Emotional blindness. The Case of Isaac – Toldot

Alienated. Feeling alone and disconnected from the people who used to provide connection and a sense of belonging. Perhaps there is a vicious cycle - feelings of alienation in an individual alienate the people they might otherwise connect with. Don’t we like to hang out with happy people? Surely, the alienated one needs to get over it! Look on the bright side! Which also means don’t dare look at what feels wrong and misaligned. Turn a blind eye, mate. That’s the winning strategy. Perhaps it is.

I wonder about the merits of focusing on the positive to such a degree that we stop seeing disturbing facts or fears. I want to explore this by looking at the metaphoric hints in our teachings about Isaac’s blindness.

Isaac is one of Judaism’s three patriarchs. He was literally blind[i], but Isaac also seems to have been blind to the true evil[ii] nature of his oldest son, Esau[iii], who he wanted to bless at the end of his life[iv] rather than his good son, Jacob.

The meaning of Isaac’s blindness is hinted at in various teachings of the Midrash. One approach is that God brought blindness down on Isaac as a way of shielding him from the shame of Esau’s behavior. Easu abducted married women and raped them. If Isaac would walk in the marketplace, people would ridicule him as the father of that scoundrel. By making Isaac blind, God caused Isaac to stay at home and thus avoid the experience of shame[v]. This seems to endorse the proposition that one way to deal with shame is to avoid exposure to it and escape from it.

I read a charming articulation of this approach from the Breslov school of Chasidism. “You may remember … from the early childhood of some little person in your vicinity, that closing one’s eyes was a strategy often employed to ward off the threat of seeming doom. It may not have always worked, but then again you might not have known how to do it properly.” [vi]The Breslov approach emphasises seclusion and talking to God like one would to a friend.

The Rebbe Nachman stated 'And if things get very bad, make yourself into nothingness.’

I asked him, 'How does one make himself into nothingness?’

He replied, 'Close the mouth and eyes – nothingness!’

They advise, “One has to hide inside the house to keep himself from feasting his eyes on this world. The walls of the house serve as blinders.”

An alternative view is that Isaac’s blindness was a consequence of his experience being offered as a human sacrifice by his own father[vii]. At the time the angels wept, and their tears entered Isaac’s eyes and eventually blinded him[viii]. The angels could not bear the injustice of a father’s cruelty to his son. Isaac tuned into the outrage of the angels to such an extent that his mind was closed to any form of parental rejection of a child. He could not see that Esau was an undeserving son, unworthy of the blessings he wished to give him[ix]. Following this interpretation, turning a blind eye is unwise.

Still another approach links Isaac’s blindness to the experience of bitterness of spirit[x] caused to him and Rebecca by the idol worship of Esau’s wives. This made Isaac angry, which led him to become blind[xi]. Anger, sometimes caused by being confronted with something we really wish we could pretend was not there[xii], can cause us to not ‘see things clearly’ and significantly distort our perception of reality, rendering us emotionally ‘blind.’

I am not sure exactly what guidance to draw from all this. However, a few things are clear to me. A lot of the time, it is useful to look away and tell ourselves that the time is not right for exploring depressing matters[xiii], on condition that we do look at them from time to time. If we never deal with painful issues, denial is likely to end in tears when reality crashes through and needs to be dealt with. Despite turning a blind eye, we still have some awareness of the problems we are choosing not to see so the emotions of anger, resentment and shame bubble away in the shadows, and in the subconscious and can’t be addressed. The suppressed rage and fear seep out in unspoken ways, through tone and body language and cause distress to people around us and to ourselves. Perhaps, the answer lies in mixing blindness with clear-eyed exploration of the painful things we wish to avoid.

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[i] Genesis 27:1

[ii] Midrashic sources, Midrash Rabba and others

[iii] Lamm, N. 2012, Derashot L’dorot, a commentary for the ages: Genesis, OU press, p. 114

[iv] Genesis 27:4

[v] Bereshit Rabba 65

[vi] https://www.breslov.org/dvar/bereishis/toldot_5761.html

[vii] Genesis 22:1-12

[viii] Bereshit Rabba 65:5

[ix] R. Ezra Bick, https://www.torahmusings.com/2013/10/the-blindness-of-yitzchak/

[x] Genesis 26:35

[xi] Midrash Tanchuma toldot 8

[xii] Toldot Yaakov Yosef, I don’t remember the exact reference

[xiii] R. Schneur Zalman of Liadi, Tanya, chapter 26

Absence of Honest Communication - Rebecca’s Marriage - Toldot

I have been thinking about people who are afraid to speak honestly to their intimate partners about difficult topics. This blog post is about those who are reluctant to speak and their partners, who might need to build the trust that makes open communication more likely and ‘safer’.

