This weeks parsha post is dedicated to our sweet girl, who turned seven earlier this week. We are so proud of the polite, kind, smart, vivacious, funny, and beautiful girl she’s turned into. And wow — those seven years went by f-a-s-t. Suddenly, Jacob’s line makes a little more sense to me, 29:20 So Jacob served seven years for Rachel, and they seemed to him but a few days because of his love for her. Motherhood — especially these early years — is a kind of serving too. And somehow, the years feel like days.
Chapter 32:4 – 32:33 | And He Sent
Jacob is preparing to meet his brother Esau for the first time in over twenty years. And he’s terrified. Last he left his brother, Esau’s rage was white hot. Jacob sends messengers ahead, splits his camp in two, so that if one is attacked the other might survive. Jacob also sends generous gifts of animals to soften Esau. Jacob plans, braces for disaster, and finally cries out to God, begging him for protection. “This is the Torah providing another example of the most devout individuals — even those who had direct contact with God – experiencing doubts.” — Dennis Prager. I have to admit, I’m not a huge fan of Jacob, but even I can admire how human and flawed to Torah presents him, in a very strange and endearing way. Whereas it almost seems like Isaac and Abraham were presented with very few flaws, Jacob’s humanity is right there on the surface: anxious, calculating, longing, and a tad hopeful.
After sending his wife, children, and all his belongings across the Jabbok river – the modern-day Zarqa in Jordan – Jacob stays behind, alone. And in that darkness, on the eve of the big reunion with Esau, something mysterious happens. A divine being appears and wrestles with Jacob all night long. Jacobs hip socket gets wrenched at the thigh muscle – leaving him with a lifelong limb – yet Jacob prevails. As morning approaches, the divine being blesses Jacob with a new name, 32:29 Said he, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human, and have prevailed.” In Hebrew, Israel means struggle with God.
It’s very reassuring that we, as a Jewish people, hold such a profound name: struggle with God. It’s almost as if our Heavenly Father encourages it, welcomes the struggle, because at the end of the day, who hasn’t struggled with their earthly parents, so why would it be any different with our Heavenly Father? As a mother to four, I feel this so intimately, the way that love and struggle aren’t necessarily opposites, but companions. Often going together.
Chapter 33 | Burying the Hatchet
I really enjoy this chapter, the moment where Jacob and Esau finally reunite after more than twenty years. Jacob prepares for the worst, he splits his family: first the maids and their children, then Leah and her children, and finally Rachel with Joseph. A not-so-subtle hierarchy of favoritism is on display — yikes, right? It’s such a human moment, as it’s a little strategic, a little flawed, and entirely understandable.
Jacob’s prayer was answered, because all seemed to go beautifully, 33:4 Esau ran to greet him. He embraced him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him; and they wept. Tension and fear brewing for twenty years, dissolved in one hug. Isn’t that beautiful? It makes me think of my own two brothers — how sometimes the only way to put aside a disagreement or a few harsh words is exactly what Jacob and Esau model here: the running, the tight embrace, the kiss, the weeping… and, in our case, a roundtrip flight.
Esau honorably turns down Jacobs gifts, as he himself has enough earthly possessions. Jacob insists, and Esau finally accepts. In another gracious gesture, Esau offers to travel their journey at a slow, comfortable pace with Jacob, as Jacob is saddled with many young children and young flocks, but Jacob encourages Esau to go on first.
Interestingly, Jacob never seems to have intended to settle in Seir, where Esau lived. Instead, after the reunion, he journeys on to Succoth, where he establishes a place for his growing family to dwell. This chapter is a reminder of how reconciliation can surprise us — the fears we carry sometimes never come to pass, and the people we expect to resist us may instead show generosity, warmth, and forgiveness.
Esau as a Character: Do We Have it All Wrong?
Something I find a bit frustrating about the Midrash, and what they teach my children in Hebrew school (I learned this too, as a young girl) is that Esau is constantly portrayed as a villain. My five year old was playing with Jacob and Esau puppets he made at school, and he’s telling our one and three year olds that Esau is mean, a bad guy, and shouts in a mock Esau voice, “GIVE ME THAT RED STUFF, SHOVE IT DOWN MY THROAT!” And… I just don’t agree with it. And refreshingly, neither does Dennis Prager.
Everything we’ve read about Esau in the Torah, the actual Torah text, portrays Esau as respectful and perfectly decent. He clearly loves and honors his father, and his father clearly loves and favors Esau. Esau liked to hunt, and be outdoors, he wasn’t interested in the birthright. God himself told this to Rebecca (the older shall serve the younger), so why is he portrayed evil because of this? I don’t agree with it. And this chapter, 33 proves it. It would’ve been so easy for him to harbor bitterness towards his brother for 20 years, right? Don’t these types of resentments just stew the longer they go on? But no! He wept into his brother, wanted to be introduced to his children (33:5), and gently refused gifts (33:9). AND, let’s not forget! Esau tries to obey his parents and even marries differently when he sees they’re upset (28:8–9). I’m begging someone, anyone, to explain to me why Esau is constantly portrayed as a villain? As a mom to four children, it’s plain as day where each child has their strengths and weaknesses. OK, so it’s clear Esau’s strength wasn’t continuing on in Isaac’s footsteps. Fine. But does that warrant him a bad person? Isaac didn’t think so. And you know my answer. What’s yours?
