This installment of Midrash HaShavua has been dedicated by Leon Hakimian and family in memory of Zerubavel ben Mashiach Z”L, a truly great and beloved man with a genuine love of Torah and mitzvoth.
Special thanks to Mr. Benjy Koren for suggesting that we study this Midrash.
“And [Yaaqov] raised his voice and wept.” Why did he weep? He said, “At the time that Eliezer brought Rebecca, what is written about it? ‘And the servant took ten camels, etc.’ But I did not take a single nose-ring, nor a single bracelet.”
Another explanation: Why did he weep? As he saw that she would not be buried with him. This is [the meaning of] that which is written that she said [to Leah] (Genesis 30:15), “Hence he will lay with you tonight” – it is with you that he will die, it is not with me that he will die.
Another explanation: Why did he weep? As he saw people whispering to one another because he kissed her, “Why is this one coming to introduce a new matter of licentiousness?” As from the time that the world was struck during the generation of the flood, the nations of the world took a stand to forbid themselves sexual immorality.
When Yaaqov arrives in Haran, the first member of his family he encounters is his cousin Rachel, who will eventually become his wife. Upon introducing himself, he kisses her, and then cries loudly. Whereas the affectionate greeting is understandable given the circumstances, the weeping is difficult to comprehend. Why would Yaaqov find himself in tears at this moment?
The Midrash offers three distinct explanations. The first is that Yaaqov recalled the story of the servant of Avraham who met his mother, Rivqa, and presented her with lavish gifts before proposing to her on behalf of his father, Yitzchaq. Yaaqov, by contrast, had no money or assets to offer a prospective bride. His sense of financial inadequacy and lack of preparedness caused him deep sadness.
The second explanation provided by the Midrash is that Yaaqov knew through Divine inspiration that he would marry Rachel but would not be buried with her in the Cave of Machpelah. The thought of their tragic separation in death moved him to tears.
The third answer the Midrash supplies is that Yaaqov was criticized and demeaned by the citizens of Haran for having kissed his cousin in public, something they regarded as indecent and immoral. He wept because he was ashamed of having been accused of such an indiscretion.
On the surface, the words of our Sages here seem to take us far afield of the actual context of the narrative we are reading. Yaaqov has been cast out of the home in which he was born and raised, uncertainties abound, and he is struggling with all sorts of fears and anxieties about his future. Finding a family member, even one whom he has never before met, must have granted him some respite and comfort from his stress, even if only temporarily. Naturally, then, we would have interpreted his tears as tears of joy and relief, not of sadness. Why didn’t the Rabbis perceive the crying of Yaaqov more simply as an expression of basic human emotion at a dramatic moment in his life, rather than seeking to tie it to more profound considerations about the past, present or future that were troubling him?
Upon further reflection, we can appreciate how our Sages utilize Midrashic exegesis to correct, refine, and deepen our whole approach to the Biblical text. Although the great men and women of the Tanakh were human beings with complex social and emotional lives just like us, the focus of the Torah is not on their personal struggles or feelings but on their Divinely mandated mission to sanctify God’s name in the world. From the perspective of our Rabbis, it is impossible to assume that Scripture would describe the emotional reaction of a prophet of Hashem unless it was rooted in an idea or insight that he or she possessed and from which we, ourselves, can gain understanding.
Thus, the fact that Yaaqov wept when he kissed Rachel is not just an element of melodrama introduced by the text; on the contrary, the Torah is exceedingly sparse when it comes to material details both physical and psychological, and would not mention such an occurrence without an educational purpose in mind. In other words, there must be a profound lesson communicated to us through the tears of Yaaqov. The three interpretations in the Midrash represent three different reasons the Sages believed that Yaaqov may have cried, not as an ordinary person experiencing a rush of emotion, but as a servant of Hashem dedicated to the sacred mission of his grandfather Avraham.
The first explanation of the Midrash focuses on the poverty of Yaaqov when he arrived in Haran. It would be easy to see his lack of means as a logistical problem that will make it difficult for him to fulfill the command of his parents to find a wife and start a family. However, the significance of his financial position runs much deeper than this. The wealth of Avraham was a manifestation of the Divine Providence that sustained and governed every aspect of his life. Lack of money or assets, on the other hand, would seem to indicate distance from God and estrangement from His ultimate plan.
Indeed, upon his departure from his parents’ home, Yaaqov was concerned that he might be the “rejected son” like Yishmael had been in the generation before him. The prophetic dream of the ladder of angels was intended to reassure Yaaqov that his escape to Haran was not an “exit” from the stage of Jewish history but a lengthy detour that would, in time, lead him back to the Holy Land. Nevertheless, meeting Rachel, his likely bride, while he was still empty-handed, highlighted for Yaaqov the stark contrast between his situation and the circumstances of his father, Yitzchaq.
When Yitzchaq met Rivqa for the first time, he was already well-established as the heir of Avraham Avinu, prepared to carry on the mission of creating a family, and eventually a nation, dedicated to God’s name. Yaaqov, on the other hand, had no money, no status, and had been cast out of the Patriarchal abode. While the future promised to him was bright, his current plight overshadowed it. He had not yet achieved the level in his personal development that would make him worthy of the blessings that were showered upon Avraham and subsequently passed to Yitzchaq. Unlike his father, Yaaqov would have many more trials, tribulations, and challenges to overcome before he could hold a proverbial candle to the first two Patriarchs. His marriage to Rachel, then, would be bittersweet, only the opening chapter of a story in which many struggles lay ahead. Hence we have a kiss, coupled with tears.
