One of the highlights of the Seder is the proclamation והיא שעמדה, that recognizes the godly promise to our forefathers as the basis for the survival of the Jewish People. This passage famously states that in “each generation” there are those who “stand against us to destroy us.” This year many of us might find ourselves identifying with this passage more than in the past. This a good opportunity, therefore, to glance at the dynamics of hatred and responsibility. Unfolding the midrashic tradition offers a critical perspective on the notion of eternal hatred and allows us to seek hope in these dark days. The following piece was published in the Hebrew section of Yashar last November and was translated by Albert Kohn.
The meeting between Esau and Jacob at the crossing into the Land of Israel is one of the preeminent moments of the Book of Genesis. Their struggle began in the womb, being declared eternal even before the two brothers were born. Esau’s sale of the right of the firstborn, Jacob’s theft of the blessing, Esau’s promise to murder his brother, Jacob’s subsequent escape, the delay of the conflict for twenty years, Esau’s reappearance leading a force of 400 men, Jacob’s struggle with a mysterious figure - all these contributed to the heavy weight hanging over this encounter. The conflict and its eventual resolution were the passageway ushering Jacob into the land and into a life no longer in the shadow of his brother Esau. Beyond its centrality to the family drama of the Book of Genesis, this meeting became a linchpin in Jewish consciousness. Commentators saw it as a model predictive of future encounters between the descendants of Jacob and the descendants of other figures. What happened at this meeting? How is the story of the encounter told? What did Esau intend to do and what did he actually do? Most importantly, which cultural premise lays at the center of these stories and which ethos does it seek to implant in the worldview of future generations?
Central to the narrative in most of these Parasha pamphlets was the story that Esau sought to bite Jacob. This interpretation is rooted in the famous statement “Such is the Halakha: it is known that Esau hates Jacob.” In these Parasha pamphlets, this statement represents a truth that cannot be questioned. It is portrayed as a foundation-stone of the religious-political worldview, a prism through which to understand current events.
Fifteen years ago, I researched the presentation of this story in Parasha pamphlets distributed and read in Israeli Religious-Zionist synagogues each Shabbat (a summary is available here). Central to the narrative in most of these Parasha pamphlets was the story that Esau, as he approached his brother for the first time in twenty years, sought to bite Jacob. This interpretation is rooted in the famous statement (that is, as we will see, erroneous): “Such is the Halakha: it is known that Esau hates Jacob.” In these Parasha pamphlets, this statement represents a truth that cannot be questioned. It is portrayed as a foundation-stone of the religious-political worldview, a prism through which to understand current events. According to their reading, Esau represents not just Edom, meaning Rome and Christianity, as suggested in early rabbinic literature, but also “The West” and, even more surprisingly, “The Arabs” who have traditionally been depicted as the descendants of Ishmael. The breadth and vigor of Jewish literary reflection on Esau and Edom furnish the authors published in these Parasha pamphlets with a stockpile of images, characterizations, and prophecies by which to narrate current events. Thus, biblical interpretation and political Weltanschauung feed one another. This literature, freely available in every synagogue, contributed to establishing what was seen as “correct,” “true,” and “religious” about the wider world.
It seems likely that after October 7th, we might identify with the sentiment that Esau — or his symbolic successors — came to bite and not to kiss, that his hatred, whatever it might be, exists independently without any reason or link to our deeds. However, a closer look at the Midrash in which the original statement about Esau’s hatred of Jacob appears reveals an alternative interpretive path, one that offers us a different perspective on the current situation and allows us to pursue a different future.
The Kiss and the Heart
Let’s return to the actual Biblical text. In chapter 33, Jacob arrives to meet his brother, fearing him and his 400 comrades. After praying and dividing up his camp, Jacob turns around to see the terrifying delegation arriving. Jacob approaches his brother while bowing, but “Esau ran to meet him.” One could easily imagine the following verse turning violent, a fulfillment of the expectation established by the narrative so far. Instead, surprisingly, Esau “embraced him and fell on his neck and kissed him and they cried” (33:4). The verse poses a challenge to interpreters who now need to explain the disparity between the reader’s expectations and the actual story as it unfolded.
