Wishing Upon a Flux Capacitor

What if I could go back in time? To what date would I set the time machine? Pre-history? Ancient history of Abraham my forefather? The Exodus from Egypt? Sinai? Or perhaps more modern times, like the ‘golden age of Moslem Spain’ meeting the Rambam, or the heyday of Jewish life in Poland, learning from the Rema? Perhaps I would not pick any of those ancient days and consider a more contemporary, pressing time period—October 6th, 2023!
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Were I to successfully transport myself, I am not sure if anyone in the security establishment would listen to me; nevertheless, I would still opt for a chance to scream from the rooftops, shout the proverbial ‘fire’ in the theater and try to break the ‘conception’ that there is nothing to fear, and that our wall will protect us. As another week ends, and almost 500 days of war, fear, hostages, loss, and frustration, I wish I had that chance.

What we would give to go back in time…to right a wrong, or to simply erase a period of our lives that pained us, in which we suffered, or worse, in which we caused pain and suffering to others. Unfortunately, despite an entire genre of literature and entertainment, time is linear, we must accept our past, that which we controlled and that which controlled us.

In Parshat Vayigash, one character, in particular, would wish for a chance to go back in time and change an event, a moment, a decision that set him and his family on a trajectory of sadness and loss, ultimately leading them away from their home.

Yaakov expresses the clearest formulation of regret when meeting Pharaoh, and he is asked about his age. Yaakov’s response is troubling: “I am 130 years old, but they were too few and filled with bad experiences (me’at ve’raim) and I never attained the years of my father” (47:9).

Why did Pharaoh ask him his age? Commentators abound—some suggesting that Yaakov looked very old, and Pharaoh was concerned if he would survive a few days let alone a longer period; others suggest that Pharaoh had grown up in the house of Avimelech and heard the stories of Yitzchak who was blessed by God, he wondered if this was the same Godly person who was filled with blessing.

Regardless of the impetus for the question, Yaakov’s answer is curt, dark, and perhaps somewhat inappropriate in a diplomatic setting—”few and bad and unfulfilling”! Surely Yaakov did not feel his life was a complete disaster. After all, he spent his early years in the comfort of his family, then, after a tumultuous event with Esav, he ran to Haran and there managed to put his life back on track, start a family, and become fabulously wealthy able to return to his homeland. He even managed to reunite with his brother. These latter events seem positive.

Instead, we should assume that Yaakov’s regret relates to his return to the land of Canaan, when all the misfortune for him began. We wonder why it started to go downhill, when did the scales tip towards tragedy? Perhaps Yaakov knew and was hinting at us. Yaakov uses a strange word in his description to Pharaoh about not seeking a fulfilled life like his father: he says “the years of my ‘sojourns’ (megurai) were 130…and they did not reach the potential of my parents in their ‘sojourns’ (megureihem)”.

Where else do we find that unique word used in Bereishit? In the beginning of parshat Vayeshev, when Yaakov seeks to live in peace and tranquility ‘be’eretz megurei aviv’ (in the land of his father’s sojourns), but then immediately he shows preference to his son Joseph buying him a special cloak. That special treatment created enmity among the brothers and started a twenty-year path of horror and sadness.

I wonder if Yaakov, when standing before Pharaoh, was thinking back to one moment in his life, he wished he could have back. How different might his life have been had he treated his children equally? If only things could go back to ‘how they were’ before that fatal decision.

Yaakov’s first 17 years of his life and his last 17 years were peaceful, almost idyllic. He grew up in the tent of Yitzchak and Rivka but then had to contend with his brother, himself, his wives, his father-in-law, his surroundings, and ultimately his sons’ discord. At the end of his life, he is united with family, though divorced from his homeland. And for what? A coat of many colors? Yaakov stands before Pharaoh as an accomplished man, a head of a tribe, a scion of the Abrahamic lineage; but at the same time, as a broken man who wishes he could take back just one moment of his life and choose a different path. If only he could go back…

Unfortunately, we do not get to travel back in time (though, another remarkable byproduct of Einstein’s genius was a theory called Time Dilation which posits that time travel in theory can work but only in one direction—forward into the future! It does involve reaching intense velocities coming close to the speed of light, but nevertheless, it is conceivable! Scientists, however, acknowledge that despite the flux capacitor idea, we cannot travel back in time). We are forced to accept our linear existence and deal with the consequences of our actions.

All we can do is learn from our past and attempt to integrate them into our future, praying that we don’t make the same mistakes twice, and hoping that the future we build is brighter than our immediate past.