I
recently heard this African parable: When he was far away, he looked like
a monster. When he came closer, he looked like an animal. When he came closer
still, he looked like a human being. When we stood eye-to-eye, he looked like
my brother.
Jacob
is returning to the Land of Israel following a long hiatus in Haran with Laban.
He has four wives, eleven children, many servants, and numerous flocks and
herds in tow. Jacob’s mind, however, is entirely focused on Esau, the brother
he deceived and from whom he fled many years earlier. Returning now after more
than two decades, Jacob fears that Esau still harbors a deadly resentment, so
he sends servants ahead to propitiate Esau with gifts.
The messengers returned to Jacob,
saying, “We came to your brother Esau; he himself is coming to meet you, and
there are four hundred men with him.” Jacob was greatly frightened; in his
anxiety, he divided the people with him, and the flocks and herds and camels,
into two camps, thinking, “If Esau comes to the one camp and attacks it, the
other camp may yet be saved.” (Genesis 32:7-9)
From
afar, Esau appears to Jacob like a monster preparing to attack with his hoard.
Jacob prepares accordingly: he divides his family and entourage into two camps,
expecting that Esau will attack and hoping that Esau will manage to wipe out
only one of the camps. But you cannot be too careful, so Jacob adopts an
obsequious tone and fawning posture in a transparent attempt to strike a deal
with God:
Jacob said, “O God of my father
Abraham and God of my father Isaac, Adonai, who said to me, ‘Return to your
native land and I will deal bountifully with you’! I am unworthy of all the
kindness that You have so steadfastly shown Your servant: with my staff alone I
crossed this Jordan, and now I have become two camps. Deliver me, I pray, from
the hand of my brother from the hand of Esau; else, I fear, he may come and
strike me down, mothers and children alike. Yet You have said, ‘I will deal
bountifully with you and make your offspring as the sands of the sea, which are
too numerous to count.” (Genesis 32:10-13)
But
Jacob doesn’t entirely trust God, either. He next instructs his herdsmen to
select more “gifts” for Esau and drive the chosen flocks in waves to Esau: 200 she-goats and 20 he-goats; 200
ewes and 20 rams; 30 milch camels with their colts; 40 cows and 10 bulls; 20
she-asses and 10 he-asses (Genesis 32:15-16). This is no small “gift”! It is, in fact, a measure of Jacob’s
anxiety.
[Jacob] instructed the [herdsman] in
front as follows, “When my brother Esau meets
you and asks you, ‘Whose man are you? Where are you going? And whose
[animals] are these ahead of you? you shall answer, ‘Your servant Jacob’s; they
are a gift sent to my lord Esau; and [Jacob] himself is right behind us.” (Genesis
32:18-19)
Esau
now appears to Jacob as an animal who can be distracted and manipulated with
enticing food or gifts. But Jacob is still wary and scared. That night he
carries out his plan to divide his family and entourage into two camps and then
crosses the Yabbok river alone. That night he famously wrestles with a “man.” For
the biblical author this was evidently God, but later generations uncomfortable
with such vivid anthropomorphism dubbed the man an angel. Still later
generations suggested that Jacob was wrestling with his conscience, but in
truth, there is no sign that Jacob has reached that level of moral
consideration yet.
The
following morning, Jacob actually lays eyes on Esau, who is approaching with
his entourage of 400 men. To Jacob, Esau is close enough to appear like a human
being with whom he can communicate:
[Jacob] divided divided the children
among Leah, Rachel, and the two maids, putting the maids and their children
first, Leah and her children next, and Rachel and Joseph last. He himself went
on ahead and bowed low to the ground seven times until he was near his brother.
(Genesis 33:1-3)
Esau is
no longer a monster, nor even an animal. He is a human being—powerful enough
that Jacob bows before him, fearing that Esau’s intentions may still be deadly.
Within
moments, they are close enough to look one another in the eye because Esau runs
to greet Jacob.
Esau ran to greet him. He embraced
him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him; and they wept. (Genesis 33:4)
Face-to-face,
eye-to-eye, Esau is again Jacob’s brother.
Perhaps
not surprisingly, Esau recognizes Jacob as his brother long before Jacob
recognizes Esau as his brother. Had Esau any intention of attacking Jacob, he
would not have given him two full days to strategize and prepare. Accompanied
by 400 fighters, Esau could have attacked and slaughtered Jacob, his family,
and his entourage immediately. And if that doesn’t convince you, please note that Esau rejects Jacob’s
gifts as entirely unnecessary and at the same time acknowledges him as “my
brother.” After Jacob introduces his family to Esau,
[Esau] asked, “What do you mean by
all this company which I have met?” [Jacob] answered, “To gain my lord’s favor.”
Esau said, “I have enough, my brother; let what you have remain yours.” (Genesis
33:8-9)
Esau
could see from afar that Jacob was his brother, but Jacob had to be eye-to-eye
before he is able to recognize Esau as his brother.
Some of
us are like Esau, able to recognize in the Other our sister or brother. And
some of us are like Jacob: At a distance, the Other (immigrants, African
Americans, Muslims, Hispanics, women, people whose political views differ from
ours and who voted for a different presidential candidate—take your pick)
appears to be a monster because we know nothing about them and, in our minds,
write the script of who they are, how they think, what they believe, and how
they will treat us. When the Other is a bit closer, we cannot entirely sustain
the fiction we have created that they are a monster, but still consider them an
animal, wholly unlike us. Once we come to know them, they become to us human
beings and we discover that we have far more in common than we were willing to
admit. But when we see meet the Other face-to-face—when we engage in meaningful
conversation and listen carefully to their needs, concerns, fears, and
aspirations—they become our brother or sister. And when the Other becomes our
sibling, we become far more compassionate people.
© Rabbi Amy
Scheinerman
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