The earliest rabbinic exegesis of the meeting between Jacob and Esau is found in the Tannaitic Midrash Sifrei on the book of Numbers. As is well known, the word “and he kissed him” (vayishakehu) is written with mysterious dots above it in accordance with the Masoretic tradition. The Sifrei collects examples of such marks in the Torah and explicates their exegetical implications. This is how the Midrash appears in standard editions:
“And he kissed him” – there are dots above it, [this indicates] that he did not kiss him wholeheartedly.
Rabbi Shimon b. Yochai (Rashbi) says: Such is the Halakha - it is known that Esau hates Jacob, but his mercy emerged at that moment and he kissed him wholeheartedly.
"'וישקהו' - נקוד עליו, שלא נשקו בכל לבו.
ר' שמעון בן יוחי אומר: הלכה בידוע שעשו שונא ליעקב, אלא נהפכו רחמיו באותה שעה ונשקו בכל לבו"
The Midrash offers two approaches. According to the first, the diacritic indicates that no sincerity stood behind Esau’s bodily gestures. Rashbi, though, takes issue. He contends that Esau’s move to kiss his brother truthfully reflects his feelings at that moment, that true brotherly love was at its core. In order to stress this, Rashbi puts forth a central claim: “Such is the Halakha: it is known that Esau hates Jacob.” It is generally assumed that by using the word “Halakha”, Rashbi points to the normativity of the accepted truth that Esau hates Jacob. Thus, despite this emotional fixture of Esau’s character, the meeting of brothers had the power to assuage deep hatred and to inspire Esau to kiss Jacob with all his heart.
Rashbi contends that Esau’s move to kiss his brother truthfully reflects his feelings at that moment, that true brotherly love was at its core.
Rashi quoted both these two opinions in his commentary on the Torah. In doing so he deviated from his custom of basing his Genesis commentary on exegesis from Genesis Rabbah. The latter does indeed include several interpretations of the encounter between Jacob and Esau (See Genesis Rabbah, ch. 78). The second of these, attributed to R. Yannai and widely quoted, also concerns itself with the marks above the words. It learns from them that Esau sought to bite Jacob and not to kiss him. Likely with this interpretation in mind, Ibn Ezra wrote in his commentary that “explication of the diacritics in the word ‘and he kissed him’ is appropriate for young children, since according to the plain meaning of the text Esau never even thought to harm his brother.”
This is no Halakha
The statement “Such is the Halakha: it is known that Esau hates Jacob” is frequently mentioned in conjunction with the story of the bite. But one should notice that these two midrashic explanations are different and even contradictory. Rashbi suggests that even though it is known that Esau hates Jacob, at that moment Esau kissed his brother with a full heart. On the other hand, according to the explanation of R. Yannai, Esau’s intention was to bite and never to kiss. R. Yannai was pessimistic in his evaluation of Esau’s intention, whereas Rashbi expressed cautious optimism that recognized the possibility that under certain conditions hatred can be transformed into love.
The melding of these two explanations was likely driven by the opening word of Rashbi’s statement, “Halakha.” Many have tried to explain the odd use of this word, which generally refers to the determination of normative practice, in a passage dedicated to the inner life of a perennial “other” and not to the practice expected of a Jew. It is now known, though, that the appearance of the word “Halakha” here is the result of an error. In the manuscripts of the Sifrei, this passage is written as “is it not known that Esau hates Jacob?” (והלא בידוע שעשו שונא ליעקב), a formulation typical of tannaitic Midrash. As has been suggested by various scholars, the word הלא (“is it not”) was abbreviated to הל by a certain scribe. This abbreviation was then expanded by another scribe to הלכה. It is possible that this was not merely a typo; one may wonder whether the preconception of Esau as one who hated Jacob aided the formation and the acceptance of this reading of the text.
