“Don’t expect my children, grandchildren, or any of my descendants to ever forget their Land”

“Yaakov said to Pharaoh, ‘The days of the years of my life are one hundred thirty. The years of my life have been few and hard, and did not reach my forefathers’ lifetimes in the days of their sojourning.’ ” (Bereishis 47:9)

P

haraoh asks Yaakov, “How old are you?” Yaakov responds, “I am one hundred thirty, but my days have been difficult.”

The Ramban explains that Pharaoh was curious because Yaakov appeared much older. Still, why does this seeming idle exchange appear in the Torah? What lesson are we supposed to learn? (Rabbi Mendel Kaufman)

Several months ago, I was flying to the States to visit my mother. It was with trepidation that I approached my upcoming flight. The war was still going strong, with Iran adding its voice to the whine of the air raid sirens. What a time to travel!

As we pulled up to the airport, I was surprised to see many people unloading their luggage and heading inside. El Al was the only airline flying; were all these people on my flight?

Inside the airport, while it wasn’t crowded, it was business as usual. Stores were opened, people were sipping coffee at the cafés, and it was clear that the average Israeli wasn’t going to let any war stand in the way of his travel plans.

Pharaoh’s question was really touching upon an issue that would challenge the Jewish People throughout the centuries. Pharaoh said to Yaakov, “You’re an old man and have come to Mitzrayim with your entire family. It’s most likely you’ll die here. Do you think that after you’re gone your family will still want to return to Canaan, once they’ve settled and assimilated into Egyptian culture?”

Yaakov responded, “I appear much older than my actual age because of the travails I suffered in the Land of Canaan. And my years of travail in Canaan didn’t even reach the number of years my forefathers suffered in Canaan. Still, don’t expect my children, grandchildren, or any of my descendants to ever forget their Land. We have suffered over it, yet we’ll never forsake it. We’ve left now for famine, but this is a temporary situation. No matter how long we’ll remain in Egypt, we’ll eventually return to our land.”

But it was on my return flight home that I really got a shock. Waiting at the gate in Newark, I scanned my fellow travelers, hoping they were all safe people, that we would make it home without cancellations, rerouting, or delays. (As my anxiety proved clearly, I lacked some sabra genes.) To my right, was a family with six little kids, all cheerfully gearing up for the flight.

“Are you going to Israel for a family simchah?” I asked.

“Nope,” said a nine-year-old with a twinkle in his eyes. “We’re going to live there!” And all his siblings burst out cheering.

I turned to the parents, “You’re making aliyah?”

“Yep!” they answered. “We didn’t even want to wait for the group flight this summer. We want to live in Israel now.”

So it’s been throughout the ages. The Jewish People have endured suffering in exile or prospered in exile, but have never forgotten their Holy Land. Even today, as our Land suffers murderous hostilities, we, both those within and outside Eretz Yisrael, pray and wait for the ultimate redemption, when the Holy Land Hashem promised us will welcome us all.

Seeing their buoyant spirits, I couldn’t help but wonder. Didn’t they watch the news? Don’t they know at least one Israeli family who would have described to them what it’s like to wake up in the middle of the night to sirens, not knowing where the missiles will fall?

I couldn’t help myself. “Aren’t you scared to be coming now?”

“Don’t you live there now?” countered the father.

“Yes, but I have my life there—”

“We also want our life there. If you can do it, so can we. We want to be part of the Jewish nation, standing on our Holy Land, during this time of war.”

A thought crossed my mind and I wondered how many Ukrainians were running back home to stand with their compatriots. Russians? Were Ethiopians, Sudanese, or Nigerians flying across the world to join in the fray that rocks their homeland?

You may disagree with this family’s decision, argue that it’s not safe or that it’s not the right time for you, but you can’t argue that the link is there — Yidden want to be there for other Yidden.

So, to my new olim friends, I wish you a yishuv tov. Let me know if you need anything. Because I’m here for you as you’re here for us.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 925)