On Friday nights, as the sacred calm of Shabbat descends, a timeless ritual unfolds in Jewish homes worldwide: Parents bestow brachot upon their children. These moments, solemn and tender, weave a tapestry of love and tradition that has graced countless Shabbat tables. The brachot are a cherished cornerstone of the Shabbat experience.
Though the words of these brachot vary slightly across different traditions, one pasuk has become universally beloved: “Yesimcha Elokim K’Ephrayim U’Menashe-—May Hashem bless you like Ephraim and Menashe.” This bracha echoes the heartfelt words spoken by Yaakov to Yosef’s children as he prepared to leave this world. By invoking this verse, parents bestow upon their own children the same boundless brachot that Yaakov offered to his grandchildren.
Yaakov’s delivery of brachot was a moment brimming with unimaginable joy. Having assumed he would never see Yosef again, Yaakov stood in awe, beholding not only his son but his grandsons as well. The depth of his elation poured into his words. By similarly blessing our own children we seek to channel some of that overwhelming joy and hope into their lives. It is both fascinating and deeply symbolic that parents bless a child with words first bestowed upon a grandchild, not a child. Evidently, the bracha of a grandparent carries an iconic resonance, stretching across the highway of Jewish history.
Sefer Bereishit is often marked by familial discord—brothers at odds, wives in rivalry, and relationships fractured by jealousy and strife. Finally, in this tranquil moment prior to Yaakov’s death, we encounter a rare and luminous moment: three generations united under one roof, bound by shared purpose and harmony. This scene stands as a powerful emblem of the familial unity that had remained so elusive throughout Bereishit.
Therefore, by invoking the bracha of a grandparent and offering it to our own children, we yearn for similar strength of family connection. By citing Yaakov’s bracha we recreate that fleeting moment of multigenerational peace and shared destiny.
A Great-Grandfather
Like his father Yaakov, Yosef also achieves closure through multigenerational harmony. Hated by his brothers, sold into slavery, and later persecuted in Egypt, Yosef endured an odyssey of pain and anguish.
His own redemption is not encapsulated by his rise to political power or the glory of his position. He himself dismisses his fame as incidental, recognizing it as merely a strand in the greater tapestry of divine providence. Additionally, his stature and influence diminish. As his story draws to its close, he is no longer the commanding figure who once held sway over Egypt. He is an aging man, acutely aware of his mortality and powerless to ensure his own burial in Israel. This man, who once orchestrated the fate of nations, now relies on his brothers and the flow of history to fulfill his final wish. The political clout and public recognition that once defined him are exposed as transient, a flower that blooms only to wither.
Yosef’s redemption is realized not in the grandeur of his political achievements but in the quiet joy of seeing not only his grandchildren but also his great-grandchildren, whom he lovingly helps to raise. The fractured family harmony that eluded him in his youth is restored in his golden years, as he witnesses the unity and continuity of his lineage.
These two scenes of connection and continuity—Yaakov as a grandparent and Yosef as a great-grandparent—stand in contrast to the family discord that pervades so much of Bereishit. The narrative concludes with these grandparental moments, highlighting the enduring power of family unity and harmony.
A Book of Family
One might expect Sefer Bereishit to focus on theology or philosophy—to delve into the mysteries of creation and humanity’s discovery of the divine, or to outline directives for moral conduct and conscience. Instead, this foundational book centers almost entirely on family. It chronicles the dynamics between husbands and wives, brothers and sisters, and parents and children. Evidently, family relationships are not just the backdrop of our lives but the foundation of our connection to Hashem.
Though Hashem is not human and transcends human experience, we are called to overlay the emotions of our family relationships onto our bond with Him. While He is not a literal parent, we are asked to revere Him as a Father, bringing to this relationship the same depth of love, respect and trust we offer our parents. Though not a spouse, He is our divine partner, and we are invited to approach Him with the same commitment and emotional intensity such a bond demands. Family relationships serve as the emotional framework for our relationship with Hashem.
Additionally, family relationships teach us the core moral values that define religious life: love, compassion, sacrifice, loyalty, honesty, trust, companionship and cooperation. These timeless lessons, nurtured within the family unit, are the cornerstone of spiritual identity and divine service.
Two Mitzvot
Two foundational mitzvot play a pivotal role in strengthening family ties within Judaism. The first is the observance of Shabbat, which mandates a weekly cessation of activities, naturally creating space for family interaction. In particular, the prohibitions against travel which are seminal to Shabbat ensure that families cannot simply drop by for a brief visit and leave; in many cases, they are bound together for a full 24 hours. Every few years, families must live together for three consecutive days, a requirement that forces individuals to practice sacrifice and compromise in order to maintain familial harmony.
Additionally, the mitzvah to honor parents solidifies the structure of the family. By honoring those who have sacrificed to build and nurture the family, we reinforce the values that underpin family life.
Throughout our long exile, devoid of national identity and culture, it was the core nucleus of Jewish families and communities that provided the strength and endurance to survive. These intimate bonds, nurtured by these mitzvot, have been the anchor that has kept the Jewish people steadfast in the face of immense challenges.
The two grandparental scenes at the conclusion of Bereishit emphasize the profound significance of Jewish family life. Borrowing the bracha of a grandparent each Friday night serves as a weekly expression of hope, a heartfelt aspiration to maintain family harmony as we journey through the trials of Jewish history.
Our Family
Our return to Israel represents the greatest endeavor of family reconstruction in history. Scattered across the wilderness of time, our family is now engaged in the painstaking process of reuniting. This past year has witnessed vicious attacks on our national family, and has left countless families personally traumatized. Tragically, many families still await the return of their loved ones, held captive by the brutal hands of Hamas.
In defending our family in Israel, grandparents have played an instrumental role. Many took up arms, with some even serving in reserve units composed of men in their 50s and 60s. Grandparents stood on the front lines of volunteer efforts, supporting soldiers and fortifying the home front. In countless cases, they were forced to step back into the role of parents, caring for grandchildren while their own children valiantly defended our country. Throughout this war, grandparents have emerged as the underrated and silent heroes of our nation’s struggle.
This week, as you bless your children with the timeless words of a grandparent’s blessing, take a mental moment to honor these grandparents. Remember those whose unwavering efforts sustained us and feel the anguish of those whose hearts have been shattered by the pain of this war.
And finally, when you bless your children with the blessing of a grandparent, reflect on your own grandparents, who could only dream of the privilege we now hold—to live freely and autonomously in our own land, defended by our own army.
This is the Shabbat of grandparents. We are all descendants of our past and ancestors of our future. We are bound together by the enduring legacy of those who came before us and the hopes of those who will follow. We have been summoned by the past and the future to stand tall at this moment of history. God knows we haven’t disappointed either.
The writer is a rabbi at the hesder pre-military Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, with Yeshiva University ordination and an MA in English literature from the City University of New York. His most recent book, Reclaiming Redemption: Deciphering the Maze of Jewish History (Mosaica Press), is available in bookstores or at www.reclaimingredemption.com.