I was very surprised to learn that, in the Torah text (1) that contains Rebecca’s story, she never spoke openly with her husband, Isaac. In fact, she only spoke to him once in the whole story. In this instance, instead of disclosing her terrible fear that one of their children was scheming to kill the other, she talked about prospective marriage partners as a reason for her son – the potential victim – to leave town (2).

Although the Torah informs us that her husband Isaac loved her (3), and described their intimacy as laughter (4), their love and laughter did not necessarily lead to strong communication. When Rebecca felt distressed during her pregnancy she spoke about her pain, but not to her husband (5). She and her husband each had different favourite sons: Isaac loved Esau, but Rebecca loved Jacob (6). We do not read that they ever discussed their divergent views about their children. On Isaac’s deathbed, he decided to bless his favoured son, Esau. This was not acceptable to Rebecca, so she orchestrated for her favourite son, Jacob, to deceive her husband by impersonating his older brother (7). Perhaps a discussion between Rebecca and her husband could have prevented this drama that led to much pain for all concerned (8).

One commentator (9) suggests that this reticence began the moment Rebecca first saw Isaac. It was fright at first sight. Rebecca first set eyes on her future husband and quickly fell off the camel she was riding on, then grabbed a veil and covered herself (10). She fell of the camel out of fear, and veiled herself out of shame, believing that she was not worthy to be the wife of such a holy man (11). The veil was not merely an expression of modesty, but symbolic of the way Rebecca metaphorically veiled her personality in her dealings with her husband (12).

Rebecca’s reticence is remarkable in how it contrasts with the accounts of the other matriarchs and patriarchs who spoke out when they were upset. Sarah vented her simmering resentments passionately, when she felt slighted by her fellow wife, Hagar (13). Jacob expressed his anger toward Rachel when she demanded he solve the problem of her infertility (14).

Rebecca’s predicament illustrates the way some couples fail to communicate and suffer. No doubt, there are cases where they tried to communicate, and the response was disappointing. It could be that an expression of pain meets a defensive reply, or one that seeks to assign blame to the one complaining. It can be scary to give voice to unhappiness, and no doubt some partners decide it is not worth it. This blog invites two questions. One is to those of us who are reluctant to talk. Are we willing to think again about the possible benefits of speaking our truth and whether the risks can be mitigated in the way we talk? And the second question is to partners or family members who might be viewed as less than approachable. How do we ensure that our partners or family members feel safe and confident to talk to us and expect that we will listen with an open heart and mind?

 

Notes

 

1)     See from Genesis 24:64 to Genesis 27:46

2)     Genesis 27:46

3)     Genesis 24:67

4)     Genesis 26:8

5)     Genesis 25:22

6)     Genesis 25:28

7)     Genesis 27:1-29

8)     Haemek Davar, to Genesis 24:64, https://www.sefaria.org/Haamek_Davar_on_Genesis.24.64?lang=en cited in Lamm, N. Drashot L’Dorot, Genesis.

9)     Haemek Davar, ibid

10)  Genesis 24:64-65

11)  Haemek Davar, ibid

12)  Lamm, N. (2012), Drashot L’Dorot, Genesis. P. 105

13)  Genesis 16:5 as translated and interpreted in the Targumim Yonatan ben Uziel and Jerusalem for fuller detail

14)  Genesis 30:2

 

Religious Texts divide us? & sky-high and deep conversations with Sheiks - Chayeh Sarah

Sitting on a plane to Perth with an Aboriginal elder on my right, and a Muslim Sheikh on my left, it was only natural that my thoughts turned to coexistence. One of the oft repeated comments about Muslim-Jewish relations (and the relationship between Muslims and others in general), is that although Muslims and Jews got along well in the past, this was only the case when the Muslims had higher status and the Jews were subservient, or “Dimhi”. This argument dismisses the golden age of Spain as being irrelevant to coexistence in the West today.

Good intercultural understanding practice requires finding out what Muslims think about these assertions. Ideally, by talking to an actual Muslim person directly, rather than by performing a Google search. My own community, in St Ives, was recently maligned based on some of my neighbours’ findings on the internet in the recent Eruv controversy (1).

Fortunately, I was sitting next to a learned Sheikh on this flight to Perth. He explained to me that the word “Dimhi” means “under protection”. He told me that: “one statement of the prophet Muhammad (in the Hadith) declared that a person who harms a Dimhi will not smell the fragrance of paradise” and that protection of religion/s was a core purpose of Sharia. The Sheikh acknowledged that he is not surprised by the alternative interpretation of “Dimhi” by people like ISIS, but such groups don't just have a problem in their attitude to non-Muslims but with anyone, including Muslims, who thinks differently to them. They regard everyone unlike them as not being ‘rightly guided’.  

