summary

Having become a mature man with wives, concubines, and eleven children, Jacob now has to confront the actions of his youth. Before he can come back to claim the land God has promised him, he has to face his brother Esau, whom he cheated and deceived all those years ago. It is no wonder that on hearing of his brother’s return, Esau comes out to meet him with a company men, ready for a fight. Jacob is afraid, and divides his camp into two, so that if one should be attacked, the other could escape. He then prays to God who has promised to protect him, and also sends gifts to Esau in hopes of appeasing him.

In preparation for that which he most dreads, Jacob spends the night alone and wrestles throughout the night with a mysterious ‘man.’ The contest is a draw, and Jacob receives both an injury to his thigh and a blessing (in the form of a new name, Israel).

The story then takes a surprising turn when Esau greets Jacob warmly. They fall upon each other and weep. Yet despite his brother’s invitation to join him in the land of Edom, Jacob continues on his way and arrives at Shechem.

Yet peace continues to elude Jacob and his family, as in this new place, Dinah, the daughter of Jacob and Leah, is raped. Her brothers Shimon and Levi take revenge on the inhabitants. God instructs them to leave, perhaps because they could never live in peace where they have done so much damage. Jacob fulfils his vow to build an altar at Beit El and God repeats the promise of the gift of this land. They leave there, and Rachel dies on the road to Beit Lechem, giving birth to the last of Jacob’s sons, Benjamin. The fabric of the family unravels further, when Reuben lies with his father’s concubine, Bilhah.

With the birth of Benjamin, the twelve tribes are complete. Isaac dies, and is buried by Jacob and Esau in the cave of Machpelah. The portion ends with a long genealogy of Esau and his descendents. (He may not have received his birthright or his blessing, but he at least gets his full acknowledgement here!)

Reflections by Rabbi Janet Burden

One of the first Yiddish words I ever learned was broigus. It is one of those strange terms that no one can neatly define, and yet everyone seems to know exactly what it means. “It’s like a family feud,” someone suggested, “but it’s not always between family members.” “If you mean like hillbilly feuds, it’s not like that at all,” another person chipped in. “Those run hot; people act on their emotions. Broigus runs cold.” “That’s right,” a third ventured. “It’s when people avoid each other or won’t speak to each other.” As the conversation continued, I realised that I understood precisely what they were speaking about, but had never had a word for the phenomenon. Broigus. So that’s what it’s called, I thought. Yup, pretty familiar territory.

I think an understanding of this less palatable aspect of human relations is what underlies the attitude taken in the midrashic commentary to the reunion of the two brothers, Jacob and Esau. To someone who reads the Biblical text straightforwardly, the rabbis’ attitude seems nothing short of churlish. At face value, Esau comes across as a real mensch, ready for immediate reconciliation. He runs to greet his brother, throwing his arms about him. No trace of rancour appears to remain. Whatta guy, that Esau….

The rabbis, however, decide that this apparent welcome simply cannot be what it seems to be. To them, it didn’t ring true. How could someone forgive and forget without at least due acknowledgement of past wrongs? It didn’t make any sense to them. The rabbis felt this so strongly that when the text says that Esau fell on Jacob’s neck and kissed him, they decided that Esau must have BIT him! How ridiculous is that?!

I used to think it was utterly ridiculous, frankly. When I first came across it, I thought that the rabbis’ need to see our ancestor Jacob in a favourable light was clouding their opinion of Esau. They were being perverse, I decided. Certainly, there is considerable evidence that the idea of zechut avot, “the Merit of the Patriarchs,” distorts their view, and I would not seek to deny this. Yet I now feel that to chalk it up simply to that is to do the rabbis an injustice. Whatever else you may wish to say about them, the rabbis often showed an acute awareness of human nature. Ask yourselves honestly: does this scene, as portrayed by the Biblical writer, ring true to you? (You may want to re-read Gen. 33).

For me, it both does, and doesn’t. I understand the rabbis’ problem. At the same time, I have also known people who are a little bit like Esau as he is portrayed here. Perhaps you have, too. They are generally the volatile types, who will explode in anger at the least offense. But the explosion doesn’t usually last for long. These same people are always the first to want to bury the hatchet and let bygones be bygones. My sister was this type of person. I remember her tirades in high school. “You are ruining my life,” she would scream. “Why do you have to even exist?!” The next day, to my utter astonishment, she would act as if nothing at all had happened. And for her, it was genuinely as if nothing had.

I suppose the fact that I remember these words verbatim mark me out as a different sort of person. “Janet doesn’t get hysterical in arguments,” my mother once observed, “She gets historical.” And that’s true as well. I can own it now. I guess I was of the rabbis’ party before I ever even knew of their existence. I always spurned my sister’s attempts at reconciliation, as I simply didn’t feel I could trust them. I preferred it when she was exploding. Then I knew where we were. And of course, that meant that she was entirely in the wrong, and I could take refuge in my role as the victim….

The hard thing about all this is that even with the benefit of hindsight, even with a good understanding of our family’s dynamic, I honestly don’t think we could have avoided the conflicts that plagued us for so long. We were too close, too much in each other’s faces. It hurt my mother dreadfully, perhaps because she bought in to the happy families’ model that was all around us at the time. All I can say to that is that I wish she had had the chance to learn, as I did much later, about broigus.

I remember how incredibly freeing it was just to be able to name the thing out loud. It was in that conversation that I first heard someone express the idea that such clashes are a natural part of some families’ lives, with no one person to blame. The group agreed that although broigus usually manifests in connection with specific grievances (like Jacob's stealing of the blessing), it’s essentially always about personalities. That, in a nutshell, is why it’s often so hard to affect a complete resolution. Issues can be addressed; wrongs can (at least sometimes) be righted. But basic clashes between personalities remain even when this kind of healing has been done. If people cannot work out a way to hold their differences, the broigus will just reappear in another form.

I’d like to think that Jacob’s decision not to go to Seir was informed by this kind of understanding and self-awareness. He could see from Esau’s reactions that he was essentially the same kind of man he had always been. And Jacob, for all his personal growth and the life lessons he has learned, still has the capacity to live up to his name and be a heel. Rather than putting himself back into a situation that would bring out the worst in him, he chooses to remain apart from his brother. Having made amends, he doesn’t wish to occasion any further disputes. This is why the text goes on to say that he arrived shalem, whole and well, at his destination.

At this time of year, many of us are likely to be spending time in close quarters with family or friends. For some of you, this will bring nothing but pleasure and joy. But if by any chance, you see broigus raising its ugly little head – don’t be afraid of it. By acknowledging it and understanding its dynamic, you can gain a measure of control over it. In this way, you too can arrive shalem at whatever destination you choose, even (or perhaps especially) if that destination is your own front door. Shabbat Shalom.

tzedakah and hitnadvut (volunteering)

An introduction to the concept of tithing: “And of all that You give me, I will dedicate a tenth to You.”(Gen 28:22b). Do you agree with this notion? If you at least partly agree then please consider the following, and if you are short of cash then tithe a bit of yourself:

Click here and see our tentnik, Cassie Williams and her ‘charges’ at the Streets Ahead Children’s Centre in Rwanda where you know that she has been working for a while, supported by some or her fellow tentnik’s. Cassie emailed with delight to let me know that the website had launched and asked me to thank you for your previous donations and also to consider donating in the future and/or purchasing some of the products that where being made by the children in the centres. Of course, you might consider volunteering as well!?

As last year the North London Progressive Jewish Community (NLPJC) is involved with the Hackney Winter Night Shelter for the homeless. Please contact Melissa Martin at: hackneyharridan@yahoo.co.uk should you wish to volunteer.

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