This past Shabbat we studied that ever-troublesome parashah (Torah portion) called Toldot that includes the moment when our ancestor Rebecca overhears that her ailing husband Isaac is preparing to give his final, all-important blessing to the barely-older twin Esau rather than her beloved barely-younger twin Jacob.
We read that she quickly takes action: when Isaac instructs Esau to go out to hunt some game to serve as part of a ritual meal accompanying the final blessing, Rebecca hurriedly instructs her son Jacob to select an animal from the flock and disguise himself as Esau to sneak in and receive the blessing in Esau’s stead. Jacob, later to be renamed Israel, and thus the namesake of the Israelite people, complies.
During our conversation, the possibility was raised that Isaac may not have been as duped as appeared from first glance, but rather was quite aware of the machinations that had transpired and went willingly along with them. This was evidenced by the number of times (five!) raised by Isaac of the possibility that it may not have been Esau that he was interacting with (see Genesis 27:18-27) as well as the transparently porous disguise Jacob donned (sheepskin mistakable for Esau’s hair). So we wondered about Isaac’s role.
A sacred midrash (expansion) on this text argues that Isaac’s “eyes being too dim to see” (Gen: 27:1) could be traced back to that moment on the altar when he was bound up as a young man, his father poised to offer him as a sacrifice. ‘When our father Abraham bound his son Isaac on the altar, the ministering angels wept. Tears dropped from their eyes into Isaac’s and left their mark upon them.” That moment left an indelible mark on Isaac. Regardless of the absence of physical harm from that moment, he was forever changed, his judgment forever clouded.
Trauma works that way. It works its way into our psyches, playing out in unexpected ways, hamstringing us into undetected habits. Who is to say what effect that moment had on Isaac, but no doubt his relationship to the world around him was different—a different relationship to love and to trust and to family.
As always, the Torah does not always offer us a paradigm of unblemished virtue in its characters; rather, it offers us an opportunity to see parts of ourselves and those around us, inviting us to grow and journey in meaningful and holy ways.
Wishing you your own upcoming ritual meal this week filled with safety, love, and gratitude.
