The stories surrounding the burial of Jacob, Yaakov in Hebrew, are filled with profound insights into this very question. Jacob's journey back to Canaan for burial wasn't just a simple trip; it was a spectacle, a testament to the life he lived and the respect he commanded, even in death.

The procession itself was immense, a river of mourners flowing towards the land promised to Abraham. As they made their way, they paused at the threshing floor of Atad. It was there, according to the Legends of the Jews, drawing upon various Midrashic traditions, that a truly "very great and sore lamentation" took place. Can you imagine the sound of it? A collective outpouring of grief echoing across the fields.

But here's where it gets even more fascinating. The Shekhinah, the Divine Presence, accompanied the cortege. Think about that for a moment. The Divine Presence itself was there, a silent witness to the mourning, adding an unparalleled level of honor to Jacob's final journey. What greater honor could there be?

Now, you might think everyone would naturally join in honoring such a man. But the story takes a turn, revealing a more complex dynamic. Initially, the Canaanites weren't planning to participate in the mourning. Why would they? Jacob was, after all, an outsider.

However, something shifted. When they witnessed the immense respect being shown to Jacob, the honors bestowed upon him, they changed their minds. They joined the procession, even loosening the girdles of their garments as a sign of grief. It’s a powerful image of recognition, isn't it? An acknowledgment of the greatness of the man, even from those who were initially indifferent.

And the story doesn't end there. Even the sons of Esau, Ishmael, and Keturah – figures often associated with conflict – arrived on the scene. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, their initial intention wasn't exactly peaceful. They saw an opportunity to exploit the situation, to perhaps even wage war upon the sons of Jacob.

But then they saw it: Joseph's crown, suspended from the bier. Seeing that symbol of power, the Edomite and Ishmaelite kings and princes followed his example, and attached theirs to it, too. The bier became ornamented with thirty-six crowns! It's a remarkable display of respect, but also a stark reminder of the power dynamics at play. Perhaps, in this act, there was also a recognition of Joseph's authority, a tacit acknowledgment of his position.

What does it all mean? Perhaps it's a reminder that even in death, a life well-lived can command respect from unexpected corners. That even those who might initially stand apart can be drawn in by the sheer force of a person's legacy. And that sometimes, the greatest honors aren't the ones we plan, but the ones that arise spontaneously from the hearts of those who witness the impact of a life.