Tears We Have Yet to Cry (Vayishlach)
וְהוּא עָבַר לִפְנֵיהֶם וַיִּשְׁתַּחוּ אַרְצָה שֶׁבַע פְּעָמִים עַד־גִּשְׁתּוֹ עַד־אָחִיו׃ וַיָּרׇץ עֵשָׂו לִקְרָאתוֹ וַיְחַבְּקֵהוּ וַיִּפֹּל עַל־צַוָּארָו וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ וַיִּבְכּוּ׃ וַיֹּאמֶר עֵשָׂו יֶשׁ־לִי רָב אָחִי יְהִי לְךָ אֲשֶׁר־לָךְ׃ וַיֹּאמֶר יַעֲקֹב אַל־נָא אִם־נָא מָצָאתִי חֵן בְּעֵינֶיךָ וְלָקַחְתָּ מִנְחָתִי מִיָּדִי כִּי עַל־כֵּן רָאִיתִי פָנֶיךָ כִּרְאֹת פְּנֵי אֱלֹהִים וַתִּרְצֵנִי׃
“[Jacob] himself went on ahead and bowed low to the ground seven times until he was near his brother. Esau ran to greet him. He embraced him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him; and they wept. … Esau said, “I have enough, my brother; let what you have remain yours.” 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. (Gen. 33:3-4, 9-10)”
We are a people who look other human beings in the eyes and insist on seeing their humanity. We were raised on this. We learned it from our earliest days. Our tradition warns us, story after story, what happens when we fail to perceive the divine image in another’s face, true of every person we encounter. We witness this urgent imperative once again in our parashah.
After decades of alienation and estrangement, after vows of violence, deceptions, and a backstory soaked in conflict Vayishlach brings Jacob and Esau back into each other’s line of sight. “Reunite” might be too strong a word. Re-encounter feels truer. And in that re-encounter something holy, something almost impossible, breaks open.
It is almost impossible even to dream it.
And yet… this parashah asks us to try.
Vayishlach tells us that healing is possible even after a terrible backstory, even after mistrust and deception and vows of violence. It is important, spiritually vital for us, to know that Torah imagines such a world.
Jacob, preparing for whatever awaits him, attempts every kind of diplomacy he can muster. He wrestles with an angel, becomes Yisrael the God-wrestler and then steps forward alone. He bows seven times as he approaches his brother “ad gishto, until he came near. (Gen. 33:3)” This word gishto is strange, rare. It reappears again later, when Judah approaches Joseph (Gen. 44:18). It describes more than physical proximity. It is a nearness of soul.
And in response to Jacob coming near to Esav, we read: “Esav ran to meet him. (Gen. 33:4)”
He ran. He embraced him. He fell upon his neck.
He kissed him. And they wept.
Yes, the Masoretic tradition places tiny dots little diamonds above the words “kissed him.” They whisper doubt. Was it sincere? Was it safe? Was it real?
But even that tradition preserves the possibility. The Torah records the embrace. The Torah records the tears. Something real happened. Even if fleeting, even if fragile, something in that moment was true enough to write down for eternity.
This does not feel like our contemporary situation today. Surging antisemitism offers not opportunities for reconciliation but rather demand forceful presence. We must show up. We must protect and uplift our community. We fight when we must.
But we should not get used to this.
It should shock us every time.
And it should not become the only future we can imagine.
One day – one day – we must believe that tears of shared pain, shared humanity, shared recognition are possible. Even between long-estranged family. Even between those with heavy histories. One day, we must hope the dots above “kissed him” will disappear, replaced with trust we have built together.
So often, it feels impossible to imagine that kind of world. How do we get to a place where crying together is possible? Truly, I don’t know. But I know it is something worth praying for.
So I bless us with this:
To let this verse enter us.
To let its impossible possibility soften the places in us that have hardened.
To hold firm to our dignity, our safety, our courage
and still make space for the ancient Jewish dream of peace.
Let us read the verse again, with all its heartbreaking beauty:
וַיָּרָץ עֵשָׂו לִקְרָאתוֹ
וַיְחַבְּקֵהוּ
וַיִּפֹּל עַל־צַוָּארָיו
וַיִּשָּׁקֵהוּ
וַיִּבְכּוּ“And Esau ran to greet him.
He embraced him,
and falling upon his neck,
he kissed him, and they wept.”
May these one day be the kind of tears we know tears of recognition, of healing, of peace.
One day.
One day.
