Beyond Merit: The Sealed Parshah and the Covenant of Grace

Three Withdrawals

In this week's parshah, Parshat Vayechi, as Jacob prepares to leave this world, we encounter a haunting pattern: the divine presence withdraws from him three times.

First, at the very opening of the parshah. Rashi (Bereishit 47:28) cites Midrash Rabbah (96:1): "Why is this parshah setumah—'sealed,' with no space before it? Because Jacob sought to reveal the ketz—the end of days—to his sons, ונסתם ממנו (and it was sealed from him)."

Second, when Joseph brings his sons, Ephraim and Menashe, for a blessing (Bereishit 48:8). The verse states: "וירא ישראל את בני יוסף—And Israel saw Joseph's sons." Rashi explains: "ביקש לברכם ונסתלקה שכינה ממנו (He sought to bless them, but the Shekhinah departed from him), because Jeroboam and Ahab were destined to emerge from Ephraim, and Jehu and his sons from Manasseh." Jacob asks: "מי אלה?—Who are these?"—from where did these come, that they are unworthy of blessing? Joseph responds by showing him שטר אירוסין ושטר כתובה—the marriage documents. "ובקש יוסף רחמים על הדבר ונחה עליו רוח הקדש (Joseph prayed for mercy on the matter, and the holy spirit rested upon him)."

Third, when Jacob gathers all his sons (Bereishit 49:1): "האספו ואגידה לכם—Gather, and I will tell you what will befall you in the end of days." Rashi: "ביקש לגלות את הקץ ונסתלקה ממנו שכינה (He sought to reveal the ketz, but the Shekhinah departed from him), and he began speaking of other things."

Commentators observe that the first and third withdrawals seem to describe the same episode. But this raises a structural question: If the sealing of the ketz happens later, in chapter 49, why is it mentioned at the very opening of the parshah, before the story unfolds, even before the earlier episode with Joseph and his sons?

We are left with two profound episodes, and lingering questions about the episodes themselves. Let us examine the two episodes.

Joseph's Episode: What Do Documents Change?
The Shekhinah departed because of future spiritual corruption: Jeroboam's golden calves, Ahab's idolatry. Yet Joseph's response is to show marriage documents. But the documents do not address the problem at all. The future evil remains unchanged. What, then, do they accomplish? And why does Joseph pray for mercy? Do the blessings come because of his prayer, or the documentation?

The Sons' Episode: What Really Happened?

After the Shekhinah departs, Jacob blesses his sons with detailed prophecies—Judah's monarchy, Dan's judgeship, Gad's battles. Prophecy requires divine presence, so it must have returned. According to Rashi, it seems that it was merely the subject matter, the ketz, that was forbidden. Other prophecies were permitted. But the Talmud adds another element to the story.

The Gemara (Pesachim 56a) reveals the deeper drama:

"ביקש יעקב לגלות לבניו קץ הימין, ונסתלקה ממנו שכינה. אמר: שמא חס ושלום יש במטתי פסול

Jacob sought to reveal the end to his sons, and the Shekhinah departed from him. He said: 'Perhaps, God forbid, there is a defect in my children'

כאברהם שיצא ממנו ישמעאל, ואבי יצחק שיצא ממנו עשו

as Ishmael emerged from Abraham, and Esau from my father Isaac.

"אמרו לו בניו: שמע ישראל ה' אלהינו ה' אחד

His sons said to him: 'Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad—Hear, O Israel, the Lord is our God, the Lord is One.'

 כשם שאין בלבך אלא אחד, כך אין בלבנו אלא אחד

Just as in your heart there is only One, so in our hearts there is only One.

באותה שעה פתח יעקב אבינו ואמר: ברוך שם כבוד מלכותו לעולם ועד

At that moment, Jacob our father said: 'Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto L'Olam Va'ed, Blessed is the Name of His glorious kingdom forever and ever.'

"אמרו רבנן: היכי נעביד? נימריה—לא אמרו משה רבינו. לא נימריה—אמרו יעקב. התקינו שיהו אומרים אותו בחשאי

The Rabbis said: What should we do? Should we say it? Moses our teacher didn't say it. Should we not say it? Jacob said it! They established that it should be said בחשאי—quietly.

"Rabbi Yitzchak offered a parable: A king's daughter who smelled the aroma of a stew. If they publicly ask for it, it's disgraceful. If they don't ask, she'll suffer. Her servants began bringing it to her secretly. But this parable, at first glance, seems incongruous. What is the disgrace in those sacred words? And why indeed is it absent from Moses but present by Jacob? And most critically, how does this emotional exchange fit with Rashi's simpler explanation, that Jacob simply switched topics because it was the subject of the ketz that was the problem?

