Parashat Ki Tavo

For the most part, Sefer Devarim is a recapitulation of the exodus from Egypt and the forty years of traveling in the desert. Moshe Rabbeinu recounts the nation’s sins: the golden calf, (Devarim 9:12-24), the spies, (1:22-46), and the rebellion of Korach, (11:6), and he rebukes the people for their waywardness. Moshe reflects on the experience of Mattan Torah at Har Sinai. (4:10-15, 5:1-28). Moshe reinstructs several Mitzvos, some of which have appeared previously in the Torah and some of which have not, but all of which were originally transmitted from Hashem to the nation in full detail at Sinai.[1] Moshe channels these reflections into a final message, urging the nation to keep the Mitzvos and follow in Hashem’s ways so that they will merit living peacefully and prosperously on their inherited land for generations to come. (11:13-25).

The last eight verses of Parashat Ki Tavo (Devarim 29:1-8) are themselves a recapitulation of sorts.[2] Moshe Rabbeinu mentions the exodus from Egypt, (29:1), references the wondrous miracles Hashem performed both in Egypt and in the desert, (29:2-5), revisits the conquest of Emor and Bashan, the lands east of the Jordan River, (29:6-7), and concludes with a brief request that the nation keep their treaty with Hashem so that they “succeed in all that you perform.” (29:8).

This nested recapitulation raises several questions. First of all, why does a recap need a recap? Moshe has already summarized all the important historical events; why does he need to provide a second summary. Perhaps this second summary is a further summarized version of Sefer Devarim itself. But still, why is this second summary so small? Sefer Devarim is approximately one-third of the size of the previous three Sefarim: Shemot, VaYikra and BaMidbar. It is therefore plausible that a good summary of Sefer Devarim would be about one-third the size of the Sefer. However, this second summary is only about one-hundredth the size of Sefer Devarim. How can something so severely truncated possibly function as a sufficient summary of any story, all the more so an already summarized account of an even longer story?

Second, the content of the recap in Ki Tavo bears little resemblance to the content of Sefer Devarim. There is no mention of the spies or golden calf. Nor is there mention of Mattan Torah. The nation fought more armies than just those of Emor and Bashan; for instance, they defeated the armies of Amaleik (Shemot 17:9-16) and Midyan (BaMidbar 31:1-12). Why does Moshe Rabbeinu skip through so much narrative? And why does he keep his request that the nation keep Hashem’s Covenant to an absolute minimum, whereas he repeats this message over and over and over throughout the entire Sefer Devarim?[3]

Third, the recap in Ki Tavo does not mention the manna that the people ate for forty years, or the well that they drank from, or the clouds that protected them. Instead, Moshe Rabbeinu focuses on their lack of bread and wine, and on their everlasting clothing. Why does Moshe overlook the more obvious miracles in lieu of these lesser details? Furthermore, while everlasting clothing and survival without bread may be miraculous, living forty years without wine is not much of a miracle. Why then should Moshe include the lack wine these other miracles?

Perhaps the lack of wine is not as much of a miracle than it is a deprivation of luxury. In turn, the same could be said for the lack of bread and the lack of changes of clothing. In fact, when Moshe recounts these details the first time, (Devarim 8:3-5), Moshe says that Hashem “starved you … your shirt did not wear out and your feet did not swell … as a father afflicts a son, [so too] Hashem afflicts you.”[4] There is therefore reason to suspect that these verses of Moshe’s recapitulation in Ki Tavo do not list examples of “miracles” but rather examples of starvation, deprivation and affliction.

If Moshe Rabbeinu really wants to remind the nation about their suffering in the desert, he definitely picks an appropriate time. The Ki Tavo recapitulation appears immediately after the Tochacha, a litany of curses, ninety-eight in total, that befall the nation whenever it strays from Hashem. Compared to the curses that appear in the Tochacha (which include horrors as unspeakable as parents consuming the flesh of their own children),[5] the hunger and affliction of the desert probably don’t seem too terrible.

But still, what message does Moshe hope to send by reflecting on the nation’s forty years of suffering? What is special about this day - the day that Moshe Rabbeinu delivers the Tochacha - that compels him to revisit the suffering of the desert? And what compels him to connect it specifically to the miracles in Mitzrayim and the conquest of Emor and Bashan?

In truth, the suffering in the desert is really very much alike the curses of the Tochacha. Perhaps what Moshe hopes to accomplish by revisiting this suffering is to put the Tochacha in proper perspective.

