The characters in the Bible are far from perfect. Yet this makes sense, as we too are just as far from perfect. What occurs in this week’s parasha is simply wrong. While it might be applauded as heroic in the tradition, if what happened in the Bible happened in your family, I imagine you would be disturbed.
And it happened when Isaac was old, that his eyes grew too bleary to see, and he called to Esau his elder son and said to him, “My son!” and he said, “Here I am.” And he said, “Look, I have grown old; I know not how soon I shall die. So now, take up, pray, your gear, your quiver and your bow, and go out to the field, and hunt me some game, and make me a dish of the kind that I love and bring it to me that I may eat, so that I may solemnly bless you before I die.” And Rebekah was listening as Isaac spoke to Esau his son, and Esau went off to the field to hunt game to bring. And Rebekah said to Jacob her son, “Look, I have heard your father speaking to Esau your brother, saying, ‘Bring me some game and make me a dish that I may eat, and I shall bless you in the LORD’s presence before I die.’ So now, my son, listen to my voice, to what I command you. Go, pray, to the flock, and fetch me from there two choice kids that I may make them into a dish for your father of the kind he loves. And you shall bring it to your father and he shall eat, so that he may bless you before he dies…." And he came to his father and said, “Father!” And he said, “Here I am. Who are you, my son?” And Jacob said to his father, “I am Esau your firstborn…. And Jacob came close to Isaac his father and he felt him and he said, “The voice is the voice of Jacob and the hands are Esau’s hands….” And he said, “Are you my son Esau?” And he said, “I am….” And Isaac his father said to him, “Come close, pray, and kiss me, my son.” And he came close and kissed him, and he … blessed him…. And it happened as soon as Isaac finished blessing Jacob, and Jacob barely had left the presence of Isaac his father, that Esau his brother came back from the hunt. And he, too, made a dish and brought it to his father and he said to his father, “Let my father rise and eat of the game of his son so that you may solemnly bless me.” And his father Isaac said, “Who are you?” And he said, “I am your son, your firstborn, Esau.” And Isaac was seized with a very great trembling and he said, “Who is it, then, who caught game and brought it to me and I ate everything before you came and blessed him? Now blessed he stays.” When Esau heard his father’s words, he cried out with a great and very bitter outcry and he said to his father, “Bless me, too, Father!” And he said, “Your brother has come in deceit and has taken your blessing…. Have you not kept back a blessing for me?” And Isaac answered and said to Esau, “[F]or you, then, what can I do, my son?” And Esau said to his father, “Do you have but one blessing, my father? Bless me, too, Father.” And Esau raised his voice and he wept. (Genesis 27: 1-10; 18-19a; 22; 24a; 26-27; 30-35; 36b-38; translation by Alter, 2019)
Radical Acceptance
Marsha Linehan is a world-renowned psychologist. She is the developer of a wildly popular approach to psychotherapy called Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT). It is a fascinating and elegant integration of Behavior Therapy with—of all things—Zen teachings and practice.
Besides being a psychologist, Marsha Linehan Roshi is also an empowered Zen master (“Roshi”) in the Sanbo Kyodan school of Zen in the lineage of Koun Yamada Roshi. In fact, she is a dharma “aunt” to me of sorts, as both she and one of my Zen teachers, Fr. Greg Mayers Roshi, received dharma transmission from the same teacher in Germany, Willigis Jager Roshi.
As part of the DBT approach, Linehan (2015) develops an idea called radical acceptance and describes it as a “distress tolerance skill” and way to see [a] problem situation more clearly” (p. 375).
Radical acceptance is complete and total acceptance, from deep within, of the facts of reality. It involves acknowledging facts that are true and letting go of a fight with reality…. [Radical acceptance is] accepting all the way, with your mind, your heart, and your body. Accepting something from the depths of your soul. Opening yourself to fully experiencing reality as it is in this one moment.” (p. 417; 453).
Radical acceptance is accepting Truth—no matter whether we call this the Tao, Dharma, Christ, Allah, God, or by any other name. Radical acceptance—a psychological, yet deeply spiritual practice—is an acceptance of the “is-ness” of a situation and invites our “appropriate response” (Blue Cliff Record [Hekiganroku]; case 14).
It is important to note that acceptance is different than approval. Randy Wolbert Roshi, a DBT trainer and dharma heir of both Marsha Linehan and my teacher, Fr. Greg Mayers, offers the synonyms “acknowledgment” and—one I lean toward myself— “tolerance.”
