One of the oldest Jewish jokes tells the story of a mother, who is invited to the White House to help celebrate the election of her son, the first Jewish president.
Mrs. Goldstein is asked by the media to talk about how proud she is of her son’s accomplishment, but she diverts.
“Yes, I’m very happy that my son has been elected president, but I’d like you to meet my other son.
“You know, he’s a doctor.”
It’s a classic Jewish-mother joke, but it also speaks volumes about how, within Jewish culture, we tend to rate the value and prestige of various jobs. Doctor, lawyer, business owner? Thumbs up.
Carpenter, cab driver, artist, actor, athlete or comedian? Not so much. The decision to engage in a nontraditional “Jewish job” is still often greeted with the classic parental response, “Well, if it makes you happy.”
Which brings us to this week’s Torah portion, and how Jewish tradition layers the value and importance of the work we, our family and our neighbors perform.
Parashat Toldot (“This is the story of Isaac”), begins with Judaism’s second couple—Rebekah and Isaac—welcoming twin sons, Essav and Jacob. Essav comes out covered in a mantle of red hair. And then Jacob arrives, holding on to Essav’s heel. The name Jacob originates from, “He held on to his heel.”
Immediately, the Torah differentiates between the two: It refers to a struggle in the womb: “Two nations…two separate peoples shall issue from Rebekah’s body.” The two could not be more different, says the Torah: “When the boys grew up, Essav became a skillful hunter, a man of the outdoors; but Jacob became a mild man who stayed in camp.” (Genesis 28:27)
And then the trouble begins. Isaac favors Essav because Isaac has a taste for meat. Essav goes out in the woods each day and hunts. I picture him performing the messy work of chasing, capturing, cleaning and preparing his prey.
Meanwhile, tradition depicts Jacob as a stay at home son—studying Talmud (before there was a Talmud), never straying far from Rebekah. And yes, in the words of the classic Smothers Brothers routine, “Mom always liked him best.”
But there is an inherent problem here. Indeed, while Jewish society—any society—values its thinkers, intellectuals, creators and formal learners, where would we be without laborers, hunters, tradespersons and those who perform the work that helps make our lives seamless?
I remember a story my cousin, an Orthodox rabbi, once shared with me about his attempt to have the head of his son’s Hebrew school approve the formation of a baseball team. The principal refused saying this is not something that Jewish boys should focus on.
It is my cousin’s dream to one day open a yeshiva where not only will students study Torah, but also learn how to fix a leaky pipe around the house—and perhaps most of all—how to become better husbands and fathers.
If I had a million dollars, I would support him in that. I recall a story my father once told me about him and his friends on the street playing “schmata ball.” (In the days when boys in his neighborhood couldn’t afford a football, they would tie rags together and bind them with elastics.)
My great and learned grandfather, my namesake, yanked him off the street to study Torah.
It is perhaps one reason why—as my brother and I were growing up—Dad bought football season tickets and wrote a note to my English teacher one weekday in April 1969, allowing me to skip class and attend the original home opener of the Montreal Expos.
Here’s the point: While this week’s Torah portion refers to two nations being born, then each being favored by a parent, what we must honor today is both the hunter and the intellectual. Within Patte’s and my extended family, we treasure the young men who use their hands to build and fix. They are creative wizards and we are so thankful.
Indeed, I wish I would have grown up not only with a respect for Jewish tradition and learning, but also with the skill and talent of building and repairing. And so, earlier this week, as I observed trucks pulling up in front of our house in the pouring rain to remove our trash and recycling, I thought about Essav.
Our tradition traces his descendants to nearby country of Edom (Red), which later in history ignored Israel’s pleas to help fight its enemies. Perhaps that is why Jewish tradition has never been kind to Essav or his descendants.
I’ve also been thinking: Perhaps the ageless divide between two separate nations—the thinkers and those who work with their hands—is one of the root causes of current divisions within own country.
As I see it, there is a great societal divide over levels of education, status assigned to work performed, and how the spiritual descendants of Jacob and Essav perceive the value of each other’s work.
As an expatriate Canadian, I’m becoming more and more acclimated to the uniquely American holiday of Thanksgiving, and I appreciate how wonderful it is to partake in our country’s bounty.
It is a time to express our gratitude to family, to friends and for the good life we enjoy. But as I continue to make this holiday part of my own American experience, I also think about this week’s Torah portion, and the need to appreciate all those who contribute to our comfortable lives. And that perhaps we need “both nations” to understand and appreciate each other more.
And so, within a culture that has often been less than forthcoming in its praise of the hunter Essav and his descendants, I thank those who pick up the trash, the person who delivers our newspaper, the crew that will install new gutters next week at our home, the cashier at the grocery store, the workers who slaughter and package our meat in places away from our gaze, those who pick our fruit and vegetables, the truckers who help move the produce toward our tables, those who cut our grass, those who fix our potholes, the immigrants working hard to establish themselves to support future American generations.
Indeed, if we are to survive as a balanced and a respectful culture—the “two nations” of Jacob and Essav must move away from the biblical model of any type of work being valued above the other. For each one of us, as God intended, is loaded with unique skills.
My Thanksgiving has involved not only giving thanks for my own precious family, friends and the opportunity to serve our congregation, but also to pay tribute to the spiritual descendants of both Jacob and Essav. From the hunter to the thinker, we need to reclaim both from biblical to modern times, toward a world of mutual respect and thanksgiving.
Jacob and Essav—thank you. For where would be without you both.
Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.
Rabbi Irwin Huberman