Love as the Ultimate Inheritance (Vayechi)

Vayechi invites us to reflect on the affirmation of life even as we encounter the inevitability of death. Here we stand, at the conclusion of Sefer Breisheet, the Book of Genesis, where we’ve journeyed through the story of our ancestors. We’ve witnessed their struggles, their triumphs, their heartbreaks. And now, as Jacob’s life comes to a close, the story pivots—from family saga to the beginnings of national identity.

Jacob, whose life began with wrestling and manipulation, now stands as a man transformed. Do we even remember how he once stole his father’s blessing, disguising himself as his brother Esau? That moment defined so much of his early life. But years later, as he prepared to reunite with Esau, he wrestled—not just with an angel, but with himself and with God—and emerged transformed, walking forward with a limp but with a new name: Israel.

At the start of this Parasha, we learn that Jacob lived his final 17 years in Egypt. These years, far from home, were marked by a peace he had rarely known. In his old age, he was cared for by his son Joseph and his family—a beautiful reversal of roles that teaches us the wisdom of allowing others to care for us when we need it most.

As Jacob nears the end of his life, he calls Joseph to his side and offers blessings to his grandchildren, Ephraim and Menashe. But even in this moment, the complexities of family dynamics resurface. Jacob crosses his hands, giving the younger Ephraim the greater blessing, despite Joseph’s protests. “Not this way, Father,” Joseph insists, trying to correct him. But Jacob replies softly, “I know, my son, I know.”

These words—“I know, I know”—carry the weight of a lifetime of learning. Jacob knows the pain of favoritism and the wounds it can leave. He knows the struggles that come from generations grappling with love and resentment, with abundance and scarcity. And yet, in this moment, he chooses to bless both grandchildren, offering them each a place in the legacy of Israel.

Jacob’s final blessings to his sons reflect a shift—a hope for a future where there is enough love to go around. Each son receives a blessing, unique to him, acknowledging both his strengths and his challenges. There is no deception here, no trickery or theft. Jacob, the man who began his life grasping at what wasn’t his, ends it with open hands, giving freely to all his children.

What would it look like if we lived as though there were enough love, enough blessing, enough abundance for everyone? How might our families, our communities, and our world be transformed if we truly believed that love is limitless?

As we close the Book of Breisheet, let us remember that we are the children of Israel—God wrestlers. In our wrestling, may we find a path that is yashar, straight and true, leading us toward each other and toward the Divine. And may the blessings we share flow abundantly, healing wounds and building a future of wholeness and peace.