Another useful approach is to explore this notion of acceptance as being conditional on subservience in my own Faith. Abraham's son Ishmael is said to have become a good man later in life. We know this because in the report about Abraham's burial, Ishmael is mentioned after Isaac (2). This sequence is taken as proof that Ishmael, father of the Arabs, honoured Isaac by allowing him to go first (3). Hmm. Something about people in glass houses comes to mind.

My first inclination was to look for alternative interpretations. I found one that highlights the fact that the Torah mentioned the obvious fact that Isaac and Ishmael were Abraham's sons, in this context, in order to hint that they were both equal in their honoring him [Abraham] (4). I was happy to find this interpretation that emphasises equality rather than superiority.

This second interpretation does not cancel out the first. I slept on this matter and my discussion with the Sheikh. It occurred to me, lying in bed after midnight, that perhaps it didn't make sense to impose secular literary political analysis on a religious text. The text is working from the assumption that it is a matter of absolute fact that Isaac was profoundly righteous. Ishmael honoring him is evidence of him humbly disregarding his status as an older brother, which serves as a lesson in humility for us. In fact it is written that Ishmael’s humble gesture earned Ishmael the merit to enjoy a place in heaven (5).

It was something the Sheikh said on the plane the previous day that inspired me to step back and question my critical approach. We were discussing portrayals of the Jews in Islamic stories. I asked if he could tell me the ratio between positive and negative portrayals. He told me that this kind of analysis had not been done. Instead he shared one story with me about a very pious Jew who met an outcast Jew. The outcast noticed that the pious man was enjoying the shade cast by a cloud hovering just above him. The outcast sat down near the pious man but was arrogantly sent away. God then forgave the outcast and canceled the pious Jew’s merit so both were at square one (6). On reflection this Muslim story is primarily a lesson for Muslims about humility rather than a commentary on Jews. It was more useful to understand what the story means to those who are guided by it than to impose an external lens to view it through.

On my return to Sydney, I had a chat with another Sheikh to plan an activity to foster interfaith understanding. Our conversations followed media articles sparked by references to another Muslim story also involving Jews, which were made during a lecture presented by this Sheikh. In this story, a murdered wealthy man was temporarily miraculously brought back to life by Moses  to identify his killer: a greedy nephew. Jewish villagers who were relieved of suspicion by this miracle still failed to believe in Moses despite his performance of this amazing miracle. The punishment meted out to the Jewish villagers 3000 years ago for their lack of belief was that God hardened their hearts (7). None of the context of the 3000 year old story was clear to those who viewed a YouTube video of the lecture. To them the Sheik appeared to be saying that “the Jewish [people- presumably in any time and place] have hard hearts] with no mercy, only envy and hatred”. There is no way to know for sure if even some of the members of the original audience also failed to understand the strictly contextual nature of the remarks. Sacred text is read by imperfect humans with various opinions and possibly, prejudices.

In conclusion. Curiosity and dialogue is crucial. There is value in resisting the temptation to rush to judgement. On the contrary, we are taught to be patient in judgement (8). Some traditional teachings might not appear compatible with modern principles of equality and embracing diversity. Let us continue to grapple with these.

1. See my blog post….
2. Genesis 25:9
3. Talmud Bava Basra 16a
4. Yalkut Ner Haschalim, manuscript, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol 2, p.998, note 34
5. Midrash Hagadol, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol 2, p.998, note 34
6. Imam Ghazali, in revival of the religious sciences
7. This kind of punishment is also found in the Torah, in Exodus, in the case of Pharaoh whose heart was hardened after he chose the path of defiance instead of letting the Hebrews go free.
8. Ethics of the Fathers

Elusive love of the “undeserving” - Toldot

Copyright Noel Kessel 2015, first appeared in
the Australian Jewish News,
Jewish University student walked 8 hours from a Synagogue
in the East part of Sydney to a Mosque in the West. He was
accompanied by Muslim and Jewish friends for parts of the walk.

This post is less about answers than questions.  The fraught quest for attachment to parents and for parental love has scarred many people. I emphatically believe in unconditional parental love which is why I am so puzzled by the way the Torah reading this week seems to contradict this principle. A related, but broader question, is whether love must be earned or should love be our first and fundamental disposition towards all people? A very irate man called me this week to complain about what he described as my loving behavior toward Muslims; he seemed to regard love as something that Muslims, in general, do not deserve.  

In the Torah reading we are told that the mother, Rebecca, loved Jacob [1] but the text tells us nothing about how she felt about Jacob’s twin, Esau, at this point.  Disturbingly, commentary suggests that her love for one son rather than the other was based on them earning this love.  Commentary suggests that every time Rebecca heard Jacob’s voice her love for him would increase”; [2] “when she would hear his (Jacobs) pleasant words and would see his wholesome ways”. [3] However Rebecca is thought to not love her other son Esau [4] because “not only did he not occupy himself with wisdom and the ways of God, but he chose an occupation for himself that put him in danger every day…”. [5] Her love is clearly conditional which I find really hard to accept.

