Last week’s Torah portion, Vayechi (פרשת ויחי, Genesis 47:28–50:26),
recounts the passing of the patriarch Jacob: “Jacob finished charging
his sons, and he gathered his feet up into the bed, and he breathed his
last, and was gathered to his kinfolk” (Gen. 49:33).
That phrase—“gathered to his kinfolk” (ויאסף אל-עמיו)—was on my mind last week as I traveled to attend the graveside service of my recently departed uncle, of blessed memory. What does it mean? It’s a recurring phrase in Genesis, also used to describe the death of Jacob’s father Isaac (Gen. 35:29) and his grandfather Abraham (Gen. 25:9). In an article about the phrase published in 1948, the Bible scholar Bern Alfrink pointed out that it always appears in a sequence between death and burial (died–gathered–buried). Alfrink reasoned that it could not literally mean burial in an ancestral tomb or family sepulcher because, for example, Abraham is buried in Machpelah with his wife Sarah but far from his ancestors, and Jacob is said to be gathered to his kinfolk while still in Egypt, long before his body is taken back to Canaan to be interred with his fathers at Machpelah. Alfrink concluded that the phrase must refer to a spiritual reunion of the deceased with his ancestors in Sheol (the afterlife).
Whether we understand it in a physical or spiritual sense, it’s striking that the gathering of Jacob to his kin in death parallels a family reunion in life. First, there is Joseph’s tearful reconciliation with his brothers. “Come close to me,” he says to them, “I am your brother who you sold into Egypt” (Gen. 45:4). Second, there is Joseph’s tearful reunion with his father Jacob, who had long thought his son to be dead. “Let me go up and tell Pharaoh,” says Joseph, “and let me say to him, ‘My brothers and my father’s household that was in the land of Canaan have come to me’” (Gen. 46:31). Third, after Jacob’s death, Joseph and his brothers recapitulate their earlier reconciliation. Afraid that Joseph will “pay us back for all the evil we caused him,” the brothers plead for his forgiveness. Joseph, again weeping, promises to sustain them and their children, and “he comforted them and spoke to their hearts” (Gen. 50: 15-21).
I was struck by a similar parallel in my own experience last week. As my uncle was gathered to his kin in death—literally buried in the same cemetery with his parents—his far-flung extended family was reunited, at least briefly, for an all-too-rare gathering in life. Just as Joseph sustained his brothers, that gathering helped us all to sustain one another. In that moment, I was reminded of something that Émile Durkheim, a French sociologist and the son of a rabbi, wrote in his classic study of religious life. “The basis of mourning,” he suggested, “is the impression of enfeeblement that is felt by the group when it loses a member. But this very impression has the effect of bringing the individuals close to one another.... And from all this comes a sensation of renewed strength, which counteracts the original enfeeblement … To commune in sadness is still to commune, and every communion of consciousness increases social vitality, in whatever form it is done.” Perhaps that is the real meaning of being gathered to one’s kinfolk.
That phrase—“gathered to his kinfolk” (ויאסף אל-עמיו)—was on my mind last week as I traveled to attend the graveside service of my recently departed uncle, of blessed memory. What does it mean? It’s a recurring phrase in Genesis, also used to describe the death of Jacob’s father Isaac (Gen. 35:29) and his grandfather Abraham (Gen. 25:9). In an article about the phrase published in 1948, the Bible scholar Bern Alfrink pointed out that it always appears in a sequence between death and burial (died–gathered–buried). Alfrink reasoned that it could not literally mean burial in an ancestral tomb or family sepulcher because, for example, Abraham is buried in Machpelah with his wife Sarah but far from his ancestors, and Jacob is said to be gathered to his kinfolk while still in Egypt, long before his body is taken back to Canaan to be interred with his fathers at Machpelah. Alfrink concluded that the phrase must refer to a spiritual reunion of the deceased with his ancestors in Sheol (the afterlife).
Whether we understand it in a physical or spiritual sense, it’s striking that the gathering of Jacob to his kin in death parallels a family reunion in life. First, there is Joseph’s tearful reconciliation with his brothers. “Come close to me,” he says to them, “I am your brother who you sold into Egypt” (Gen. 45:4). Second, there is Joseph’s tearful reunion with his father Jacob, who had long thought his son to be dead. “Let me go up and tell Pharaoh,” says Joseph, “and let me say to him, ‘My brothers and my father’s household that was in the land of Canaan have come to me’” (Gen. 46:31). Third, after Jacob’s death, Joseph and his brothers recapitulate their earlier reconciliation. Afraid that Joseph will “pay us back for all the evil we caused him,” the brothers plead for his forgiveness. Joseph, again weeping, promises to sustain them and their children, and “he comforted them and spoke to their hearts” (Gen. 50: 15-21).
I was struck by a similar parallel in my own experience last week. As my uncle was gathered to his kin in death—literally buried in the same cemetery with his parents—his far-flung extended family was reunited, at least briefly, for an all-too-rare gathering in life. Just as Joseph sustained his brothers, that gathering helped us all to sustain one another. In that moment, I was reminded of something that Émile Durkheim, a French sociologist and the son of a rabbi, wrote in his classic study of religious life. “The basis of mourning,” he suggested, “is the impression of enfeeblement that is felt by the group when it loses a member. But this very impression has the effect of bringing the individuals close to one another.... And from all this comes a sensation of renewed strength, which counteracts the original enfeeblement … To commune in sadness is still to commune, and every communion of consciousness increases social vitality, in whatever form it is done.” Perhaps that is the real meaning of being gathered to one’s kinfolk.
