Watching Hashem run the affairs of the State of Israel without human interference may be one of the positive outcomes of the administrative stalemate thrust upon the state by successive elections. Nevertheless, it comes at a very high price: the divisive politics and the ugly rhetoric of the campaign trail. It is certainly a price that Yaakov Avinu's actions of this week's parsha would never have us pay.
It may very well be that that specter of an incomplete and factioned family is what gave Yaakov Avinu no respite from the pain of mourning. Let me explain by returning to what I wrote some six years ago in this very venue[1], albeit with a different conclusion.
At that time, I was troubled by Yaakov Avinu's reaction to the loss of Yosef, which announced the start of his unabated mourning, recorded as (37:35) "Vayema'ein l'hinachem - he refused to be comforted." Yaakov certainly had the deep faith and bold strength of people that we all know who have triumphed over life's greatest suffering. We all know people, presumably of less stature than Yaakov Avinu, who have decided that they will put back together lives that will accommodate, and perhaps welcome, moments of joy and celebration. That is why the simplistic reading of Yaakov's response is troubling.
Additionally, in that dvar Torah I was intrigued by the stark understudied contrast of the elder father refusing to be consoled over the loss of his favorite son, and the ability for the younger Yehuda to move ahead after burying his wife and two thirds of his future. Yehuda is distant from his family both emotionally and geographically, and the loss of children and wife are fresh, and yet we read (38:12) "and Yehuda finds comfort" and goes back to business.
How different is the picture back at home. Yaakov is surrounded (37:35) by children, daughter in laws, and grandchildren, all trying to assuage a heart full of pain, perhaps still very sorely missing his beloved Rachel as well. According to Ohr Hachayim they would remind him of his blessings, that he is encircled by children and grandchildren, all who practice his legacy dearly and devotedly. Truth be told, after but a few moments of thought about the enormous hole in Yaakov's heart, we can more easily identify with the wounded and crushed father and husband than the seemingly indomitable spirit of Yehuda.
Indeed, some of our greatest commentaries (Tur, Seforno) see pervasive guilt that would give Yaakov no rest. One must question what the takeaway message would be of that mesorah. It certainly seems from the text and context that the Torah is recording a deliberate decision to deny any natural distraction or any innate interest to let go. That seems dissonant with a life of optimistic, altruistic giving, belief and humility; lives that we all hold as an ideal.
Perhaps Hashem wants us to see our patriarch who simply will not let go of the dream of a complete House of Israel, who will not make peace with children who will not know each other. How our world would look different!
I am reminded of the will of Rav Shamshon Rephael Hirsch who makes one request above all others of his children. He bequeaths in his last writing to them his plea that they will forever remain a family, forever recognize the bond of their common source.
In a magnificent parallel recorded by the medrash, Yosef tenaciously holds on to the picture of his father that will guide Yosef and support him in his most challenging moment. Perhaps we too, with early forbearers in mind, can successfully fight the impact of all the negativity elicited by campaign oratory, and commit ourselves to the welfare of all of our brethren, and all the while remain true to the picture of our teachers and their mesorah. Perhaps then we will merit to hear the echoes of and the response to Rachel Imeinu who forever remains "mei'a'na l'hinacheim - refusing to accept consolation", no doubt proud of her children's accomplishments but nevertheless unrelenting in her dream for her children to come together and come back.