In contrast to Rebecca’s lack of love for the “evil” Esau we are told that “Isaac loved Esau because of the (hunting) game in his mouth”. [6] Far from this being seen as endorsement of unconditional love, by the practice of one of our patriarchs no less, this fathers love for his “bad child” seems a fault according to some of our traditional teachings.

A simple understanding of the text would have us believe that Esau’s hunting of “game from which he (Isaac) would eat” [7] was the reason Isaac loved this particular son. Isaac is portrayed in one tradition as quite particular in his tastes, indulgent and loving all kinds of delicacies, perhaps even spoiled, being the younger child born to his parents in their old age. Isaac consumed meat of the hunted animals and birds as well as choice wine brought to him by Esau. [8]   One Midrash links Isaac’s love to the evils of bribery and the proverb “A bribe is a precious stone in the eyes of the one who has it; wherever he turns, he prospers”, [9] asserting that bribery is like a stone, where ever it falls it breaks things. [10]

Yet, other teachings reflect a reluctance to portray our patriarch Isaac so harshly, instead either blaming Esau for misleading Isaac about his true nature [11] or believing that is was Isaac’s prophecy about a righteous descendent of Esau, named Ovadia, that was the reason for his love [12] rather than loving this boy Esau for himself. 

While the text tells us nothing about Isaac’s love for his “good son”, Jacob, commentary is not comfortable with leaving this as is, instead asserting that surely the deserving son enjoyed his father’s love and explaining away the fact that this is not stated in the text.[13]

As the story unfolds, Esau is eventually so resentful of his brother Jacob that he plans to kill him. Chillingly, Esau’s weak attachment to his mother can be seen in the fact that although Esau is reluctant to kill his brother while his father is alive (instead waiting for the end of the mourning period after his father’s death) [14] he thinks nothing of his mother’s grief.[15]

There is a cryptic phrase toward the end of the story that refers to Rebecca as the mother of both Jacob and Esau [16] when she sends Jacob away to her brother’s house to save him from Esau’s murderous plan. This reference is explained as her being concerned for the safety of both her sons, perhaps because, in a confrontation between the twins, Jacob might harm her other son Esau [17] whom she still cares about. Her brother would protect them both from each other. This suggests that after all Rebecca did love Esau despite her disapproval of him, despite the contrary impression from the texts mentioned above about love needing to be earned.

This discussion is about Midrash rather than Jewish Law which usually stipulates one right or wrong way to do things. When it comes to these moral discussions, there are 70 “faces to the Torah”, which means that a religious Jew is not strictly bound by any particular interpretations of this story. I look forward to learning more about this. I shall continue to advocate unconditional parental love and a presumption of love for all as primary virtues. There are, however, exceptions for me.  Jews, unlike Christians, are not called to love their enemies. I don’t love despots, tyrants, abusers of trust or my closed-minded caller who showed no interest in understanding what I do, or why, and who went so far as to say that I have no right  to call myself a Rabbi. But unless there is very good reason to the contrary, I believe I must approach each and every person with good will and an open heart. As we are taught, the Torah’s ways are pleasant and all it’s paths are of peace . [18]

1. Genesis 25:28
2. Bereshit Rabba 63a, commentary cited in Torah Shlaima, vol. 2, 1030, note 181, highlights the particular word for love in the text is  אוהבתin the present tense rather than  אהבה in the past tense
3. Sachar Tov, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol. 2, 1030, note 181, Jacob’s wholesomeness is also cited in Rashbam, while Yalkut Ohr Afela, (cited in Torah Shlaima, vol. 2, 1030, 182) suggests that the love was the result of Rebecca’s prophecy that Jacob would be righteous
4. Seforno
5. Radak
6. Genesis 25:28
7. Unkelos translation of Genesis 25:28
8. Sechel Tov, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol. 2, 1029, note 177
9. Proverbs 17:8
10. Midrash Tanchuma, Toldos 8
11. Midrash Tanchuma, Toldos 8, also cited in Rashi
12. Midrash Hagadol, cited in Torah Shlaima, vol. 2, 1030, 180
13. Radak asserts that there is no need to tell us that Isaac loved (the righteous?) Jacob, because he loved Jacob more than he Esau, in fact he did not love Esau (simply as a son) except for the fact that he would bring him hunted game to eat.  Seforno also asserts that Isaac’s love for Esau was in addition to his love for Jacob, but that although Isaac would have known, without a doubt, that Esau was not “complete” like Jacob he loved him anyway
14. Genesis 27:41
15. Ohr Hachayim on Genesis 25:28
16. Genesis 28:5
17. Rabbenu Bchai
18. Proverbs 3:17