The Stalemate Between Two Jews

In the fateful confrontation between Jacob and Esau, most of us forget that the protagonists came from the exact same place. Both were children of Issac and respected their parents. Both studied Torah. Both were Jews.

So, how could one brother hate to the point whereby his life’s mission is to destroy his sibling? And how could the target avoid death in the face of incredible odds?

Esau had been monitoring Jacob during his 20 years in Aram Naharayim. As soon as Jacob entered Canaan, Esau, as we see in this week’s Torah portion Vayishlach, set out for war along with 400 gladiators. They were recruited by the promise of blood and money.

Jacob was very frightened and distressed. He divided the people who were with him — along with the flocks, cattle, and camels — into two camps. [Genesis 32:8]

Why was Jacob so frightened? Had he not been told repeatedly by G-d that the junior patriarch would come under divine protection. G-d had even brought Jacob angels after he left Laban for Canaan.

Unlike Esau, Jacob did not see bloodshed as resolving anything between the twins. If Esau killed his younger sibling, then the Jewish nation would be over. If Jacob killed Esau, his parents would be shattered. Indeed, Esau garnered much greater credit for respecting his parents than the absent Jacob.

It was not the physical fight that Jacob feared, rather the influence of Esau on Jewish history. On the eve of Esau’s arrival, his guardian angel attacked Jacob. The two fought all night but the angel could not win. At that point, the angel struck and dislocated Jacob’s hip and pleaded to be released from the latter’s grip.

The angel then said, “Send me on my way, for dawn is breaking.” But Jacob replied, “I will not send you on your way unless you bless me.” [Genesis 32:27]

What possible reason could Jacob have in demanding a blessing from the angel of his worst enemy? The angel provided the answer: He changed Jacob’s name to Israel “for you have striven with an angel of G-d and with men and you have prevailed.”

The Torah does not specify the angel’s blessing. But the prophecy is that Jacob will never be defeated, neither through physical nor spiritual means. As long as Jacob and his descendants stay close to G-d, nobody — whether man or angel — can touch them.

But what if Jacob’s descendants don’t follow G-d? What if they follow Esau instead? What if the Jews flock to the temptation of money and power? What if they copy Esau’s journey from the synagogue to the coliseum?

Henry Kissinger followed that path. He turned from a teenager in a devout German Jewish family in New York’s Washington Heights to the mythical American. His transformation from an immigrant to the most powerful man in the United States is unprecedented. Yet since he left his post of secretary of state in 1976, Kissinger felt the need to work tirelessly to create a legacy that future generations would venerate.

“You could argue,” political scientist and Kissinger analyst Daniel Drezner, told Politico last month, “that an awful lot of what Kissinger did after he stepped down as secretary of state was finding ways to burnish that legacy such that future generations would look at him with respect rather than with controversy.”

The respect that Kissinger failed to gain in life, he sought in death. In his will, Kissinger, who died in November 2023, refused to follow the presidents he served. Richard Nixon and Gerald Ford were buried next to their homes in California and Michigan. The globe-trotting Kissinger had no home and no real family. He sought to be buried in Arlington National Cemetery near Washington DC. The man with the monumental ego actually demanded that a monument be erected over his grave.

“That he would request this is just further evidence of that insecurity and a desire to rewrite his legacy,” Drezner, who like Kissinger grew up Jewish, said.

When Esau finally met Jacob’s family, he saw the life that he had abandoned. His sisters-in-law were demure, the children were respectful and none of them seemed struck by Esau’s machismo. Esau wanted that and asked his brother to abandon his plans to return to Canaan and instead live in Sa’ir, Esau’s kingdom. Meanwhile, Esau offered to leave some of his men to protect Jacob’s convoy.

Jacob did not want to anger Esau with a “no.” Instead, the patriarch wheedled Esau to return to Sa’ir alone and perhaps Jacob would eventually join. Esau’s men, seeing no opportunity for booty, left as well.

But that wasn’t the end of the story. Esau would continue to plague the Jewish people by waving the bait of money and power. Esau’s battles would be those of conquest. Devotion to G-d would be replaced by “legacy,” the desperate attempt for honor after death. And over the millennia, more than a few of Jacob’s offspring would try to come onboard.

The war between Esau and Jacob marks a historical stalemate. It would reflect the words of the Talmudic sage Rabbi Yishmael, “two verses that deny each other until a third comes and decides.” That of course would be G-d, who addresses Jacob through the prophet Isaiah. The message: Don’t fear. You are not alone.

…from the east I will bring your children, and from the west I will gather you. I will say to the north bring them, and to the south do not stop them, bring my sons from afar and my daughters from the ends of the earth. [Isaiah 43: 5-6]