Fearing entombment in Egypt, Ya’akov begs his son Yosef to bury him in Israel. He is so worried that he will become an Egyptian shrine that he forces Yosef to take an oath. Realizing that his son’s political commitments may obstruct the mission, he demands that Yosef swear to bury him in Israel.
Surprisingly, after his final audience with his twelve children, Ya’akov lodges this burial request a second time. Evidently, in repeating this petition, Ya’akov has an ulterior motive.
Throughout his tumultuous life he had struggled to unify a splintered family. His twelve children were too different to be effortlessly forged into one cohesive group. Some children were born from pedigreed stock while others were born from maidservants. Some of his sons had committed serious sins while others had a more impeccable past. Some were strong and some were weak. Some had large families, some small, while Dan had only one child. The family could only morph into a nation once these disparate elements were fused into one interconnected and indivisible nation.
Building Unity
Their frightening ordeal in Egypt had already begun to unify the brothers. False charges of espionage forced them to rally together for survival. Facing the capricious wrath of an impulsive tyrant, their escape depended upon a coordinated response.
Subsequently the family’s relocation to Egypt further endowed solidarity. Immersed in a foreign country, they could only counter the cultural pressures and preserve their common heritage through a united effort.
Having tasted initial solidarity, the family assembled together to meet their father for one last time. Instead of affording each child a private audience, Ya’akov gathered his children into one room, addressing them jointly, thereby fostering an air of camaraderie and solidarity.
In his final attempt to unify his family Ya’akov assigns a shared family project. Though he realizes that Yosef alone is more than capable of supervising his burial, Ya’akov allocated mutual responsibility for his burial to all his children. This joint historical project of returning their father’s body to its rightful resting place in their common homeland, hopefully, will grant lasting unity. Yosef has full authority to manage the logistics of releasing his father’s body from Egypt and transporting it to Israel. Ya’akov, though, wants all his children to participate in a common cooperative historical project. Despite their differences and despite the tensions which had splintered the family, they are now united, prepared to develop into one nation. Ya’akov’s lasting legacy is the unity he fought so hard to achieve.
The Day After
After the burial procession to Israel an urgent question emerges: how can this newfound unity be preserved? Previously, a crisis had produced unity, but the crisis had long ago been resolved. Likewise, their joint project of burying Ya’akov was completed. No more threats, no more wars, no more joint historical projects. What comes after unity?
The answer is, of course, communication and mutual understanding. Potentially, unity opens channels of healthy communication. Disharmony and isolation hinder communication and lead to greater divide. In the aftermath of unity can healthy communication follow? Will Yosef and his brothers appreciate their different viewpoints and preserve solidarity?
Suspicions and Lies
It appears as if this solidarity deteriorated. Suspicious of Yosef and fearful of his retaliation, the brothers fabricated their father’s request for Yosef to forgive them. Lying corrodes trust and wrecks relationships.
The midrash describes the root of the brothers’ suspicions. While traveling to his father’s burial in Israel, Yosef visited the city of Shechem, which was the site of his horrifying abduction. Presumably, he sought closure for the greatest trauma of his life. Witnessing this detour, the brothers though assumed that Yosef was visiting the scene of the crime to plot his revenge. Had they just communicated with one another their suspicions would have been allayed and the relationship would have thrived. Without communication, suspicions arose which led to lies and mistrust.
Unity enables healthy communication. Healthy communication builds trust. Trust is the lifeblood of healthy relationships. Sadly, after they had achieved unity, the brothers and Yosef could not shift into respectful communication and their short-lived unity vanished. By the end of his life, Yosef and his brothers seem as far apart as ever.
The Day After the War
Our people now face a similar challenge. After a year of destructive social discord and malicious and spiteful national discourse, tragedy has united us like never before. In this battle for survival, every sector of our people has rallied against a common enemy. Jews around the world have lent their support, their hearts, and their wallets to the struggle for Jewish future. We all hear the echo of history calling out to us. We know that future generations will retell our story. We stand shoulder- to-shoulder, building the wall of Jewish destiny.
The question on everyone’s mind though, is how to maintain this solidarity. At some point, we will triumph, the war will conclude, and we will all return to our normal routine. In the absence of a crisis, or of a joint historical project, what can preserve unity and prevent us from sinking back into petty divisiveness.
Our unity can only be sustained if we segue into frank and honest communication. We are together like never before: on the battlefields, in the hospitals, in the cemeteries, at volunteer centers, at rallies and in our prayers. Now is the perfect time to learn how to communicate across the ideological divide. To communicate, we must learn how to listen. To really listen, we must better appreciate the perspectives of different communities. Each community has proven its commitment to Jewish identity and future. Now let’s listen to how they define that future.
Secular Israel has proven its commitment to Jewish heritage. Their patriotism and sacrifice have been unwavering and inspiring. Let us listen to their needs and wishes. Their desire for robust democracy and religious freedom reflects their noble aspirations for a Jewish state founded upon equality and dignity. Religious Jews may not concur with all their positions nor identify with their progressive secular society. But let us listen to their dreams and realize that these values don’t betray our common Jewish destiny.
Charedi society has proven that they are deeply invested in our country and its well-being. Their society is perfectly suited for the volunteer networks and charity organizations which have proved indispensable during this war. Their commitment to Torah study and their concerns about cultural assimilation make them hesitant to serve in the IDF. Not everyone agrees with this policy, but it isn’t an abandonment of our people. As we stand together, let us listen to their perspective for our common future and let us build it together.
Religious Zionists are disproportionately represented in elite IDF combat units and have displayed greater loyalty to reserve duty. This dedication has come at a steep cost as, tragically, this community has suffered a high fatality rate. Their fervor and devotion should help us admire their staunch commitment to settling our homeland- a commitment manifested in higher rates of both aliyah and lone soldiers.
The response of the international Jewish community across the religious spectrum should help us admire their deep allegiance for Jewish peoplehood and Jewish homeland. They may not live in Israel, but they live with us, and our country is deeply embedded in their hearts. As we build our future country, their needs and their hopes must also be factored in.
This is a watershed moment. Tragically, unity has been involuntarily thrust upon us. Can we maintain it? Can we discover healthy communication? Can we listen and can we appreciate values which aren’t our own, but part of our joint future? Will we revert to suspicion and animosity? Or does this war have a silver lining of trust and healthy communication?
This unity is ours to preserve or ours to dismantle.
The writer is a rabbi at Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, a Hesder yeshiva. He has smicha and a BA in computer science from Yeshiva University as well as a masters degree in English literature from the City University of New York.
