It is with the lingering image of the inconsolable father, Yaakov, resolved to leave this world mourning the tragic loss of Yosef, that we read of Yehuda's suffering and that he buries his wife and two children. What a most striking and understudied contrast. Yehuda is distant from his family both emotionally and geographically, and the loss of children and wife are fresh, and yet we read (38:12) "and Yehuda finds comfort" and goes back to business. Indeed it is within this frame of mind that Yehuda reaches one of his greatest personal triumphs in his dealings with Tamar and begins his national Davidic dynasty.
And how different is the picture back at home. Yaakov is surrounded (37:35) by children, daughter in laws, and grandchildren, all trying to assuage a heart full of pain, perhaps still very sorely missing his beloved Rachel as well. According to Ohr Hachayim they would remind him of his blessings, that he is encircled by children and grandchildren, all who practice his legacy dearly and devotedly. Truth be told, many of us, after but a few moments of thought about the enormous hole in Yaakov's heart, can more easily identify with the wounded and crushed father and husband than the seemingly indomitable spirit of Yehuda.
Yet a careful reading of the text guides us away from viewing Yaakov as simply succumbing to the despair and hopelessness of a person lesser than him. "Vayema'ein l'hinachem - he refuses to be comforted." This is not a person whose uncontrollable pessimism dismisses any words of hope and any images of a future albeit a severely scarred one. Nor does it seem to exclusively speak to pervasive pangs of guilt that would not give Yaakov rest, as has been forwarded by some of our greatest commentators (Tur, Seforno). Certainly Yaakov had the deep faith and bold strength of people that we all know who have triumphed in face of life's greatest suffering and who have decided that they will put back together lives that will accommodate, and perhaps welcome, moments of joy and celebration. Yet something drove Yaakov to decide that he will not allow himself to conclude his mourning and that with all the flowing wellsprings of faith that he has showed us, his life now calls for pain and focus that knows no closure.
This deliberate decision, which would deny any natural distraction or any innate interest to let go, seems dissonant with a life of optimistic, altruistic giving, belief and humility; lives that we all try to emulate.
Harav Aharon Leib Shteinman (in his sefer Ayelet Hashachar), the pious sage of Bnai Brak, frames the same concern through the prism of halocha. After all, the halochos of mourning recognize and discourage any tendency to dwell on one's pain and mourning in a prolonged unproductive fashion. Many laws and customs of mourning have been interpreted to give expression to loss, all the while guiding the return to an active social and religious framework, hopefully more nuanced, wiser and deeper. Rav Shteinman points to a phrase penned by Rav Chaim soloveitchik in a letter of consolation reminding the mourner "as we are commanded to be comforted". Rav Shteinman himself suggests that the Talmud always refers to "receiving comfort" rather than "to give comfort" in order to articulate that receiving comfort is one of responsibilities of a mourner.
In addressing these observations, Harav Moshe Shternbuch of Yerushalayim (in his sefer Tuv Ta'am) suggests that the loss of Yosef with the attendant diminution of Yaakov's legacy and the reduced G-dliness that Yaakov could now impart, gave him no rest. Yaakov refused to let himself become comfortable with the idea that he may not achieve what he was destined to accomplish for Hashem. He would have no peace if Yosef's insights into his father's heritage would forever be diminished. If the opportunities of reaching spiritual heights in this world were expanded with each and every child, then Yaakov would not accept that the world he was destined to bequeath was one limited in the Divine light that could have been.
Why is this so important? Yirmiyahu Hanavi, in his inspiring vignette of Rachel praying for her children, which is the image that should be instructive to every Jew and inform many of our prayers, describes that she too is "mei'a'na l'hinacheim - refusing to accept consolation." She too could find respite in the triumphs of her children from time to time, but she maintained the teachings of her Yaakov, and implores us to do the same, refusing to accept a people, a world and a life where faith, spiritual awareness and Divine destiny are anything but complete.