As we bid farewell to Sefer Bereishis and enter Sefer Shemos, we arrive too, to the first experience Am Yisrael had in Galus. Yaakov Avinu came down to Mitzrayim with his children and grandchildren, counting the moments till he could once again hold his beloved Yosef in his arms. Though the darkness of exile hovered, the families grew, flourished, and prospered. No one could imagine the back breaking slavery, cruelty, and antisemitism that was awaiting.
I imagine us looking back on happy photos of parents, grandparents and great-grandparents walking along famous streets and beautiful sites throughout the world. Their smiling poses tell us nothing of what was to come. Bondi Beach. Paris. New York City. London. Toronto. Pick a place – it really doesn’t matter.
Who could envision the massacre on a serene beach in Australia while lighting the Chanukah menorah? Who could contemplate the vicious mobs shouting to ‘globalize the intifada’, taking over shopping malls, college campuses and city sights? All this while jihadists in suits call out ‘there is only one solution’, for the extermination of our land and people.
Yaakov Avinu knew that Galus is a reality. We are destined to suffer through the darkness of exile, wander throughout the four corners of the world, and go through every form of persecution. But how do we make it through with our emunah intact? How do we not crumble in despair while being pummeled, beaten, scorned, and massacred?
As Yaakov is about to set out for Egypt, he is in a joyous mood but then something troubles him and his spirit and heart are filled with anxiety (Rabbi S.R. Hirsch). He is given a revelation in middle of the night, symbolic of the dark Galus that will be coming. Yet at the same time, Hashem reassures him, “Al tira, do not be afraid! I will go down with you to Egypt, and I will surely bring you up as well.”
Hashem was not only speaking to our father Yaakov but to each one of us as well. Al tira! Do not be afraid! I, Hashem, will be with you no matter where life takes you. You are never left abandoned. You are not alone.
Before Yaakov leaves this world, he calls Yosef to his bedside.
“And it came to pass after these things that someone said to Yosef your father is ill. So he took his two sons, Menashe and Ephraim with him…so Israel exerted himself and sat up on the bed…he blessed Yosef and he said, G-d before whom my forefathers Abraham and Isaac walked…G-d who shepherds me from my inception until today, hamalach hagoel osi mikol rah, may the angel who redeems me from all evil, yevarech es hanaarim, bless the children, and may my name be declared upon them, and the names of my forefathers Abraham and Isaac” (Bereishis 48 1-6).
This parting message of Yaakov Avinu is especially meaningful to me, and I believe will offer you, dear readers’ incredible comfort as we contemplate the world that surrounds us.
When my father became ill, the last weeks of his life were spent in Sloan Kettering Hospital. He transformed the window sills into shelves holding his beloved sefarim. The walls were covered with pictures of our holy zaydas. One afternoon, I found myself with precious alone time, just me and my Abba. My father asked me to open up his Chumash to Parshas Vayechi, and read aloud the pesukim where Yaakov becomes ill.
I sat beside my father. It was most difficult for me to voice the words as I read.
“Sheyfalah’, my father’s eyes glistened. “I know that soon I will be leaving you soon. Maybe a week from now, maybe two.” I began to sob.
“Listen to me. I came to this country all alone. I went through gei tzalmaves, losing everyone I loved. My parents, my grandparents, my sisters, my brothers, my nieces, my nephews…. Where should I go? What should I do? I didn’t even know a word of English…but Hashem surrounded me with malachim. How do I know? Because I met your Ema, Mama and Zayda…Hashem blessed us with beautiful children. We started a family and I saw life again…”
My father’s tears mingled with mine as I buried my face on his shoulders.
“I was thinking what can I leave you that will have meaning? I leave you with my greatest gift of all. My bracha, the bracha of Yaakov Avinu. May malaachei rachamim always surround you. Sheyfalah, carry my bracha and give it to your children and your children’s children.”
I will never forget that moment. My father’s words comfort me until today.
Indeed, this becomes our greatest source of nechama and hope throughout this long and difficult Galus.
Our father Yaakov did not simply see the travails that awaited his children. He saw it all. The cattle cars, the gas chambers, October 7, the massacres, the blood libels, and the virulent hate that darkens the globe.
No matter where we find ourselves today, we must hold onto the promise of the malachim.
HaMalach hagoel osi mikol rah. We are surrounded by malachim.