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November 20, 2014 8:48 am

Was Jacob Right to Take Esau’s Blessing?

avatar by Jonathan Sacks

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Jacob blesses Manasseh and Ephraim. Photo: Wiki Commons.

Was Jacob right to take Esau’s blessing in disguise? Was he right to deceive his father and to take from his brother the blessing Isaac sought to give him? Was Rivka right in conceiving the plan in the first place and encouraging Jacob to carry it out? These are fundamental questions. What is at stake is not just biblical interpretation but the moral life itself. How we read a text shapes the kind of person we become.

Here is one way of interpreting the narrative. Rivka was right to propose what she did and Jacob was right to do it. Rivka knew that it would be Jacob, not Esau, who would continue the covenant and carry the mission of Abraham into the future. She knew this on two separate grounds. First, she had heard it from God himself, in the oracle she received before the twins were born:

‘Two nations are in your womb,
and two peoples from within you will be separated;
one people will be stronger than the other,
and the elder will serve the younger.’ (Gen. 25: 23)

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Esau was the elder, Jacob the younger. Therefore it was Jacob who would emerge with greater strength, Jacob who was chosen by God.

Second, she had watched the twins grow up. She knew that Esau was a hunter, a man of violence. She had seen that he was impetuous, mercurial, a man of impulse, not calm reflection. She had seen him sell his birthright for a bowl of soup. She had watched while he “ate, drank, rose and left. So Esau despised his birthright” (Gen. 25: 34). No one who despises his birthright can be the trusted guardian of a covenant intended for eternity.

Third, just before the episode of the blessing we read: “When Esau was forty years old, he married Judith daughter of Beeri the Hittite, and also Basemath daughter of Elon the Hittite. They were a source of grief to Isaac and Rivka”(Gen. 26: 34). This too was evidence of Esau’s failure to understand what the covenant requires. By marrying Hittite women he proved himself indifferent both to the feelings of his parents and to the self-restraint in the choice of marriage partner that was essential to being Abraham’s heir.

The blessing had to go to Jacob. If you had two sons, one indifferent to art, the other an art-lover and aesthete, to whom would you leave the Rembrandt that has been part of the family heritage for generations? And if Isaac did not understand the true nature of his sons, if he was “blind” not only physically but also psychologically, might it not be necessary to deceive him? He was by now old, and if Rivka had failed in the early years to get him to see the true nature of their children, was it likely that she could do so now?

This was, after all, not just a matter of relationships within the family. It was about God and destiny and spiritual vocation. It was about the future of an entire people since God had repeatedly told Abraham that he would be the ancestor of a great nation who would be a blessing to humanity as a whole. And if Rivka was right, then Jacob was right to follow her instructions.

This was the woman whom Abraham’s servant had chosen to be the wife of his master’s son, because she was kind, because at the well she had given water to a stranger and to his camels also. Rivka was not Lady Macbeth. She was the embodiment of loving-kindness. She was not acting out of favouritism or ambition. And if she had no other way of ensuring that the blessing went to one who would cherish it and live it, then in this case the end justified the means. This is one way of reading the story and it is taken by many of the commentators.

However it is not the only way. Consider, for example, the scene that transpired immediately after Jacob left his father. Esau returned from hunting and brought Isaac the food he had requested. We then read this:

Isaac trembled violently and said, ‘Who was it, then, that hunted game and brought it to me? I ate it just before you came and I blessed him – and indeed he will be blessed!’

When Esau heard his father’s words, he burst out with a loud and bitter cry and said to his father, ‘Bless me – me too, my father!’

But he said, ‘Your brother came deceitfully [be-mirma] and took your blessing.’

Esau said, ‘Isn’t he rightly named Jacob? This is the second time he has taken advantage of me: he took my birthright, and now he’s taken my blessing!’ Then he asked, ‘Haven’t you reserved any blessing for me?’ (Gen. 27: 33-36)

It is impossible to read Genesis 27 – the text as it stands without commentary – and not to feel sympathy for Isaac and Esau rather than Rivka and Jacob. The Torah is sparing in its use of emotion. It is completely silent, for example, on the feelings of Abraham and Isaac as they journeyed together toward the trial of the binding. Phrases like “trembled violently” and “burst out with a loud and bitter cry” cannot but affect us deeply. Here is an old man who has been deceived by his younger son, and a young man, Esau, who feels cheated out of what was rightfully his. The emotions triggered by this scene stay with us long in the memory.

