Vayishlach
Genesis 32:4, 36:43
Obadiah 1:1-21
One of the most puzzling aspects of this week’s parashah is the reunion of Jacob and his brother Esau after Jacob’s absence for 22 years. As Jacob approaches his home, he fears that Esau’s longing for revenge still endures and will be executed as soon as possible. Esau is not known for his forgiving nature, and as a hunter he holds life very cheap.
In an effort to soften Esau’s resolve and perhaps win his favor, Jacob sends messengers ahead with valuable gifts. They return, nevertheless, with the report that Esau is approaching with an army of 400 men, a clear sign of an intention to wage war. Although “Jacob becomes very frightened and distressed” (Gen. 32:8), he has no choice but to prepare for an expected attack.
The next morning, when the brothers finally meet, we are stunned to see instead of a murderous assault, a touching reconciliation. “And Esau ran to meet him and he embraced him and fell on his neck and kissed him and they wept” (Gen. 33:4). Instead of blows — kisses; instead of skirmish — embrace; instead of hostility — tears of joy.
This is a startling departure from Esau’s characteristic disposition. It appears to be nothing less than a triumph of heart over mind, of sentiment over reason. Up to the very moment of their meeting, Esau’s feelings toward his brother had been hateful and retaliative. Jacob, he reasoned, had done him a great wrong and he was justified in killing Jacob and taking his property.
Yet when the two came face to face after all those years, the prodding of his mind appears to have been muted by the prompting of his heart. “He raised his eyes and he saw the women and children…” (Gen. 33:5). His heart told him, “This is your brother, your flesh and blood. True, he has hurt you, but forgive if not for his sake, then for the sake of his dependents.”
We can divine a noble lesson from this incident. Perhaps we live too much at the direction of our mind, and not enough at the dictation of our heart. This is an important component in today’s phenomenon of taking no interest, little interest, or superficial interest in religion, which is ultimately a matter of the heart. Religion appeals more to human emotion and sentiment than to human intellect, to the soul more than to the brain.
The brain will exhort, “Religion is fine, but it means self-sacrifice; it restricts freedom of action; it interferes with pleasure.” The brain can ignore or even crush the cravings of the soul. We are, however, not just thinking machines. We have a heart without whose considerations we can be dehumanized.
Understanding all of this, the 19th century German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche (who was venerated by the Nazis) taught: “A man loses power when he pities. Pity is opposed to the tonic passions that enhance the energy of the feeling of life. The greatest of almsgivers is cowardice.”
He further argues that when one’s life is ruled by one’s heart, one unconsciously and automatically glorifies good, compassionate, benevolent impulses. This tendency, according to Nietzsche, is a sign of weakness, cowardice and decadence. He urges man to let his head rule his life and he will become the Superman who on encountering the infirm, the ill, the wretched, will be inspired with the desire to eradicate them, not to help, comfort or raise them.
The Jew, on the other had, has been taught that charity is of the highest virtue, and that sentimental considerations make life sweet and worthwhile.
Rabbi Yochanan ben Zakkai once asked his students what they considered the finest thing a person could possess. He accepted with approval the answer lev tov, a good heart. Intellect is a wonderful thing, a gift from our Creator, to be sure, but all that is truly uplifting in human existence comes under the heading of the emotional or the soul. It is this that makes us human in the ideal sense of the word.
Every morning in his prayers, the Jew declares, “The beginning of wisdom is fear of the Lord.” If intellect is to engender its highest worth it must be tempered with emotion. Emotion can ennoble even an Esau!
The truest guide for us continues to be found in a Book that may not be modern but is never out of date. May we return to our Holy Torah for our inspiration. It has been and continues to be our rock, and it has withstood all of the onslaughts of time.
Shabbat shalom.