Jacob my anti war hero Vayishlach Rabbi Aaron Goldstein 13 December 2008

“Our Sages regarded the Patriarchs (and Matriarchs) as models to be emulated by their descendants and their experiences as the archetype of what would befall their children. These two ideas were expressed in the phrase: Ma’asei avot, siman l’banim - The deed of the ancestors is a sign for the children.

Because of this expression, our Patriarchs and Matriarchs are depicted throughout the ages as being almost without fault. Equally, the enemies of our ancient ancestors become tarnished throughout time by being associated to those of evil. This is most evident with the characters of Jacob and his brother Esau. Jacob, who in this parasha is renamed, Israel, gives us our good name; the traditional interpretations of his life excuse him most of his plainly evident faults. Esau on the other hand, is the ancestor of Amalek and Haman and Esau’s nickname, Edom, is used to refer to Rome and in times of oppression applied to those who have sought to destroy our People.

It is left to minority midrashim, Rabbinic interpretations of the Torah, to suggest that Jacob was really the ‘heel’ or ‘crooked one’ that his name, Ya’akov suggests; and that Esau was actually a good guy who cared for his father when frail and elderly. This minority point of view appeals to our modern sensibilities and I come round year after year, feeling sympathy for Esau. I still do - but today, I can identify with Jacob.

Having sent messengers to his brother, he heard their report: “We went to your brother, Esau and he too is marching to meet you – with 400 men.” What was going through his mind when he heard this news?

A few weeks ago on our way back from Norfolk, we visited the Imperial War Museum, Duxford. It was a phenomenal experience that warranted the high entry fee. They had spent their money well and the exhibitions were remarkable in many different ways.

The exhibition in the main hangar showcased the ingenuity of humanity and the application of science and engineering that our ancient ancestors would not have even thought of. Interactive educational displays showed the principles and mechanisms behind flight. Young and old alike were lingering over the pulleys and levers, the buttons and pedals as they were gifted a momentary sensation of creating the miracle of human flight. We walked through a Concorde plane, ogled at aircraft of all shapes and sizes. The old kids i.e. adults, were awestruck as they thought of the fragility and exhaustion of long-haul flights without automatic pilot.

Slowly the mood changed as we walked from hangar to hangar, ending at the US air museum. The hangar is a work of imaginative architecture with a huge window filling one end that on this day, framed a picture of the elements, rain, wind and darkness flowed across the airbase perhaps prompting my mood change.

Nature showed its rage outside, as inside, example after example of the destructive ability of humanity was displayed. A sci-fi vision of a stealth fighter, conceived way back in the 1950’s that could fly at the edges of our atmosphere but on each and every mission burnt away another layer of it.

The B52 bomber of the type that dropped the A-bombs on Hiroshima and Nagasaki. One plane, one bomb over 110,000 people immediately killed and the lives of so many more ruined.

A comparison of humanity. 3 survivors from the crews of the Lancaster bombers beside a demonstration of what they looked like in air force dress and the routines they might have gone through to prepare for a mission. The gentleman who we spoke with had survived 32 missions as a rear gunner. It had been his dream to fly and this job was the only way that he could achieve that in the RAF. But he admitted that on every mission, he shook like a jelly and cried for his Mum. In stark comparison, the American planes that were decorated with scantily clad women and records of the number of bombs dropped or of fighters downed. Slowly but surely, a mood of dread filled me. The dread of war.

In a midrash, Jacob is identified as taking three protective measures in preparation for his encounter with Esau. The first was prayer, the second sending a gift or in our parlance, diplomacy, and finally, gearing up for possible warfare by dividing up his camp. (Tanhuma Buber, Vayeshev 6)

Jacob did what he could to avoid war with his brother. Was it purely self-interest? Why, Jacob had shown himself to be capable of deception and theft from his brother already. But this was not Jacob, this the one who was renamed Israel, the one that struggled with human and divine beings and God, and prevailed. Not by might, not by power, but by the spirit he showed. He had changed.

I was changed. When I now think of Zimbabwe and Congo, Afghanistan and Iraq, and the lessons of history, I am changed. War does not work. Arms may protect. They did for our recent ancestors in some way and Jacob made preparations for defence if needed but in most situations, it offers no long-term answers. I do not have an answer to what one does when humanity needs to be protected. I have no solution to the plight of the peoples of Africa whose own governments or fellow countrymen inflict horrendous and continuous persecution. I am bemused by humanity that can hate so much that it would want to kill another. I am shocked by the misuse of our human ingenuity to create weapons rather than medicines. I know not the answers, but I do pray for the power of hope and in the belief that humanity can change. I pray for the power of diplomacy and speech, the method in which our tradition understands that God created the world. I pray that I never experience war and I pray for a humanity that sees sense in the future. As we look towards Chanukah, the words of the prophet Zechariah that have become a Chanukah anthem ring out: Not by might, not by power, but by spirit, says the Eternal One of hosts.