Then consider the consequences. Jacob had to leave home for more than 20 years in fear of his life. He then suffered an almost identical deceit practised against him by Laban when he substituted Leah for Rachel. When Jacob cried out “Why did you deceive me [rimitani]” Laban replied: “It is not done in our place to place the younger before the elder” (Gen. 29: 25-26). Not only the act but even the words imply a punishment, measure for measure. “Deceit,” of which Jacob accuses Laban, is the very word Isaac used about Jacob. Laban’s reply sounds like a virtually explicit reference to what Jacob had done, as if to say, “We do not do in our place what you have just done in yours.”

The result of Laban’s deception brought grief to the rest of Jacob’s life. There was tension between Leah and Rachel. There was hatred between their children. Jacob was deceived yet again, this time by his sons, when they brought him Joseph’s bloodstained robe: another deception of a father by his children involving the use of clothes. The result was that Jacob was deprived of the company of his most beloved son for 22 years just as Isaac was of Jacob.

Asked by Pharaoh how old he was, Jacob replied, “Few and evil have been the years of my life” (Gen. 47: 9). He is the only figure in the Torah to make a remark like this. It is hard not to read the text as a precise statement of the principle of measure for measure: as you have done to others, so will others do to you. The deception brought all concerned great grief, and this persisted into the next generation.

My reading of the text is therefore this. The phrase in Rivka’s oracle, Ve-rav yaavod tsair (Gen. 25: 23), is in fact ambiguous. It may mean, “The elder will serve the younger,” but it may also mean, “The younger will serve the elder.” It was what the Torah calls a chidah (Numbers 12: 8), that is, an opaque, deliberately ambiguous communication. It suggested an ongoing conflict between the two sons and their descendants, but not who would win.

Isaac fully understood the nature of his two sons. He loved Esau but this did not blind him to the fact that Jacob would be the heir of the covenant. Therefore Isaac prepared two sets of blessings, one for Esau, the other for Jacob. He blessed Esau (Gen. 27: 28-29) with the gifts he felt he would appreciate: wealth and power: “May God give you heaven’s dew and earth’s richness – an abundance of grain and new wine” – that is, wealth. “May nations serve you and peoples bow down to you. Be lord over your brothers, and may the sons of your mother bow down to you” – that is, power. These are not the covenantal blessings.

The covenantal blessings that God had given Abraham and Isaac were completely different. They were about children and a land. It is this blessing that Isaac later gave Jacob before he left home (Gen. 28: 3-4): “May God Almighty bless you and make you fruitful and increase your numbers until you become a community of peoples” – that is, children. “May He give you and your descendants the blessing given to Abraham, so that you may take possession of the land where you now reside as a foreigner, the land God gave to Abraham” – that is, land. This was the blessing Isaac had intended for Jacob all along. There was no need for deceit and disguise.

Jacob eventually came to understand all of this, perhaps during his wrestling match with the angel during the night before his meeting with Esau after their long estrangement. What happened at that meeting is incomprehensible unless we understand that Jacob was giving back to Esau the blessings he had wrongly taken from him. The massive gift of sheep, cattle, and other livestock represented “heaven’s dew and earth’s richness,” that is, wealth. The fact that Jacob bowed down seven times to Esau was his way of fulfilling the words, “May the sons of your mother bow down to you,” that is, power.