The curses of the Tochacha are not punishments for wrongdoing. One is not punished with a specific curse for having violated a specific Mitzvah. Rather, the curses of the Tochacha are an outgrowth of the irreconcilable incongruity between the goals of an individual’s personal lifestyle and the actual trajectory of the world. To clarify, here is an illustration:

Along the course of your life, you make certain choices decisions and commitments. These choices decisions and commitments will inevitably lead you to believe that you understand at least some small goal or purpose of your life. For instance, if you go to business school, then you probably have aspirations of some day running a business, or you will at least develop these aspirations. While you many not fully grasp the ultimate purpose of your life, you devote a sizable portion of your efforts to succeeding in the business world. This personal goal may be congruous with the ultimate course that the world runs, in which case you find success in your endeavor. Alternatively, this personal goal may stand in total contrast to the ultimate course of the world, in which case the stock market unexpectedly crashes and you find yourself hopelessly destitute, starving and suffering. You have committed a large enough portion of your efforts into (what you did not realize at the time was) a fruitless endeavor, and the devastation that you feel in the wake of your failure will hopefully startle you awake and compel you to begin along a new path.[6]

The suffering that comes along with such catastrophe is not a punishment for having violated the Mitzvot; rather, it is a harsh consequence of following a path incongruous to that of reality. If one follows the Torah and all the Mitzvot, then one’s path will be congruous to that of reality, and one can succeed in his endeavors. However, catastrophe can (and statistically along a long enough measure of time, will) emerge from even the slightest deviation from this path.

This is where the Jewish nation found themselves after leaving Egypt. After two hundred and ten years of praying for freedom, wishing for an identity, they suddenly find themselves free and with a new national identity. But a new question forms: Now what? After centuries of knowing exactly what they wanted, the Jews find themselves with no food, no changes of clothing and no land to call home. Everything which they once enjoyed, everything which once gave them identity - the food one eats, the clothes one wears - was reduced to an absolute minimum, next to nothing. They wore the same shirt and the same shoes, every day, for forty years. They ate the same funny looking food pellets that rained from the sky, every day, for forty years. And when all their preconceptions of freedom and identity were finally broken, after they reached the saturation of their suffering, they reached Emor and Bashan, and they conquered and inherited their land, and they finally put their feet down to rest.

Until they reached the land, Moshe tells them, they did not have the “heart to know, the eyes to see or the ears to hear.”[7] They pursued a goal that had nothing to do with reality. They thought they had achieved freedom and national identity by leaving Egypt, and they felt fulfilled. But in truth, they were far from fulfilled, for they were really on their way to a land Hashem had promised their forefathers centuries earlier. And after forty years of stripping away their false notions of freedom and fulfillment, the nation was finally prepared to live a life congruous with reality in Hashem’s chosen land.

As Moshe closes his reflection on the journey through the desert, he says to the nation, “If there is anything you should learn from your journey, it is that you have no idea what your true goals in life are. You will think you know what to do and how to succeed, but you have no clue. Just like you had no clue when you left Egypt forty years ago. You couldn’t have had a clue. You were so blinded by the awesome miracles and signs. So what did Hashem do? He led you around for forty years, and you wore nothing more than the shirt on your back and the shoes on your feet, and you didn’t feast on bread or sip wine, so that when you finally reached and conquered this wonderful land you could recognize and understand that this is why you left Egypt in the first place, and not for any other reason or purpose.”

“VaYeishev,” (and he settled), Yaakov requested to settle in tranquility, but the tumult of Yoseif sprang up on him. The righteous request to settle in tranquility in this world, [but] Hashem says, ‘is it not enough for the righteous what is fixed for them in the World to Come that they request to settle in this world [as well]?’

Rashi, Beraishit 37:2

There is a fine line between achievement and fulfillment. Yaakov lived a life of tremendous wealth and achievement, but the moment he felt fulfilled and content, his world was thrown into utter chaos. Yaakov did not realize that he was destined to travel to Egypt, and although he eventually reached this destination and he brought the trajectory of life back in congruence with reality, he suffered deeply through the process.

