Well, after the big reunion, when Yaakov Avinu's growing family is comfortably settled in the land, he pleads with Yosef to bury him in Eretz Yisrael. Yosef agrees, and still "he said, swear to me."
Hold on a second-isn't the mitzvah to live in Eretz Yisrael? Yaakov doesn't exactly send a Zionist message in dragging his entire 70-soul entourage down to the grassy fields of Goshen for long-term residence despite the fact that Yosef surely could have kept shuttling care packages to the Land for the five short years the plague was to continue.
Even as we see that Hashem gave the kosher stamp on Yaakov's retirement plans, questions remain, like…what's the big deal? Would it be so bad if he were buried in Egypt? After all, consider all that Egypt has done for him. Its government and citizens warmly accepted his favorite son Yosef as its Prime Minister. Upon hearing of Yosef's brothers, they dispatched a fleet of limousines, packed with exotic goodies, to receive them. Upon their arrival, they gave Yaakov's entire extended family "the best of the land of Egypt," including wide swaths of prime grazing land for their cattle.
And more, why does Yaakov specifically choose Yosef to carry out the task? Yosef, who has the deepest ties to Egypt, its government, its people, its mode of dress-why, he even married with an Egyptian woman! Yosef was so entrenched in Egyptian society that it took him nine years to even send a postcard!
More fundamentally, what is the Jewish preoccupation with death that makes burials and yarzeits so important? Wouldn't the celebration of birthdays be a more life-affirming practice?
Birthdays and other beginnings are notable-but the real celebration is what somebody did with that life, made out of the givens of that beginning. Moreover, we don't need to go out of our way to celebrate specific potentials-our lives are filled with recognizing the manifold incipient gifts Hashem bestows on us. Witness: blessings on food (the potential to nourish us), brit milah and bar mitzvah (the potential to grow into a Torah Jew), weddings (the potential to develop a holy union), davening, etc.
According to Rashi, Yaakov chose Yosef because "he had the power in his hands." Okay, but how much power does it take to put the body in a casket and haul it back to the old country?
Yaakov specifically calls for Yosef, who represents the attribute of yesod ("foundation"), to carry out the task. In laying his father within the soil, Yosef establishes Yaakov/Israel as a foundation stone-resting on the holy soil and the covenant of his fathers beneath, and with his aspect of Torah a solid platform supporting stories of generations to come.
Yaakov selects Yosef-as yesod is associated with individuality and identity-to bury him not in Egypt to assimilate but in Israel to preserve his identity. This identity is in connection to his fathers, which directs a trajectory for future generations. This is true identity, one that establishes him as a link in a temporal chain that, when associated with place, recognizes him as an active agent in human history.
One might think this is the opposite of identity; that defining oneself by one's family is a familiar and loyal sentiment, but essentially a status quo arrangement. One might think one asserts one's identity rather as an individual, possibly breaking from one's family and its particularities, and coming of age, so to speak. This often involves choosing an individualized style of dress, place to live, socio-spiritual affiliation, culture of marriage partner, occupation, etc.
Instead, Yaakov teaches us to honor our parents. But wait…Yaakov? He is very much an individual. He rebelled against his birth order; left home; established a, shall we say, unusual married life; practiced revolutionary business techniques; and worshipped a G-d that left others baffled as to His immanence yet elusiveness. Yet Yaakov insists on being buried with his fathers.
The idea of honoring your parents relates to acceptance of what Hashem has given you-your lot in life, your family history, your place in time and history. You are a unique individual specially delivered to this place and this time in that family with these talents to leave your mark on the world such that it will never be the same. You can never completely discern what that mark will be; it is part of a divine plan-and not necessarily the plan of your ego, your willfulness.
Jason had established an identity as a young urban professional, living in Manhattan, going to parties to network his skills and experience, using his charisma to win dates. He rides a motorcycle, and uses his spare time to experiment with different nightclubs and live music, food and drink, favorite vacation haunts, perhaps plans for a time-share in a trendy recreation area. He has an altruistic and even spiritual side, contributing to environmental conservation and other causes. He is expressing an interest in meditative techniques.