Just as we can accept ourselves and others fully—and parts of ourselves and others we even abhor—accepting ourselves and others is fundamentally different than approving of inappropriate behavior.
This is an important lesson to be found in this koan. Do I approve of Isaac’s actions? No. Do I approve of Rachel’s or Isaac’s actions? Or even Esau’s actions earlier in the parsha before this all happened? Again, no and no. Yet, we accept that this is what happens and—whether this is just a story in a book or an event in our, or my own, life—respond in the most appropriate way possible.
Winners and Losers
Isaac and Rebecca were madly in love from the very first moment. They locked eyes, Isaac came to Rebecca from the field where he was meditating, and Rachel fell head over heels off her camel. Like many deep loves, there was a wish to have a child, yet Rebecca, like Sarah her mother-in-law, was barren, and they were unable to conceive.
Faced with adversity, “Isaac pleaded with the LORD on behalf of his wife, for she was barren, and the LORD granted his plea, and Rebekah his wife conceived (Genesis 25:21; translated by Alter, 2019).
Most commentators, traditional and modern, take the Hebrew lenokhakh in our verse to mean “for,” or “on behalf of….” But the Hebrew lenokhakh has another, more literal meaning: It means “in front of,” “in face of,” or “opposite.” Isaac praying on behalf of his wife may be the primary meaning of this verse, but we should not lose sight of the literal meaning: Isaac prays not alone for his wife, but also in front of her, in her very presence…. A Rabbinic interpretation amplifies the deep connection Isaac and Rebekah share. Picking up on the word lenokhakh, … a midrash comments: “This teaches that Isaac prostrated himself [in prayer] here and she there [opposite him]…. Lenokhakh, opposite, is here understood expansively to suggest that not only was Isaac praying in Rebekah’s presence, but that they were praying opposite one another… The midrash, it seems, wants us to know how deep are the love and mutual commitment they share. (Held, 2017)
Isaac and Rebecca prostrate themselves, forehead to forehead, sharing prayer. They show such love and devotion to one another, yet they soon lose sight and pray for their family in different directions.
And the children clashed together within her, and she said, “Then why me?” and she went to inquire of the LORD. And the LORD said to her: “Two nations—in your womb, two peoples from your loins shall issue. People over people shall prevail, the elder, the younger’s slave.” (Genesis 25:22-23; translation by Alter 2019)
In the Bible, Jacob is given his name as he holds on to the heel of his older twin brother as to pull him behind at their delivery. Thus, Jacob is named after the Hebrew word for heel, Akev. I am certainly not a linguist, though I do not believe it is a coincidence that someone who treats others poorly or unjustly is referred to as a “heel”.
Rebecca may have fallen head over heels in love with Isaac; but she did certainly did not fall head over heel in love with her eldest son, Esau! Are two nations destined to war? I cannot say! Yet, my hunch is that Isaac’s and Rebecca’s actions sure didn’t help!
The contemporary Chasidic master, Rabbi Menachem Mendel Schneerson (1902-1994; also called the Lubavitcher Rebbe) comments that the Biblical text “uses the words for ‘older’ and ‘younger’” when referring to Esau and Jacob, yet these same words can also be translated as “the great one” and “the small one.” If only Jacob and Esau were not treated as greater than and smaller than? How different their family might be? How different the entire Middle East might be even today?
In families, or intimate relationship more specifically, there are truly no winners or losers. There can’t be! The moment we win, we lose; the moment we lose, we win!
There is essentially no greater than or lesser than. It may feel so and we might very well be treated—and treat ourselves—as so, but this is commentary and not the truth. I am no greater than you, and you are no greater than me.
Altogether Complete
There are hundreds if not thousands or tens of thousands of books on Zen, spirituality, psychology, and so many other areas that speak about the importance of achieving “emptiness” or losing our egos.
Spiritual practice has nothing to do with achieving blankness, emptiness, or egolessness. This is a gross mistake and a state closer to psychosis than realization. It is a deep misunderstanding. This kind of emptiness is a terrible experience. It can feel miserable and absolutely terrifying and hellish.
It is quite the opposite! We find peace in recognition, acceptance in peace, and spaciousness in acceptance, generosity in spaciousness, and blessing in generosity.
