Past Pits And Future Fears

Parshas Vayechi: Trust in absence of understanding

It's impossible to predict the future. But that hasn't stopped humanity from trying. While crystal ball crones, oracles and stargazers may be out of fashion, forecasters and pundits are a pillar of the media landscape. We have built whole industries off our obsessive curiosity concerning what lies ahead. Warren Buffet once quipped that "Forecasts may tell you a great deal about the forecaster [but] they tell you nothing about the future." Yet the tantalising opportunity to know our destiny remains irresistible. 

In this week's Parsha, the Jewish people appeared to come agonisingly close to discovering the nature of our fate: 

Yaakov called his sons and said, "Assemble, and I will tell you what will happen to you at the End of Days.”

Rashi: [Yaakov] wanted to reveal the end [of the exile]. However, God removed the Divine Presence from him, and [thus] he began to discuss other things.

It is natural for every believing Jew to dream of our redemption from exile. Indeed the Rambam considers yearning for the Moshiach to be a foundational precept of the Jewish faith. But on further contemplation revealing the exact date of the Messianic dawn seems like a strange choice for Yaakov to make. Surely, knowing when Moshiach will arrive over three thousand years in advance would be counterproductive? Public awareness of such a prolonged future exile would be bound to breed apathy or, worse, resignation. 

Given these questions, Rav Moshe Shapiro chooses to re-understand the message Yaakov wanted to share. Yaakov did not want to reveal the date of the redemption. Instead, he intended to elaborate on how each of the Jewish Nation's future hardships would contribute to their overall salvation. It was clear to him that pain is far easier to endure when its precise purpose is understood. By equipping us with the unique reason behind each of our many trials, he hoped we would be mentally prepared to persevere when they came. 

As we know, God removed "the divine presence" before Yaakov could realise his hope of alleviating the exile, instantly causing him to forget the knowledge he wished to impart to his sons. However, his decision to do so leaves us floundering. We understand that adversity is an uncomfortable necessity for self-development. But why did God not want us to know the reasons for our struggles? We seem to be forever cursed to grapple with the meaning of suffering. How come God didn't hand us the divine game plan?

Events occurring later in this Parsha provide the structure for answering our inquiry. Family fears escalate after Yaakov's passing. The verse presents his sons, responsible for Yosef's sale, in a state of anxiety:

When Yosef's brothers saw their father dead, they exclaimed, "What if Yosef will hate us and pay us back for the evil we have done to him?" {Bereishis 50:15}

Whilst the apparent reason for the brother's concern seems to be the sudden removal of paternal authority, the Midrash further illuminates the turn of events:

What did the brothers see that made them fear Yosef now? On their return from their father's burial, they saw Yosef go to the pit they had thrown him into. 

(In reality, Joseph went there to recite the blessing a person is commanded to repeat at the place at which a miracle was performed for him)

{Midrash Tanchuma}

The meaning of this Midrash weighs heavily with psychological significance. Decades have passed since Yosef's excruciatingly dehumanising ordeal. He was left to die in a pit by his brothers, then sold as a slave before ultimately languishing in an Egyptian jail. Now he returns as Pharaoh's formidable viceroy to peer once again into the bowels of that fateful pit.

There is nothing mundane about this moment, and only two possible human responses exist. Yosef's nervous brothers anticipate the first. Rage. Rage at the people or things responsible for his immense sufferings. Yet this, the verse tells us, is not Yosef's reaction. Instead, he takes a second perspective, choosing to see God's hand working behind the scenes:

Whilst you intended me harm, God arranged [your actions] for good. To bring about this present result—the survival of numerous people.

{Bereishis 50:20}

Amidst the noise of his suffering, Yosef could detect God's eternal call. Because of this character trait, his descendant, the Moshiach Ben Yosef, will be the one to raise the flag of redemption whilst still in the depths of exile. And from his development through adversity, we can understand why God did not reveal to us the explicit purpose in each of our struggles.

How so? A divine act of redemption is perfect and eternal. If we could fully comprehend God's intricate plan, it would perforce dilute our purity of belief. Thus, exile and torment are not just things God will redeem us from. Their suffocating darkness is itself a tool that allows us a meaningful role in our redemption. By building a trust in God forged in a sea of doubt, we play a substantial role in rescuing ourselves from personal and national suffering.

Man wants to feel in control. Yet ironically, we control very little. The unknowability of what is to come negates the little influence we may hold on our futures. Revisiting places, physically or mentally, where we experienced anguish is always a disconcerting feeling. We are in a different space now, yet a fragment of our souls stays trapped in time. At some point, we will all face an uncertain future or stare back into the pits of our past. Like Yosef, when the moment comes, we hope to feel God's embrace. 

Good Shabbos, and Keep Pondering!

[P.S Quick shout out to my regular readers. All the feedback has been so helpful, and I’ve got a huge amount of chizuk out of all of it. With my ADHD, this has been the longest I have ever kept a project going! See you all for Shemos.]