Beth Shalom
Oceanside Jewish Center

Why Jacob Cried
November 23, 2002  -  18 Kislev 5763

Parshat Vayishlach
By Rabbi Mark Greenspan

One of the most dramatic moments in the book of Genesis is the fateful encounter between Jacob and his brother, Esau. For twenty years these two men had no contact with one another. Their relationship ended inauspiciously when Jacob stole his older brother's blessing. Esau threatened to kill Jacob and Jacob, for his part, fled for his life. Far from the land of Canaan, I suspect that Esau was never far from Jacob's thoughts.

But twenty years is a long time to be separated from one's family. Our forefather finally decided to return home to confront his brother and reestablish his presence in Canaan. After a restless (or wrestling) night Jacob steps forth to meet the man who has every reason to hate him and who he has always resented. He does not know what to expect - Esau, he learns, is traveling toward him with four hundred soldiers. Are his intentions peaceful or is he coming to revenge past wrongs?

Jacob's encounter with Esau ends when they embrace and kiss. Sometimes, however, a kiss is not just a kiss and we're left wondering what their reunion might mean. The Torah tells us: "Esau ran to greet him. He embraced him, falling on his neck, Vayishakayhu, he kissed him And they wept."

At first glance, the reunion between Jacob and Esau would appear to be heart warming and sincere. But the sages point out that there are a series of dots in the Torah just above the word, 'Vayishakayhu,' "he kissed him," These dots led them to wonder whether Esau's kiss was less sincere then it appeared. One Midrash even claims that Esau actually set out to bite Jacob "vayishakhhu" but Jacob's neck turned to stone causing Esau to literally break his teeth on his brother's neck!

The Midrash goes on to comment on the verse, "and they cried: Esau because of his teeth, and Jacob because of his neck."

As I read this well known Midrash, this week, I had to wonder what's really going on here. I wasn't surprised that the sages doubted Esau's sincerity. They understood 'Esau' not as an individual but as the representative of a nation that has a long history of animosity toward the Jewish people. And I wasn't surprised that Esau cried either. After all, you'd cry too if you bit into a piece of stone! But according to the Torah, both brothers cried. The Midrash says that Jacob cried because his neck turned into stone! That doesn't make any sense. Our forefather should have been relieved, or even a little pleased that God had protected him from his older brother. So according to this interpretation, why did this miracle inspire Jacob's tears?

It seems to me there's a profound lesson to be learned from this fanciful Midrash. Jacob cried when his neck turned to stone because he recognized that with each victory over his brother he became a little harder and a little more cruel. While Jacob had no choice but to prepare for the worst case scenario, he had come to understand that there is a price to be paid with each act of aggression, with each deception, and with each hostile _expression. Jacob cried when his neck had turned to stone because he understood that even in his reunion with his brother they would never truly be reconciled, they would never completely trust one another.

In fact, earlier in the Parshah, as Jacob prepares for his encounter with Esau, the Torah tells us, "Jacob was greatly frightened and he was anxious." Why was Jacob both frightened and anxious, the medieval commentator, Rashi, asks? He was frightened lest Esau attempt to kill him and he was anxious lest he be forced to kill his brother in self defense. Jacob knew that there was no simple solution to his antagonistic relationship with Esau. He did not want to be the victim or the aggressor. And yet he knew that he might not have a choice. So he cried.

I thought about Jacob's tears this week as I followed the latest news from Israel. More deaths. More violence. More sorrow. It's not a surprise that the latest spate of attacks on Israelis took place during the week which marks the anniversary of Sadaat's visit to Jerusalem some twenty five years ago. No doubt Israel will respond with violence. What choice does she have? Israel has learned that to remain passive in the face of terror is to be viewed as indecisive and weak. And yet with each new attack and with each death, Palestinians vow to revenge the death of their countrymen. The cycle of violence in the land of Israel is unending. There can be no trust, no openness, and no willingness to take risks in the interest of peace. Israel's heart must turn to stone in the interest of self preservation. And yet Israelis cry not only for the death of their loved ones but also because they are aware of the high cost they are paying in their effort to simply exist. Every Israel soldiers pays for the land with his soul.

Rabbi Michael Graetz, one of my colleagues in Israel, responded to the latest acts of terror by sharing a passage with us that seems especially appropriate these days. It is taken from the writings of Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel:

"The idea of the divine image of man offers no explanation to the dreadful mystery of the evil urge in the heart of man…This is a time to cry out. One is ashamed to be human…All we can honestly preach is a theology of dismay. What is history? Wars, victories, and wars. So many dead. So many tears. So little regret. So many fears. And who could sit in judgment over the victims of cruelty whose horror turns to hatred? Is it easy to keep the horror of wickedness from turning into a hatred of the wicked? The world is drenched in blood, and the guilt is endless. Should not all hope be abandoned? What saved the prophets from despair was their messianic vision and the idea of man's capacity for repentance. That vision and that idea affected their understanding of history."

So Esau cried because he had not overcome his hatred, and Jacob cried because he knew that he would continue to live in a world where he would have to hide behind a wall of distrust and vigilance, a world in which he might have to resort to violence simply to survive.

I remember those dramatic days when Sadaat came to Jerusalem, and when the despair of hatred gave way to the hope for peace. I was in Jerusalem at the time. And I rejoiced along with Israelis at the vision of one of Israel's mortal enemies addressing the members of the Knesset. Could it happen again? I want to believe that it could. I want to believe that Israel's neighbors can change, that all it would take is a small overture of reconciliation for the heart of the Israeli people to melt and turn to their neighbors in peace. It happened once before. It can happen again.

But until that time comes, Israel's neck and her heart must be made of stone. I don't see that she has any choice. And Israel should do no less than any other nation in defending itself.

Did Jacob and Esau love one another? I doubt they did. In fact the Torah tells us that after their embrace each went his own way and as far as we can tell they never met again. And yet we shouldn't underestimate that they managed to embrace and kiss, even if it was only half heartedly. So maybe what we learn from this story is that sometimes a half hearted kiss is better than no kiss at all.

We can only hope and pray that change is possible. Otherwise all the future will hold are tears. For only in reconciliation and trust can there be true peace.

Shabbat Shalom