Dear TBZ Community:
In this week’s Torah portion, Toldot, we begin the story of Jacob and Esau. Sons of Rebecca (Rivkah), rivals even before their birth, two brothers born to be foes:
וַיִּתְרֹצְצוּ הַבָּנִים בְּקִרְבָּהּ
The children struggled in her womb (Genesis 25:22)
The word ויתרוצצו (“struggled”) also has a meaning of running or moving quickly. According to Midrash (commentary), whenever Rivkah passed by the doors of a house of Torah Study, Jacob moved convulsively in his efforts to come to birth, but whenever Rivkah passed by the gate of a pagan temple, Esau moved convulsively in his efforts to come to birth (Genesis Rabbah 63:6).
Inside of her belly, Rivkah feels the pain of her two sons fighting, distancing, competing, separating from each other. Rivkah wonders about her own existence (Gen. 25:22):
וַתֹּאמֶר אִם־כֵּן לָמָּה זֶּה אָנֹכִי וַתֵּלֶךְ לִדְרֹשׁ אֶת ה’
Rivkah said, “If so, why do I exist?” She went to inquire God
I have always grappled with the interpretations of our rabbinic tradition when it comes to understanding Jacob and Esau. Even before their birth, the Torah imagines them struggling with each other in utero and the midrash clearly states that one is good and one is evil.
Yalkut Me’am Lo’ez, an 18th Century Judeo-Spanish commentary on the Torah, quotes a midrash in which Abraham spoke to his daughter-in-law, Rebecca, about her sons. (Even though based on the chronological order of the story, Abraham had already died by the time Rebecca was pregnant.)
He [Abraham] gave her the following message in the name of God: “You have two children in your womb. Each one will give us rise to a separate kingdom and nation. While they are still in your womb, I will divide them; one will be good and one will be wicked. The two will never be equal. When one empire expands, the other will be subjugated” (Yalkut Me’am Loez to 25:23, page 455 English edition).
This narrative of defining two brothers in opposition to each other is complicated and, many times, problematic. We collectively carry baggage resulting from this classification of people. Those who are different from us, those who have a different story, those who we feel threatened by, those who we are afraid of, those who have a different perspective… The juxtaposition is reflected in the way we relate to others.
Jacob and Esau’s story is tragic and also surprising… Fast forward, and after hurting and escaping, experiencing anger and fear, deceit and lies, the brothers will have another opportunity to meet (in Parshat Vayishlach, which we will read in two weeks). At that time the fear and anxiety will still be present, but, somehow, the story will end with an embrace, one that surprises Jacob. This time the running will bring them together rather than separate them.
וַיָּרץ עֵשָׂו לִקְרָאתוֹ וַיְחַבְּקֵהוּ וַיִּפֹּל עַל־צַוָּארָו וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ וַיִּבְכּוּ
Esau ran to greet him. He embraced him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him; and they wept (Gen. 33:4)
During these very difficult times, I continue to struggle with the divisiveness we are encountering around us, especially with people who are close to us, family members, dear friends, and allies. And I am asking the question, how can we hold each other in relationships across differences? I have spoken to people who are struggling to be in conversation with their families, parents and children who see and understand this conflict differently, colleagues who are hurt by their colleagues’ activism (one way or the other). For many, this moment feels so lonely, and I am wondering what the Torah is that we can hold when the depth of the struggle feels as deep as if it has been started in the womb.
I don’t know if I have answers to this. But I am reaching for compassion and for humanity. That is where I want to start.
This week, we heard the devastating news that Vivian Silver, co-founder of Women Wage Peace, who was presumed to be a captive of Hamas, was killed on October 7th by Hamas. Vivian Silver z”l is described by all who knew her as a lover and pursuer of peace; wise, compassionate, a woman of words and deeds, and a bridge-builder. She never gave up hope of peace.
Yesterday, many of us from TBZ joined the inspiring event that we co-hosted at Temple Sinai, with leaders of Standing Together, Sally Abed and Alon-Lee Green, and joined by Mickey Gitzin from New Israel Fund. They shared their vision for an Israel where Jews and Palestinians work together to achieve peace. Lately, it has been hard for me to feel hopeful, but last night I felt a glimpse of hope as I listened to these leaders. It felt less lonely to dream about peace, a better future for Israelis and Palestinians and for humanity. The compassion in their stories and in their voices reminded me that at this moment the Torah I want to hear, and I want to share, is a Torah of compassion.
On Tuesday, I joined the March for Israel in Washington, DC. My most moving experience of the day was receiving notes from dear friends and family in Israel, who felt the love, felt seen, and felt less lonely in the pain of the aftermath of October 7th. Friends who want peace, friends who want the hostages returned, friends who are praying for their loved ones to come back from their military service safe, friends who are devastated by the loss of life in Gaza. My going to the march was to stand with the Jewish community; to stand with the people of Israel at this difficult time; to stand for peace, for humanity, and against antisemitism and all forms of hatred. I went to DC, perhaps to reach out and share my yearning for compassion.
When afraid, when angry, when attacked, it is hard to find compassion in our hearts. When others don’t reach out to us with love, it is hard to initiate compassion. But I really don’t know if there is another way.
This past week, the month of Kislev began. We are in the part of the year where days are getting shorter, and darker. And as that happens, the holiday of Hanukkah approaches. Because when it’s dark out there, we bring light, we create light. And when we increase light we are able to see each other more clearly, perhaps more compassionately.
I continue to pray and ask for peace and a way forward. I continue to pray that we have the capacity to see the humanity of all human beings, Israelis and Palestinians, and that we do whatever is possible to not hurt and kill more innocent people, regardless of who they are.
With Thanksgiving next week, with families coming together around the table to celebrate gratitude, I hope we can reach out to each other with compassion and love.
May we find compassion for one another. May we merit, like Jacob and Esau, a possibility for embracing, even when in the midst of differences.
May this Shabbat bring blessings and consolation to all of you and your loved ones. May we find strength, courage, and patience, and open our hearts with generosity.
May all those who are ill find healing. And may we find joy in the midst of darkness.
May the hostages come home soon to their families and friends, and may we see peace.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rav Claudia