Rabbi David Baum - Parashat Vayishlach
Delivered on Shabbat morning, December 14, 2024 Congregation Shaarei Kodesh
If you have a theater aficionado at home, you’ve likely been asked the question: Team Glinda or Team Elphaba, pink or green?
Wicked, the iconic musical, has now hit the theaters, and it has captivated a new generation. For the record, my daughter Layla made me dress up in green when we went on our daddy-daughter date to the movies. Wicked turns the story of the Wizard of Oz on it's heels. We learn how the Wicked Witch of the West, who is green but no one ever explains why, became wicked and how she wasn’t wicked all along. Although she may frighten people with her green appearance, she is an invaluable friend to those who get to know her, and see the beautiful soul she is on the inside. The good witch, Galinda (shortened to Glinda toward the end of the movie), who plays a minor role in The Wizard of Oz as the force of good, wearing pink, with flowing blond hair, a tiara, and a magic wand; is shown in a much less flattering way. Her main interest is being popular, and what matters most is what is on the outside. Glinda and Elphaba (the Wicked Witch of the West’s given name), develop a relationship that starts off hostile and competitive, then friendly, then back again. In today’s world, we call this being ‘frenemies’.
Frenemies are those individuals who oscillate between being a friend and a rival. They often create a dynamic filled with both camaraderie and competition, which can be both intriguing and frustrating.
Novelist Jennifer Weiner explains, in her recent op ed, “They Hate Each Other. They Love Each Other. We Can’t Look Away,” that, “these two young women, classmates and roommates — one giggly, glamorous and beloved, the other studious, plain and lonely — seem destined to despise each other forever, or at least until graduation.”
It’s true, everyone loves a good love story, but it’s so predictable. In the typical boy meets girl (or boy meets boy, or girl meets girl) story, the odd couple never think they would ever fall in love, but 300 pages or 90 minutes later, they always do. Frenemy stories do something more complicated, Weiner explains, “By their emotional logic, it’s not the ending that matters; it’s the journey. The main characters draw each other out and learn from each other not in order to achieve the cliché of happily ever after but for the experience of friendship in its own right.”
This week, we are introduced to the Torah’s version of Glinda and Elphaba in the culmination of the story of Jacob and Esau. Jacob, the kid who was most at home in the tent, the mama’s boy who always said the right thing, and Esau, the hairy-red boy who felt most at home in the fields, and misunderstood by so many.
In this week’s parashah, Vayishlach, Jacob and Esau reunite, and the question is, will they or won’t they, and by that I mean, will they kill each other or hug each other?!?
This week, Yaakov begins the return home to the land of Canaan. As he returns to his father’s home, with a big family and many possessions, he is forced to face the reality that he left behind - it’s time to finally confront the Wicked Witch of the West.
Our parashah opens up with the elephant in the room, “Yaakov sent messengers ahead to his brother Esav in the land of Seir, the country of Edom…” He sends him a short message: let me find favor in your eyes. But Esav beats him to the punch, as his messengers respond to Yaakov, “We came to your brother Esav; he himself is coming to meet you, and there are four hundred men with him.” Whether Yaakov likes it or not, his brother, the brother who he duped for his birthright, the brother who he stole his father’s blessing from, is coming, and he’s bringing 400 men with him.
Yaakov brings gifts to Esav to appease him, but there is a moment of truth where I believe that Yaakov truly becomes our forefather, where his transformation becomes complete.
The night before he was to meet Esav, Yaakov crosses a small river with his family and possessions, and the Torah states, “After taking them across the stream, he sent across all his possessions. Yaakov was left alone.” Here we see a familiar scene. Yaakov is alone and he is in the dark which emphasizes his condition. But instead of seeing angels going up a ladder and coming down, Yaakov struggles. Yaakov used to be a man who abstained from physical struggle, but this time is different. The text states, “And a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.” This scene of Yaakov wrestling with this man is short, but powerful and mysterious.
The Rabbis ask, who is this man?
The midrash gives various answers. Some midrashim say that it is Esav’s guardian angel and that is fight with the angel prepared him for the possible conflict. But there is another midrash, from Pirkei D’Rabbi Eliezer, a 7th century midrash, that is a bit more mysterious. The Torah states that Yaakov would not let this man go until the man blessed Yaakov. But this midrash takes this story a step further. It states that Yaakov was wrestling with an angel, and Yaakov would not let this angel go until he told him his name. And so he tells him his name by re-naming Yaakov, “And the angel called his name Israel, like his own name, for his own name was called Israel.” Aviva Zorenberg, a contemporary author, points out that angels are named for their missions, so it is strange why Yaakov asks this angel for his name. She writes, “Yaakov already knows in himself the purpose of the angel’s coming, for, essentially, he is facing himself, the desired-feared necessity of a new name. He has summoned the angel to save him from the condition of being Yaakov.”
