Beshalach 5781
The manner in which Yosef’s remains are brought out of Egypt invites a comparison to the funeral procession and burial of his father, Yaakov. Yaakov also died in Egypt, but was immediately transported to his final resting place at Ma’aras HaMachpeilah. Though bent on ensuring that he, too, would an enjoy a final resting place in Eretz Yisrael, Yosef submits to a longer road before arriving there, his bones only being taken up out of Mitzrayim along with the rest of the nation on their march to freedom.
Why is the transporting of Yosef’s remains delayed? Rashi (13:19) explains that whereas while Yosef was alive he had the authority and ability to secure permission from Pharaoh to lead a burial procession out of Egypt and into Israel, Yosef’s own sons did not possess similar clout. Yaakov’s remains were transported to Israel immediately because they could be; Yosef’s remains stay trapped in Egypt for a period of over two centuries because there was simply no way out.
Rashi explains further (ibid.) that this is also the reason why the oath Yosef asked his family to take that his remains be brought out of Egypt devolved only upon future generations, but never on his sons directly. Yosef understands full well that asking his sons to make him a promise similar to the one he made his own father would be completely unreasonable. Yosef could come through; his sons could not.
One question, however, remains: If Yosef had the means to transport his father to Israel, why bother taking an oath to that effect? Why does Yaakov insist that Yosef actually swear that he will bury his father in Israel, rather than just inform his son of his final wishes? Would Yosef have hesitated from doing everything in his power to fulfill his father’s last will?
The Ramban on Parshas Vayechi (Bereishis 47:31) explains according to a basic tenet of human nature. One’s motivation to achieve an objective may be genuinely high, but that motivation will erode once challenges are met. The greater those challenges, the greater the attack on our tenacity, until we throw our hands up in the air and conclude with no small degree of certainty that the goal ultimately proved impossible.
This is where the oath kicks in. Yaakov knows his son will want to fulfill his father’s wishes. But what will occur when seemingly insurmountable obstacles begin to emerge? Without the additional demand imposed by an oath, those obstacles become the hooks upon which to hang one’s hat, saying he tried his best, but that nothing could be done. A promise leaves no room for such defeatism. Once a promise is made, that promise needs to be fulfilled, come what may.
Indeed, those obstacles ultimately are placed in front of Yosef. Pharaoh initially refuses to allow Yosef leave in order to bury his father, and it is only, as the Midrash describes, through intense negotiating—and veiled threats—that he succeeds in changing Pharaoh’s mind. Without the promise made to his father, perhaps those obstacles remain in place, with Yosef standing dejectedly on the wrong side of them.
The difference between Yosef and his brothers—that the former made an oath and the latter never did—erects the parameters that we should all consider for making promises, if not to others, then to ourselves. Yosef’s oath reminds us of the power of promises. Not only considering a goal vaguely and tossing the idea around our minds, but of actually articulating—whether in speech, in writing, or both—that this is something we formally adopt to achieve.
According to one study, the act of writing down one’s goals provides a 42% increase in the likelihood of actually achieving it. The psychology, at least in part, would appear predicated on the Ramban’s insight. The act of submitting to a concrete objective that I hold myself accountable for, helps me overcome the obstacles when they appear.
But the story of Yosef’s brothers is not to be ignored. They did not take an oath to immediately bury Yosef in Israel. Indeed, they were never even asked to do so. Yosef clearly understood the folly of demanding such a promise, as, in reality, they would have had no means of making good on that promise. Here lies an important bookend along the goal-setting continuum. Whereas formally adopting a promise to ourselves can push us to achieve a goal even when we experience setbacks, there are limits to just how far we can legitimately push. Writing down a goal is not a magical elixir that will provide us with the super powers necessary to achieve anything. “Today, I will be faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound,” simply doesn’t work. We need to consider our goals with a realistic sense of what we legitimately can and cannot do.
Still, the ability to push the envelope comes with commitment. Yosef had the ability to somehow convince Pharaoh; his brothers did not. And yet that ability could become manifest only by formally adopting a goal and firmly committing to seeing it through.
What do you want to achieve? Where do you want to end up? What are the things you’ve also mused over accomplishing but have never actually concretized into firm, achievable goals? If they necessitate convincing a head of state for political favors, you’re likely in no more reasonable shape to adopt that goal than Yosef’s sons before you. But between the impossible and the pedestrian is a band of successes that can leave you feeling empowered and deeply fulfilled. Give voice to them. Write them down. Because commitment is the key to unlocking the potential within.