The Matzeiva and the Mizbeach: A Textual Puzzle

The Torah commands (Devarim 16:22): "לא תקים לך מצבה אשר שנא ה' אלהיך, You shall not set up a matzeiva (standing stone monument), which the Lord your God hates."

Yet we know the patriarchs erected matzeivot! Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob all set up standing stones.

Rashi addresses this directly: "אע"פ שאהובה היתה לו בימי האבות, עכשיו שנואה לו—Though it was beloved to Him in the days of the patriarchs, now He hates it, since the Canaanites have made it part of idolatrous worship."

But this raises a number of questions: Why indeed was it beloved in the days of the patriarchs? What made it appropriate then but forbidden later? Did the Canaanites not worship standing stones in the earlier period?! And if, as the Talmud states (Yoma 28b), the patriarchs observed the entire Torah even before it was given, why would they use something that would eventually be prohibited?

The answer emerges when we examine Jacob's life carefully. We find not one but three instances where Jacob exhibits a striking duality, using both matzeiva AND mizbeach (or multiple stones):

First Instance: Bethel - The Dream (Bereishit 28:11-18)

When Jacob flees from Esau, "ויקח מאבני המקום—he took from the stones of the place" (plural) and placed them around his head. But when he awakens: "ויקח את האבן—he took the stone" (singular) "וישם אתה מצבה—and set it up as a matzeiva."

Rashi brings the Midrash: There were twelve stones, and they quarreled with each other. Each one said, "עלי יניח צדיק את ראשו’’—Let the tzaddik rest his head upon me!" The Holy One, blessed be He, made them into one stone.

Twelve stones became one matzeiva—a standing pillar. Jacob poured a libation of oil over it.

Second Instance: The Covenant with Laban (Bereishit 31:45-46)

When Jacob makes peace with Laban: "ויקח יעקב אבן וירימה מצבה—Jacob took a stone and raised it up as a matzeiva." But immediately after: "ויאמר יעקב לאחיו לקטו אבנים ויקחו אבנים ויעשו־גל—Jacob said to his brothers, Gather stones, and they took stones and made a gal (a heap)."

Again: both a matzeiva and a pile of stones.

Third Instance: Return to Bethel (Bereishit 35:6-14)

Years later, Jacob returns to Bethel: "ויבן שם מזבח—And he built there a mizbeach (altar)." But then, just verses later: "ויצב יעקב מצבה במקום אשר דבר אתו—And Jacob set up a matzeiva in the place where He spoke with him."

Both. An altar AND a standing stone.

The Pattern Demands Explanation

This is not a coincidence. Jacob consistently operates with both forms—the single stone (matzeiva) and the multiple stones (mizbeach or gal).

What does this pattern tell us?

The Kuzari's Key: From Individual to Collective

The Kuzari (Ma'amar 1:95) explains that from the time of Adam, divine presence passed singularly from individual to individual. From Adam to Abel—not to Cain. When Abel was killed, there was no successor until Seth was born. The Torah records Adam's recognition: "כי שת לי אלהים זרע אחר תחת הבל—For God has granted me another seed in place of Abel."

This pattern continued through the generations. Through Enoch, Methuselah, Noah, Shem. To Abraham—but not his other sons. To Isaac—not Ishmael. To Jacob—not Esau.

Each generation: ONE individual carries the divine connection. Selection based on intrinsic essence. Abel had a different soul than Cain. Isaac was fundamentally different from Ishmael. Jacob and Esau were not the same.

The matzeiva, a single standing stone as the object of divine worship, symbolizes this model. One stone. One individual. A singular divine to human relationship.

Jacob was the last of that individual line. His purpose was to establish the concept of divine presence among the entire family, the eventual nation. All twelve sons inherited the divine power together. 

The mizbeach, an altar of many stones, symbolizes this new reality.

Jacob stands at the transition point. He is both the last individual (matzeiva) and the first collective establisher (mizbeach). That is why we find him using both forms throughout his life.

This is why the matzeiva was beloved in the days of the patriarchs but becomes forbidden after we form a nation. It was appropriate when divine relationship operated through individuals. But after the collective covenant is established, reverting to a single standing stone represents rejecting the new reality—going back to the old model of individual selection.

Two Developments: Structural and Theological

The transition from the mode of matzeiva to that of mizbeach involves two distinct developments.

Development 1: Structural - From Individual to Collective

From one chosen heir per generation to all twelve tribes together. From individual to family. This is the visible, structural change: instead of one son inheriting the covenant (Isaac not Ishmael, Jacob not Esau), all twelve of Jacob's sons inherit together.

