Clergy Sermons

Our bar-mitzvah, Oliver, said the most generous things about his brother Noah.

Having known many 13-year-olds with younger siblings, this is very unusual. Oliver, I wish I could have been that gracious to my little sister when I was your age. Today, my sister is my best friend. And she is very smart, and very kind - but I never could have brought myself to say that back then. Certainly not publicly. 

Because I somehow felt that if she’s smart, or popular, or kind, or good-looking, then that must means I’m less so. As if there were a limited supply of these things to go around. 

And we all know that it’s not just 13 year olds who feel that way, and it’s not just siblings. The desire for exceptionalism is part of the human experience. If we are motivated to stand out, to be the remarkable one, the one that everyone admires – then all praise is relative. The question is not are you smart, but are you smarter than the other guy. Praising the other guy feels like putting yourself down.

Not long ago, I spent a night at the sleep clinic. I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I’m pretty sure my poor sleep is for the same reason that many Americans have not been sleeping well lately. Anxiety is in the air, and we are all absorbing it in different ways. A good friend gave me a helpful metaphor - Human social interactions are like a giant spiderweb, with every person a node on the web. We feel each other's emotions through that web.  And right now, our web is shaking, and we are all feeling it. Some of us, in our sleep.

But - I decided it would be a good idea to rule out sleep apnea, just in case. So, as I said, I did a sleep study. 

The technician who hooked me up to all those electrodes was a lovely guy, and I enjoyed listening to him chat about his life. At the end of the night, as he was unhooking me from the electrodes, he told me a story about his mother’s final days. She was dying of cancer, too weak to talk, but still conscious and aware of her family bustling around the house. The technician and his sister were doing dishes together, and started teasing each other over who was mom’s favorite child. It was all good natured, everyone smiling. “I’m the baby of the family,” he explained to me, “and everyone knows I’m the favorite.” Finally, one of them said, “Let’s ask mom who her favorite is,” and without missing a beat she pointed right at him. 

“It’s just a family joke,” he said, and yet it was clear how much pleasure he got from the memory of his late mother pointing to him. 

There’s a part of him that wants to be his mother’s special one. I think it’s a different emotional experience than the exceptionalism I mentioned earlier. This man wanted to be loved. Uniquely, but not exceptionally. To be cherished, rather than admired.

Neither the desire to stand-out, nor the desire to be treasured, is inherently good or bad. The desire to fit-in is also part of the human experience, and inherently neutral. But when the social web is setup to amplify any one of these feelings, it can become grotesquely exaggerated. 

As in the family of Jacob, our forefather.

As Oliver shared in his drash - at the beginning of our Torah portion this week, Jacob was on the run from his brother Esau. He had tricked their father, Isaac, disguising himself as Esau, and stole Isaac’s blessing. Now Esau wanted to kill him.

Where did they get the idea that a father’s blessing should have a limited supply to go around?

Actually, we know the answer to that question. Ancient culture was setup to amplify favoritism and jealousy. That’s because a family’s power came from owning land, and if the land was divided up evenly among all the children, the plot sizes would get smaller and smaller plots with each generation. Instead, the norm was for the oldest son to inherit the largest plot.

In a culture that makes material inheritance a zero-sum-game, every parental gift becomes a commodity. Even the family’s ideals were hoarded - only one son could receive the covenant. Even a father’s blessing, or a mother’s love, became a limited resource.

It’s grotesque, really.

So Jacob arrives in his mother's birthplace, and brings all that trauma to the web of her family. 

Or maybe the trauma  was there already. They were all one family, afterall. And Jacob’s uncle, Laban, does not seem a very wholesome, stabilising character.

As Oliver shared, Laban tricked Jacob, in much the same way that Jacob himself had tricked his own father, Isaac - swapping one sibling for the other. 

Jacob was in love with Rachel. He worked seven years shepherding Laban’s sheep, to earn the right to marry her. Oliver - very insightfully - pointed out to me that this was indentured servitude. 

Finally, the wedding day arrived. And on their wedding night, Laban pulled his switch. When Jacob woke up the next morning, he discovered himself in bed with the wrong woman. It was Leah, Rachel’s older sister.

Can you imagine what he must have felt when he saw her there?  I wonder if he thought of Esau at that moment.

And can you imagine what the two women must have felt through this ordeal? The Talmud wonders about that question, and also about how Jacob failed to recognize who was in bed with him. So the Talmud gives a little back story to help explain. Rachel knew that her father would try to fool Jacob, and she warned him. So Jacob told Rachel a secret code, that she was to say back to him in the dark of their bedroom. But when it came down to it, Rachel felt compassion for her sister. She did not want Leah to be humiliated by Jacob’s rejection, and she gave her the secret code. 

If we accept that gloss, it puts what comes next in a very different light. Either, being co-married to Jacob corrupted the sister’s relationship, OR, human relationships are complicated, and you can be jealous of your sister, and also love her and not want to see her hurt.

Let’s look at it inside. I will take us through the verses, and I want to credit Rabbi Benny Lau for his insights into this chapter:

וַיַּ֤רְא יAdo-nai כִּֽי־שְׂנוּאָ֣ה לֵאָ֔ה וַיִּפְתַּ֖ח אֶת־רַחְמָ֑הּ וְרָחֵ֖ל עֲקָרָֽה׃

Seeing that Leah was unloved, Ado-nai opened her womb; but Rachel was barren.