And so Moshe’s final word of advice to the nation is to keep with the Covenant of Hashem. “If you have ever experienced suffering, loss and devastation,” Moshe says, “it was for one reason and one reason alone. It was because your actions were not in line with the course of the world around you. One night you went to sleep thinking you had your whole life figured out - or at least some part of it - and the next morning you woke up and asked yourself, ‘Now what.’ Because if you really had everything figured out, you wouldn’t feel broken, devastated, abandoned, and suffering. Would you? But of course you feel broken. Of course you are devastated. You were doing something that was simply incompatible with the way of the Torah, something that simply could not fit in line with Hashem’s Covenant. And so in retrospect, it’s really no surprise today that you woke up and realized that you knew nothing, and that you had nothing. And it’s no surprise that it hurt terribly.”

“And so I beg you once more. Follow Hashem’s covenant and live a life in line with reality. And maybe, just maybe, if you can do that much, you can ‘succeed in all that you perform.’”

1 See Rashi, VaYikra 25:1

2 Although these verses appear in the middle of Sefer Devarim, the end of Parashat Ki Tavo marks a relatively appropriate point for a recapitulation as the subsequent parasha, Nitzavim, marks the beginning of Moshe Rabbeinu’s parting speech on the day of his death (See Rashi, Devarim 29:9). While Sefer Devarim reflects on the saga of the Jewish nation’s journey through the desert, Parashat Nitzavim changes course and begins to reflect on the saga of Moshe Rabbeinu’s life and what his imminent passing will mean for the nation.

3 For instance, see Devarim 4:1,5,40, 5:1,28, 6:1,17, 7:11, 8:1, 10:13, 11:1, etc. Additionally, one may wish to ask why Moshe focuses in Ki Tavo on Hashem’s “Bris,” but fails to mention the “Mitzvot,” “Eidot,” “Chukim” and “Mishpatim” which factor so prevalently into the rest of the Sefer.

4 Technically, a similar claim could be said of the clouds, manna and well, which Moshe makes reference to a few verses later (Devarim 8:15-16). However, while Moshe says the clouds manna and well “tested” the people, he does not mention “affliction” or “starvation” as he did a few verses earlier by the clothing and lack of bread.

5 Devarim, 28:53-57

6 Be mindful that even in the wake of a catastrophic market crash, not all will find themselves destitute and suffering, probably because there are many people for whom business is in fact a path congruous with reality. It is only the one who both fails and despairs who must recalculate his trajectory.

7 Devarim, 29:3

Parashat Korach

“BiSodam Al Tavo Nafshi,” (in their stealth my soul shall not come), this is the act of Zimri, when the tribe of Shimon gathered and brought a Midyanite woman to Moshe. They said to [Moshe], ‘is she forbidden [to marry] or permissible? If you say she is forbidden, then who permitted you to marry [Tzipora,] the daughter of Yisro?’ [Yaakov’s] name should not be mentioned in the matter, as it says, ‘Zimri, the son of Salu, leader of the Shimonite household’ (BaMidbar 25:14) [but does not trace Zimri’s lineage to Yaakov].

“BiKhalam,” (in their gathering), when Korach, who is from the tribe of Levi, will gather the whole congregation against Moshe and Aharon, “Al Teichad Kevodi,” (my honor shall not join), my name should not be joined to them, as it says “Korach, the son of Yitzhar, the son of Kehas, the son of Levi’ (BaMidbar 16:1) but it does not [continue] ‘the son of Yaakov.’
Rashi, Beraishis 49:6

Before his death, Yaakov requests that his name not be mentioned in conjunction with Zimri and Korach, the sinful descendants of his sons Shimon and Levi. Yaakov’s request is odd. Why does he fear being associated with these two men? The Bnei Yisrael sinned several times in the Midbar. Yaakov should at least equally fear being associated with people like the Meraglim (1) or with sins like the Egel HaZahav. What stands out to Yaakov about Zimri and Korach?

Additionally, Rashi’s comment implies that Yaakov’s prayer was the very cause for the omission of his name. But when is Yaakov’s name ever mentioned in conjunction with his descendants? Whenever the Torah introduces an individual, that individual’s lineage is traced no farther back than to his tribe. Betzaleil ben Uri ben Chur LiMatei Yehuda. (Shemos 31:2) Ahaliav ben Achisamamch LiMatei Dan. (Shemos 31:6) Shlomis bas Divri LiMatei Dan. (VaYikra 24:11) Bnos Tzilophchad ben Cheifer ben Gilad ben Machir ben Menashe LiMishpachos Minashe ben Yoseif. (BaMidbar 27:1) To name a few. Why then would Yaakov suspect that his name would be mentioned in conjunction with any descendant? And why specifically in conjunction with these two?