Development 2: Theological - From "Who I Am" to "Where I Belong"

But the structural shift necessitates a theological shift.

In the individual model, divine relationship is based on who you are, your intrinsic essence, your uniquely perfect soul.

But in the collective model, divine relationship is based not on who ‘you’ are, but where you belong, your membership in the family, the nation.

When the criteria is no longer ‘who you are’, there is less emphasis on the quality and status of the individual. The criteria is whether one is a member of the family, a part of the nation, regardless of the individual’s merit.

Consider how the altar itself embodies this principle. The Talmud (Zevachim 54a) describes the construction of the altar in the holy temple: a wooden frame filled with rough stones, each different, each whole, unified by a mixture of lead and lime poured between them.

Critically, the Torah commands (Shemot 20:22): "לא תבנה אתהן גזית—You shall not build them of hewn stone." The stones cannot be cut or shaped. Why?

If one can shape and perfect the stones, then each stone may be representative of themselves, their own perfection. But this model is one where perfection lies not in the individual, but in what the collective represents.

The stones remain rough, different, whole in themselves,each one unique, imperfect. What binds them together is not their symmetry, but the external mortar—covenant, shared destiny, common purpose.

This is what "where you belong" means. You are Israel not because you have been shaped to be identical to everyone else, not because of your individual merit, but because you are part of this collective, bound by a shared covenant.

This second development is the necessary consequence of the first. If the covenant now includes all twelve, it cannot operate on individual worthiness. Not every individual in a nation is righteous and deserving.

A model based on individual merit represents דין (judgment). A model that represents collective ontological relationship regardless of individual merit represents רחמים (mercy).

Returning to the Gemara: Jacob's Incomplete Understanding

Now we can return to the Gemara in Pesachim with new understanding.

Jacob knew his mission. He needed to father twelve legitimate children who would inherit the divine presence as a collective, transforming the model from matzeiva to mizbeach.

But when the Shekhinah departed and he feared שמא חס ושלום יש במטתי פסול—Perhaps there is a defect in my children.

He understood the structural aspect of his mission but did not grasp that theological shift.

He was still thinking in the language of the old model. "As Ishmael emerged from Abraham, and Esau from my father Isaac"—perhaps some of my children will be selected and others rejected. Perhaps they are not individually worthy enough. Perhaps I was unsuccessful in transferring the divine presence from the individual to the collective.

His sons answered in the language of the new model:

"שמע ישראל ה' אלהינו ה' אחד—Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad."

They were addressing him—Israel, their father who bore that name. "כשם שאין בלבך אלא אחד, כך אין בלבנו אלא אחד—Just as in your heart there is only One, so in our hearts there is only One."

They were not defending their individual worthiness. They were correcting his thinking: Father, we are not twelve separate candidates competing for selection. We are one people, one collective. The covenantal relationship with family and nation transcends individual merit. It is based on where we belong, not on who we are individually.

Your fear that we're not worthy enough is paradoxical—the entire point of the collective model is that it operates on ontological belonging, not merit.

Jacob responded: "ברוך שם כבוד מלכותו לעולם ועד—Baruch Shem Kevod Malchuto L'Olam Va'ed."

He acknowledged their correction. The מלכות (kingship) relationship is eternal, based on family, and independent of individual worthiness.

This new understanding of a covenant based on family and belonging is the Patriarchal Covenant. The Mosaic covenant is based on law and practice and merit, not family. Hence, Moses did not include the words of Baruch Shem in the Shema. And now the parable of the princess makes perfect sense. As an ideal, we should all be righteous and meritorious. We should be able to stand before God on the basis of the Mosaic covenant alone. But since we cannot, we must fall back on the patriarchal familial covenant that transcends merit. It is true, but it is disgraceful that we need it. So, it is quietly whispered.

Reconciling the Two Narratives: The Sealed Ketz

Now we can understand how Rashi's simple explanation and the Gemara's elaborate drama are describing the same reality.

Jacob wanted to reveal the קץ—the end of days, the time of ultimate redemption. In focusing on this, he was oriented toward the rectified state, the perfected future. The era of redemption, the kabbalistic tradition teaches, will operate according to דין—strict judgment, perfect justice. In a world where all is rectified, merit can be perfectly measured.

It was from this mode—the mindset of דין—that Jacob perceived the flaws in his offspring. "Perhaps there is a defect in my children"—perhaps their unworthiness disqualifies them. He was thinking in terms of the perfected future, where judgment is precise and merit determines everything.