The second explanation of the Midrash centers not on Yaaqov, but on Rachel. Specifically, it points to the fact that of all the Patriarchs and Matriarchs, Rachel is the only one who was not buried in the Cave of Machpelah. As the Midrash suggests, this was not just an accident of history but a direct result of Rachel’s own poor choices. Despite being barren and yearning to bear children, she traded a night of intimacy with Yaaqov for some of her sister’s beautiful flowers. One would have expected that Rachel would cherish her relationship with Yaaqov as well as the hope that she would one day finally become a mother (Leah, instead, conceives a child on the night that supposed to have been Rachel’s.) Her willingness to “sell” her private time with her husband suggests that she did not attach as much value to her bond with him as she should have.
However, this is not the only context in which Rachel is found somewhat wanting. Depressed and frustrated with her inability to have children, rather than praying to God, she complains to Yaaqov “give me a child, and if not, I will die,” which some commentaries interpret as a veiled threat of suicide. When she is finally granted a son, she exclaims that “God has put an end to my shame,” and names her child Yosef, meaning “give me another child.” One gets the impression that she was more preoccupied with her own personal feelings of inadequacy and failure than on the importance of adding children to the growing family that would become the Nation of Israel.
Finally, when leaving Lavan’s home, Rachel steals his terafim, which are either idols or items used in the framework of superstitious or occult ritual. Although many commentators offer generous defenses of this behavior that cast it in a positive or altruistic light, the straightforward meaning of the text is that Rachel was deeply attached to her father and not as sincere in her decision to escape undetected with Yaaqov. She may even have suspected, or hoped, that her father would chase after them, allowing her to see him one last time before they parted. Whatever the case may be, it stands to reason, from the actions of both Lavan and Rachel, that they had a particularly close father-daughter bond, and that Rachel may have had a greater affinity for him than she let on. There is undoubtedly a veiled critique of Rachel woven into this narrative.
It now becomes clear why the two most important tribes of Israel – Yehuda, from which King David and the monarchy emerged, and Levi, the Temple officiants and religious teachers of the entire nation – descended not from Rachel, but from Leah. It was from Leah – who was ultimately buried in the Cave of Machpelah and who is portrayed as consistently devoted to Hashem and to her husband Yaaqov – that the political and religious future of the Jewish people was destined to spring forth.
The Rabbis perceive this mild disappointment in Rachel, as it were, in Yaaqov’s tears. Unlike the marriage between his mother and father, or his grandparents, his first love connection would not be a perfect match. Rachel, although a righteous and holy person, was not another Rivqa. The affection and chemistry between the two would be diminished by the spiritual disconnect between them, and it would be Leah, the wife for whom Yaaqov had less romantic passion, who would turn out to be the ideal partner. Perhaps even in the first few moments, Yaaqov sensed that the Almighty had not granted him a spouse of the same caliber as his distinguished predecessors. Naturally, he would have seen this frustrating fact as another indication that he lacked merit, that he did not “measure up” insofar as his relationship to the Creator was concerned. Faced with the results of his own spiritual inadequacy, Yaaqov cried.
The third and final explanation offered by the Midrash is that citizens of Haran perceived Yaaqov’s kissing Rachel as inappropriate, so they gossiped about him and denigrated him. Why would this be so devastating to Yaaqov as to bring him to the point of tears? Shouldn’t we ignore the rumors and insults of others, rather than taking them personally?
With this answer, the Rabbis draw our attention to another element of the narrative of Yaaqov in which he “falls short” of the example of the Patriarchs before him. Avraham and Yitschaq were larger than life figures, admired and revered by laypersons and kings alike. Everyone who had the opportunity to interact with Avraham and Yitzchaq perceived their uniqueness and greatness and gained an appreciation for their sacred mission in the world. They were seen as “outsiders”, but in a positive sense, as individuals who were wholly and selflessly dedicated to a transcendent purpose that distinguished them from the common folk. Indeed, their nobility of character and sincere devotion even inspired others to follow in their footsteps.
Yaaqov Avinu was different. He never succeeded in earning respect or accolades from those around him like his father and grandfather had. He was seen as an outsider, but in a negative sense, as an unwelcome invader, competitor, and usurper from the beginning. Therefore, rather than being placed on a pedestal, acknowledged or emulated, Yaaqov was consistently mistreated, manipulated, and resented by those among whom he lived. Neither Lavan, his family, nor the inhabitants of Haran ever seem to have viewed Yaaqov as a holy person who could be a source of knowledge, insight or guidance to them. In other words, as long as Yaaqov was in Haran, a place where his intellectual and spiritual attainments were not valued, he was not able to fulfill the quintessential Patriarchal task of sanctifying God’s name in the world.
The Midrash communicates this by telling us that from their very first interaction with him, the people of Haran already had reason to criticize and denigrate Yaaqov as an unschooled foreigner whose habits of thought and behavior were beneath them. This sentiment is echoed by Lavan after he fools Yaaqov into marrying Leah, but nevertheless scolds his son-in-law for disregarding the time honored customs of his new neighborhood, “such a thing not done in our place – to give away the younger girl before the older one!”
In summary, with their brilliant Midrashic interpretations, our Sages identify the stark contrasts that differentiate Yaaqov and Rachel from prior Patriarchs and Matriarchs. Yaaqov was not (at least not yet) an Avraham or a Yitzchaq, and Rachel would never attain the level of greatness of a Sarah or a Rivqa. Through directing our attention to the tears of Yaaqov at what should have been a joyful occasion, the Rabbis point out that, on a deeper level, there was just as much for him to lament at that moment as there was for him to celebrate.
From the minute he arrived in Haran and laid eyes upon Rachel, Yaaqov knew that a tremendous amount of difficult intellectual, spiritual and moral work remained to be done before he would become heir to the legacy of his father and grandfather. And this daunting reality was, indeed, something worth reflecting upon and crying over, so that, one day, it could finally be overcome.
Recent Comments