From Beethoven to Esav

In Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, the power of the opening musical notes sets the tone for the rest of this remarkable symphony. Listening to it we feel hit with an uppercut on the chin, leaving us reeling for the rest of the day! So too with the opening verse of Sefer Bereshit: In the beginning God created heaven and earth. This shattering statement is like a nuclear explosion—one that will never come to an end. Nothing is left out, everything—really everything—is included.

But then something unexpected happens. The Torah’s focus shifts from the heavens and focuses for a few sentences on the Earth and its plants and various animals and then solely on the first human being living on Earth. With the exception of the sun and the moon, there is not a word about any other heavenly body. The millions of stars, other solar systems, galaxies…none of them get a mention. It’s all about this tiny planet Earth, a nebulous puff of star dust lost in the blaze of the Milky Way.

Now everything is focused on two human beings in the primordial Garden of Eden.  They immediately make the mistake of their lives by eating from the tree of knowledge and are banished from paradise. This is followed by the first murder in all human history, Kayin killing Hevel. Then sometime later mankind becomes more wicked and God “regrets” his creation of man. He then brings a flood over the world in which, with the exception of Noach, his family, and an ark of animals, all life is wiped out.

God’s hope that Noach will start a new humanity dedicated to Godliness, dignity, and kindness, is again dashed when Noach becomes drunk and is violated in some un-named way by one of his sons.

But if all of this were not enough, only a little later mankind creates a totalitarian society and attempts to storm the heavens with their “tower whose top will reach heaven”. Their intention was to “depose” God to make for themselves a “glorious name”.

God is devastated. None of His plans for mankind are working out. From sheer desperation, He looks for another human being who will finally help Him rescue His plans for mankind. He turns to Avraham and his wife Sarah.

Avraham is intoxicated with God and is ready to help. God can relax a bit; things seem to be looking up. There is real hope!

And here the narrative takes on a heightened relevance. This and later parashiot in Sefer Bereshit describe the earliest days of the Jews, the Chosen people.

Until now we have read of the grandeur of the universe, the birth memories of the human race. But our focus is now turned to one tiny family. We do not read about the rest of mankind, not about the Babylonians, or later the Greeks, the Romans, the Chinese. Not a word!

How strange!

This is because the Torah is not a history book, but the story of a rescue operation. All God’s hopes appear to be on this unimportant family—a family that will need to somehow set the entirety of mankind on a more stable foundation.

But this turns out be almost a mission impossible! The forces of chaos and corruption are still active, and not even this tiny family is immune. Yishmael and Esav are considered by our Sages to be wicked people. But are they really? The Torah does not depict them as so in the text. They are part of this family. Shouldn’t they be considered Hebrews or Jews? So what is their role? Why are they born into this family? Why not portray them as outsiders?

The answer is that Yishmael and Esav are archetypes of personalities needed in the world. All of mankind must be reflected in this family and nation. Because one cannot rescue the world unless this world lives within you; unless you have both the strengths and the weaknesses of this world within you.

There is a reason that any gentile can become Jewish. That is because one cannot be Jewish without having foreign elements present that shape one’s Jewish personality. These traits are there for a reason. Some of them may be there for us to “tame”; others may be there to strengthen us, or otherwise help us in our mission.

But to be true to our mission, we must retain our identity as a nation, not assimilating into other nations or intermarrying. We must be “a nation alone”, a nation striving for holiness. We can be universal only while being particular.

But even if a Jew abandons his mission, rejecting everything Jewish and turning against his own people, he remains a Jew.

This week’s parsha brings this concept into stark relief. Although Esav sold his birthright to Yaacov, he cannot reconcile himself to this sale. It was a mekach ta’ut—a faulty sale. After all, one cannot sell one’s very being! Esav begs his father Yitzchak: Bless me too. I am still part of your nation.

We should not forget that according to the Divine plan, Yaacov and Esav started life as twins in the same womb. Although their paths later diverge, they each have a part to play in the drama of history. The Torah follows Yaacov’s family, rather than that of Esav. But the two nations will impact one on the other repeatedly, and even when their interaction is painful, it will enrich them both.