Parashat Va'Ye'chi Gen.: 47:28 - 50:26 (End)

This week we conclude the reading of the Book of Genesis. The first of the Five Books of Moses – probably the most significant of the entire canon – ends. Fittingly, this week’s portion – Va’Ye’chi (literally “and he lived”) – is a portion full of endings. Both Jacob, the last of Judaism’s Founding Fathers, and Joseph, his most famous and beloved son, end their lives here. And if we consider the Haftara as well, then King David, too, will end his life by the time our reading is complete.

The very fact that three of Judaism’s greatest lives end in one portion – and the very last portion of Genesis at that – is not coincidental. It tells us something quite significant about ending of life in general, but also about new beginnings. Today I want to talk about these two complimentary – though sometimes considered contradictory – points, demonstrating the powerful notion that “every end is a new beginning.”

Every End….

The end of one’s life may often be used as an opportunity for reflection. Some would like to depart this world with an act that symbolizes, more than any other, their life on earth. Their legacy. Let us examine shortly how Jacob and Joseph choose to end their own lives.

We begin with Jacob. At the center of today’s portion is Jacob’s blessings to his twelve sons – the twelve Tribes of Israel. These blessings are extremely complex, and I cannot dwell on them here; suffice it to say that Jacob opens his last address with the cryptic words: “Gather around me, and I shall tell you on your experiences at the end of days.” (Gen. 49:1)

But how does Jacob choose to leave this world? The answer to me is, exactly like his father. Indeed, the similarities between Jacob’s end-of-life story and Isaac’s are striking. Both men, the biblical text informs us, could hardly see at the end of their days (compare Gen. 48:10 (“And the eyes of Israel were heavy of old age”) with 27:1 (“And Isaac turned old, and his eyes became too dark too see”)); both question the identity of the sons standing before them for blessings (compare Gen. 27:18 (Isaac’s question to Jacob: “Who are you [of] my son[s]?”) with 48:8 (“And Israel saw the sons of Joseph, and he asked: ‘who are these people?’”)); both bless first the younger rather than the older, despite the explicit law to the contrary (compare Gen. 48:14 (Israel blesses Ephrayim first, although he is the younger than Menashe), with 27:28 (Isaac blesses Jacob first)); and, most strikingly, both refuse to renege on their wrongful blessing order once they are corrected by an outside observer (compare Gen. 48:19 (Jacob refuses to recognize his mistake), with 27:38 (Isaac refuses to recognize his)).

The end of Jacob’s life, therefore, is marked by unification with his father – “Ma’assei Avot, Siman Le’vanim” – the deeds of the fathers are signs for their sons.” (Midrash Tan’chuma, Lech Lecha, 9). To make this symbolic connection even more concrete, Jacob insists that he be physically buried right next to his father, at the famous site bought by his grandfather many years earlier. His last wish is fulfilled by his sons, and now Jacob is finally forever united with his father Isaac, and grandfather Abraham.

The end of Joseph’s life is almost diametrically opposed. Instead of uniting with his family, Joseph legacy is more about himself than anyone else. Recall that as a child, Joseph had a dream (two, in fact) where his brothers bowed to him, as if they were his servants. The brothers, obviously, hated him for that. Near the end of his life, this dream comes true.

Recall that Jacob, the patriarch, is dead. Now the brothers are fearing that their younger brother will “hate us and finally award us back for all the evil things we caused him.” (Gen. 50:15) So big is their fear, that they concoct a “last will and testament” by their father, one that was never made, according to which he should not hurt them. Joseph, who probably knows they are lying (surely his father would have told him that), not only forgives them, but burst into crying again. (Recall the dramatic settings at the beginning of the last portion, where Joseph orders everyone away, and burst into crying before introducing himself to his brothers). He then reassures them that no harm would be done to them. Hearing that, the brothers actually “fall in front of Joseph” and say: “We are your servants.” (Gen. 50:18)

And thus Joseph parts this world – with all his dreams fulfilled, but without a meaningful legacy. And Jacob? His days on this earth were “short in number, and full of sorrow”; and yet, his legacy lives on as the greatest of Judaism’s Founding Fathers. Until today, we are still The People of Israel – the sons of Jacob.

