In פרשת תולדות (Gen. 25:19 to 28:9) both Isaac and Jacob receive blessings. Although in both instances others call their deservingness into question, the Torah suggests that the blessings are neither arbitrary nor unconditional, but tied to the fulfillment of spiritual responsibilities.
Despite a famine in Canaan, Hashem tells Isaac: "Sojourn in this land and I will be with you and bless you; for to you and to your offspring will I give all these lands, and I will establish the oath that I swore to Abraham your father: 'I will increase your offspring like the stars of the heavens; and will give to your offspring all these lands'; and all the nations of the earth shall bless themselves by your offspring" (Gen. 26:2-4). The blessing includes both possession of the Land and fertility for Abraham and his descendants. Moreover, the fertility seems to extend to the land as well. "Isaac sowed in that land, and in that year he reaped a hundredfold" (Gen. 26:12-14). While this blessing may seem to be unconditional, a closer reading suggests it is tied to spiritual responsibilities. Hashem prefaces the blessing by telling Isaac, "Do not descend to Egypt" (Gen. 26:2). This warning carries a symbolic meaning as well as a literal meaning, i.e., do not descend spiritually to Egypt and all it represents. Hashem also reminds Isaac of his spiritual responsibilities at the end of the blessing: "Because Abraham obeyed My voice, and observed My safeguards, My commandments, My edicts, and My Torahs" (Gen. 26: 5).
The Philistines are envious of the blessing bestowed upon Isaac (Gen. 26:14). They also dwell in the Land, but--as evidenced by the famine--it doesn't bloom for them the way it does for him. Moreover, they see Isaac's prosperity as both a threat and a usurpation. Abimelech, the Philistine king, tells Isaac: לך מעמנו כי–עצמת ממנו מאר (Gen. 26:16). He expels Isaac ("go away from us"), and in Hebrew the reason for the expulsion can be rendered in two ways: "because you have become mightier than us" or "because you have become mighty from us." The first reading indicates fear of Isaac's power, the second the notion that Isaac has dispossessed the Philistines of what is rightfully theirs.
The Torah suggests that if the Land blooms for Isaac and not for the Philistines, it is because Isaac has shown himself to be spiritually fit. In contrast to the Philistines, who make the land desolate by stopping up the wells that Abraham dug in the Negev desert, Isaac re-digs them (Gen. 26:15-18). If the well symbolizes the womb and if (as Nehama Leibowitz says) "water means life," then to stop up the wells is to stifle fertility. (The fact that Isaac is redigging his father's wells suggests an additional Freudian interpretation, but I'll leave that aside for now.) Moreover, according to some readings, re-digging the wells is not only an act of physical reclamation but a fulfillment of spiritual responsibilities as well. One rabbinical commentator emphasizes that Isaac called the wells "by the same names that his father had called them" (Gen. 26:18). Like Abraham, Isaac called the wells "by the name of the Lord" to remind all who used the wells that Hashem was the source of the water and thus of life and thus of blessings. In this way, both Abraham and Isaac were public educators who used the wells for pedagogical purposes. In contrast, according to this midrash, the Philistines "reverted to idolatry" after Abraham's death "and in order to erase from their memory the names of these wells, which recalled the very opposite of their false opinions, they stopped up the wells."
We find a parallel in the story of Isaac's sons, Jacob and Esau. Just as Isaac appeared to the Philistines as an illegitimate usurper and dispossesser, so Jacob appears to Esau when he acquires his older brother's birthright for a mess of pottage (Gen. 25:29-34) and, by means of trickery and deception, their father's blessing (Gen. 27:1-40). In fact, the Hebrew root (עקב) of Jacob's name (יעקב) means "to overreach" or "to supplant."