The Gur Aryeh notes that Korach’s lineage is already clear from the pasukim in Parashat Va’Eira. (6:16,18,21) There is therefore no need for the pasuk in Parashat Korach to repeat this information, except to emphasize Korach’s greatness. Just as the two hundred and fifty men that Korach gathered were “Nise’ai Eidah Kriyai Mo’eid Anshei Sheim,” (leaders of the congregation, regularly called upon, men of stature), so too Korach was a celebrated individual. Therefore, it would make sense that Yaakov’s name appear in conjunction with Korach, for none of Korach’s descendants were of greater stature than Yaakov.

The Levush HaOrah takes the Gur Aryeh’s explanation one step further. On the words VaYikach Korach, Rashi explains that Korach ‘took himself,’ meaning that Korach separated himself from the rest of the nation to rebel against Moshe. The word “take,” however, does not normally mean to separate but rather to persuade. (2) In fact, the pasuk that Rashi quotes (Iyov 15:12) in support of his definition for the word Lakach, “Ma Yikcha Libecha,” (what does your heart teach you), connotes persuasion and not separation. (3) The Levush HaOrah instead understands Rashi’s comment to mean that Korach’s heart persuaded him to separate from the nation. Korach said to himself, “I am a son of Yitzhar, or Kehas, of Levi, and especially of Yaakov! I, not Aharon or Moshe, should be in charge!” There is therefore good reason for Yaakov’s name to appear in the pasuk, but Yaakov prayed that his name be omitted, and his prayer was answered.

The same can be said for Zimri. Rashi’s comments in Parahsat VaYechi refer to the “act of Zimri,” but Rashi then recounts the argument that Zimri and his tribe made to Moshe, not Zimri’s act of promiscuity. Why does Rashi focus specifically on Zimri’s argument with Moshe when Zimri’s true error seems to be his promiscuous behavior? Perhaps Yaakov did not worry that his name would be mentioned in conjunction with Zimri just because Zimri took a Midyanite woman to his tent. But the audacity that Zimri shows by contending with Moshe, by thinking ‘if Moshe can take a Midyanite woman, then so can I,’ suggests a level of arrogance similar to Korach’s. Perhaps Zimri too perceived himself as a great leader of the Jewish people, and one who descended from Yaakov. All that greatness went right to Zimri’s head. Again, there would be good reason for Yaakov’s name to appear in conjunction with Zimri, but Yaakov prayed that it should not.

There is another interesting parallel between the life of Yaakov and those of Korach and Zimri. Yaakov was the younger son in his family, but he stole the Bechorah, and the right to perform the Avoda in the Beis HaMikdash, from his older brother Eisav. Yaakov then fled from his home to the foreign land of Padan Aram, where he married Leah and Rachel. Perhaps Korach’s and Zimri’s rebellions were inspired by the actions of their ancestor. Korach’s father, Yitzhar, was the younger brother of Amram, Moshe’s and Aharon’s father. Perhaps Korach thought he was entitled to ‘steal’ the lofty titles of leadership from his older cousins, just as Yaakov was entitled to steal from Eisav. Perhaps Zimri thought he was permitted to marry a foreign woman, just as Yaakov did twice.

But Korach and Zimri were mistaken. Each one’s status as a Ben Yaakov did not entitle him to lead a life like Yaakov’s. In fact, each one’s status as a Ben Yaakov entitled him to nothing. Rather, the true role of a Ben Yaakov, or Ben Yisrael, is one of service.

And where is [Yaakov’s] name mentioned in conjunction with Korach? When tracing the ancestry of those who ascended [to sing in the Beis HaMikdash], as it says, “ben Aviasaf ben Korach ben Yitzhar ben Kehas ben Levi ben Yisrael”
Rashi, BaMidbar 16:1

The mention of Yaakov’s name is reserved for those descendants who, like Yaakov, devoted their lives to service of Hashem. Yaakov may have carried fame and stature wherever he travelled, but the life he led was never one of entitlement but rather one of tumult.

“VaYeishev,” (and he settled), Yaakov requested to settle in tranquility, but the tumult of Yoseif sprang up on him. The righteous request to settle in tranquility in this world, [but] Hashem says, ‘is it not enough for the righteous what is fixed for them in the World to Come that they request to settle in this world [as well]?’
Rashi, Beraishis 37:2

When Korach plots against Moshe and Aharon, he accuses them of assuming the two positions of greatness: one is the King and the other is the High Priest. Korach felt entitled to these roles. However, neither Moshe’s role or Aharon’s role were titles, and neither reflected a state of entitlement. Rather, these roles were responsibilities. The word Kehuna itself does not refer to a status but rather to the responsibility LiKahein, to serve. As a waiter would serve a patron at a restaurant, so would a Kohein serve Hashem.