…. Is a New Beginning

Other than in endings, Genesis’ last portion may also offer a lesson in new beginnings. True, in order to fully comprehend that one must “cheat” and turn the page to the new book of Exodus. Still, in this case, the game is worth the candle.

In Exodus 1:6-8, we find the following very succinct but beautiful description: “And Joseph has passed, and so did his brothers, and that entire generation . . . . and a new king rose over Egypt, and he did not know Joseph.” The notion that Joseph, the most significant figure in Egypt (and the region) for nearly 80 years was not known by the new ruler gives us pause; yet at the same time it sounds extremely familiar. Just like every president (all over the world, not just here) wishes to distance himself as much as possible from his predecessor, so did the new Pharaoh not want to be defined by the legend of Joseph.

But in a deeper sense, the separation from Joseph and his generation – in essence, the separation from Genesis – is necessary to understand the story of Exodus. Indeed the book of Genesis is unique in many respects, not the least of which is the fact that all the key figures – local and domestic, plebes as well as kings – recognize the power of Abraham’s God (and therefore, to an extent, believe in Him). This is true, to be sure, for Joseph’s Pharaoh as well. Not so for the other four books in the Chumash (or the other 23, for that matter, of the entire Tanach). Here we find people – and kings – who refuse to recognize His powers and presence.

But “Mai’Az Yatza Ma’tok” from the unfortunate came the sweetest of all (Judges 14:14): As a people, we needed someone like Pharaoh who refuses to believe so we can leave Egypt and re-settle in the Promised Land. In a sense, therefore, we needed someone who “did not know Joseph” in order to really escape Joseph’s land. And thus, Joseph’s end truly marks our beginning.

Shabat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Va'yigash: Gen. 44:18 - 47.27

This week’s portion marks the third straight portion dedicated to Joseph. In the first portion, we encounter Joseph for the first time as a young boy, mistreated by his brothers and dreaming narcissistic dreams. They hate him, and throw him to a pit in the desert. In the second, Joseph is taken to Egypt, again goes down to the pit – this time, the Jailhouse – but then is raised to prominence, becoming the second-in-command to the King of Egypt. His brothers are coming down to Egypt to search for food, and he serves them one cold dish of revenge. This week, finally, he is revealing himself to his brothers.

So, three portions. Very few people in the history of the five books received so much attention from the text. But this is Joseph, a person who did not receive enough attention in the Jewish tradition (he has no tribe named after him, but only after his sons – Ephrayim and Menashe, which are, in fact, the only surviving tribes; in essence, we are all Joseph’s descendants). He is never mentioned as one of the Greatest, together with the three Fathers, or Moses.

Yet, other than Moses, it is hard to think of anyone – not the fathers, not Noah, and no other hero of the five books – that receives so much attention from the text. So, why three portions?

Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis

In Hegelian philosophy, we find the “dialectic move” – Thesis, Antithesis, Synthesis. What it means is that first the proposition emerges; then its complete opposite; and finally, some combination of the two. If “Va’Yeshev” was the thesis, and last week’s portion – “Mi’Ketz” – was the antithesis, this week’s portion, Va’Yigash, is the synthsesis. Let us see why.

We begin with dreams. In the first week of the three, we saw how dreams bring Joseph down – all the way to the pit. In the second, we saw how they bring him up – all the way to the throne. This week, there are no dreams. This week, we read on the meeting – at last – between the Joseph and his brothers, undisguised. And while the scene may seem like a nightmare, at first at least, to the brothers, it is becoming very clear soon that the second-in-command in all of Egypt, the only regional superpower, is no other than their own little brother which they last saw in a pit, over seventeen years earlier.

