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    VAYECHI: YOU ARE NOT ALONE WHY DOES BEREISHIT END ON SUCH A LOW NOTE?

    Culminating Words
    Thus are the
    culminating words of
    the first—and in many
    ways the
    foundational—book
    of the Torah, Sefer
    Bereishit:

    “Yosef died at the age of one hundred and ten
    years; they embalmed him and he was placed
    in a coffin in Egypt.”
    This ending is disturbing. Could have
    Bereishit not concluded on a more inspiring
    note, just like the four following books of
    Moshe?
    Even the fifth and final sefer, Devarim, which
    concludes with Moshe’s passing, culminates
    with a eulogy so rarely moving that it leaves
    one with an unforgettable impression of
    Moshe.
    Indeed, for thousands of years the classical
    Jewish sages, authors and rabbis have paid
    special attention to concluding their written
    volumes and verbal speeches on a positive
    note. Even if the subject matter was one of
    melancholic nature, they desired that at least
    the punch line, the “last inning,” as it were,
    should invigorate readers and listeners with a

    message of hope and promise.
    Yet, Sefer Bereishit chooses to conclude its
    first installment with a gloomy and despairing
    punch line: Yosef’s death and burial.
    That incredible human being who in the best
    and worst of times displayed enormous
    dignity and richness of spirit, that tremendous
    visionary and leader who rescued a world
    from famine, is now gone. If that is not
    enough, Bereishit informs us that Yosef is
    embalmed and placed in a coffin in Egypt.
    There his remains would be stored for
    hundreds of years until the Jews leave Egypt
    and bury his bones in the city of Shechem.
    While Yosef’s father, Yaakov, labored hard
    for assurances that his body would not remain
    among the morally depraved—and what
    would turn out to be genocidal—Egyptian
    people but would be brought back to the
    sacred soil of Chevron, Yosef’s worn and
    sacred body must remain etched in Egyptian
    earth for centuries.
    Even if the Torah felt compelled to culminate
    Bereishit with Yosef’s death, it could have
    ended with the second-to-the-last verse of
    Bereishit: “Yosef told his brothers: ‘I am
    about to die, but G-d will indeed remember
    you and bring you up out of this land to the
    land that He swore to Avraham, to Yitzchak,

    and to Yaakov… You will bring my bones up
    out of here.” At least that would have ended
    the sefer with a promise for future redemption.
    What indeed are the final words of the book?
    “Yosef died… and he was placed in a coffin in
    Egypt!”
    “Be Strong! Be Strong!”
    The question about the ending of Bereishit
    increases upon considering the Jewish custom
    that when the reader of the Torah concludes
    each of the sefarim of the Chamisha Chumshei
    Torah, the entire congregation thunders out
    loud: Chazak! Chazak! Venischazak! “Be
    strong! Be strong! Let us be strengthened!”
    This will occur this Shabbat morning in
    synagogues the world over. When the reader
    of the Torah concludes with the verse—
    “Yosef died at the age of one hundred and ten
    years; they embalmed him and he was placed
    in a coffin in Egypt”—Jews will sing out:
    Chazak! Chazak! Venischazak! “Be strong!
    Be strong! Let us be strengthened!”
    But how can one glean strength, never mind
    triple strength, from this despairing end?
    The Pain of Loneliness
    Yet it may be that it is precisely this ending
    that grants us a deeply comforting message.
    Unfortunately, we cannot live life without
    pain. Every life comes with challenges. The
    very genesis of existence is rooted in a void
    and a vacuum—the concealment of the
    Divine infinite presence to allow for an
    egocentric universe. This means that life,
    whichever way you twist it, is a confrontation
    with a void, and thus a painful experience.
    What a person must know is not how to get
    rid of his or her pain—that may not always
    be possible—but rather how to discover that
    they are empowered to deal with the pain
    and that they are not alone in it.
    The Presence of Yosef
    “Yosef died at the age of one hundred and
    ten years; they embalmed him and he was
    placed in a coffin in Egypt.” In these very
    uninspiring words, one may sense profound
    inspiration.
    The Jewish people are about to become
    enslaved and subjugated to a tyrannical
    government that will attempt to destroy
    them one by one, physically and mentally
    (as recorded at the beginning of Shemot).
    This new Egyptian genocide program will
    drown children, subject all Jewish men to
    slave labor and crush a new nation.
    What will give Bnei Yisroel the resolve they
    will desperately need? What will preserve a
    broken and devastated people from falling
    into the abyss? The knowledge that one day
    they would be liberated? Certainly. The
    knowledge that evil will not reign forever?
    Absolutely. Indeed, this is what Yosef told
    the Jewish people before his passing,
    recorded in the second-to-the-last verse of
    Bereishit: “Yosef told his brothers: ‘I am

    about to die, but G-d will indeed remember
    you and bring you up out of this land to the
    land that He swore to Avraham, to Yitzchak,
    and to Yaakov… You will bring my bones up
    out of here.”
    But, then, when Bereishit seeks to choose its
    final words, it provides us with a message that
    perhaps served as the greatest source of
    strength for an orphaned and broken Jewish
    family. “Yosef died at the age of one hundred
    and ten years; they embalmed him and he was
    placed in a coffin in Egypt.” Yosef’s sacred
    body is not taken back to the Holy Land to be
    interred among the spiritual giants of human
    history: Avraham and Sarah; Yitzchak and
    Rivkah; his father Yaakov, or his mother
    Rachel. Yosef’s spiritual and physical
    presence does not “escape” to the heavenly
    paradise of a land saturated with holiness.
    Rather, Yosef remains in the grit and gravel of
    depraved Egypt, he remains etched deeply in
    the earthiness of Egypt, together with his
    beloved people.
    This is based on the ancient Jewish idea that
    has its roots in the Tanach itself: The burial
    place of a virtuous and saintly human being
    contains profound holiness and spiritual
    energy and constitutes a place conducive for
    prayer to G-d. Since the soul and the body
    retain a relationship even after they depart
    from each other, the space where the physical
    body of a holy man is interred is a space
    conducive for spiritual growth, meditation,
    reflection, and inspiration.
    “He was placed in a coffin in Egypt”—that is
    the culmination of Bereishit. The Jew may be
    entrenched in Egypt and all that it represents,
    but Yosef is right there with him, in the midst
    of his condition, giving him strength,
    blessings, and fortitude.
    The same is true in our own lives as well. In
    each generation G-d plants such “Yosef’s” in
    our midst, the Tzaddikim and Rebbes, who
    are there with the Jewish people in their pain
    and agony. Sometimes, even after their
    passing, if we open our hearts, we can feel the
    touch of their soul, the richness of their spirits,
    the faith of their lives. We may be stuck in the
    quagmire of “Egyptian” dung, yet “Yosef” is
    present with us. Thus, even in the midst of a
    dark and horrific exile, we can hold each
    other’s hands and thunder aloud: Chazak!
    Chazak! Venischazak! “Be strong! Be strong!
    Let us be strengthened!”