Jacob gave the blessing back. Indeed he said so explicitly. He said to Esau: “Please accept the blessing [birkati] that was brought to you, for God has been gracious to me and I have all I need” (Gen. 33: 11). On this reading of the story, Rivka and Jacob made a mistake, a forgivable one, an understandable one, but a mistake nonetheless. The blessing Isaac was about to give Esau was not the blessing of Abraham. He intended to give Esau a blessing appropriate to him. In so doing, he was acting on the basis of precedent. God had blessed Ishmael, with the words “I will make him into a great nation” (Gen. 21: 18). This was the fulfilment of a promise God had given Abraham many years before when He told him that it would be Isaac, not Ishmael, who would continue the covenant:

Abraham said to God, “If only Ishmael might live under your blessing!” Then God said, “Yes, but your wife Sarah will bear you a son, and you will call him Isaac. I will establish my covenant with him as an everlasting covenant for his descendants after him.  As for Ishmael, I have heard you: I will surely bless him; I will make him fruitful and will greatly increase his numbers. He will be the father of twelve rulers, and I will make him into a great nation.” (Gen. 17: 18-21)

Isaac surely knew this because, according to midrashic tradition, he and Ishmael were reconciled later in life. We see them standing together at Abraham’s grave (Gen. 25: 9). It may be that this was a fact that Rivka did not know. She associated blessing with covenant. She may have been unaware that Abraham wanted Ishmael blessed even though he would not inherit the covenant, and that God had acceded to the request.

If so then it is possible all four people acted rightly as they understood the situation, yet still tragedy occurred. Isaac was right to wish Esau blessed as Abraham sought for Ishmael. Esau acted honourably toward his father. Rivka sought to safeguard the future of the covenant. Jacob felt qualms but did what his mother said, knowing she would not have proposed deceit without a strong moral reason for doing so.

Do we have here one story with two possible interpretations? Perhaps, but that is not the best way of describing it. What we have here, and there are other examples in Genesis, is a story we understand one way the first time we hear it, and a different way once we have discovered and reflected on all that happened later. It is only after we have read about the fate of Jacob in Laban’s house, the tension between Leah and Rachel, and the animosity between Joseph and his brothers that we can go back and read Genesis 27, the chapter of the blessing, in a new light and with greater depth.

There is such a thing as an honest mistake, and it is a mark of Jacob’s greatness that he recognized it and made amends to Esau. In the great encounter 22 years later, the estranged brothers meet, embrace, part as friends, and go their separate ways. But first, Jacob had to wrestle with an angel.

That is how the moral life is. We learn by making mistakes. We live life forward, but we understand it only looking back. Only then do we see the wrong turns we inadvertently made. This discovery is sometimes our greatest moment of moral truth.

For each of us there is a blessing that is ours. That was true not just of Isaac but also Ishmael, not just Jacob but also Esau. The moral could not be more powerful. Never seek your brother’s blessing. Be content with your own.

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  • Jochanan Hyrcanus, a king of the Hasmonean (Maccabean) Dynasty, conquered the Edomites and forcibly converted them to Judaism.
    http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Hyrcanus#Conquests_of_John_Hyrcanus
    The Edomites merged with the other Jews. Since then, we have been descended from both Jacob and Esau.

  • Julian Clovelley

    How much should one draw from a myth? Surely that is the real question here? But I would not explore in this one, but in others, and in their influence on behaviour.

    The Myth of Christmas, the Nativity, became stretched to provide the Church a Virgin Mary who became not only a symbol of chaste womanhood and virtue, but a replacement even for the central role of G-d himself. In Catholicism it is her image that dominates, distorting even the Churches approach to matters of sexuality. The mythical image still dominates Christianity in its Protestant form, maintaining women in a subservient role – for the ideal remains submissive and silent.

    That image has led the Catholic Church into the gross error of celibacy. Natural frustrations break out in strange ways, distorting at the level of consciousness, and overriding conscience and morality to justify what society regards as perverse behaviour. The vast and centuries old problems of abuse are largely caused by adherence to mythology, rather than contemporary reason and social consideration. Positive organic emotion turns inward towards those myths, rather than expresses itself outward in behaviour towards ones fellow beings. Virue has become abstracted from reality

    When Wagner sought a vehicle for his own ideas he found it in the Heldensage, and the pagan myths of Europe – especially those centred on the Rhine. He created a sublime music that added power to what became a destructive fantasy. Wagner’s music, despite its level of musical genius, can rightly only be approached with great caution. For Wagner to be stripped of its potential to inspire totalitarian and racist behaviour, a distance has to be always maintained between the mythology that is used to frame the music, and the behaviour of the listener. It has to be like a painting one stands back from and admires. One can delve too deeply for messages.

