December 1st: Vayetzay and Vayishlach
THIS WEEK IN THE TORAH
Rabbi David E. Ostrich
Jacob’s life is full of surprises—some wonderful and some not so good. In Vayetzay, he is surprised by the unexpected holiness of his campsite. Journeying to escape the wrath of his brother Esau and to visit family in Padan Aram (in Syria), he stops to spend the night. In his sleep, he has a fantastic vision about a ladder connecting heaven and earth. Angels are going down and up the ladder, and God stands at the top. Then God speaks to him: “I am the Lord, the God of your father Abraham and the God of Isaac: the ground on which you are lying I will assign to you and to your offspring. Your descendants shall be as the dust of the earth; you shall spread out to the west and to the east, to the north and to the south. All the families of the earth shall bless themselves by you and your descendants. Remember, I am with you…” (Genesis 28.13-15)
Jacob awakes from this vision surprised, shaken, awestruck, and perhaps a little fearful. (The Hebrew word vayi’ra’ is multivalent.) “Surely the Lord is present in this place, and I, I did not know it!” (Genesis 28.16) Like Jonah many years later—and their descendants in the Babylonian Exile, he is surprised that God and holiness are in every place, possible in every moment.
When Jacob arrives in Paddan Aram and meets his relatives, he experiences several more surprises. First, he falls in love with his cousin Rachel. Second, he is surprised by the dishonesty of his Uncle Laban. One would think that one can trust one’s family, but, with Laban, trust is an opening for deception. Perhaps the worst surprise is when Jacob wakes up after his wedding night and finds that he is married to the wrong sister! The story speaks as though Jacob is the victim—and it is true, but the greater victim, the one whose betrayal is more profound, is Leah. One would think that her father would find her a husband who will love her, but by foisting her on a man in love with her sister, Leah is doomed to a marriage in which she never feels the love she deserves. One would think that the bosom of the family is a place of trust, but, in Laban’s family, intrigue and betrayal seem to be the pattern.
Surprises happen in life, and we need to be flexible and resilient. Sometimes the surprises are bad, and we need to be ready to protect ourselves. Sometimes the surprises are good, and we need to keep our eyes open to the good and holy.
Another surprise is Jacob’s selection as Patriarch. He is a deeply flawed individual and, despite his imperfections, is somehow chosen by God for a high religious position. One can argue that he gets this position by fooling his father Isaac into giving him his “innermost blessing.” But think about it: will God be bound by a ruse perpetrated on a blind and infirm old man? Of course not. Jacob and Rebekah might fool Isaac, but they do not fool God. In fact, this whole issue of subterfuge—and Jacob’s refusal to share lentil stew with Esau—prompts the Midrash to do some serious and creative damage control to offset the bad optics of Jacob’s early life. A bit of a fast talker, Jacob seems to think that he can finagle anyone he meets and get his own way. He even tries it with God. After the dramatic dream of the ladder ascending to heaven and God’s promises, Jacob’s response is:
“IF God remains with me, IF God protects me on this journey, IF God gives me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and IF I return safe to my father’s house, THEN the Lord will be my God.” (Genesis 28.20-21)
Perhaps his time with Uncle Laban (a finagler’s finagler!) helps Jacob to look for other more honest and straightforward ways to behave, but he does not achieve perfection. He cannot seem to manage his marriage (to two wives and two concubines) or his children. He blatantly favors one wife and her children. He fails in supervising his daughter Dinah, and, after her assault and kidnapping by Shechem, he fails in controlling his sons’ vindictive response. When things between his favored son Joseph and his other sons get very tense—“they hated Joseph…for his talk about his dreams,” Jacob just “keeps the matter in mind.” (Genesis 27.8-11) He does not take charge and fix his family.
Is Jacob more flawed than other Biblical figures? It is hard to say since we know a lot more about Jacob than anyone else in the Torah save Moses. The Jacob saga covers seven Torah portions—some twenty-five chapters in Genesis, and all his foibles are laid bare. He may not be worse than others, but his flaws are on record, and we are left to wonder how such an imperfect person can be chosen by God for spiritual leadership.
This gets us to an old question in Biblical studies. Whenever someone is chosen for an exalted role—as Patriarch, Prophet, or King, the commentators always ask “Why?” They then try to divine a reason—some way that the chosen one prepares for the role, or some qualities that make him or her uniquely qualified. Such are the questions asked about Noah, Abram, Moses, and even the Children of Israel who are selected by God as “My treasured possession among all peoples….a kingdom of priests and a holy people.” (Exodus 19.5-6). The sub-agenda in such questions is very personal. If the commentator can figure out what qualifies these heroic figures to be honored by God, then perhaps he/she can emulate the Tzaddik and also merit a special role. However, in each of these selection discussions, there is always the possibility that there is no special preparation or quality. Noah, Abram, and even Moses could be “selected” for no other reason than that they respond to God’s call. Perhaps the Burning Bush burns in front of lots of shepherds, but only Moses turns aside and answers God’s challenge. Perhaps the Oneness of God is presented to lots of ancient Mesopotamians, but only Abram responds when God approaches him. Perhaps Jacob is chosen not because he is wonderful but because he responds when God needs some human assistance. In this, he presents a very personal and very hopeful example.
Jacob’s struggles and frequent failures represent the human condition in which most of us find ourselves. We do not appear before God as exemplars of morality, religiosity, or intellect. We are not Tzaddikim. But we are nonetheless capable of rising to the occasion and doing the right thing—bringing holiness into an unholy moment.
The unexpected selection of our imperfect grandfather Jacob reminds us that regular and imperfect people have the ability to hearken to what is compelling—to respond to the call of God. Righteousness, kindness, and holiness are always possible. We should keep our eyes open for the opportunities placed before us.