Tol'dot: The Widening Chasm Between Esau and Jacob

There are no words. That may seem like a strange way to begin a blog post, especially since I am obviously about to try and use words to express my feelings. And yet the fact remains that there are no words to adequately describe how sad, hurt, frustrated, disappointed, angry, and appalled we feel at the latest tragic attacks that struck Jerusalem this

week. As I heard the news on the radio, Tuesday morning, about a synagogue in the neighborhood of Har Nof being attacked by terrorists during morning minyan, I was truly left speechless. What else is there to say? How much more grief can we feel; how much more despair at the prospect of peace; how much less hopeful can we get? And eternally we ask the question: When, oh when, will things improve in Israel? When will we see a breakthrough? And yet, we have no other options but to hope. Ultimately, when you boil things down to the bare facts, you simply have to acknowledge that we are there and they are there. Somehow, and at some point, all the people who live in and around Israel are going to have to find a way to live together. If I let go of that conviction, I don't know what I have left.

As we often do in Judaism, when we have nowhere else to turn for answers, we look to the Torah. It doesn't solve our problems, but it sometimes gives us historical precedent. We mine our history for nuggets of insight into what may be in our future. And I think our parashah this week offers us something to cling to. It begins with the story of Isaac, and then shifts its focus to Jacob. Throughout this reading, we see stories of contention

and peace. Last week, we read about Isaac's struggles with his brother, Ishmael, and yet that Torah portion ended with the two of them coming back together to bury their father, united and at peace. This theme continues in Tol'dot, where Isaac fights with the local population, the Philistines, over water. Isaac and his herdsmen dig wells, the Philistines stop them up and/or drive away Isaac's servants. There is so much fighting, in fact, that at one point Isaac digs a well and calls it "Esek" (Gen. 26:20), which literally means "Contention." But eventually, King Avimelech of the Philistines sits down with Isaac to negotiate a peace treaty. Despite their differences and despite their violent and antagonistic past, the two sides find a way to reconcile. The story concludes: "Early in the morning, they exchanged oaths. Isaac then bade them farewell, and they departed from him in peace." (26:31) Truly a hope for our day that we must never abandon...

Then, the Torah moves to the story of Jacob. Fighting, for Jacob, begins even before he is born. We are told that when Rebecca was pregnant

with twins, the boys struggled in her womb. The conflict continues in life, where the brothers steal from, deceive, and eventually threaten to kill one another. Today, we read this story with great sadness, as it seems to set the tone for an eternal relationship of strife and enmity. Not only arguing and fighting, but seemingly the total lack of empathy for the other. How could we possibly imagine sitting at a table and negotiating, when all we feel is hate and righteous indignation? It's THEIR fault, THEY refuse to talk or compromise. And our differences and grievances feel so ancient, so irreconcilable, as if they indeed have persisted since before we were in the womb.

And yet, Jacob and Esau DO find a way back to one another, to kindness. When Jacob flees his home in the dead of night, and Esau curses his brother's name and vows to kill him if they ever see each other again, it certainly feels like an irreparable breach. Nevertheless, somehow they mend. Is there then no hope for us? We feel like crying, these tragedies hurt so much.

We are like Esau, who cries to his father, when it seems he has no blessings left for him: "Have you but one blessing, father? Bless me too, father!" (Gen. 27:34) We have to believe there are blessings in our future. Despite all the evidence to the contrary. We simply have to. What else can we do? On Wednesday morning, in our own morning minyan at Ohev Shalom, we struggled to respond to the most recent attack in Israel. We turned, as we so often do, to the words of our tradition, to the prophet Jeremiah. "Hear the word of Adonai, O nations; spread the word in distant lands, and proclaim: 'The One who scattered Israel will gather them and protect them as a shepherd guards his flock'... Their souls will flourish like an abundant garden; they will grieve no more. Then shall maidens dance in delight, young men and old together, and I will turn their mourning into joy; I will comfort them and relieve them of their sorrow." (31:9-12) Kein Y'hi Ratzon - May it be God's Will for this to come true for us all... and soon.

Photos in this blog post:
1. Image of Israeli police in Har Nof synagogue courtesy of Reuters on Ynetnews.com
2. CC image from Hartuv cemetery courtesy of deror_avi on Wikimedia Commons
3. CC image courtesy of Øyvind Holmstad on Wikimedia Commons
4. CC image of the prophet Jeremiah courtesy of Inductiveload on Wikimedia Commons