    We are at a vital turning point with our religions. For mankind to progress – to stop fighting each other – the artefacts that constitute their religions need to be radically reformed. Their mythologies cannot be allowed to dominate our future behaviour. They cannot be allowed to be used to justify heirarchies that so often turn to evil – or at best are founded in irrationality. They must not be used as sources of racial differentiation – for in truth there are no races, no “peoples” – and our States are only human inventions. We are but one human family that likely stepped out of Africa many thousands of years ago. Science tells us that – not myth – and unlike myth, if the science is found by itself to be wrong, the story will alter with precious little trauma. Should it really matter on the level of motivation, where our most extreme ancestors originated? Increasingly, even more recently, we are all descended from all of the world. Everyone more recently descended from European origin is likely to be part of the descent of rulers such as Charlemagne, the Roman Emperors, the “Jewish” Patriarchs – Intermarriage and assimilation long ago made us one blood

    How relevant is this problem of the power we give to mythology? – Is it not a pattern of mythology that currently drives the State of Israel towards the creation of a monoculturally dominated Jewish State? But it is not so much the mythology itself that causes the problem but the failure to stand back from it and admire it at a respectful distance, recognising its fiction whilst appreciating its artistry and handling of concepts

    Too close and the myth starts to create an unstable structure upon itself. Some might argue that that is the nature of Zionism. The spiritual content has become subservient to a myth of origin, of genealogy, and even of relationship to the D-vine that translates into land rights and political power

    When myths are explored to deeply as sources for present behaviour, the perception of time becomes distorted. The baby Jesus cries in his manger, the Jews shout for his crucifixion, the tribes of Caanan become deprived of their heritage, an ancient mythological hatred dominates the present in the re-enactment of the Arab conquests

    Tread softly amongst these ancient dreams, these political parables of the past – walk through them with caution – admire them, but do not let them become a part of you, lest you become a part of them, a part of their fictional drives and hatreds. Let those remain where they belong, in stories composed in the past – Above all don’t try to make them “real” through the creation of an equally mythological monocultural history. History is about what really happened – not what we think “should have” happened. Myths that inspire you can also destroy you for the very reason that they are inorganic artefacts – not records of reality. Behaviour within mythology isn’t real. Who amongst us, finding a bush burning in his garden, wouldn’t in fact reach for the garden hose?

    I mentioned Wagner a few moments ago, and I deliberately mentioned it to a Jewish audience as a means of displaying what I see as clear and present danger. I’ll mention another person that Jewish people often shun – someone in fact whose writings were introduced to me by a Jew

    Nietszche wrote “Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you”

    Myths when stared into too closely, and without analytical caution, can be very dangerous. They are stories. they aren’t real. They never were

  • Mark_NYC

    One aspect of this story has always troubled me. After Jacob’s departure, Rivkah never saw him again for the remainder of her life. And I have read that Esau never wanted to see his mother again because of her role in the deception, and wouldn’t even attend her funeral. Thus, Rivkah spend decades of the rest of her life not seeing either of her children or her grandchildren. Can one think of a harsher fate to befall a mother? It was a terrible thing that happened to her, particularly someone as kind as she, and one might argue that it was a direct consequence of her own actions. And Jacob can also be faulted for not returning to see his parents, particularly his mother, for all those years (despite his fear of Esau). As Rabbi Sacks points out, part of the legacy of these actions was the subsequent strife between children and the suffering of their parents. I have seen the argument made that Isaac, despite his blindness, knew what his children were about and hoped that blessing Esau would have a positive effect on his future morals, perhaps keeping his descendants from the evil that they became. In any case, the suffering of Jacob and Rivkah as the result of the estrangement of their children seems to testify that Rivkah’s decision, though well intentioned, was a bad one. Of course, the problems between the brothers might have come to pass in any case, but then Rivkah would not have been directly responsible. In contrast to other religions, our Torah does not sanitize the actions of our ancestors (all of them had their faults), thus showing us that despite their immense righteousness, they were human, not divine.

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