Mourning for Jacob - Genesis 50:1-3

Then Joseph fell on his father’s face, and wept over him and kissed him.  And Joseph commanded his servants the physicians to embalm his father.  So the physicians embalmed Israel.  Now forty days were required for it, for such is the period required for embalming.  And the Egyptians wept for him seventy days.

We come now to the last chapter of the first book of the Bible.  In it, we read of Jacob’s burial and also the death of his favorite son, Joseph.   For now, let us focus on the former.   The relationship between the two is evident in verse one.  When Jacob died, the Bible actually records only Joseph falling on his dead father’s face and weeping and kissing him, although it is likely the others did likewise.  This was indeed a great loss for them.  Joseph in particular had recently got his family back after all those years of living without them in Egypt and now he loses the man who was his strength and godly example.

Matthew Henry writes that just as “it is an honor to die lamented, so it is the duty of survivors to lament the death of those who have been useful in their day, though for some time they may have survived their usefulness. The departed soul is out of the reach of our tears and kisses, but with them it is proper to show our respect to the poor body, of which we look for a glorious and joyful resurrection. Thus Joseph showed his faith in God, and love to his father, by kissing his pale and cold lips, and so giving an affectionate farewell.”  Can you imagine dying as an older person and not being lamented?  Yet it happens every day in this cruel world of sin.  Relationships between spouses, between parents and children, have often broken off long before death and then death is simply something one reads about in the obituaries of the local paper.  No lament; no mourning; no missing of a loved one.  That is not how God intended it.

And though he was mourning, Joseph also realized he had responsibilities.  Taking charge of the situation on behalf of the clan, he commanded the ‘physicians’ or so-called ‘healers’ among his servants to embalm his father.  The embalming process in Egyptian took forty days and the mourning period for great men in Egypt was seventy days.  Joseph did abide by the Egyptian practices and traditions with respect to his father’s burial.  He may have also done so because he knew that the body had to be transported to Canaan a lengthy trip that needed considerable time to be planned and undertaken.  The man was dead and his son did the best he knew for him.  Once a person dies is no time to stand on ceremony as to which burial rites are appropriate and which are not.  It is interesting to note the thinking of commentator Chuck Smith who suggests that if one were to find the cave in the field of Machpelah were Jacob was buried, you would not find the bodies of Abraham, Sarah, Issac, Rebekah, and Leah as they would have long ago decomposed.   But you may well find the mummified body of Jacob who because of his being embalmed, may have been preserved like the Egyptian Pharaohs.  Some of us have seen the mummified body of King Tut in recent exhibits.

Not only did his sons and their families mourn Jacob for the seventy days, but Scripture records that Egyptians did so as well.  Perhaps these were servants of Joseph and others he had come to know.  Perhaps even Pharaoh visited and mourned with them for a while.  I attended a rather large funeral lately.  Most were there because they esteemed the deceased.  Others were there who never knew him, but wanted to pay their respects to his family.  The honor went to the person who was being buried either directly or indirectly through the wonderful family he had raised and left behind.

As we reflect on the loss of Joseph and his brothers, let us also reflect on the losses we have experienced and reconsider whether or not we lamented for those that went before us.  If not, let us do so now.  Perhaps more importantly let us reflect on whether or not we ourselves are living the kind of lives that would be worthy of lament by our children when we die.  If so, let us continue.  If not, let us change.  There is still time.

[Are you looking for a speaker at your church, your club, school, or organization? Ken is available to preach, teach, challenge, and/or motivate. Please contact us.]

Thanks for dropping by. Sign up to receive free updates. We bring you relevant information from all sorts of sources. Subscribe for free to this blog or follow us by clicking on the appropriate link in the right side bar. And please share this blog with your friends. Ken Godevenos, Church and Management Consultant, Accord Consulting.

It would be great if you would share your thoughts or questions on this blog in the comments section below or on social media.

Stuck in the Mud: A Modern-Day Jewish Story, and what you may not have known about "eagles".

I came across this wonderful short story in the The Jerusalem Post Magazine (2011/09/02).  It was by Levi Cooper.  Every Christian and believer in the Almighty should read it . . .  It goes like this:

On a cold, wintry night, Rabbi Naftali Zvi Horowitz of Ropczyce (1760-1827) was traveling in his wagon as the rain pelted down.

The wagon-driver tried intently to navigate the paths, but eventually the wheels got bogged in the mud. The wagon-driver got out of the wagon and began to push, but it would not budge.

With due respect, the wagon-driver approached Rabbi Naftali: “My master, I know that the wagon is my responsibility; it is my job to drive the wagon, and when it gets stuck it is my task to push the wagon. On this occasion, however, I am unable to get the wagon out of the mud alone. Perhaps you could assist me, for as the verse says, two are better than one (Ecclesiastes 4:9), and if we are unable to free the wagon, I fear that we may be stuck here until the summer!” Rabbi Naftali joined the wagon-driver in the mud and began to push, as the rain continued to pelt down. After much slipping, sliding and falling, the two were covered in mud. Rabbi Naftali raised his eyes toward the heavens and cried out: “Master of the universe, it is clear to me that we are stuck in the mud, in the middle of the road, far from any settlement, because you want me to repent for my sins. But how can I repent when I am wet to the bone and covered in mud? Dear God, get us out of this filth and take us home; we will dry off, clean up, drink a l’haim to warm ourselves, and then we will repent earnestly!” This is essentially the thrust of the penultimate verse of Lamentations, a verse that is repeated by the whole congregation after the scroll is read on Tisha Be’av, and a verse that appears regularly in our prayers: “Return us to You, O God, and we will return; renew our days as of old” (Lamentations 5:21). We beseech the Almighty to take the first step: Get us out of this mire, and then we will repent.

Alas, the Almighty’s response reverses the order: “Return to me, and I will return to you, says God of the hosts” (Malachi 3:7). It is incumbent upon us to take the first step to get out of the mud.
Recalling the Exodus from Egypt, the Almighty says: “I carried you on the wings of eagles and brought you to me” (Exodus 19:4). Why the wings of eagles? Our sages explain that while other birds carry their chicks under their wings, the eagle carries its young on its back in an effort to protect them, lest an arrow be shot from the ground.

Far from the hassidic tradition, the German thinker Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch (1808-1888) reportedly added: How do the chicks get onto the back of the eagle? Clearly the eagle cannot pick them up and put them there. To get the protection of the eagle, the chicks need to make the initial effort and climb onto their parent’s back.

Hassidic lore does not record how long Rabbi Naftali and his wagon-driver were stuck, but the tale is often told during the month of Elul as we prepare for the Days of Awe. The name of the Hebrew month, Elul, is an acronym for the verse “Ani l’dodi v’dodi li,” meaning “I am for my beloved and my beloved is for me” (Song of Songs 6:3). First we must be for our beloved – referring to the Almighty – and then God will be for us. There is a similar verse where the order is reversed: “Dodi li va’ani lo” – my beloved is for me and I for him (ibid 2:16).  Alas, the month is not called Dlul; the first step to forming or improving the relationship must be ours.

The writer is on the faculty of Pardes Institute of Jewish Studies and is a rabbi in Tzur Hadassah.


Thanks for dropping by. Sign up to receive free updates. We bring you relevant information from all sorts of sources. Subscribe for free to this blog or follow us by clicking on the appropriate link in the right side bar. And please share this blog with your friends. Ken Godevenos, Church and Management Consultant, Accord Consulting.

It would be great if you would share your thoughts or questions on this blog in the comments section below or on social media.