Let’s take a peek into the final moments of Naphtali. After giving his children all sorts of life lessons – we’re not told exactly what they were, but you can imagine the kind of guidance a father would offer his sons – Naphtali had one final request. He asked them to carry his body to Hebron, so he could be buried near his ancestors. Then, in a rather poignant and human moment, he ate and drank with joy, covered his face, and passed away. His sons, of course, honored his wishes, fulfilling their father’s last command.
And what about Gad? His story is a bit… different. In the hundred and twenty-fifth year of his life, Gad gathered his sons around him, ready to share his final thoughts. "I am the ninth son of Jacob," he began, "and I was a valiant shepherd." According to the ancient texts, the sons of Jacob were more than just names in a genealogy. They were individuals with unique strengths and failings.
Gad recounted his days as a shepherd, bravely protecting the flocks. "I guarded the herds," he said, "and when a lion or any other wild beast approached, I pursued it, gripped it by the foot, flung it a stone's throw from me, and killed it thus." This paints a vivid picture of Gad as a strong, capable protector.
But then, the story takes a turn. Gad brings up an old conflict with Joseph. "Once, for a space of thirty days, Joseph tended the flocks with us, and when he returned to our father, he told him that the sons of Zilpah and Bilhah slaughtered the best of the herds, and used the flesh without the knowledge of Reuben and Judah." It sounds like Joseph, even then, had a keen eye for detail – and perhaps a bit of a talent for stirring things up.
Gad admits he was furious with Joseph, even years later. "I was wroth with Joseph for his talebearing, until he was sold into Egypt. I would neither look upon him nor hear aught about him, for to our very faces he blamed us, because we had eaten the lamb without seeking the permission of Judah first. And whatever Joseph told our father, he believed."
Wow. Can you feel the lingering resentment? It’s a stark reminder that even in these foundational stories, there's sibling rivalry, hurt feelings, and long-held grudges. Even on his deathbed, Gad is still wrestling with this past conflict. This isn't some sanitized saintly figure; it's a man with flaws, still grappling with events that happened decades prior.
What does this tell us? Perhaps that forgiveness is a lifelong process. Or that even at the end of our lives, we may still be working through old wounds. The stories of Naphtali and Gad, in their own ways, offer a glimpse into the complexities of human nature, even within the sacred narratives of our tradition. It makes these ancient figures feel a little more relatable, a little more like us.