We next move to communication. In the first week, we read of how Joseph talks badly about his brothers to their father Jacob; they, in turn, refused to talk to him. (Think about that – you have ten brothers, none of them talks to you. How sad.) So, there is almost no communication. In the second week, we read on how they hold extremely long conversation – but not directly. Rather, “Ha’Melitz Beinotam” – the interpreter is among them. (Gen. 42, 23). So again, indirect communication, although plenty of it. This week, Joseph “ can no longer control himself” – and he asks everyone out, including the interpreter. And what are Joseph’s first words to his brothers after more than seventeen years since not seeing them? There are no words. He simply breaks down and cries. (Recall Jacob’s first “words” to Rachel – exactly the same.) This direct communication method – old school – brings into mind the great story by Y.L. Peretz, The Whistle, about the young kid who entered the synagogue on Yom Kippur’s Ne’illa Prayer, and, to everyone’s surprise, begin whistling. The congregation is aghast at the sacrilegious act at the midst of the holiest of days, but the Rabbi thinks differently: “This is the purest way to communicate with God,” he said. “Not always do we need words.”

We finally touch upon the relationship between Joseph and his Brothers. At first, they hated him, almost killing him. Then, he avenged their hatred, accusing them of anything from being spies – a violation punishable then and now by death – to thieves, to dishonest, the works. Today, it’s time to make peace. Obviously, the terms of this peace agreement are set by the victorious side – Joseph; so the entire family goes down to Egypt, etc. But this is peace after all – and like most peace accords – and most settlements – it leaves each side a bit disappointed.

So much for the synthesis.

“Few in Number, and Full of Misery”

Another point I want to make this week relates to Jacob’s meeting with his son’s new boss, Pharaoh, the King of Egypt. Recall that now that they are together, Joseph prepares his brothers to the meeting with Pharaoh. He tells them that the King will probably inquire into their deeds, and they should say that they are goat-herders (a despised profession by the Egyptian elite) (Gen. 46:33). This works exactly as planned: The King asks them: “What is it that you do?” and they reply “we are goat herders.” (Gen. 47:3).

But Joseph did not prepare his father for such a meeting. And Pharaoh then asks Jacob a very benign question: How old are you? Jacob’s surprising answer is: “The years of my life are 130 in number.” But then he add, without being asked: “Few in number, and full of misery were the years of my life.” (Gen. 47:9) Now in Hebrew, the language is simply beautiful here – the little that holds the much: “Me’at Ve’ra’im Ha’yu Ye’mai Shnei Chayay.” When Shai Agnon, Israel’s only author (so far) to win a Noble Prize in literature, looked for words to describe the premature death of his mom in her early thirties, (“Bi’dmey Ya’me’ha”), he uses the exact same words: “Few in number, and full of misery were the days of my mother.”

Now this is a surprising answer – not the least because of the break in diplomatic decorum (you only answer what the King has asked you). One would think that once Jacob is reunited with his beloved son, he would be anything if not jubilant at this moment (not to mention he is standing face-to-face with the greatest regional leader).

The sages have tried to provide several reasons for this answer. Some are predictable: Now, standing before Pharaoh, Jacob realizes he didn’t put his mind and sole into worshiping God the way he should have, thus his life seems, all of sudden, short and miserable. Good enough.

Others were less expected, even providing some humor: Pharaoh, who was surprised that the father of the young man he crowned as Vice-King is so old, is asking the father how old he is. Jacob, in return, is saying that he understands he looks very old, but in fact he is not old at all (comparatively to these days), but he looks very bad because his life were miserable.

I think, however, that something much deeper is going on here. Jacob’s life were basically the life of anticipation. Fourteen years he waited for his wife Rachel. He got her at long last. 20 years he waited to see how his brother would revenge his betrayal of him. That went well too. And now, for the first time in 17 years, he finally saw his son again – and he realizes, without words, that he was waiting for him all these days. Now, even if all those long periods of anticipation ended successfully, still most of his life were, indeed, full of sorrow. And the “few,” in my mind, related to those very few days in which he was not waiting for something to happen. Reflecting on his life near its end, Jacob provides us with a very strong lesson for life: Don’t wait. Don’t anticipate. Don’t fill up your life with the hope that something good will happen some day. Even if it will – it’s not worth it. It is better to act now (even if you regret it later) than to wait for many years for good things to come.

Shabbat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Mi'Ketz Gen. 41:1 - 44:17

This week’s portion – Mi’Ketz (literally, “at the end of”) – is a fascinating study in opposites, when compared with last week’s potion. In fact, the two seems to be quite the mirror image of each other.

