parsha of the week: rabbi avi billet

Even a stiffed-neck kiss can be a reconciliation

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After not having seen each other for 36 years, Yaakov returns to the land of his fathers, to be confronted by Eisav.

“Eisav ran to meet them. He hugged [Yaakov], and throwing himself on his shoulders, kissed him. They [both] wept.”

After all of Yaakov’s hysterics as to how Eisav will relate to him, this seems to be a favorable exchange of love and familial affection.

The odd part of the verse, however, is that the Hebrew word which means “And he kissed him” has dots over every letter in the Torah. The dots are a call to attention, and from the midrash, through many commentators, we find much written about the dots. The only problem is that everyone seems to follow the same party lines.

Rashi recounts a debate that either Eisav did or did not kiss Yaakov with all his heart. There is an approach that Eisav wanted to bite Yaakov – hence the emphasis on the word Vayishakehu — to indicate that what it says (he kissed him) is not what it really means.

There are two versions in the midrash of what happened: Yaakov’s neck hardened either like marble or like steel, while Eisav’s teeth became soft like wax or just stayed as they were. Thus, when it then says “and they wept,” Yaakov is weeping over the discomfort associated with the change in his neck, while Eisav is weeping over the softening and/or blunting of his own teeth.

To be fair, some commentaries do not raise these midrashic explanations as possibilities; they are rationalist and do not think that the changing of the order of the universe would apply in such a mundane, non-spiritual story. Was Eisav a vampire? Was he really looking to bite his brother in the neck? Next we’ll say that he couldn’t look at his image in a mirror, and he would turn into a bat when the morning came!

So what is the midrash telling us?

First, this neck-hardening idea is not novel to this story. It is also utilized in explaining how Moshe escaped the death mark placed on him by Pharaoh for killing the Egyptian. And why not? Hardened necks make executioners look like fools and the person saved look amazing.

While it makes for fanciful story-telling to children, the fact is that it cannot be accepted as pshat (the simple understanding) of what happened. Just as Og was not hundreds of feet tall, and just as Lot’s wife did not morph into a pillar of salt, nothing happened to Yaakov’s neck.

So why does the midrash say it happened, and why do all of the commentaries use the same line of thinking? Because dots on letters are a call to attention, even drawing attention to the mere fact that things aren’t as they seem. But that does not automatically mean that just because they are off, that all logic need be suspended.

There are times when midrashim are not meant to be understood literally. The height of Moshe Rabbenu is a great example. The midrash claims Moshe was 10 amot (cubits) tall, while most understandings of that midrash is that he carried the merits of the 10 commandments with him wherever he went, thus he was “10” cubits “tall.”

Here, I think the interpretation that Eisav kissed Yaakov with all his heart is the right one, simpy because after 36 years of separation, I’d like to think that Eisav had moved on. There is only so much a person can hate. Or should we believe during 36 years, all Eisav had done was fixate on an old hatred?

There is often a wisdom and a maturity that comes with age, as well as a realization that some things are just not worth fighting over, especially with your brother. Perhaps the dots over “and he kissed him” are a call to attention because they are saying, “Do you see? You weren’t expecting this, were you? Civility, love, invitations to come and live together, sharing good cheer and good wishes.”

And maybe the word vayishakehu has an entirely different meaning as well. In context, Eisav is hugging and kissing. But the word can also mean “and he gave him to drink.”

In the two encounters we saw of Yaakov and Eisav in Parshat Toldot, Yaakov gave Eisav a drink, and each of them gave a drink to their father. Now it was Eisav’s turn to be hospitable, to return the favor, to show Yaakov that he really cared all along. He is offering a drink, because a drink is a sign of love and friendship.

No matter who we define as Eisav today, it is important to remember that, somewhere, in the back of our minds, we need to hold on to the possibility that Eisav may yet come again in peace, looking either to kiss with all his heart, or to share a drink.

But the midrash reminds us that sometimes Eisav is not ready to be so friendly, and we need to have our defenses up, ready to weaken him so that we are not destroyed by his advances.

It is hard to imagine Eisav is truly friendly — after all, “halakha, Eisav soneh et Yaakov” (the rule is that Eisav hates Yaakov).

But if the wolf and lamb will one day lie down together, warring enemies can be brought to a place of mutual acceptance, at which point all will respect each other’s rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of G-d.