 | Is peace possible? What might it take to imagine real reconciliation between the Children of Israel and the Children of Eisav, the Biblical brothers whose descendants became Jews and Arabs? If their Biblical relationship could go south and rebound, can our world get past xenophobia? |
By Rabbi David Evan Markus
Vayishlah 5785 (2024)
Click here for last year's post on this Torah portion, "Becoming Israel, Again and Again"
Torah doesn't clean up for company. She doesn't hide life's hard stuff – human missteps, misbehaviors, family dysfunctions, privations, societal injustices, rebellions and wars. Rather, Torah speaks precisely through them, with grit under her fingernails, to speak to the real-life grit and challenge in our messy lives.
At this writing, potentially seismic changes are unfolding across the Mideast. After so much conflict, destruction and suffering on so many fronts for so long, there are stirrings of hope – or, at least, the hope for hope – that geopolitical changes can slowly lay a foundation for a just, lasting and sustainable peace. Somehow.
These stirrings rivet me on Torah's first peacemaking, from this week's portion – between brothers Jacob and Eisav – and to spiritual history's cynicism that better ever could come.
The brothers' relationship long ago went south. Now years later, news reaches Jacob that Eisav is approaching: Jacob freaks out, fearing for his life. Jacob quickly sends his family away to protect them from what he imagines will be Eisav's aggression. He sent greetings and gifts ahead to Eisav, and then (Gen. 33:3-4):
Vayishlah 5785 (2024)
Click here for last year's post on this Torah portion, "Becoming Israel, Again and Again"
Torah doesn't clean up for company. She doesn't hide life's hard stuff – human missteps, misbehaviors, family dysfunctions, privations, societal injustices, rebellions and wars. Rather, Torah speaks precisely through them, with grit under her fingernails, to speak to the real-life grit and challenge in our messy lives.
At this writing, potentially seismic changes are unfolding across the Mideast. After so much conflict, destruction and suffering on so many fronts for so long, there are stirrings of hope – or, at least, the hope for hope – that geopolitical changes can slowly lay a foundation for a just, lasting and sustainable peace. Somehow.
These stirrings rivet me on Torah's first peacemaking, from this week's portion – between brothers Jacob and Eisav – and to spiritual history's cynicism that better ever could come.
The brothers' relationship long ago went south. Now years later, news reaches Jacob that Eisav is approaching: Jacob freaks out, fearing for his life. Jacob quickly sends his family away to protect them from what he imagines will be Eisav's aggression. He sent greetings and gifts ahead to Eisav, and then (Gen. 33:3-4):
| וְה֖וּא עָבַ֣ר לִפְנֵיהֶ֑ם וַיִּשְׁתַּ֤חוּ אַ֙רְצָה֙ שֶׁ֣בַע פְּעָמִ֔ים עַד־גִּשְׁתּ֖וֹ עַד־אָחִֽיו׃ וַיָּ֨רץ עֵשָׂ֤ו לִקְרָאתוֹ֙ וַֽיְחַבְּקֵ֔הוּ וַיִּפֹּ֥ל עַל־צַוָּארָ֖ו וַׄיִּׄשָּׁׄקֵ֑ׄהׄוּׄ וַיִּבְכּֽוּ׃ | [Jacob] went on ahead and bowed low to the ground seven times until he was near his brother. Eisav ran to greet him. He embraced him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him, and they wept. |
What a beautiful brotherly reunion! After so much conflict for so long, after Jacob's mortal fear of his brother, humility and goodwill prevailed – and ultimately the brothers wept on each other's necks in relief and release.
Except our ancestors couldn't believe it. They couldn't quite take 'yes' for an answer.
Except our ancestors couldn't believe it. They couldn't quite take 'yes' for an answer.
Atop the Hebrew word "kissed him" (וַׄיִּׄשָּׁׄקֵ֑ׄהׄוּׄ), our ancestors of the First Millennium (600-1000 CE) placed Masoretic dots to denote doubt. After centuries of antisemitic hate and violence, our ancestors couldn't fathom that Eisav, progenitor of Arab life, would make peace with Jacob, progenitor of the Jewish legacy. Instead, our ancestors held that Eisav was duplicitous in feigning peace, faking it for strategic and nefarious ends.