But his sons answered him from a completely different mode. "שמע ישראל—We are collectively Israel." "ברוך שם—The kingship relationship is eternal, based on belonging." They were speaking the language of רחמים—mercy. Of relationship that persists despite imperfection.

And the sealing of the ketz itself is the signal: We are not entering the rectified state of perfection yet. We are entering exile, darkness, imperfection. This is precisely where mercy is required, where the covenant must operate not on merit but on belonging.

The sealing is not punishment—it is the necessary framework for what the sons are establishing. The covenant of רחמים functions in the unredeemed present, not in the perfected future.

Joseph Demonstrated What the Sons Articulated

Now we can return to the first episode—Joseph and his children—with complete understanding.

What the brothers articulated to Jacob was first established by Joseph. They are describing the exact same principle.

The Shekhinah departed because of future spiritual corruption—Jeroboam's golden calves, Ahab's idolatry. Real, catastrophic failures.

Joseph's response: He shows the שטר אירוסין ושטר כתובה—the marriage documents. What do these accomplish?

Remember the two parts that comprise the new collective mode. The structural and the theological. The documents establish legitimate belonging to the family structure, to the covenant collective. This is the structural mizbeach—they are part of the family through proper covenant bonds.

But the theological switch, from a mode of judgement and personal accountability to a mode of mercy and family bonds has not yet been established.

So Joseph prays: "ובקש יוסף רחמים—Joseph prayed for mercy."

He's invoking רחמים, asking that divine presence rest despite the flawed future, because they legitimately belong to the family.

And the Shekhinah returns.

Here, in real time, the principle is proven: Divine presence can dwell within imperfection, with those who will produce evil, when they are within legitimate covenant structure and mercy is sought.

Why the Parshah Opens Setumah

Now we understand why the sealing is mentioned at the very opening of the parshah—not just before it happens in chapter 49, but even before Joseph brings his sons for blessing in chapter 48.

Just as conceptually the sealing of the ketz preceded and enabled the dialogue with the brothers—establishing that we operate in the mode of רחמים, not דין—so too it chronologically precedes Joseph's episode in the text.

The concept of divine presence operating in imperfection, in the unredeemed state according to רחמים, is not a consequence of what happens later—it's the prerequisite. It must be established from the outset.

The parshah opens סתומה—"sealed"—because it announces from the very beginning: What follows is about relationship in the sealed state. About covenant that persists when the endpoint is hidden. About blessing that flows not in the perfected future of דין but in the imperfect present of רחמים, sustained by a covenant of belonging and mercy.

This framework precedes everything that follows. It's the theological ground on which both Joseph's prayer and the sons' declaration rest.

[Application: The Following Section Was Delivered at a Shabbat Sheva Berachot]

Marriage and the Mizbeach

The Gemara in Sotah (17a) teaches: "איש ואשה זכו שכינה ביניהם—A man and woman, if they merit, the Shekhinah dwells between them."

Marriage is the structural joining of a new branch to the family, to the collective. Through kiddushin and ketubah—like Joseph's שטר אירוסין ושטר כתובה—the couple establishes their legitimate place within the covenant structure of Israel. They are adding a stone to the ongoing mizbeach of the nation.

Perhaps this is why the Yerushalmi (Bikkurim 3:3) teaches: "חתן מוחלין לו על כל עוונותיו—A bridegroom is forgiven all his sins." Why? Because at this moment, we demonstrate the concept of the collective where one is no longer judged as an isolated individual standing alone on merit. Rather one binds himself to the collective family, entering the framework of רחמים where relationship transcends individual worthiness.

Building the Mizbeach of a Home

But marriage operates on a second level as well. The marriage itself is akin to a mizbeach. A space for the divine presence to dwell in that is comprised of two distinct individuals who join together.

Remember the Torah's command: "לא תבנה אתהן גזית—You shall not build them of hewn stone." This is the essential marital instruction. You are not here to sculpt each other into some ideal form. You are two distinct, whole stones.

The task is to build something together: a shared life, a common purpose, a home. The Shekhinah rests in the harmony of that structure—not in the perfection of its parts. Within this covenantal framework, you gain the capacity to overlook imperfections, to forgive slights, because the relationship, the family structure transcends any single flaw. This is רחמים operating within the home.

The Gemara says: "כל המגרש אשתו ראשונה אפילו מזבח מוריד עליו דמעות—Whoever divorces his first wife, even the altar sheds tears" (Gittin 90b).

Why the altar? Because divorce shatters the mizbeach. What was a unified structure bound by covenant becomes two separate stones again. Each person returns to individual judgment, standing alone on merit.

And who can stand on merit alone?

That is why the altar weeps.