Our story takes us back to Joseph in Egypt, a man who rose from prisoner to viceroy. As his life neared its end, Joseph knew he had one crucial task left: to ensure his bones would one day return to the land of his ancestors, to Eretz Yisrael, the Land of Israel.
But it wasn't as simple as just asking. Joseph, wise as he was, foresaw potential problems. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, Joseph didn't ask his sons to swear the oath to carry his remains. Instead, he asked his brothers. Why?
Joseph feared the Egyptians. He worried they wouldn't allow his sons to transport his bones, even if they remembered how he had been allowed to do the same for his father, Jacob. They might argue, "Joseph was the viceroy! A wish like that, coming from someone of such high status, cannot be denied." So, he turned to his brothers, placing the responsibility on their shoulders.
But there was more to it than just a burial request. Joseph also made them promise something even bigger. He adjured them, commanded them, not to leave Egypt until a redeemer appeared. This redeemer, he said, would announce his message with the words "Pakod – I have surely visited you." That phrase, pakod pakadeti, is so important in our tradition. It’s a signal, a sign of hope.
Where did Joseph get this tradition? It goes back generations. He received it from his father, Jacob, who heard it from Isaac, and Isaac, in turn, heard it from Abraham. A chain of faith passed down through the generations, a promise of future redemption. Think about the weight of that tradition, the power of those words echoing through time.
Joseph understood that God would redeem Israel through Moses. As Ginzberg emphasizes, this redemption was like a glimpse of the Messianic future, a taste of the world to come, right here in this world. It wasn't just about escaping slavery. It was about something much deeper, something spiritual.
And when would this redemption begin, according to Joseph? In Tishri, the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar, the time of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. That's when Israel would begin to be freed from their forced labor. And it would be completed in the following Nisan, the month of Passover, when they would finally leave Egypt.
So, what does this all mean for us? Joseph's story reminds us that even in the darkest of times, hope persists. It reminds us that promises, passed down through generations, can carry incredible power. And it reminds us that redemption, both personal and collective, is always possible. Perhaps, like Joseph’s brothers, we too are carrying promises made long ago, waiting for the moment of fulfillment.