Picture him gathering his sons around him, his voice perhaps a little weaker now, but his eyes still shining with conviction. He doesn't dwell on personal matters, or worldly possessions. Instead, as Legends of the Jews tells us, he delivers a concise history of Israel, a sweeping narrative leading up to the coming of the Messiah. His final words are a testament to his unwavering faith: "My children, observe the whole law of the Lord; in it is hope for all that keep His ways." He even gives instructions for his burial - a simple, unadorned affair, a final act of humility.
Then there's Issachar. As his life neared its close, he too called his sons to his side, seeking to impart wisdom. According to Ginzberg's retelling in Legends of the Jews, he opens with a plea for attention: "Hearken, my children, unto your father Issachar, and listen to the words of him that is beloved of the Lord." But then, instead of a grand pronouncement, he launches into a story – a story about dudaim, or mandrakes.
Now, you might be thinking, mandrakes? What's so important about mandrakes? Well, as the story unfolds, we learn that these "fragrant apples" played a significant role in the lives of Rachel and Leah, Jacob's wives. Issachar recounts how Reuben, Leah's son, found the dudaim and brought them to his mother. Rachel, barren at the time and desperate for a child, asked Leah for the mandrakes, believing they would help her conceive.
The ensuing exchange between Rachel and Leah is fascinating. "Is it a small matter that thou hast taken away my husband? and wouldst thou take away my son's dudaim also?" Leah demands, revealing the deep-seated tensions and rivalries within the family. Rachel, in turn, offers Jacob to Leah for the night in exchange for the dudaim.
Leah, indignant, reminds Rachel, "Jacob is mine, and I am the wife of his youth." She implies that Rachel is being boastful and overweening. Rachel counters that she was betrothed to Jacob first and that she was deceived. It is a story of jealousy, deception, and ultimately, the desperate desire for children.
So, why does Issachar choose to share this particular story with his sons on his deathbed? Perhaps he wants them to understand the complexities of family relationships. Maybe he wants them to remember the sacrifices their ancestors made. Or perhaps, he simply wants to remind them of the importance of fertility and the continuation of the family line. We can only guess at his motivations.
These glimpses into the final moments of Judah and Issachar offer us a profound reminder of the human element within these ancient narratives. They reveal the enduring power of faith, the complexities of family dynamics, and the importance of legacy. And, perhaps most importantly, they invite us to reflect on our own lives, and what we want to leave behind. What stories will we tell? What wisdom will we impart? What will our final words be?