According to the Targum Pseudo Jonathan:
And the two hundred and seventy days of her being with child were completed to bring forth; and, behold, twins were in her womb. And the first came forth wholly red, as a garment of hair: and they called his name Esau, because he was born altogether complete, with the hair of the head, and the beard, and teeth, and grinders” (emphasis added).
We are all born this way—yearning, imperfect, and fully complete.
Our Birthright (Bekorah)
We are such doubtful creatures! We constantly look to others and things near and far in hopes of realizing what we already know and essentially are. Yes, we are grossly imperfect; yet, we are astonishingly perfect too!
Isaac wanted something that was not his. He envies Esau’s status as his father’s favorite and birthright as a first born child. Is this natural? In some way or another, don’t we all desire what is not ours? Of course! Yet, Isaac’s lack of faith in who he very is is met with disastrous results! For him, his family, and—in no incidental part—the broader Middle East struggle today.
There can be a fair amount of emphasis in the Zen tradition on something called kensho. This is a Japanese word for a spiritual awakening experience which etymologically means seeing one’s true or essential nature.
Hakuin Ekaku (1686 – 1769) is a living contemporary of the Baal Shem Tov (1698 – 1760; also called the Besht), the founder of Chasidism. Akin to the Besht’s renewal of Judaism, Hakuin—thousands of miles away—revolutionizes Zen Buddhism through similarly returning to its foundation and also reminds us of our genuine birthright and blessing so brilliantly described in his “Song of Zazen”:
All beings by nature are Buddha, As ice by nature is water. Apart from water there is no ice; Apart from beings, no Buddha. How sad that people ignore the near And search for truth afar: Like someone in the midst of water Crying out in thirst, Like a child of a wealthy home Wandering among the poor. Lost on dark paths of ignorance, We wander through the Six Worlds, From dark path to dark path-- When shall we be freed from birth and death? Oh, the zazen of the Mahayana! To this the highest praise! Devotion, repentance, training, The many paramitas [skillful means]-- All have their source in zazen [meditation]. Those who try zazen even once Wipe away beginning-less crimes. Where are all the dark paths then? The Pure Land itself is near. Those who hear this truth even once And listen with a grateful heart, Treasuring it, revering it, Gain blessings without end. Much more, those who turn about And bear witness to self-nature, Self-nature that is no-nature, Go far beyond mere doctrine. Here effect and cause are the same, The Way is neither two nor three. With form that is no-form, Going and coming, we are never astray, With thought that is no-thought, Singing and dancing are the voice of the Law. Boundless and free is the sky of Samadhi! Bright the full moon of wisdom! Truly, is anything missing now? Nirvana is right here, before our eyes, This very place is the Lotus Land, This very body, the Buddha. (translated by Norman Waddell)
Like his uncle Ishmael and his elder brother Esau in this koan, Isaac cries out in thirst in the midst of water demanding nourishment all the while not realizing that he swims in the midst of water. We do that too! And make this same mistake often times.
As taught by the Besht, Hakuin, and this great koan from the Hebrew Bible, our essential nature is absolutely priceless. It is “neither born nor destroyed, pure nor tainted, gained nor lost” (Heart Sutra). And it surely can never be bought or sold. Not for a simple bowl of stew, one at the fanciest Michelin Star restaurant, or even all of the gold and jewels hidden within the earth.
Silent Screams
The Hebrew Bible is an amazing book, outstandingly human for sacred literature written in ancient times or even today. Unlike the rarified characters of other sacred literatures, characters from the Hebrew Bible—both human and Divine—are uniquely quite “human”, relatable, and deeply flawed and imperfect. Just as we are!
I work as a psychologist with individuals and families whom—I genuinely trust—want the best for themselves and their families. Yet, like our primordial family in the Book of Genesis, we are not always very effective in doing so.
We are all human after all. We make family alliances and cut off others; we deceive and feel betrayed; and desperately need, yet act against, what feels safest and most comforting in our most intimate relationships.
The story of Isaac, Rebecca, and their sons remind me of another story one generation earlier in the Bible and just a few chapters prior in the Book of Genesis.
Abraham and Sarah were Esau’s and Isaac’s paternal grandparents. Like Rebecca, Sarah was barren for many years and offered her maidservant Hagar as a concubine, and Ishmael was born.