But here too the Torah suggests that Jacob's usurpation is only apparent. If Jacob receives the blessing, it is because his brother Esau shows himself to be spiritually unfit. Esau married two Hittite women, who "were a provocation of the spirit to Isaac and Rebecca" (Gen. 26:34). Rashi comments: "All of the actions of [Esau's wives] were a cause of anguish to Isaac and Rebecca because they worshipped idols." According to the Talmud, Esau himself became an idolator, presumably through the influence of his wives. Rather than teaching them the ways of Hashem, as Abraham and Isaac endeavored to do with the wells, Esau learns their idolatrous ways. For this reason Rebecca tells Isaac "I am disgusted with my life on account of the daughters of Heth" (i.e., the Hittite daughters-in-law) and why they take great pains to ensure that Jacob will not follow in his older brother's footsteps (Gen. 27:46, 28:1-8). What's more, when Esau complains to his father that Jacob deprived him of the paternal blessing that Esau expected, Isaac answers him this way: "Your brother you shall serve; yet it shall be that when you will be aggrieved, you may remove his yoke from upon your neck" (Gen. 27:40). What Isaac means, Rashi explains, is that "when Israel will transgress the Torah, and you will have a claim to be aggrieved over the blessings that [Jacob] took, 'You may remove his yoke, etc.'" Once again, we find that blessings come with spiritual responsibilities and depend upon their fulfillment.
Friday, November 20, 2009
Morals and Manners
If blessings warrant spiritual commitments, one would expect them also to be contingent on moral and ethical standing of the person receiving them. But “Toldot,” this week’s portion, and its later rabbinical readings send mixed messages in this regard.
In the portion, Jacob appears at best as a clever trickster when he barters his twin-brother’s primogeniture for a plate of lentil soup and at worst as a con artist scheming Esau not only out of their father’s blessing but also out of a significant chunk of inheritance (according to tradition, firstborn got twice as much as other sons). In the latter instance he also deceives their elderly, blind, dying father by pretending—with the help of elaborate costume—to be Esau and be named as the ruler of their people. And when Jacob is discovered to have lied to his father and cheated his brother, he happily allows his mother to send him away under false pretenses. This behavior is hardly suited one of the patriarchs of the Jewish people. Deception, fraud, evading responsibility for one’s actions are by no means markers of high morality. So does this mean that Jacob, the future forebear of the twelve tribes and arguably the most important of the patriarchs, is undeserving of his father’s blessing or that morality is not a necessary condition for paternal and divine sanctification?
According to traditional rabbinical interpretations, Jacob’s attainment of the privileges of the firstborn is not only not reprehensible, but right and fair because Esau is not worthy to offer sacrifices (the prerogative of the firstborn) and be the heir to the covenant of Abraham and Isaac. While the portion describes Esau as a hunter and an outdoorsman, Jacob is portrayed as a gentle man who stays in camp where he presumably studies Torah. To emphasize the purported difference between uncivilized Esau and cultivated Jacob, the former is said to be hairy while his brother—“smooth;” the Talmud makes physical distinctions between the two brothers even more obvious: Jacob was born clean, handsome, and circumcised and Esau—covered with hair all over, red in color, and with all his teeth developed. Talmud’s retrospective description of the twins is supposed to symbolize spiritual differences between Jews (offspring of Jacob) and pagans—descendants of Esau who married two Hittite women and, supposedly, through them becomes an idolater himself. Therefore, it is Jacob who is presented as a more virtuous successor to Abraham and Isaac and hence a more suitable beneficiary of the privileges of primogeniture. In short, he is a better Jew (to use an anachronism) and this makes him entitled to Isaac’s blessing even though he obtains it dishonestly. Thus, ethics trumps morality: particularistic religious commandments supersede universal principles of truth.
To me, this raises two problems. First, it makes me wonder whether immoral means can really justify ethical ends. I believe that such interpretation of Jacob’s transgressions suggests that misdeeds against fellow human beings—compatriots, co-religionists, comrades, as well as “the others”—can be absolved if they are committed in the name of god. But what about offenses that are explicitly proscribed by one’s religion, which in Jacob’s case would be, for example, disrespecting for one’s parents, telling lies, thievery, or envy (see Ten Commandments for more precise formulation)? Here morality encoded in particular religious laws contradicts other ethical behaviors mandated by the same doctrine.