At the root of all willful error lies a false sense of entitlement. Those distant from Hashem justify their lack of service in the toil of their own labor. For instance, when the Bnei Yisrael complain about the Man in Parashat BiHa’alosicha (BaMidbar 11:5), they remark, “We remember the fish we used to eat in Mitzrayim for free.” Rashi comments that the fish in Mitzrayim obviously cost money, for if the Egyptians would not supply the Jews with mortar and straw, then they certainly would not supply fish. Rather, Rashi explains, the fish were ‘free of obligation.’ In other words, as the Mizrachi explains, the Jews didn’t have to make Berachos on their food. All that freedom changed when their food began to rain from heaven.

There is a simple problem with Rashi’s explanation. If Moshe fed the people meat, then they would still have to make a Beracha. How then does the nation’s request for meat satisfy their desire to be free from obligation? But there is a simple answer to this question. A person who catches, slaughters and prepares his own game feels entitled to his food and can ignore Hashem’s obvious involvement in these activities. In contrast, how could one possibly feel a sense of entitlement when eating magical prepared food (4) that rained from heaven?

Those close to Hashem are susceptible too. Closeness to Hashem can support a false sense of entitlement, as indicated by Moshe in his parting speech.

And he will bless himself in his heart and say ‘I will have peace, for I will walk by the wont of my heart.’
Devarim, 29:18

Moshe directs his words at those who accept Hashem’s Bris and accept the calamitous consequences of straying from that Bris. Even among those people, there will still be some individuals who justify their sinful lifestyles. They will ‘bless themselves;’ they perceive themselves as blessed. Their hearts will tell them that they are close with Hashem, and they will become complacent with that sentiment. They will trust their hearts, but with little concern for the Torah knowledge they possess.

Such was the error of Korach, a man so touched by the experience of Har Sinai that the experience became the very basis of his rebellion. (5)

Avodas Hashem is the inherited responsibility of a Jew. May we merit to assume this responsibility with all due passion and zeal, but without a false sense of entitlement.

(1) According to the gemara in Sanhedrin (109b), “Bisodam Al Tavo Nafshi” refers to the sin of the Meraglim. Rashi omits this interpretation in lieu of the interpretation found in Beraishis Rabbah (98:5). See the Nachalas Yaakov for an in-depth discussion regarding Rashi’s partiality towards the Medrash’s interpretation.

(2) For instance, when Hashem commands Moshe to “take” Aharon and teach him to perform the Avoda, (VaYikra 8:2), Rashi explains that the word Kach in that context refers to Moshe’s need to “take Aharon with words and persuasion.”

(3) Although Onkelos translates VaYikach as “VaIspaleig,” (and he separated himself), Rashi explains the pasuk in Iyov to mean that one’s heart persuades him to separate from those around him. This in turn explains why the verb in Onkelos is reflexive while the word Lakach itself is active. The reflexive word refers to the actions of Korach on himself, but the active word refers to the actions of Korach’s heart.

(4) The name Man refers to the fact that the food was already prepared to be eaten when it fell. (Rashi, Shemos 16:15)

(5) Rashi explains that Korach’s seminal argument “the entire congregation is holy and Hashem is in their midst” (BaMidbar 16:3) refers to the fact that every Jew heard Hashem speak at Har Sinai.

Parashat VaYechi

Yaakov, before summoning all his sons to his deathbed, called in Yoseif and his two sons and presented them with a very special gift. Yaakov explained that after his first eleven sons were born, Hashem then promised him that he would produce another “Goi U’Kahal Goyim,” another “nation and gathering of nations.” Binyamin’s birth was the fulfillment of “Goi,” but there were clearly two more children that Hashem intended to count as Yaakov’s direct descendents. Yaakov therefore inferred that one of his sons was destined to split into two tribes, and he decided to split Yoseif.

Yaakov then continued, “And when I came from [Lavan’s house,] Rachel died in Cana’an… and I buried her on the road to Efras, in Beis Lechem.” The commentaries all ask, how does Yaakov’s burial of Rachel connect to the rest of his conversation with Yoseif? Rashi explains.

