The Torah portion of Vayechi recounts the death of Jacob and the journey to bury him in the Cave of Machpelah. We read in Genesis (50:10-11): “They came to the threshing floor of Atad that is beyond the Jordan, and they lamented a very great and substantial lament there and observed mourning for his father for seven days… the inhabitants of the land, the Canaanites, saw the mourning at the threshing floor of Atad, and they said: This is a substantial mourning for Egypt. Therefore, he called it Avel Mitzrayim, which is beyond the Jordan.” But what exactly happened at this "threshing floor of Atad?" And why does it matter?
The Midrash, specifically Bereshit Rabbah, dives deep into this seemingly simple passage. Rabbi Shmuel bar Naḥman points out something curious: "We have reviewed the entire Bible and did not find a place whose name is Atad." So, if it wasn't a place, what was it? The Midrash suggests that Atad literally means "thorn bush." A threshing floor for a thorn bush? Unlikely! Instead, the Midrash proposes it was referring to the Canaanites themselves – implying they were deserving of being trampled like thorns. Harsh, right?
But then comes the crucial question: why weren't they trampled? What saved them? The answer, according to Rabbi Elazar, Reish Lakish, Rabbi Yehuda bar Shalom, and the Rabbis, is acts of kindness.
The Midrash offers several interpretations of what these acts of kindness were. Rabbi Elazar says they untied the belt of their loins as a sign of mourning. Reish Lakish suggests they untied the ties of their packs. Rabbi Yehuda bar Shalom believes they pointed and exclaimed, "This is a substantial mourning for Egypt!" And the Rabbis add they straightened their postures as a sign of respect. Or, perhaps, they stretched to get a better look at Jacob's bier, as suggested by Maharzu.
Each interpretation paints a picture of the Canaanites showing respect and acknowledging the significance of Jacob's passing. These seemingly small gestures, these little acts of empathy, were enough to spare them.
The Midrash then drives home a powerful lesson, an a fortiori argument. If these Canaanites, who performed only minimal acts of respect, were spared, then how much more so will the people of Israel be spared, who perform acts of kindness with both their hands and feet?
Rabbi Abahu takes it even further, connecting this event to the story of Esther. He says the seventy days between Haman's decree to destroy the Jews and the subsequent decree allowing them to defend themselves correspond to the seventy days the Egyptians mourned Jacob. Jacob’s merit saved the Jews from destruction, but this merit was suspended for seventy days, corresponding to the days on which the Egyptians mourned Jacob. In other words, the kindness shown to Jacob, even by the Egyptians, had a lasting impact, delaying the negative decree.
Think about that. The mourning for Jacob, witnessed and acknowledged by the Canaanites, the respect shown by the Egyptians – these acts reverberated through time, influencing the fate of the Jewish people centuries later.
So, what’s the takeaway? The story of Avel Mitzrayim reminds us that no act of kindness is too small. Every gesture of respect, every moment of empathy, has the potential to create ripples of positive change. We never truly know the impact we have on the world around us. Maybe, just maybe, a simple act of kindness today could alter the course of someone's life, or even the course of history, tomorrow. It makes you think, doesn't it?