But let's dive into one fascinating perspective found in the Midrash of Philo, and see what it reveals about the soul's journey.
Philo, a Jewish philosopher living in Alexandria around the time of Jesus, offers a unique take on a familiar phrase: "Thou shalt go to thy fathers." What does this really mean? It's easy to assume it's just about joining your ancestors in the grave, right? But Philo suggests something much more profound.
He makes a critical point about the incorruptibility of the soul. He paints a beautiful picture: when the soul leaves the mortal body, it’s not simply extinguished. Instead, it’s like returning to its true home, "the metropolis of its native country" from which it originally came. A homecoming, of sorts.
But who are these "fathers" we return to? Philo dismisses the literal interpretation – Abraham's father, grandfather, and so on. Why? Because, Philo argues, not all of them were necessarily virtuous enough to be considered an honor. Instead, Philo offers two intriguing possibilities.
Some commentators, he notes, believe the "fathers" represent the elements into which the physical body decomposes. But Philo himself leans toward a more mystical idea: that the "fathers" are actually the incorporeal substances, the inhabitants of the divine world – what he often refers to elsewhere as angels.
And what about the phrase that follows: "nourished in peace and in a fair old age?" This isn't just about living a long life, Philo emphasizes. A wicked person might live a long, long time, but their life would be filled with strife. No, this is about something deeper. The good person, Philo argues, cultivates peace in both phases of existence – both in the body and apart from it. They alone are truly virtuous.
He contrasts this with "foolish persons" who might outlive even an elephant! That's why, Philo stresses, it specifically says "a fair old age," not just an advanced one. It's not merely the length of life, but the quality of it, the virtue that permeates it, that matters. Only someone who strives for virtue can truly experience a good, virtuous old age, and by extension, a peaceful afterlife.
So, what do we take away from Philo's interpretation? It's a powerful reminder that our actions in this life have profound implications for the soul's journey after death. It's not just about physical existence, but about cultivating inner peace and virtue. Perhaps that’s the real key to returning "to thy fathers" in peace and a fair old age – a life well-lived, a soul well-nourished. What do you think?