Take the relationship between Joseph and his brothers. Last week, we read how the Brothers despised Joseph and tortured him in many a way (both active and passive) – finally almost killing him and then abandoning him in the desert. This week, instead, we read how Joseph – who knows all too well that revenge is a dish best served cold – tortures his brothers back, crudely, slowly, and meticulously over a period of several months, more than thirteen years after he has seen them last. This should serve as an important lesson to all “big brothers (and sisters)” out there: be very careful how you treat your little siblings…

Or take Joseph himself. Last week, we read about how he descended to the lowest places imaginable – first thrown by his brothers into a “pit” in the desert all by himself (just try to imagine being in such a barren grave – if only for a few moments); then thrown in jail, for several years, in a foreign country no less (the regional superpower Egypt). This week, conversely, we read about Joseph as the most prominent, powerful, and influential figure in all of Egypt, second only to Pharaoh himself (which was not only King, but also a kind of God). This should serve as a lesson of another nature, and a very powerful one. Even if we fall into a pit, or spend some years in jail – there is no telling what the future holds. (Note, however, that Joseph was innocent in both cases (“for I have one nothing” Gen. 40:15); this is no license to do wrong.)

And finally, think about Dreams. Last week we saw how dreams, by and large, brought misery upon Joseph, both when he divulged their content to his brothers, and when he solved the ones in jail (since they promised to save him following his interpretation, a promise they did not keep for over two years). This week, the opposite is true: Joseph’s ability to “solve” (interpret) Pharaoh’s dreams grants him the special title “Zaphnat Pa’a’ne’ach” (which none of the 10 traditional translation dare attempt to translate, and which means, approximately – “he who can decipher the deepest secrets”), and otherwise enables to become in charge on all of Egypt. Here, too, is a teachable moment: If you are very passionate about something, even if it brings you much misery in the beginning (like, for example, the crazy idea to write a blog on the Portion every single week), stick to it – perhaps good things will come.

But this week’s lessons do not end here. Here are some others. First, “spread your bread.” The wisest of all persons, the author of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes 11:1) has taught us: “Spread your bread upon the waters, for after many days you shall find it.” In essence, that means that you should never hesitate to do your best today, even without a prospect of an immediate reward; that reward may come “after many days.” And indeed, Joseph has solved the dreams of fellow inmates in the jailhouse despite the fact that there could be no immediate benefit from that. He did ask, however, that those persons “would remember him” and bring him out of jail, when the appropriate time comes. And it did – more than two years later. (Interestingly, the person who mentions Joseph’s name to Pharaoh – the same Minister whose dream Joseph solved in jail – begins his statement to the King with the famous words “My sins I bring before you today…” (Gen. 41:10). The “sins” he talks about are usually attributed to his own sins, the one that put him in jail in the first place; but in a deeper sense, they relate to the sin he committed towards Joseph – breaking his promise to mention his name to Pharaoh).

Second, the lesson of seizing the moment. The Romans told us to seize the day – carpe diem; but way before that, our sages asked rhetorically “if not now, when?" (Pirkei Avoth 1:14). Joseph performs an incredible feat: he solves a royal dream, a dream no other person – including all the wise of Egypt – was able to solve (the dream about the seven good years followed by the seven bad years). But – and this is important – Joseph doesn’t stop there. Immediately following his interpretation, ad-lib, he outlines a comprehensive plan to combat the emerging crisis. That way, he helps the King not only to understand the meaning of his dreams but also to overcome the emergency they bring about. For this (and not only for his interpretation) he is rewarded with the title of Second only to the King. So next time your boss calls you to explain a certain point in your (or someone else’s) memo – go ahead, save the moment and outline for her what are the best ways to solve the crisis that is coming about.

