When Yaakov Avinu hears the news that Yosef is still alive, his heart is filled with joy. Yet the pasuk records his reaction in a somewhat puzzling way: (perek 45,28) “My son Yosef is still alive! I shall go and see him before I die.” The meforshim are bothered by Yaakov’s words; why does he add “before I die”? It’s obvious, of course he would want to see Yosef while still alive. What is the significance of this phrase?
Rav Shmuel Birnbaum zt”l, Rosh Yeshiva of Mir, shares a powerful explanation. He quotes a story involving Rav Elchonon Wasserman zt”l, a talmid of the Chofetz Chaim. Rav Elchonon would often encourage his own students to go visit the Chofetz Chaim whenever possible. He explained: “The Chofetz Chaim is the gadol hador, one of the greatest tzadikim of our generation. While he is in this world, we have the opportunity to go and see him. But once he passes on to the next world, who can say that we’ll ever have the zechus to see him again even in Olam Haba? He will be on such an exalted level, in a realm so elevated, that it’s possible we’ll never be able to come close to him.”
Rav Shmuel said this was exactly what Yaakov Avinu was expressing. With all his humility, Yaakov felt that Yosef had reached an incredible level, perhaps even greater than his own. Yosef had faced the ultimate nisayon, living in Mitzrayim, surrounded by tumah, and for twelve long months he withstood the relentless temptation of Eishes Potifar. Yaakov recognized the spiritual greatness this represented.
So when Yaakov said, “I shall go and see him before I die,” he wasn’t just stating the obvious. He was expressing something much deeper: While Yosef is still in this world, I still have the opportunity to see him. But in the next world, who knows? Yosef may be on such a lofty level that I may not even have the privilege to approach him. That’s how much Yaakov Avinu revered the greatness of Yosef HaTzaddik.
My father, Harav Noach Isaac Oelbaum shlita, once offered a beautiful lesson from this idea. “When you see a Yid walking down the street,” he said, “a Yid who’s going through life carrying all kinds of difficulties, who’s struggling and being tested again and again, take a good look at that Yid. You never know the madreiga he’s on. When that Yid comes to the next world, he might be on such a high level that you’ll never even get to see him again.”
Each and every one of us experiences nisyonos. Sometimes we succeed, sometimes we fall. But in Shamayim, it’s not only the outcome that matters, it’s the struggle itself. It’s the effort that counts, the strength it takes to push forward in avodas Hashem despite the darkness. That’s what Hashem treasures. Even if a person stumbles, the very act of fighting, of not giving up, is viewed with tremendous chashivus in the eyes of Hashem. In the world above, a struggler is often counted among the tzadikim—just for not giving up.
The Satmar Rebbe, the Divrei Yoel zt”l, teaches a remarkable insight on this topic. The Gemara in Megillah (29a) tells us that when Moshiach comes, Hashem will perform a great miracle that all the shuls and batei medrash of chutz la’aretz will be physically transported to Eretz Yisrael. The Rebbe asked: Why do we need this miracle? We can simply build new shuls in Eretz Yisrael! Why transfer the old ones?
He answered: When Moshiach comes, Yidden will long for the old avodah, the avodas ha’galus. They’ll yearn for the days when serving Hashem meant fighting through darkness, through nisyonos, through confusion and pain. In the time of geulah, there will be clarity. There will be no more tests. But Hashem treasures the avodah of a Yid who serves Him in galus, when it’s hard, when there are so many things standing in the way and yet the Yid pushes forward. That avodah is irreplaceable.
So Hashem says, “I will bring the old shuls with you. You’ll still be able to connect to the avodah of galus. You’ll still feel the holiness of that mesirus nefesh. Because there’s nothing that gives Me more nachas than the avodah of a Yid who, despite everything, doesn’t let go.”
Let us never underestimate the value of our struggles. Even when we fall short, in the eyes of Heaven, our very efforts elevate us. And the people we pass by, those who are quietly battling their own inner wars, may one day be the shining tzadikim we only wish we could see again.