Chapter 34 | The Rape of Dinah
This chapter is uncomfortable: it tells the story of Dinah, the only woman in this portion of the Torah to have her story told in such detail. Dinah goes out to befriend the daughters of the land — seems like a reasonable thing for a girl with eleven brothers to do — and Shechem, the son of Hamor the Hivite, chief of the area, sees her, takes her, and rapes her.
Afterwards, Shechem decides he wants to marry Dinah and asks his father to negotiate a bride price. Jacob and his sons now become aware of the full situation. Hamor makes what seems like a generous offer (leaving aside the fact that his son just committed a heinous act), suggesting that the families intermarry: Dinah for Shechem, and Hamor’s daughters for Jacob’s sons. He even promises, 34:10 You will dwell among us, and the land will be open before you; settle, move about, and acquire holdings in it.”
Jacob’s sons respond that they cannot give their sister to a man who is uncircumcised, calling it a disgrace. They propose a condition: if all the men of the city become circumcised, then the marriage could happen. Somehow, Hamor and Shechem convince the townspeople to comply, and the men are circumcised.
On the third day, while the men are in pain, Simeon and Levi draw their swords, kill all the males, and rescue Dinah. They continue taking vengeance to protect her honor, and the other brothers join in, seizing wealth, livestock, children, and women. Jacob is furious — though he directs his anger primarily at Simeon and Levi, worrying about the family’s reputation among the surrounding nations.
I find it interesting that this is the only story about a woman in the five Books of Moses, and it isn’t a particularly pleasant one. Though it opens the conversation for diplomatic and social dynamics of two nations living together in one land. And it also raises another challenging question: what does justice look like after a wrong? Especially one of a sexual nature?
Sidebar: when my father-in-law heard about my Bible Project, he handed me an article he had saved from April 1992, written by Leon Kass on The Rape of Dinah. Magically, decades later, that article became meaningful to his favorite daughter-in-law — nearly the same age as the piece itself. Thank you, Granddad.
Chapter 35 | Back to Bethel
God tells Jacob to return to Bethel and build an alter there. Jacob obeys. It’s probably for the best, anyway, for them to get of Shechem. Jacob wants to show God gratitude for all that he has done for him these tumultuous years.
It’s worth remembering that Jacob has been to Bethel before. Back in Genesis 28, as a young man fleeing from Esau after taking the birthright and blessing, Jacob stopped for the night and had the famous dream of the ladder reaching to heaven, with angels ascending and descending. God appeared to him there, reaffirming the covenant made to Abraham and Isaac, promising him land, descendants, and blessing. He marked the place as sacred, setting up a stone pillar and vowing to honor God. Returning to Bethel now, decades later, Jacob is coming full circle — no longer a young man on the run, but a mature patriarch.
Along the way, an interesting detail is mentioned, 35:8 Deborah, Rebekah’s nurse, died, and was buried under the oak below Bethel; so it was named Allon-bacuth. I think it’s so striking that the Torah doesn’t mark when Rebecca nor Leah die, but instead, mention Rebecca’s nurse, the unnamed on she took from her childhood home when she went to marry Isaac.
At Bethel, God Himself renames Jacob, he is now Israel. As Israel and his family are leaving Bethel, Rachel goes into labor, and it’s a tough one. She dies giving birth to her second son. She names him Ben-oni (son of mourning), though Jacob renames him Benjamin (son of the Right Hand). Rachel is the only matriarch who is not buried in the cave Abraham purchased.
Meanwhile, after Israel settles in Migdal-eder, Reuben sleeps with Bilhah, Rachel’s maid. Many commentators suggest he may have done this to dishonor Bilhah and, by extension, to assert his position in the family — perhaps trying to protect his mother Leah from being “upstaged” by Rachel (through her maid). Jacob learns of the incident, but he does not confront Reuben until many years later, when he gives his deathbed blessings.
Sadly, Isaac dies at the age of 180, and both of his sons — Jacob and Esau — come together to bury him, echoing the way Ishmael and Isaac had buried Abraham years before. The chapter closes on a note of transition, reminding us that even amid loss, the family and the covenant move forward.
Chapter 36 | The Lineage of Esau
Genesis 36 is devoted almost entirely to the descendants of Esau. After the uplifting reunion with Jacob, the Torah zooms out and gives us a long view of Esau’s legacy – his wives, his sons, the clans that arise from them, and the leaders of the nation that eventually becomes Edom. We learn that Esau settles in the hill country of Seir, separating from Jacob because their combined wealth and livestock were too large for one region to sustain. Descendants are listed in detail, forming the family lines of Edom, which neighbor Israel geographically. It’s clear that Esau’s line becomes powerful and well-established long before Israel has kings and chieftains of its own.
Takeaways for the Week
- Struggle and love aren’t opposites – they walk hand-in-hand everyday.
- Even decades of resentment can dissolve with an embrace and little bit of grace.
- The way we tell stories (or read the Torah) matters — heroes and villains are often in the eye of the beholder.