Secondly, Talmud’s whitewashing of Jacob’s actions aims at presenting him as an ever-righteous, unswerving, loyal man who from birth was predestined to greatness and never faltered in his mission. However, this also makes him one-dimensional and precludes any possibility of personal, spiritual, or moral growth, which is not only uninteresting dramaturgically but also narratively incorrect since after many years of living away from home and being deceived himself Jacob returns to ask for Esau’s forgiveness.
Furthermore, it is precisely this overcoming of one’s moral and spiritual failings—as we will also see in the story of Jacob’s son Judah (the progenitor of the messiah) in “Vayeishev” in several weeks—that is rewarded with eminence and renown for himself and his successors.
In the portion, Jacob appears at best as a clever trickster when he barters his twin-brother’s primogeniture for a plate of lentil soup and at worst as a con artist scheming Esau not only out of their father’s blessing but also out of a significant chunk of inheritance (according to tradition, firstborn got twice as much as other sons). In the latter instance he also deceives their elderly, blind, dying father by pretending—with the help of elaborate costume—to be Esau and be named as the ruler of their people. And when Jacob is discovered to have lied to his father and cheated his brother, he happily allows his mother to send him away under false pretenses. This behavior is hardly suited one of the patriarchs of the Jewish people. Deception, fraud, evading responsibility for one’s actions are by no means markers of high morality. So does this mean that Jacob, the future forebear of the twelve tribes and arguably the most important of the patriarchs, is undeserving of his father’s blessing or that morality is not a necessary condition for paternal and divine sanctification?
According to traditional rabbinical interpretations, Jacob’s attainment of the privileges of the firstborn is not only not reprehensible, but right and fair because Esau is not worthy to offer sacrifices (the prerogative of the firstborn) and be the heir to the covenant of Abraham and Isaac. While the portion describes Esau as a hunter and an outdoorsman, Jacob is portrayed as a gentle man who stays in camp where he presumably studies Torah. To emphasize the purported difference between uncivilized Esau and cultivated Jacob, the former is said to be hairy while his brother—“smooth;” the Talmud makes physical distinctions between the two brothers even more obvious: Jacob was born clean, handsome, and circumcised and Esau—covered with hair all over, red in color, and with all his teeth developed. Talmud’s retrospective description of the twins is supposed to symbolize spiritual differences between Jews (offspring of Jacob) and pagans—descendants of Esau who married two Hittite women and, supposedly, through them becomes an idolater himself. Therefore, it is Jacob who is presented as a more virtuous successor to Abraham and Isaac and hence a more suitable beneficiary of the privileges of primogeniture. In short, he is a better Jew (to use an anachronism) and this makes him entitled to Isaac’s blessing even though he obtains it dishonestly. Thus, ethics trumps morality: particularistic religious commandments supersede universal principles of truth.
To me, this raises two problems. First, it makes me wonder whether immoral means can really justify ethical ends. I believe that such interpretation of Jacob’s transgressions suggests that misdeeds against fellow human beings—compatriots, co-religionists, comrades, as well as “the others”—can be absolved if they are committed in the name of god. But what about offenses that are explicitly proscribed by one’s religion, which in Jacob’s case would be, for example, disrespecting for one’s parents, telling lies, thievery, or envy (see Ten Commandments for more precise formulation)? Here morality encoded in particular religious laws contradicts other ethical behaviors mandated by the same doctrine.
Secondly, Talmud’s whitewashing of Jacob’s actions aims at presenting him as an ever-righteous, unswerving, loyal man who from birth was predestined to greatness and never faltered in his mission. However, this also makes him one-dimensional and precludes any possibility of personal, spiritual, or moral growth, which is not only uninteresting dramaturgically but also narratively incorrect since after many years of living away from home and being deceived himself Jacob returns to ask for Esau’s forgiveness.
Furthermore, it is precisely this overcoming of one’s moral and spiritual failings—as we will also see in the story of Jacob’s son Judah (the progenitor of the messiah) in “Vayeishev” in several weeks—that is rewarded with eminence and renown for himself and his successors.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)