Put simply, our Jewish ancestors couldn't imagine a world peaceful for Jews. Amidst so much anti-Jewish xenophobia for so long, they experienced so much collective hurt that they couldn't help cynicism and mistrust in the name of self-protection. Some responded with counter-xenophobia, triumphalism and prejudice of their own. They demonized Eisav.
He deserved far better. We all do.
Real peacemaking is hard. It's risky. It's heart-rending. It asks burying hatchets (not in others' backs). It asks giving up righteous indignation. It asks profound empathy. Most of all, it asks not demonizing, especially in the name of self-defense.
The Mideast presents the world's most complex geopolitics, amidst seemingly boundless narratives of blame, duplicity and more. While I have no crystal ball, and for ethics reasons I can't be heard to be an armchair moralist about the Mideast, I don't believe I'm naïve to see in evolving circumstances that they might – just might – be moving toward a posture in which lasting change for the better becomes possible.
One can be actively anticipatory and hopeful without being simplistic, naïve or Pollyanna about risks and dangers. The road ahead might be very long, and the only certainty might be uncertainty. We needn't fear complexity or challenge. But we should fear the tragedy that a window for peacemaking could begin to open but historical mistrust would slam it shut. We should fear the tragedy that past hurts would generate so much toxic fog that all other vision would be obscured.
Put another way, it'd be profoundly tragic to keep demonizing Eisav – no less tragic than for the Children of Eisav to keep demonizing the Children of Israel.
In their Masoretic dots atop Torah, our ancestors couldn't see past the toxic fog. Can we? Can we purge vestiges of counter-xenophobia, with eyes wide open?
Amidst the profoundly real dangers of antisemitism, terror, war and even historical genocide, we must not lose our hearts and souls. The Children of Israel must not allow wise and healthy skepticism to ferment into never taking yes for an answer. The Children of Israel must not demonize Eisav if there ever is to be a better future.
That's where realpolitik and spirituality can go together – to keep hearts and minds limber, to not let past mistrust seal the future's fate, to keep open the prospect of someday taking yes for an answer, to do the exquisitely hard work to both trust and verify.
Future generations – the Children of Israel and the Children of Eisav – await our answer.
Put simply, our Jewish ancestors couldn't imagine a world peaceful for Jews. Amidst so much anti-Jewish xenophobia for so long, they experienced so much collective hurt that they couldn't help cynicism and mistrust in the name of self-protection. Some responded with counter-xenophobia, triumphalism and prejudice of their own. They demonized Eisav.
He deserved far better. We all do.
Real peacemaking is hard. It's risky. It's heart-rending. It asks burying hatchets (not in others' backs). It asks giving up righteous indignation. It asks profound empathy. Most of all, it asks not demonizing, especially in the name of self-defense.
The Mideast presents the world's most complex geopolitics, amidst seemingly boundless narratives of blame, duplicity and more. While I have no crystal ball, and for ethics reasons I can't be heard to be an armchair moralist about the Mideast, I don't believe I'm naïve to see in evolving circumstances that they might – just might – be moving toward a posture in which lasting change for the better becomes possible.
One can be actively anticipatory and hopeful without being simplistic, naïve or Pollyanna about risks and dangers. The road ahead might be very long, and the only certainty might be uncertainty. We needn't fear complexity or challenge. But we should fear the tragedy that a window for peacemaking could begin to open but historical mistrust would slam it shut. We should fear the tragedy that past hurts would generate so much toxic fog that all other vision would be obscured.
Put another way, it'd be profoundly tragic to keep demonizing Eisav – no less tragic than for the Children of Eisav to keep demonizing the Children of Israel.
In their Masoretic dots atop Torah, our ancestors couldn't see past the toxic fog. Can we? Can we purge vestiges of counter-xenophobia, with eyes wide open?
Amidst the profoundly real dangers of antisemitism, terror, war and even historical genocide, we must not lose our hearts and souls. The Children of Israel must not allow wise and healthy skepticism to ferment into never taking yes for an answer. The Children of Israel must not demonize Eisav if there ever is to be a better future.
That's where realpolitik and spirituality can go together – to keep hearts and minds limber, to not let past mistrust seal the future's fate, to keep open the prospect of someday taking yes for an answer, to do the exquisitely hard work to both trust and verify.
Future generations – the Children of Israel and the Children of Eisav – await our answer.
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