“And when I came from Padan…” Although I am troubling you to carry me back to Cana’an to be buried and yet I did not even do so for your mother, whom [I buried right where] she died… And I did not even carry as far as Beis Lechem, to settled land. I know you are upset with me, but know that I buried her [there] by G-d’s command, so she may help her sons when Nevuzaradan exiles them. When they pass her grave, she will cry and beg for mercy on them…
Rashi, Beraishis 48:7

Rashi’s explanation helps us understand why Yoseif might have been interested in the details surrounding his mother’s burial. However, Rashi does little to connect these details to the splitting of Yoseif into two tribes. Yaakov suddenly needs to quell his son’s grudge toward him? Shouldn’t Yaakov have explained his actions to Yoseif when he first requested to be buried in Cana’an?

In fact, by waiting until after he splits Yoseif into two Shvatim, Yaakov makes his apology not only untimely, but poinless. Rashi explains later in the parasha that the brothers stood around Yaakov’s coffin in the same formation that they later used to travel through the Midbar. By this understanding, Menashe and Ephrayim both took part in the burial ceremony, but Yoseif only watched. In that case, how can Yaakov any longer apologize for troubling Yoseif to bury him? Now he’s troubling Yoseif’s sons instead, children who likely hold no such grudge over the burial of a grandmother they never met. Why then does Yaakov still need to explain himself to Yoseif at all? And yet Yaakov waits for exactly this moment.

An understanding of Yaakov’s apology can itself only exist within an understanding of its context, the supposed “gift” that Yaakov presented Yoseif by splitting him into two tribes. Rashi explains that Ephrayim and Menashe will be counted as “Yaakov’s” in order that they “take a portion in [Eretz Yisrael,] each man for himself.” However, Rashi then explains that all the tribes divided the land proportionally, according to their respective populations. Therefore, whether Menashe and Ephrayim were counted as one tribe or two would not affect the size of their estate. What “gift” did Yaakov then give them? Rashi concludes, “Nonetheless, only these children [of Yaakov’s sons] were called Shvatim to collect land in Eretz Yisrael, to have their own Nasi, and to wave their own flag.” In essence, Menashe and Ephrayim had as great a stake in the land before Yaakov’s decision than they did after. Why then does Rashi mention anything about how they will divide the land? Why does Rashi mention it first? Why does he still couple it with the appointment of a Nasi and the waving of a flag to conclude?

Perhaps there is more value to a gift than just its utility. As described later in the Torah, the Bnos Tzelophchad, who were descendants of Yoseif, embodied a strict love for the land that went beyond their desire to own their own property. Their land would leave their own Sheivet and go to whatever Sheivet they married into (as they only agreed to marry into their own tribe and keep the land within their Sheivet after Menashe’s leaders complained to Moshe), yet they still wanted to be part of the division of land and uphold their father’s legacy, even if their acquisition would have no affect on the Sheivet’s estate.

In this sense, Yaakov is providing a gift to Yosief, but one of no particular utility. Yaakov has only so much he can give, but given Yoseif’s inherent love for Eretz Yisrael, even the alteration of the process by which the land will be divided is something that Yoseif finds special. However, a gift is also only special as its giver perceives it to be, and the question that Yaakov must address in our parasha is whether he views occupation and use of the land in an ad hoc manner or with an equal level of reverence as do Yoseif and his sons.

When Yaakov asked Yoseif to bury him in Cana’an, Yoseif immediately obliged, yet Yaakov still forced him to swear. Though Yoseif saw this duty as a privilege, Yaakov seemed to think he was “burdening” his son into bringing him up from Mitzrayim. Furthermore, Yaakov buried Yoseif’s mother, Rachel, right where she dropped dead, without even considering whether there were any more appropriate places for her to be buried within proximity. And what if she were to have died before they would have entered Eretz Yisrael? Did Yaakov really treat the land with any such consideration? Yosief was left to speculate.

Of course, when Yaakov ordered Yoseif to carry him back to Cana’an, Yoseif’s speculation meant nothing. His father gave him an order, and he would certainly fulfill that order exactly as commanded, no matter what he felt in his heart. However, now Yaakov was giving him a gift, and the essence of the gift was not one of utility but rather of thought. Yoseif would gain very little from being split into two tribes, yet Yaakov wanted let Yoseif know just how special he was. Yaakov couldn’t do this without first explaining how special the land was to him as well, and only though this expression of endearment, the fact that he buried Yoseif’s mother right where she could cry for her children, for Yoseif’s brothers just as he himself constantly cried for them, could Yoseif appreciate the gift he and his sons received.