No longer does the boy nipping at his brother’s heels, constantly jealous of what his older brother has, he focuses on what he has instead. Jacob becomes Israel, someone who can struggle with beings both human and divine, and become stronger in the process.
Just as Glinda and Elphaba represent more than just themselves as individuals, so do Jacob and Esau. They represent two peoples who will always struggle.
This brings me to the Wicked Couple of today, and you may be surprised to hear my answer: it’s American Jewry and Israeli Jewry.
As of 2023, the world's Jewish population is estimated to be 15.7 million, with the largest populations in the following countries: Israel: 7.1 million; the largest Jewish population in the world United States: 6.3 million; and 1.8 million everywhere else in the world.
Let me be bold as to say, if we were to talk about the relationship between American Jewry and Israeli Jewry, I think I would likely give it the same title: They Hate Each Other. They Love Each Other. We Can’t Look Away.
We even resemble Glinda and Elphaba. Think about the reputation that Israelis have; they’re pushy, they’re too honest; we prefer being polite, and cordial, even if it means lying. Israelis call it the American smile - that’s how they know we’re lying.
We are separated by more than an ocean; we speak different languages, and we are almost polar opposites of each other; we are mostly progressive, they are most conservative, we are mostly Ashkenazi, and they are mostly Sephardi; we are mostly non-Orthodox, and the shul that Israeli’s don’t go to is the Orthodox one.
But perhaps this is what was intended all along. We’ve always been strongest when we had not just one center, but two. We had Israel and Babylonia, and today we have Israel and America.
The Israeli thinker, Yossi Klein HaLevi put it best this way when speaking to a group of rabbis, imploring us to take a stand for Israel’s security during the Iran Nuclear Deal negotiations:
“American Jews have been blessed with two ocean on its east and west borders, and friendly neighbors in the north and south. Israelis are surrounded by enemies who want to kill them at every moment. You can teach us to be less cruel, but we can teach you to be less naive.”
Like young Jacob and Esau, and the now adult Jacob and the angel, we struggle with those who make us the most whole.
Maybe that’s why we love Glinda and Elphaba so much.
“Across time, across generations, across genres, in fiction and in real life, the pairings recur — now friendly, now feuding, now friends again. And audiences, female audiences especially, get to watch, experiencing the emotions and attachments on the screen or the page, reflecting on our own histories and friendships. Love in a rom-com can feel inevitable. Respect can be harder to come by, especially from someone initially immune to your charms. That kind of reassessment from that kind of friend isn’t just affirming; it’s life-changing.”
At the end of our story, Jacob and Esau embrace:
וַיָּ֨רׇץ עֵשָׂ֤ו לִקְרָאתוֹ֙ וַֽיְחַבְּקֵ֔הוּ וַיִּפֹּ֥ל עַל־צַוָּארָ֖ו וַׄיִּׄשָּׁׄקֵ֑ׄהׄוּׄ וַיִּבְכּֽוּ׃
Esau ran to greet him. He embraced him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him; and they wept.
And after Jacob tries to offer Esau gifts, Esau responds:
וַיֹּ֥אמֶר עֵשָׂ֖ו יֶשׁ־לִ֣י רָ֑ב אָחִ֕י יְהִ֥י לְךָ֖ אֲשֶׁר־לָֽךְ׃
Esau said, “I have enough, my brother; let what you have remain yours.”
וַיֹּ֣אמֶר יַעֲקֹ֗ב אַל־נָא֙ אִם־נָ֨א מָצָ֤אתִי חֵן֙ בְּעֵינֶ֔יךָ וְלָקַחְתָּ֥ מִנְחָתִ֖י מִיָּדִ֑י כִּ֣י עַל־כֵּ֞ן רָאִ֣יתִי פָנֶ֗יךָ כִּרְאֹ֛ת פְּנֵ֥י אֱלֹהִ֖ים וַתִּרְצֵֽנִי׃
But Jacob said, “No, I pray you; if you would do me this favor, accept from me this gift; for to see your face is like seeing the face of God, and you have received me favorably.
Their embrace is not the end of their story, nor does it erase the years of pain and estrangement. Jacob and Esau don’t return to the same house or resume the relationship they might have had as children.
The story of Jacob and Esau challenges us to confront our own "frenemy" dynamics, whether they are with individuals, communities, and yes, between the Jewish people. Their hug reminds us that while we may never fully align with those who seem so different, there is room for mutual recognition and respect. Sometimes, that is the victory—not a perfect resolution, but the act of showing up and seeing the divine in the other.
In our complicated world, whether it's the tension between American and Israeli Jewry, or the struggles within our own families and communities, Jacob and Esau's story offers hope. It reminds us that the journey matters as much as, if not more than, the destination. Even amidst our struggles, we can embrace moments of connection that reflect the image of God in one another.
So, are you Team Glinda or Team Elphaba, Team Jacob or Team Esau? Maybe that’s the wrong question. The real question is whether we can move past the teams altogether and embrace the messy, sacred work of reconciliation, one imperfect hug at a time.
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