Parasha Vayechi: The Nuances of "Living"
For those who read this for the summary, here’s the gist of Parasha Vayechi:
We reach the end of Jacob/Israel’s life. He makes Joseph promise not to bury him in Egypt, insisting instead on burial in Hebron, in the Cave of Machpelah, alongside the other patriarchs and matriarchs. Jacob then gathers his sons for a poetic (and complicated) reorganization of blessings and legacies, ultimately shaping the tribes of Israel and priming Judah to become the major lineage that will take us to King David.
After Jacob's death, his sons, worried about Joseph’s lingering resentment, ask for forgiveness. Joseph’s response—“Am I a substitute for God?”—sidesteps direct forgiveness while reframing their actions as part of a God’s greater plan to ensure survival during the years of famine.
Finally, Joseph dies, though not before also requesting that his bones leave Egypt. The Israelites are on the brink of the next book, Exodus.
My analysis begins here:
When I looked into the translation of this week’s parasha title, Vayechi, I saw “and he lived.” That felt familiar—just a few weeks ago, we read parasha Vayeshev, which also translates as “and he lived.”
However, in Hebrew, these words carry distinct roots and nuances. Vayeshev means “to settle” or “dwell,” evoking stability, a sense of place, and perhaps even a degree of comfort. Vayechi, however, speaks to the essence of living itself—vitality, existence, and the fullness of life.
What I found noteworthy is how these two ideas intertwine throughout Joseph’s story. Joseph hardly experiences stability or settling in; his life is marked by disruption, turmoil, and striving to change his circumstances. In parasha Vayashev, the opposite type of living begins. He’s sold into slavery in Egypt, marking the beginning of a vayechi way of life—one where his existence is no longer defined by ease or stability but by growth, resilience, and purpose.
This juxtaposition reminds us that living doesn’t always mean dwelling in comfort. Sometimes, true vayechi emerges when we’re thrown into the pit, forced to adapt to new places and people, and find purpose and make meaning amid challenges.
In one of the most exhilarating decisions of my life, I decided to leave classroom teaching after seven years in Washington, D.C. This decision set into motion a series of events that ultimately positioned me for the life I’m living today. Of course, I had no idea at the time the types of experiences I would have or how the loose threads would weave together into the bigger picture tapestry that they’ve become today. I just knew I didn’t want to dwell in what had become an uninspired existence.
Similarly, when I offloaded most of my belongings and began traveling the world, it wasn’t stability I sought, but the chance to experience alternatives. Fewer possessions left behind at my parent’s house meant less stress and fracturing of my attention to deal with things; I could be more present wherever I was geographically. The lighter my backpack, the easier travel became, and I collected new experiences on the daily for that first year.
Alternatively, after traveling and living abroad for over six years, I wish I could have my family and friends gathered all in one place—a dream I realize is unlikely to ever become reality, as my friends are scattered all over the globe at this point. I sometimes fantasize about having a home, which of course won’t have any of the nuisances my rentals have had over the years.
I’ve come to the conclusion that living isn’t solely about comfort (vayeshev), nor is it solely about growth, exhilaration, and finding purpose in the unexpected (vayechi)...which is precisely what I see in Joseph’s journey. His narrative teaches that life is not about choosing between comfort and growth but embracing both. A life well lived requires the grounding stability of vayeshev and the vitality of vayechi, each enriching the other.