וַתַּ֤הַר לֵאָה֙ וַתֵּ֣לֶד בֵּ֔ן וַתִּקְרָ֥א שְׁמ֖וֹ רְאוּבֵ֑ן כִּ֣י אָֽמְרָ֗ה כִּֽי־רָאָ֤ה יAdo-nai בְּעׇנְיִ֔י כִּ֥י עַתָּ֖ה יֶאֱהָבַ֥נִי אִישִֽׁי׃

Leah conceived and bore a son, and named him Reuben; for she declared, “It means: ‘Ado-nai has seen my affliction’; it also means: ‘Now my husband will love me.’”

Poor Leah. She wants to feel loved. We ALL need to feel loved. 

But Jacob’s love is not forthcoming.

וַתַּ֣הַר עוֹד֮ וַתֵּ֣לֶד בֵּן֒ וַתֹּ֗אמֶר כִּֽי־שָׁמַ֤ע יAdo-nai כִּֽי־שְׂנוּאָ֣ה אָנֹ֔כִי וַיִּתֶּן־לִ֖י גַּם־אֶת־זֶ֑ה וַתִּקְרָ֥א שְׁמ֖וֹ שִׁמְעֽוֹן׃

She conceived again and bore a son, and declared, “This is because Ado-nai heard that I was unloved and has given me this one also”; so she named him Simeon.

וַתַּ֣הַר עוֹד֮ וַתֵּ֣לֶד בֵּן֒ וַתֹּ֗אמֶר עַתָּ֤ה הַפַּ֙עַם֙ יִלָּוֶ֤ה אִישִׁי֙ אֵלַ֔י כִּֽי־יָלַ֥דְתִּי ל֖וֹ שְׁלֹשָׁ֣ה בָנִ֑ים עַל־כֵּ֥ן קָרָֽא־שְׁמ֖וֹ לֵוִֽי׃

Again she conceived and bore a son and declared, “This time my husband will become attached to me, for I have borne him three sons.” Therefore he was named Levi.

וַתַּ֨הַר ע֜וֹד וַתֵּ֣לֶד בֵּ֗ן וַתֹּ֙אמֶר֙ הַפַּ֙עַם֙ אוֹדֶ֣ה אֶת־יAdo-nai עַל־כֵּ֛ן קָרְאָ֥ה שְׁמ֖וֹ יְהוּדָ֑ה וַֽתַּעֲמֹ֖ד מִלֶּֽדֶת׃

She conceived again and bore a son, and declared, “This time I will praise Ado-nai.” Therefore she named him Judah. Then she stopped bearing.

Jacob is so tight with his love, so steeped in the belief that love is a limited commodity, Leah realizes she will never get what she needs from him. So she turns to God, instead, and she is able to feel gratitude for her many blessings. The word Jew, or Jewish, comes from the name Judah. We are descended from the one whose name is a reminder of gratitude.

In the meantime, Rachel - the little sister who had stuck up for Leah on their wedding night - now feels threatened by her. Rachel is still Jacob’s favorite, but she desperately wants a child. She doesn’t share in Leah’s joy, though she herself has become an aunt. She doesn’t share in the warmth of nurturing the children who are running around the household. Rachel watches Leah’s pregnancies with bitterness. 

וַתֵּ֣רֶא רָחֵ֗ל כִּ֣י לֹ֤א יָֽלְדָה֙ לְיַעֲקֹ֔ב וַתְּקַנֵּ֥א רָחֵ֖ל בַּאֲחֹתָ֑הּ וַתֹּ֤אמֶר אֶֽל־יַעֲקֹב֙ הָֽבָה־לִּ֣י בָנִ֔ים וְאִם־אַ֖יִן מֵתָ֥ה אָנֹֽכִי׃

When Rachel saw that she had borne Jacob no children, she became envious of her sister; and Rachel said to Jacob, “Give me children, or I shall die.”

וַיִּֽחַר־אַ֥ף יַעֲקֹ֖ב בְּרָחֵ֑ל וַיֹּ֗אמֶר הֲתַ֤חַת אֱלֹהִים֙ אָנֹ֔כִי אֲשֶׁר־מָנַ֥ע מִמֵּ֖ךְ פְּרִי־בָֽטֶן׃

Jacob was incensed at Rachel, and said, “Can I take the place of God, who has denied you fruit of the womb?”

How can Jacob be so cruel? So shut-down, locked-up in his own stinginess, that he has no compassion for the woman he thinks he loves. He does not allow himself to see her pain.

They are all of them - Leah, Rachel, Jacob, Laban, Esau, Isaac, Rebecca - nodes on a social web that transmitted emotional parsimony. Love, compassion, joy, nurturing - all were experienced as limited resources, not to be shared. 

We are their descendants. Has our social web changed all that much?

The saddest part, is that Jacob had been shown a different way. On his lonely journey from the homeland, he had a vision of a great ladder connecting our world to heaven. As he watched the traffic on that ladder, he heard God’s voice, promising to protect him. And God said to him there:

וְנִבְרְכ֥וּ בְךָ֛ כׇּל־מִשְׁפְּחֹ֥ת הָאֲדָמָ֖ה

All the families of the earth will be blessed by you.

Blessings are to be shared. That is their true nature. When we hold our blessings tightly for ourselves, our hearts constrict. We become bitter and jealous and angry. When enough nodes are closed, the entire web becomes rigid and dry. But when we realize that our blessings come from an infinite source, a source that has plenty of space to love every one of us, then our hearts open, and our web is flooded with that love and joy, and every node on that web is blessed.