And finally, the lesson of understatement. In the Talmud (Brachot 35) we find that “the righteous ones, their work is done by others.” Note that after solving Pharao’s dreams, Joseph offers to Pharaoh to appoint “a wise and smart person all over the land of Egypt” (Gen. 41:33). Now recall Joseph’s situation at that point: He is only thirty years old (Gen 41:46), a “young boy” according to the person who introduced him to Pharaoh (Gen. 41:12); he has just spent several years in jail (and technically, although he changes his clothes and got his first shave in years, he is still a prisoner); he was wrongly accused (twice), and suffered quite substantially for it. Yet he never asks for a position, never asks to be rewarded, never pleads to be released from Jail. Instead, he focuses on how he, the young man, can help Pharaoh, the King of Egypt. And for that, for never even suggesting that it would be him, Joseph, who should be appointed by the King to resolve the problem he has just outlined, Pharaoh rewards him with the greatest of all rewards: “There is no wiser and smarter than you” says Pharaoh to Joseph while giving him his own royal ring (Gen. 41:40-42); from now on, “without your permission, no one would as much as lift his arm of feet in the entire land of Egypt.” (Id, 42). Well said.

Shabat Shalom.

Parashat Va'ye'shev Gen. 37:1 - 40:23

Much shorter than last week’s portion, Va’ye’shev is a succinct, wonderfully-written portion revolving around one person: Joseph, Jacob’s beloved son. Joseph (or Yoseph) is so dear to Jacob, as he is one of only two sons that his beloved wife Rachel gave him. He is seventeen when the portion opens, and – precisely like his mother – he is described as both “handsome looking” and “a feast for the eyes” (Gen. 39:6; cf. Gen. 29:17 (same exact description of his mother Rachel)).

Not surprisingly, this favorite son feels superior to his ten older brothers. As the portion begins, he’s already presented as a whistle-blower, a person who brings reports of their bad behavior as herders to their father (already a strong social faux-pas). Since every action has a counter-action, it should come at no surprise that the brothers, too, “hated him and did not speak to him.” (Gen. 37:4) The portion then “bookends” with two sets of double dreams: the first dreamt by Joseph, the other interpreted by Joseph. In between these two sets, we encounter a very interesting story about Judah – Joseph’s big brother – and one very smart daughter-in-law named Tamar. Unfortunately, I have room this week to discuss only the first of the three fascinating stories. I will be happy to discuss the other two should you ask separately.

Joseph’s Dreams

Joseph is known to us today as the “dream solver” – the go-to person in question of deciphering dreams. Long before Freud’s Interpretation of Dreams (1899) – in which Freud has claimed to “provide proof that there is a psychological technique which allows us to interpret dreams” – the biblical Joseph realized that dreams our subconscious manifestations of desires, fears, and wishes. But before all that – he had his own dreams.

Those dreams are considered simple – even simplistic – compared to the ones he deciphered, and are well understood by his brothers. In the first, Joseph and his brothers are binding sheaves in the field, when suddenly Jeseph’s sheaf stands well upright while all the other sheaves gathered around it and bow to it. (Gen. 37:7) Simply said, visibly powerful, and clearly understood. The brothers’ reaction? Also quite expected: “Are you like a king ruling us, or a Governor governing us? And they hated him even more for his dreams and stories.”

Joseph’s second dream is not much different. This time, it is no less than the sun, the moon, and the eleven planets which are bowing down to Joseph. Again, quite simple. Hearing about this dream, even his loving father cannot stand idle: “And his father scolded him and said: what is this dream you dreamt – should me and your mother and all your brothers come to bow down to you? And his brothers were jealous of him, and his father kept that in his mind.” (Gen. 37:9-11).

Was Joseph Really That Naïve?

The traditional account, therefore, is that Joseph was at best naïve and at worst stupid when he approached his brothers and told them about his dreams. Yet everything we learn later about Joseph suggests the exact opposite – he was neither naïve, nor stupid. This young man, who was immediately liked by everyone who met him – men and women, high-officers and prisoners alike – climbed through the ranks at a very young age to become the first-ever foreign “Vice President” of the only Superpower in the region. He was smart, sophisticated, polished, and had very sharp political instincts. All that made me think again about the traditional account. Let us try and review those dreams again.

