PARASHAT TOLDOTE – GAINESVILLE
I have been teaching Torah classes in one fashion or another for decades. To be honest, I think it is my favourite time of the week. But what is it about Torah study that makes it so joyous? It’s the surprises that come along with it. You see, whenever we study together, there’s always a surprise. Someone has an insight that creates a whole new perspective for all of us. The midrash was right: the Torah is a diamond and its light changes with every turn. There is always something new to read. That is why, when I was learning this portion last year with my class, a whole new perspective opened up to me. And this one reaches into our lives today. But first, the story:
Although there aren’t too many Isaac stories, this one is very well known. Maybe its the pathos, maybe it’s the drama, or maybe its the family we can all relate to. Remember the story: Isaac is blind. He is dying and it is time to bless his son, Esau. But first, as sort of a last meal, he want his hunter son, Esau, to get him some game. Now, Esau’s mom Rebecca hears this and puts her deceptive plan in motion so that her favorite son, Jacob, can get the all-important blessing. She sets us Jacob and he stands before his father wearing his brother’s clothes and animal skins on his arms, imitating his hairier brother, Esau. Jacob knows what he is doing wrong but he can always say his mother made him do it. Easy way to reduce cognitive dissonance.
As Jacob approaches, Isaac asks him who he is. When Jacob claims to be Esau, Isaac comments, “The hands belong Esau but the voice belongs to Jacob.” Isaac isn’t stupid. He is blind, but his ears work perfectly. In fact, his blindness is not just physical, it is willful, isn’t it? He knows it’s Jacob before him and not Esau and yet he plays the game. He gives Jacob the blessing and at that moment, Esau comes home with his hunt. This is the climax of the dramatic scene.
Esau asserts his place as the firstborn and his right to the blessing, unaware of the trickery of his mother and brother and complicity of his father. Esau shook with what the Torah calls a very violent trembling. But it was a trembling that came from far more than a missed blessing. All his life, Esau and Jacob were at each other’s throats and each would use their wiles to deceive or curry favor from their favorite parent. The final blessing episode is really the coup-de-grace of this family. It will tear the family apart for more than 20 years.
And this is where my Torah study class comes in. According to the midrash, Isaac trembled twice in his life. First when he was bound up on the altar by his father for the Akeida and here. You probably remember when you were so scared or so livid that that memory will be with always. And so it is with Isaac. But which trembling was worse for him?
Unanimously and surprisingly, the answer is that the story of the blessings is more traumatic. This emotional wave of fear causes him to tremble “ad m’od.” These Hebrew words are translated as “exceedingly,” but “m’od,” the Hebrew word for “very,” refers specifically to something very deep inside each of our souls and not merely a adjective to the word ‘trembling.’ ‘Me-od’ is the same word we use in the V’ahavta – bchol meodecha – with all your being. When Isaac trembled ‘ad maod’ he trembled with his very being. But why?
How could Isaac find this moment even more painful than being bound on the altar by his own father? One of my students reminded us all that Esau represents Rome: the empire that conquered the Jewish people, desecrated our holy places, and destroyed the Temple and the archetype of the enemy of the Jewish people. At this very moment, Rome is born and the hate that comes between the Jews and Rome fertilizes and begins to take root. Isaac saw this.
As you know, Jews don’t put halos on pictures of their forefathers and foremothers. The Torah does not make them out to be perfect. In fact, the Torah makes it very plain that these people are human. And in this family, boy, do they ever look human – almost like the disputes and anger in our own families. That is intentional on the part of the Torah. And it is there to teach us that a fundamental lack of honesty, of constant deception and malice affects not only the family, but generations to come. It is the Jewish Hatfields and McCoys whose feud festers well into the 21st Century about a post-Civil War feud after a murder. That feud is only 200 years old! Esau and Jacob’s feud is thousands of years old. And that is what my student pointed out. The ramifications of this feud rippled throughout world and didn’t disappear after the disappearance of Rome. The hatred of Rome is the same hatred embraced by anti-Semites today.
Someone pointed out to me the commentary of Pardes Yosef written by Yosef Patzanovski. On this episode, he wrote, “Fear and trembling took hold of Isaac when, in a spirit of prophecy, he saw the results of hatred.” Patzanovski knew this lesson all too well; he was murdered by the Nazis in the Lodz Ghetto, four days after the death of his wife. His Torah commentary was completed, but the Torah he left us still resonates. Hatred takes on a life of its own – or so it seems. And the question the Torah asks is whether or not we feed the beast or begin starving it.
The Torah records this story as a warning. Don’t live as Esau and Jacob. The Torah knew what we know – that hatred and enmity are easy to plant but hard to uproot. We see all around us that hatreds of every kind continue to run rampant. When we grow accustomed to it, we have watered it and helped it grow. When we participate in it, it invades our very souls. The lesson this family is that perhaps, like Isaac, we should tremble a bit more at the possible outcomes of what is happening today in our world. We should recommit ourselves to truth, openness, and communication, and we must find the courage to stand against those who choose evil.
Willful blindness is not a curiosity. It presents a profound danger to all we hold dear.
Shabbat Shalom
