Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai grappled with this very question. He believed that it wasn't truly kiddush Hashem, a sanctification of God's name, if the words and actions of righteous individuals only held weight during their lives, only to be forgotten or disregarded after their passing. It's a powerful statement about legacy and the enduring impact of goodness.
But his son, Rabbi Elazar ben Shimon, had a slightly different perspective. He actually sided with the views of Rabbi Yossi, arguing that the opposite was true: that the very presence of righteous people in the world brought blessing, and that with their departure, that blessing diminished.
Now, this might sound a little bleak, but Rabbi Elazar offers a compelling image to illustrate his point: the Ark of God. Remember the story of the Ark being taken to the house of Oved-edom the Gittite? The Second Book of Samuel (6:12) tells us, "And King David was told: The L-rd has blessed the house of Oved-edom and all that he has because of the ark of G-d." Oved-edom's entire household was blessed simply because he housed the Ark!
Rabbi Elazar uses this story to make an a fortiori argument – a "how much more so" argument. If Oved-edom was blessed just for housing the Ark, which, as the text points out, wasn't even created for personal gain or loss but simply to hold the fragments of the tablets… how much more so, then, are we blessed by the presence and merit of the righteous, for whom, some say, the world itself was created!
The text invites us to consider a fascinating idea: that the righteous aren't just individuals, but conduits of blessing. Their very existence shapes the world around them. And while Rabbi Shimon ben Yochai focused on the lasting impact of their teachings, Rabbi Elazar highlighted the immediate, tangible blessing they bring to the world while they’re here.
Which brings us back to our original question: what happens to the power of good people when they're gone? Perhaps the answer lies in a synthesis of these two perspectives. Maybe their teachings endure, and maybe, just maybe, a spark of the blessing they brought remains, carried forward by those they touched.