(א) בָּרוּךְ אַתָּה יְהֹוָה אֱלֹהֵֽינוּ מֶֽלֶךְ הָעוֹלָם אֲשֶׁר קִדְּ֒שָֽׁנוּ בְּמִצְוֹתָיו וְצִוָּנוּ לַעֲסֹק בְּדִבְרֵי תוֹרָה:
(1) Blessed are You, Adonoy our God, Ruler of the Universe, Who sanctified us with commandments and commanded us to be engrossed in the words of Torah.
We did not end up in Egypt by accident. We were there because of a tragedy precipitated by unthinkable hatred: Yosef’s brothers selling him into slavery and deceiving their father, Ya’akov, into thinking that Yosef was dead. We were in Egypt because we were a family torn apart. And while in one way of telling that before-story, the saga of Yosef and his brothers, ends with tearful reconciliation and the family’s salvation in Egypt, there is another way of telling it—the way, in fact, that the Torah itself chooses in the final lines of Bereishit—which insists that this story, the story of the Jewish people’s foundational sin, is not complete until Yosef’s body has been returned to Cana’an. . .
And so, on the night of the Exodus, while the Jewish people are rushing, packing, preparing to leave, while the Jewish people are experiencing the story of their redemption, Moshe instead goes to fulfill this ancient promise, taking Yosef’s body with him out of Egypt. It is a doubled experience: redemption side-by-side with atonement, bones and unbaked bread, together, making the exit from the land of Jewish sin and Jewish slavery. The story of life and freedom is twinned with a ghost story, a story of a people haunted by their greatest sin, and accompanied for forty years by the bones of the man they sinned against.
This story, the one in which מצרים יציאת/the Exodus is, at least in part, a long march to atonement, does not end until Yosef is finally buried in Shekhem, the place, Rashi points out, from which his brothers sold him all those years ago (Yehoshua 24:32).
Rabbi Natan says: Joseph was buried in the crypt [kabbarnit] of kings. Moses went and stood by the crypt of kings and said: Joseph, the time has arrived about which the Holy One, Blessed Be, took an oath that: "I will redeem you." And the time for fulfillment of the oath that you administered to the Jewish people has arrived. If you show yourself, good, but if not, we are clear from your oath. At that moment, the casket of Joseph shook among the caskets. Moses took it and brought it over to himself. And all those years that the Jewish people were in the wilderness, these two arks, one a casket of a dead man, Joseph, and one the Ark of the Divine Presence, i.e., the Ark of the Covenant, were traveling together, and passersby would say: What is the nature of these two arks? They said to them: One is of a dead person and one is of the Divine Presence. The passersby would ask: And in what way is it the manner of a dead person to travel with the Divine Presence? They said in response: This one, i.e., the deceased Joseph, fulfilled all that is written in this.
Moses carried Joseph's bones with him and passed them on to Joshua. After Joshua's death, "The bones of Joseph, which the Israelites had brought up from Egypt, were buried at Shechem" (Joshua 24:32). As we conclude another cycle of observance and remembering, we too remember Joseph, who dreamed that his descendants would live in freedom. Joseph wanted to be buried not in Egypt, the land where he was always a stranger, but in a land of his dreams. Can we, like Moses and Joshua, carry the bones of those who came before us and, like them, attempt to realize shared dreams? May we be observant Jews as we continue our journey through the counting of the Omer.
The bones could only be buried after Joshua died, and right before Eleazar, the son of Aaron, dies, which teaches us that an entire generation must sometimes pass on before we can completely deal with that which is carried over from the past.
To carry bones is to possess the sacred; to bury the bones means getting on with life.