But on closer scrutiny, he begins to suspect that the highly specific lifestyle he has developed to highlight the self-made nature of his being is simply his various inclinations reacting to opportunities. He begins to realize that he latched onto much of this display as a chance to feel exciting and desirable. To bypass a fear of limitation and a groping for the deeper identity that his soul so badly needs and knows exists somewhere-here or there, inside or outside.
The existential crisis of identity and belonging is a recent epidemic with very old roots, blossoming during eras of technological change following wars between world powers that result in massive population shifts. This is the enemy of tradition and sustainability. Burial amongst familiar surroundings and people fosters community, and community is the key to tradition.
We see that Yaakov had this in mind when seeking a wife earlier in Bereishit. "And Yaakov kissed Rachel, and lifted up his voice, and wept." Rashi comments "And he wept, because he foresaw by the Holy Spirit that she would not be buried with him."
The importance Yaakov places on where and with whom he will be buried is telling. Yaakov is connected to his forefathers through two things: the Cave of Machpelah, where his predecessors rest; and the Covenant, which begins with Avraham Avinu and will extend far beyond our generation. Through Machpelah, Yaakov confers an historical identity in place: living in the Land of Israel. Through the Covenant, Yaakov confers an historical identity on a soul level: continuity of the Jewish People.
When Yaakov began to build the Jewish People, he established the soul identity in choosing Rachel, his soulmate. Through children, she would be a foundation upon which he would build the Jewish People. (Pirkei Avot notes that the root of the word bonim means both "building" and "children.") Yaakov finishes by verifying an identity of place in arranging his burial to be in Eretz Yisrael.
Though our goals are lofty, our tradition is very much one of this world; we bring Heaven down. In order for the unique dream of the Jewish People to be actualized, we focus on our own Land. As "a light unto the nations," we are a nation, with aspects that are earth-oriented, observable, and ultimately replicable, such as the way we trade with neighboring nations, steward our land and its ecology, live and raise families on the land, and are buried in the land. For burial is the portal between generations, a coming together in Place, providing the experience of community for the wide perspective while we bear witness to our uniqueness as individuals.
Jason was never particularly concerned with where he would be buried, considering his individualized identity and his experience of community-his family, which came to Ellis Island in 1918 and 1937, and the widespread social attachments he had developed in his own lifetime.
But when Jason looked deeper, a storyboard underlying his present picture began to clarify. His mother's mother had left Poland before Germany invaded it, rounded up the Jews in her town, and saturated them in machine gun fire. She was from a Hasidic family, and her father was known as the Tzaddik of the small town. His father's father emigrated from Russia to the Bronx years before and became a socialist.
Until we moved to America, intermarriage and conversion was extremely rare. Jason realized that if not for the Diaspora, he could probably trace his lineage back to the time of the Beit Ha Mikdash. After much investigation, he realized that he represented the convergence of two great traditions that changed the world forever. On his grandmother's side, the Chasidic tradition. Its origins with Avraham Avinu became the root of joy and healing in the world. On his grandfathers side, the tradition of social justice. Its origins with Moshe Rabeinu became the prophetic tradition and the rallying cry of oppressed peoples.
It became revealed to Jason that he was not the self-made individual he thought he was…he was much more. With his interests in meditation and environmentalism, he represented the emerging, leading edge of a millennia-long movement for healing and justice on a global level. For an identity, that's a good start.
May we be blessed to long for burial in Eretz Yisrael as much as Yaakov Avinu did. May you uncover the convergence of forces that led to your emergence as a soul providing new hope for your ancestors and a lifeline of meaning for your descendants. May we each build our own Machpelah as the crest of our own leadership within the continuing saga of a tiny People that leaves a wave of healing and justice in her wake.