First Dream: In the Field

We begin the account of the first dream when we already know few things about Joseph: First, of all his sons, Jacob loves him the most. Second, the brothers hate him for that. Third, the brothers don’t even speak to him anymore. With these in mind, Joseph approaches them to talk about his dream in what seems like a suicide mission: He is about to tell them about his “superiority-complex,” as if they didn’t know enough. Now put yourselves for a second in Joseph’s shoes: Suppose you had a dream putting you in charge of your ten older brothers who hate you; would you go and tell them about it?

Note that the first dream is more subtle compared to the second: Here, the brothers’ sheaves bow to Joseph’s sheaf; but they themselves do not bow to him. In the second dream, the sun, moon, and eleven planets bow directly to Joseph – to him, not to his planet. Is that important? Can those dreams be interpreted differently?

Second Dream: The Sun, Moon, and Eleven Planets

Of all the biblical dreams, Joseph’s second is my favorite. Perhaps because it was depicted by Walt Disney in his magnificent adaptation of Paul Dukas’ “The Sorcerer's Apprentice” in his Fantasia films (the only piece to be presented in both the original and the 2000 version of Fantasia.) While the original story, authored by Goethe, says nothing about Joseph’s dream (see http://german.about.com/library/blgzauberl.htm), the animated depiction by Disney has Mickey Mouse dreaming himself to stand on a huge rock, ordering the sun, moon, and planets around him to obey all his commands with the magic stick. This could not be a mere coincidence.

Another reason why I like this dream so much is because of the profound cosmological knowledge it contains. Recall the period in which the dream is being reported – very little

Astronomical developments are known to be published. Yet the number 11 for planets – until recently, the exact number depicted by NASA to describe the same phenomenon (see http://solarsystem.nasa.gov/planets/index.cfm) – in addition to the moon and the sun, strikes me as an amazing coincidence.

So What Were These Dreams, After All?

I think that Joseph reported the dreams “as is” to his brothers not because he was naïve, but rather because he considered them to be divine interventions. Indeed, every time Joseph is asked later about dreams and their interpretation, he always invokes God. (see, e.g., Gen. 40:8; 41:16; 41:25). And dreams – and God – played a major role with his beloved father. I venture to assume that the story about Jacob’s most famous dream – “Jacob’s Ladder,” which was discussed in a previous post – was told over and over to the “chosen son.” When he began dreaming, he clearly felt that God is finally beginning to look upon him, too. That is why he told their content to his brothers; this is why he even dared to challenge the authority of his father; he truly felt that this was God’s calling. Perhaps he was right.

Since Joseph’s time, many a people appear in our midst, trying to report about their divine dreams. Today, we usually treat them as insane. Perhaps we should take a closer look.

Shabat Shalom,

Doron

Parashat Va'Yish'lach Gen. 32:4 -36:43

Last time we discussed Jacob’s twenty years with Laban – a period summarized by Jacob in a very moving monologue. Now we enter the eighth portion, the one dedicated to his meeting with his brother Esau – the first in twenty years. It is also dedicated to the story known as the Rape of Dina, Jacob’s daughter. I will make a short comment on each.

“And Jacob remained on his own…”

Careful and meticulous consideration – that’s how the text describes Jacob’s preparation for his first meeting with his brother Esau in twenty years. To recall: This is the same brother who said, even before their father Isaac died, “Let the mourning period of my father end, and I will kill my brother Jacob.” (Gen. 27:41) This is the brother from whom Jacob escaped to the other end of the Middle East. This is the same brother from whom Jacob bought (or stole, if you ask Esau) the birthright, and then received their father’s blessings (or stole it yet again, if you’d ask his brother).

And Jacob knows – what proves to be right – that his homecoming ceremony cannot be kept secret. Somehow, despite the lack of internet, everyone seems to know that Jacob – with his property, two wives, two midwives, and eleven sons – is coming back home.

So Jacob prepares, and he prepares well. He is hoping for the best, and planning for the worst. He begins by what every good general would do: gathering intelligence. So he sends a group of reconnaissance warriors (in the Hebrew original: Angels (“Mal’achim”) Gen. 32:4) to find out about Esau’s intentions and actions. He asks them to deliver a message – something about him living with Laban (a relative, recall – their uncle), and that now he, Jacob, would like appease Esau – but when the messengers come back they mention nothing about any message delivered. All they say is: “We arrived at your brother, and here he is – walking towards you with [a small army of] some four hundred strong.” (Gen. 32:7).

