The Blessing
Friday November 25, 2022
Congregation B’nai B’rith, Santa Barbara CA
In the Torah this week we come to perhaps the most famous story of deception in all of world literature.
Isaac has grown old and become blind. He calls to his firstborn son Esau, whom he loves, and says to him: “I am old and do not know when I may die. Take your bow and your quiver and go out to the field and hunt me some game. Then cook it for me; you know the way I love it. Bring it to me, and I will eat it, so that my soul will bless you before I die.”
Esau goes off, and their mother Rebecca speaks to Esau’s twin brother Jacob, the one she loves, saying: “I heard your father tell your brother “hunt and cook and I will eat, so that my soul will bless you before I die.” The mother continues: “Now, my son, listen to me. Go to our flocks, bring me two baby goats, and I will cook them the way your father loves. Then you will bring it to your father, and he will eat and bless you before he dies.” Jacob hears his mother’s plan and he objects: “But my brother is hairy and I am smooth skinned. He might touch me, and think that I am trying to deceive him. I would bring a curse upon myself, instead of a blessing!” His mother responds, “your curse be upon me my son. Listen to me; go and do as I say.”
Then a silent drama unfolds. Jacob brings the goats, and Rebecca cooks them. In silence, she takes Esau’s clothes and puts them on Jacob. In silence she takes the skins of the goats and places them on Jacobs arms and on the back of his neck. In silence she places the steaming, fragrant meal that she has cooked in Jacob’s hands, and he goes into his father.
In the ensuing dialogue, we behold the mysterious duality of old age. On the one hand, the blind father is limited, frail and vulnerable; his ability to see and to make sense of the world around him is severely diminished. On the other hand, the blessing, which only he can give, is the focus of the story; the father’s blessing is the desperately sought-after prize.
What is that blessing? Why is it so important…to Isaac himself, to Rebecca and to both Esau and Jacob? And what about us? As children, do we still seek our parent’s blessing? And as parents, do we know how to bless our children?
Jamie and Kevin came to Temple tonight to give Ada her Hebrew name. And we blessed her, with the blessing with which Jewish parents have blessed their children on Friday night, for the two thousand years. What was that? Did it work? Was it the same sort of blessing that Isaac almost four thousand years ago sought to give to his son, before he died?
These questions have stirred in me throughout my adult life. I still remember the first time I thought seriously about blessing. I was 23 years old, a second year rabbinic student in Los Angeles, and a guest came to speak to our class. Susannah Heschel, the daughter of the great 20th century Jewish rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, and a brilliant scholar in her right. I do not remember much of what Susannah Heschel said to us that day, except for one thing. She looked at us….it felt like she was looking directly at each of us….and asked “once you are a rabbi, if a congregant comes to you and asks you for a blessing, will you know what to do?” I remember thinking to myself: “no!”
There are many moments in a rabbi’s life when she or he is expected to give a blessing. A Bat or Bar Mitzvah. A wedding. A bris or baby naming. These are not trivial moments, and the rabbi better know what they are doing. But it’s not just rabbis. In traditional Jewish life, a parent blesses their child every Friday night. For me, that has been much harder. When our kids Rachel and Ari were little, I would try to put my hands on their heads and bless them and they would squirm and wriggle away. Finally when they were in their mid-20’s our children gave us the gift of allowing us to bless them on Friday nights, which lasted for a while.
What happens when we bless? And how do we get it right?
The story of Isaac and his sons is all about the challenge of giving a blessing, and the possibility that it might go wrong. Beginning with the food. It is striking that Isaac does not simply call to Esau and say “Esau, my son, come here and let me bless you.” If he had said that, and blessed him, the entire story would have ended right there, with no deception, no family crisis….and no Jewish future. But Isaac asks Esau to feed him, to feed him the delicacies that Esau cooks so expertly…”baavur t’varechecha nafshi…feed me so that my soul will bless you before I die.” Isaac knows, apparently, that this important blessing will arise out of Isaac’s own visceral, sensory experience. When his son feeds him, in that moment a connection is established, as when a mother nurses her child.
Isaac has learned that as they both get older, a child can feed the parent. In Isaac’s understanding, a deep and true blessing will flow forth from his own soul to his child, when he feels his son feeding him. A flow of love and gratitude. In his initial request to Esau, Isaac is setting up a kind of eating meditation, in which the eating will bring him into a special “blessing” state of mind.
How do we enter a “blessing” state of mind? Isaac understood that, one way or another, blessing requires a deep, visceral connection of love between two people. If we want to give a blessing…a real blessing….A parent, a grandparent, or a rabbi must love first and then bless.
When the 16th century Italian rabbi Ovadiah Seforno read this story, he did not focus on the feeding but on the even more intimate moment of the story, when Isaac says to his son “come close and kiss me.” When Jacob kisses his father, the text says “Isaac smelled the fragrance of his garments and he said ‘ah the fragrance of my son is like the fragrance of a field that the Lord has blessed.’”
Of course, the kiss and the long deep inhalation, are about closeness and intimacy. But Rabbi Seforno says that this is like another Biblical story, in which the prophet Elisha said to his assistant: “Bring me a musician.” And then “and when the musician played, then the Hand of God came upon him.” Elisha used music to go into a trance. Seforno is suggesting that in the moment that Isaac blesses his son, he also went into an elevated, spiritual state of consciousness. For Elisha, hearing music altered his consciousness. For Isaac, it was the smell of a field. Isaac smelled his son’s garments, and then his blessing poured forth.
A 19th century sage in Russia known as the NeTZIV, in his commentary on our story, is even more explicit in drawing the connection between love and blessing. nidrash livracha l’orer ahava l’mitbarech. The NETZIV comments: In order to bless, it is necessary to awaken love for the one being blessed. This is why Isaac said “come close, and kiss me.” And the NETZIV adds: This is why Isaac said You are my son Esau….. Because mentioning the name serves to awaken love.
Translating all of this into our lives, into my own experience, these sages are guiding us in how we might give a blessing to our children, and maybe not have them squirm and wriggle. Before blessing our children on Friday night, we might ask them “come close and kiss me.” And take a deep breath…smelling the odor of their breath and skin, remembering all the times we have kissed them in our lives. And then we might speak their names, since speaking a person’s name can awaken our love for them. And then offer words of blessing. Love first, then bless.
Marian and I have been blessed this week with the miracle of a grandchild, a granddaughter, born to our daughter Rachel. Rachel and her husband Zach will decide whether and how to bless their daughter every week on Friday night, after lighting candles. But I hope that there may be opportunities for me, the grandfather, to ask her to come close and to kiss me, and for me to speak her name and to offer her the blessing of my soul, before I die. Ken yehi ratzon. May this be God’s will. Shabbat Shalom!