Hands

IN this week’s Torah portion we part from the entire book of Genesis.

We part from the intimate and intricate lives of our Patriarchs and Matriarchs. Specifically, in this portion, which is named for life but opens and closes with a death, we part from two beloved patriarchs, Jacob — officially our third patriarch — and from his son Joseph.

But before we depart from them, there are leavetakings. Before Jacob gathers all of his children around his deathbed to bless them, to inspire them, to guide them, he blesses his two grandsons, Menashe and Ephraim.

It is a scene replete with the emotional attachment, love and affection of a grandfather holding his beloved grandchildren in a kiss and an embrace.

I imagine this must have been a complicated moment for Jacob. Possibly a moment fraught with conflict, as he recalls the bitter cry of pain of his brother.

The last time Jacob was in this situation, it was he who was in the position of receiving the blessing, he who was the son wanting a benediction from his father Isaac, as his father’s life was coming to a close.

As it turned out, that moment of blessing became a painful turning point. As a consequence of that blessing, Jacob was literally on the run for his life.

After Jacob had taken a step closer to his father Isaac, whereupon  Isaac touched Jacob’s “hairy” hands,  Isaac said: The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau.

This famously keen observation of Isaac became legend. It was the more intangible, spiritual, ethereal of the two senses — voice and hand — it was the voice, the kol, that became the symbol of the Jewish people, the descendants of Jacob. The more physical symbol, the hand, the yad, came to represent the physical rule of the descendants of Esau.

And yet.

The hands of Jacob were the accessory used to mislead his own father in order to receive his blessing; Jacob’s hands were used to alienate his brother Esau forever. Something was not whole about Jacob and his hands. They were his G-d given hands, yet he misrepresented them to be Esau’s.

Jacob’s life ends on a note with Jacob’s hands at the center. Jacob is blessing his descendants. With each blessing, he places his hands on the head one of his grandchildren. It is a touching vision. A zayde departing from his descendants in physical proximity, an expression of closeness and love.

I wonder what Jacob was thinking as he lovingly placed his hands on the boys’ heads. Whatever it was, this time, in sealing the book of Genesis, Jacob’s hands represent the act of blessing.

The hand that deceived is now the hand that blesses.

After all those years, there is a certain measure of wholeness about Jacob, a symmetry of blessing that is achieved by now harmonizing his voice with his hands.

Once his hands are placed upon his two grandchildren, Menashe and Ephraim, Jacob crosses his hands, switching his right hand from Menashe on his right, the eldest of the two brothers, to Ephraim, the younger, and vice versa.

Just as Jacob the younger brother ultimately inherited the primary blessing, namely Abraham’s blessing from his father Isaac, now Jacob switches his hands to convey the primary blessing and symbol of being the eldest to the younger brother, Ephraim, instead of to Menashe.

Menashe now joins the ranks of other eldest sons in Genesis, such as Cain, Ishmael, Esau and Reuben, who for varying reasons are passed over as the eldest. Jacob is sticking with the pattern.

But there is no reaction from Menashe. He is silent.

THIS time, the pattern is broken. Unlike all the previous painful narratives of eldests being passed over, this one does not become a story of sibling rivalry or estrangement. This time, with Jacob’s hands, Jacob succeeds in blessing the two boys without the blessing being fraught with pain.

We never go on to hear any further stories, separations or adventures of these two boys, these two brothers, Ephraim and Menashe.

The greatness of this blessing, of this pair of brothers, is the silence, the non-story — their brotherhood — that follows.

Granted, they are grandchildren, not the generation of the children. Still there is no hurt or reaction by Menashe or Ephraim as Jacob switched his hands.

For the first time in generations, something has changed. A shift has begun taking root. Through these two grandchildren of Jacob, a measure of family peace and brotherhood is fostered and its blessing begins to be transmitted to the next generation.

IN no small way, Joseph is connected to this —  Joseph, who suffered terribly at the hands of his brothers. Their conflict was at the heart of what almost ripped apart this nucleus of the future Jewish people.

Although Joseph and his brothers ultimately reconciled, in this week’s Torah portion we see the brothers’ anxiety after their father Jacob died. Once Jacob passes, the brothers assume that Joseph will take his revenge.

Joseph is incensed by this assertion, and assures his brothers that   they could not be further from the truth. Joseph says: “Am I instead of G-d?”

Meaning that he, Joseph, has left the appropriate action or repair of the pain and suffering his brothers inflicted upon him up to G-d. But as far as he is concerned, in the realm of this world, the conflict is over.

Even more, Joseph recognizes and experiences his brothers’ actions against him as the hand of G-d.

Ultimately, this teaching of not pursuing or perpetuating sibling rivalry or conflict is what Joseph bequeaths to his sons. Although the book of Genesis chronicles the pains of sibling rivalry and friction, it ends on the note of reconciliation.

Now Jacob’s hands — his hands that conclude the story of Genesis — are hands not of taking away, but  of giving, of making contact positively, of transmitting blessing from generation to generation; from grandfather to father to grandchild, on through the generations.

EACH week as we usher in Shabbat, parents place their hands on their children’s heads and whisper Jacob’s words of blessing to his grandchildren Ephraim and Menashe: “May G-d make you like Ephraim and Menashe . . . ”

And in Jewish homes the world over, every night when Jewish parents tuck in their children in to bed, they sing the second half of Jacob’s blessing to Ephraim and Menashe, the lullaby, “ . . . hamalach ha-goel . . . the angel who redeems . . . ”

Shabbat Shalom.

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