be buried in the Land of Israel;
Second, he blesses Yosef’s two sons, which also offers him the opportunity to discuss Rachel’s death and burial with Yosef;
Third, he turns to each of his sons individually, with a combination of a blessing and a final command, setting goals for each as he blesses them.
By examining these end-of-life activities, one can observe the meaning of death from the perspective of the living. We ordinarily think about death from the perspective of the dead – as an opportunity to receive reward and punishment, the afterlife, reincarnation, resurrection, and so forth. But here, in these moments of transition, there is an opportunity to discern the special relationship between death and those who have died from the perspective of those who are still alive, to contemplate the place of the dead within life itself.
One place where the issue of death in the eyes of the living is found is in the Mishna in Massechet Shabbat, which deals with extinguishing a candle on Shabbat in various situations (e.g., situations of danger or when there is a desire to preserve the candle’s fuel). The Gemara that deals with this Mishna (Shabbat 30a), quotes a lengthy aggada that discusses the connection between a candle and the human soul – based on the verse in Mishlei (20:27) “The spirit of man is the lamp of the Lord” – where extinguishing the candle’s flame is viewed as representing death.
There are three biblical verses that are brought by the Gemara as descriptions of the relationship between the living and the dead. While the first -
“And I praised the dead that are already dead” (Kohelet 4:2)
implies that the dead are greater than the living, the latter two
“The dead praise not the Lord” (Tehillim 115:17), and
“For a living dog is better than a dead lion” (Kohelet 9:4)
seem to indicate that it is better to be alive than to be dead.
Nevertheless, it appears that these three verses do not contradict one another, rather they are complementary, indicating that this is a complicated matter.
The verse “The dead praise not the Lord” teaches that the ability of the living to turn their lives into a song of praise to God gives them an advantage over the dead who no longer have the ability to sanctify God’s Name. The active world offers the opportunity to bless God, to offer thanks to Him, to study Torah and to fill one’s life with meaningful, positive experiences. Death offers freedom from all this – all the dead person does is lie, inert, in the grave.
From the verse “And I praised the dead that are already dead” we can deduce that death also offers benefits. The Gemara enumerates some of them.
The first suggestion that appears in the Gemara does not attempt to actually suggest that there are advantages to the dead in being dead, rather it describes the presence and importance of the dead. Perhaps it is trying to describe our existential experience, where our deceased parents and grandparents are perceived as protecting us. In doing so, the Gemara points out that even in their deaths the dead remain a support and a foundation for the “zechut avot” (ancestral merit) of their descendants. The living cannot delude themselves that they are fully in control, rather their success is based on deep foundations, and their achievements and sense of security come from those who are no longer alive. This implies that a person who does not have deep ancestral roots, who is missing anchors in tradition, is less likely to be able to stand before God. Life depends on those who came before us, as the punchline of the well-known joke about potatoes and family lineage goes: “The best part is in the ground.”
In the second approach presented by the Gemara, the emphasis is on acceptance. The teachings of Moshe, who is no longer alive, are more readily accepted than any new law or ordinance that will be established. Generations after his death, Moshe’s laws are still extant, and their power only strengthens. The idea is that during a person's lifetime, his words are received with less sympathy and understanding. Contemporary rulings are established within a specific context; oftentimes there is an agenda that drives them, and they are created with a sensitivity to social politics, attitudes and policies. After the person who established these rules passes away, what is left are the ideas themselves, the abstract concepts that are separate from the ancillary concerns that originally were connected to them. The idea is eternal, but its eternity is revealed only after the passing of the individual who established the idea. This is where the dead have an advantage over the living, since their words are more readily accepted and their influence is sounder and stronger.
The Gemara’s third approach focuses on the possibility of forgiveness. We learn the story of King David, whose life was fraught with controversy surrounding his sin with Batsheva. After his death, however, his name is purified, leading to a full legacy that overshadows his failures.
In explaining the verse “For a living dog is better than a dead lion,” which points to the advantages of the living, the Gemara relates the story of King David’s death. David knows that he will pass away on Shabbat, and he engages in a struggle for survival. Every Shabbat he commits himself to full-time Torah study in an attempt to ward off his death. In the end, when the time comes, the Angel of Death makes use of a trick to distract King David from his study, so that he dies. King David’s body is now lying on the ground exposed to the sun on Shabbat. His son, Shlomo, is concerned about his honor, and he turns to the sages in the Bet Midrash in order to find out what could be done: “Father died and is lying in the sun, and the dogs of father’s house are hungry.” He is instructed to feed the dogs and to place a loaf of bread or an infant on his father’s body (so that it would not be muktzeh) in order to move it on Shabbat.
We see that the hungry dogs could be fed without restraint, while the great King David must be made into a breadbasket in order to be moved to safety. In this straightforward manner, the Gemara illustrates how death changes a living person into a mere object. King David is no longer an actor on the stage of life; he has been pushed backstage.
As Yaakov prepares for his death, he focuses on those matters that are truly significant, as he prepares for the transition from man to object. In closing the circle with his son, Yosef, he aspires to achieve forgiveness, to reach a level of balance and acceptance. In his blessings to his sons, he recognizes the limitations of a man who is no longer living. He understands that he will soon exit the world of action and he feels the emptiness of his impending death. At the same time, he perceives that his status and place as a cornerstone and foundation for his sons is only intensifying. His blessings will direct the actions of those still living and present them with significant missions based on the deep roots that he established. His words will be hearkened to even after his death – perhaps more so than in his life – when his children turn to them for advice and guidance. Yaacov's legacy will accompany them and strengthen them through the twists and turns of their lives, even as he will no longer be there to guide them.
