“Yaakov said: How great! My son Yosef is still alive! I will go and see him before I die” (Bereishis 45:28)
Although Yaakov Avinu was told that Yosef was still alive, and he took note of the wagons that Yosef sent and its implied message, he nevertheless needed to see Yosef with his own eyes. Why was it so difficult for Yaakov to believe that Yosef was still living?
The sefer Divrei Mordechai points out that when Yaakov saw the colored cloak covered with blood, “All his sons and all his daughters arose to comfort him, but he refused to be comforted” (Bereishis 37:28). HaGaon Rav Avraham Azulai, the author of the Chesed L’Avraham, cites the Arizal that Yaakov Avinu was deeply pained because Hashem had promised him that if none of his children died in his lifetime he would not see Gehennom. He now feared that he would not merit Gan Eden in the future. All his children came to assuage his grief and reminded him that if one grieves excessively over his dead, he will ultimately weep over another deceased (Moed Katan 27b). Yaakov then informed them that he was not mourning his dead but lamenting the eternal life he would lose.
Now when Yaakov’s sons came to tell him that Yosef was alive and a ruler over Mitzrayim, Yaakov was troubled. Why? Yaakov was not perturbed about physical life; Yaakov’s primary apprehension and concern was about olam haba, the spiritual life. Yaakov Avinu wanted to see what kind of life Yosef was living, and he knew that if he saw Yosef face to face he would immediately know whether his spiritual being still lived.
It was for this reason that Yaakov sent Yehuda ahead of him (Bereishis 46:28), as the Medrash says, to establish a yeshiva from which Torah would emanate for Klal Yisrael. He knew it was not something that Yosef would do. When the two met, Yosef was very emotional; he fell on the neck of Yaakov and cried. At that moment, though, Yaakov was reciting the Krias Shema, “You shall love Hashem … with all your heart, with all your soul ….” Yaakov wanted to know whether Yosef still loved Hashem with all his heart and soul. Therefore he refrained from hugging and kissing Yosef, and did not reveal his love for his long-lost son until he could ascertain that Yosef not only ruled over Mitzrayim but he also dominated his evil inclination.
A Mother’s Tears
A few years ago, Rav Gamliel received a call from a distinguished woman in America. She was deeply troubled because her grown son was in a precipitous spiritual decline, and she wanted to know what they could do. In light of the boy’s attitude and manner of conducting himself, the parents primarily wanted to know whether he should be allowed to continue to live at home, surrounded by love, or he should be shunned and removed from their home.
Rav Gamliel, who had been acquainted with the boy when he was younger, suggested that the young man be allowed to remain at home. Since he continued to live with them it seemed to indicate that he savored the warmth and love of his family. Additionally, as there were no younger children at home who could be negatively affected by his presence, he should not be sent away.
The mother cried that she could not just sit by with folded hands and watch his spiritual descent. Rav Gamliel reminded her of the admonition of the Talmud (Yevamos 65b) that just as it is a mitzvah to rebuke someone when it will be heeded, so too it is a mitzvah not to rebuke the individual if he will not listen. He did advise her, though, to accept Shabbos early and to light the candles approximately a half-hour earlier than the set time. He told her to tearfully pray at that time to Hashem that He have mercy on her son’s soul that had strayed, and he cautioned her that if her son questioned her tears, she should simply say, “You alone understand.”
This advice is based on the Magen Avraham, commentary on the Shulchan Aruch, who wrote that at candle-lighting time it is proper for one to pray for one’s children to follow the ways of Torah. In fact, it is the custom for women to pour out their hearts at this time of favor (eis ratzon).
That week the mother cared for her son as usual – preparing his meals, washing his laundry, and cleaning his room. On Friday afternoon, a half-hour earlier than the designated time for candle-lighting, the mother lit her candles with awe and reverence, made her blessings, and tearfully with much emotion poured out her heart to Hashem. After half an hour, she concluded her prayers and turned to put the final touches on the Shabbos table. Her son walked in and asked why she had been crying so bitterly. As instructed, she replied, “You alone understand.”
Although the son was stunned and deeply troubled by her answer, nothing changed.
Whenever the son was home at candle-lighting time and observed her crying, he would again ask why she was crying, and she would inevitably give the same answer: “You alone understand.”
Although there was no discussion during the week about this, the boy began to realize that although his mother continued to shower him with love and acceptance, she was, in fact, unable to come to terms with his weak spiritual state.
A change slowly became discernible. The son began to remain at home over Shabbos. He began to wear a yarmulke and come to the table for Kiddush and Hamotzi. Little by little he found his way back to Yiddishkeit, until he fully embraced his heritage and mesorah.
