Inheriting an Imperfect Legacy

This is the d’var Torah I delivered at Congregation Neveh Shalom on January 3, 2026.


There’s something about the start of a new year that invites both hope and honesty. We make lists, set intentions, and imagine fresh beginnings, while quietly carrying the weight of what came before. Years don’t arrive with a clean slate; they arrive with history. Families. Communities. Stories we didn’t choose but nonetheless inherit. Parashat Vayechi, the closing chapter of Genesis, understands this deeply. It is a parshah about endings that shape beginnings, about blessings given with eyes wide open to imperfection. 

Vayechi finds Jacob at the end of his life. He gathers his children and grandchildren, blesses them, and offers words that are as much reckoning as they are hope. This is not a sentimental wrap-up. Jacob reopens old wounds, names past failures, and still insists on blessing. He crosses his hands to bless Ephraim over Menashe, disrupts expectations, and reminds us that the future is not a simple extension of the past. 

When Jacob blesses Joseph’s sons, Joseph tries to correct him. The elder should receive the greater blessing. Jacob refuses. He sees something Joseph does not. The Torah tells us, sikeil et yadav—he crossed his hands deliberately. Jacob is not confused or nostalgic. He is intentional. He knows this family’s story too well to pretend that legacy is neat or linear. Blessing, in his world, is not about perfection. It is about possibility. 

This feels especially resonant as we step into a new year. We inherit imperfect legacies, personal and communal. We carry the gifts of those who came before us alongside their mistakes. Judaism never asks us to erase that complexity. Instead, it asks us to bless within it. To tell the truth about where we’ve been and still say yes to where we’re going. 

Jacob blesses his progeny, knowing exactly who they are. Some are impulsive. Some are violent. Some are capable of greatness and harm in equal measure. And still, blessing. Not denial. Not absolution. Blessing as responsibility. Blessing as charge. 

As we begin this new year, Vayechi offers a quiet but powerful invitation: let what you inherit retain all its honest imperfections and complexities. Acknowledge the broken pieces without letting them define the future. Bless what is, even as we commit to shaping what could be. We are not asked to be perfect inheritors of our past, only faithful stewards of what comes next. May this year be one where we cross our hands when needed, bless with courage, and build forward with wisdom earned, not despite our imperfect legacy, but because we’ve learned from it. 

Leave a comment