Like contemporary stepfamilies today, family conflicts naturally brew, yet Sarah placed an extraordinary expectation upon Abraham. She demanded that Abraham forsake his relationship with Hagar and Ishmael and cast them away into the wilderness
Only one generation later, we see a similar family pattern emerge. As if it were not enough, Rebecca not only conspires against her husband’s son, but proactively conspires with her and Isaac’s second child against their eldest.
It feels trite to say, though we often feel most hurt and wounded by those we love the most. For we are most dependent upon and vulnerable to them. This is the bittersweet nature of intimacy.
There is a Chasidic commentary told of Ishmael’s cries in the wilderness that is equally apropos to Esau.
From the Akedah: “I also heard [the following] on the verse “Then God heard the voice of the child” [Genesis 21:17] (for you will not find in the Torah that Ishmael cried out at all). He [Menachem Mendel of Vorki] spoke as follows: “[It was] a still silent cream.” (And in fact, [this rabbi] was himself at this level, for he would always make a silent “hubbub” before the Blessed One, without cessation) (Tabick, 2014, pp. 23-24).
In the Muslim tradition, the prophet Ayyub (or Job in the Hebrew Bible) is Esau’s great-great-grandson (Qisas al-Anbiya [Stories of the Prophets]). In this way, we not only hear Ishmael’s silent cries in the desert of Be’er Lahai Ro’i, but we continue to hear Esau’s yelp and Job’s cries of agony even today… if we have ears to hear (Matthew 11:15) and can tolerate hearing them.
How Many Blessings Do You Have?
A Divine covenant is made between the Divine and Man. When God and Abraham first meet one another, God promises Abraham, “I will bless you. I will make your name great. And you shall be a blessing” (Genesis 12:2).
Each moment is an everlasting realization of that covenant. Each moment is a blessing! Each breath, each step, each person in our lives are uniquely all a blessing! Yet, we do not choose our blessings, and we most certainly do not choose our curses.
What is a man to do? The same woman whom he loves—the woman who falls head over heels in love with him, the woman who comforts him unlike any other soul in history—hates their son?
If we really examine this koan most carefully, Isaac’s favorite may indeed be Esau, and Rachel’s favorite may be Isaac, though Isaac does not act with malice or malintent to Esau. Isaac loves him for who he is, a hunter, dutiful son, and a man of the outdoors and the “wild.”
Rebecca’s blessing is indeed love; yet, Rebecca’s curse is also love. What a terrible tragedy she—make no mistake, like each one of us also—must endure.
How do we respond when who we love hates whom we love? What an awful position to be in! I dare say that Isaac did not respond in the most appropriate way. How do we respond in such a situation?
When Satsujo, a great disciple of Hakuin, was old, she lost her granddaughter, which grieved her very much. An old man from the neighborhood came and admonished her: “Why are you wailing so much? If people hear this, they’ll all say, ‘the old lady once studied with Hakuin and was enlightened, so now why is she mourning her granddaughter so much?’ You ought to lighten up a bit.” Satsujo glared at her neighbor and scolded him: “You baldheaded fool, what do you know? My tears and weeping are better for my granddaughter than incense, flowers, and lamps!” The old man left without a word. (The Hidden Lamp; Case 50; edited by Caplow & Moon, 2013)
Voice to the Voiceless
What do we do when those we love the most do not act with love and caring? Esau shows us his answer to this terrible koan. With a scream far louder than any Zen master’s, “Katz!”.
No matter if we sit in zazen (meditation) or stand in prayer, whether we face the wall, lay our forehead on our sajjadat as-salat(prayer carpet in Islam), or face East toward Jerusalem, spiritual practice is neither about raising nor lowering ourselves or others as greater or lesser than.
Spiritual practice—and life—is always about the perfection of character—not raising or lowering ourselves or others as greater or lesser than—and the perfection of love! Giving and receiving love graciously is our greatest birthright, and it is our greatest blessing.
I once wrote that “the great task of psychoanalysis”—or for psychotherapy or any spiritual practice, for that matter— “is to give voice to the voiceless” (Fogel, 2008). How do we bear witness to the suffering of the world with both our silent and out loud screams?
This does not necessarily mean raising our voice even a single decibel, but truly and genuinely accepting the hurt that we cause, share, or bear of others.
As painful as life can be sometimes, how do we accept it? How can we accept it? The more difficult question is how can we not?!
Be unafraid. Cry out. Raise your voice. Weep as you must. “Do you have but one blessing?!”
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Adam Fogel
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