Jacob then divides his property, explaining that if Esau would arrive at the first camp, at least the other would survive. He then prays to God and asks for salvation – something he hasn’t done, perhaps, in twenty years. But our forefather also realized that God only helps those who help themselves. He thus prepares a huge gift for his brother – hundreds of sheep, ewes, rams, camels, cows, and bulls – and then divides it into separate groups. He instructs his slaves to keep distance between these groups, such that every time Esau would run into one, they would say – “this is a gift from your brother.” He also instructs each of the group leaders to repeat the exact text: “perhaps by this gift your slave Jacob would carry favor with you.” He then takes his two wives, two midwives, and eleven sons and crosses the Jordan into Israel. So far for meticulous preparation. [Consider his previous encounters with his brother, and how he prepared for those – buying the birthright for a well-cooked stew; receiving the blessings by wearing sheep’s skin, etc.]

And then he remains on his own.

And then he wrestles all night with an Angel (this is complicated, but I won’t go into it here), and that Angel – after Jacob’s insistence on receiving a blessing (some things never change) – blesses Jacob and changes his name to Israel, as he could stand with both God and Men. (Gen. 32:25-33) And so the name of our people was created – “Am Israel,” the nation of Israel. We are not the nation of Abraham, nor of Isaac, but of Jacob’s – now called Israel.

The text does not explain why or how Jacob, who was accompanied by a huge entourage of a few hundred men and women, was “left alone” in the middle of the night to fight with the Angel. But perhaps I may venture to guess.

After all the careful considerations, after all the meticulous planning, after all the cost-benefit analyses, game-theory considerations, and damage-control scenarios – Jacob is left alone to himself. It is he – and no one else – who has to wrestle with the consequences of his actions. It is he who has to fight his inner demons. It is he who cannot sleep the night before the big event, wrestling with his god all night.

And this, I’m afraid, is true for every one of us as well. Indeed, at the end of all ends, “the buck stops here” for each and every one of us as well, not only for the president. We can plan all we want, persuade ourselves that we externalize all the risk in the world, hide behind the most cutting-edge theories out there – but at the end of the day, it is us – each and every one of us – who has to account for our actions, alone. It is us who need to wrestle with our inner Gods all night. And only if we are still standing in the morning, we can be truly feel “Israel” – like someone who stood with both men and gods and was not defeated.

Oh, by the way – the meeting went just fine. Esau ran toward his brother, hugged him, kissed him, and made peace (Gen. 33:4). All’s well between the brothers now. [Well, of course things are a bit more complicated, but let’s leave it at that.]

The Rape of Dinna

Dinna’s rape is one of the most complicated stories in Jacob’s history. According to the text, Dinna – one of Leah’s (big sister) daughters – went for a walk, when suddenly a young prince, son of a local king, saw her. He took her to himself, slept with her, and tortured her. The story quickly spreads – “an outrage has been done: someone slept with Jacob’s daughter” and her brothers are called to action. But then a sudden twist: The rapist falls in love with Dinna, and so his father, the local king, asked her father (Jacob) to marry her. Jacob delegated the treatment of this request to his sons. They plot a revenge, whereby they would ask the men to circumcise in order to marry Dinna, and then kill them while in pain. The plan carries out flawlessly, and Shimon and Levi executes it to the last gruesome detail. They save their sister, and everyone’s happy.

Or are they? Even Jacob himself begins having second thoughts when he hears on the price this local tribe had to pay for sleeping with his daughter – they are all dead, their property stolen, and their wives and children taken prisoners. Isn’t that a bit too much, even taking into account the horrific thing done by one of them? (Gen. 34:30) The brothers answer with one sentence ending all conversation, which until today is used all too often by angry brothers (and husbands) who wish to avenge their loved one’s rape: “Should our sister be treated like a whore?” End of conversation. Or is it? You decide. [I will not even venture to assume here that the encounter was not a rape; let us believe the biblical author.]

Shabbat Shalom.