The word “Halakha” here is the result of an error. The word הלא (“is it not”) was abbreviated to הל by a certain scribe. This abbreviation was then expanded by another scribe to הלכה. One may wonder whether the preconception of Esau as one who hated Jacob aided the formation and the acceptance of this reading of the text.
Following the original version of the Midrash, we ought to reconsider Rashbi’s words:
“And he kissed him” – there are diacritic dots above it, (this indicates) that he did not kiss him wholeheartedly.
Rabbi Shimon b. Yochai (Rashbi) says: is it not known that Esau hates Jacob?
Yet, at that moment, his mercy emerged and he kissed him wholeheartedly.
"'וישקהו' - נקוד עליו, שלא נשקו בכל לבו.
ר' שמעון בן יוחי אומר: והלא בידוע שעשו שונא ליעקב?!
אלא נהפכו רחמיו באותה שעה ונשקו בכל לבו"
Rashbi reacts to the opening voice in the Midrash. He sees no reason to interpret the mark above the word “and he kissed him” to mean that the kiss was insincere. It was already obvious that Esau, the actual character in the Book of Genesis and not the symbolic personality, hated Jacob. This hatred grew out of actual events. The Torah explains that “Esau harbored a grudge against Jacob because of the blessing which his father had given him, and Esau said to himself, ‘Let but the mourning period of my father come, and I will kill my brother Jacob.’ (Genesis 27:41). Rashbi then is not pointing to some eternal, irrational hatred that defines Esau, but rather to a hatred whose origin lay with Jacob’s theft of their father’s blessing. Whether for an instant or forever, it was this hatred that dissipated “at that moment.”
Antisemitism and Responsibility
The widespread erroneous understanding of this midrash, presenting all anti Jewish sentiment as eternal “halakha,” is reflected in the modern view that every anti-Israel sentiment is an expression of some cosmic fate with no connection to our actions. The horrifying massacre of October 7th seems to many as conclusive proof of such baseless hatred. Judgements of Israel among certain groups in the West are similarly perceived as outgrowths of the same senseless antisemitism.
Yet, it is precisely this conclusion — frequently presented as a kind of disillusioned sober mindedness — which is marked by substantial naivete. This simplistic position does not distinguish between conscious and unconscious motives, between ideological stances and the circumstances behind them, between feelings and their breeding grounds. There is great comfort in this outlook because it divides the world into good and evil, with the self-justified struggle against evil serving to relieve us of any responsibility and to silence our critics.
This is, of course, not to say that there is no good or bad. Yet, a broad chasm lies between blaming the victim and shedding all responsibility. The approach of “Such is the Halakha: it is known that Esau hates Jacob” — beyond the scribal error at its core — is dangerous. It prevents us from looking inward and from paving practical paths towards any viable future. This worldview creates a fundamentalist perception of all Palestinians, Muslims, and Arabs as villainous antisemites unable to change and prevents us from taking responsibility for creating the circumstances necessary for a future shared existence.
One rabbinic authority who presented a genuinely sober-minded assessment of the meeting between Jacob and Esau was Naftali Tzvi Yehuda Berlin (1816-1893), better known as the Netziv:
“And they cried—They both cried, this was written in the plural to teach us that at that moment Jacob’s own love for Esau was awoken. And so it shall be for posterity, when the descendants of Esau arise with a pure spirit to recognize the descendants of Jacob and their virtue, then we ourselves will arise to recognize Esau as our brother just as Rabbi Yehudah HaNassi came to love Antoninus.”
"ויבכו – שניהם בכו, בא ללמד שגם יעקב נתעורר עליו לשעה זו אהבה לעשו. וכן לדורות, בשעה שזרע עשו מתעוררים ברוח טהרה להכיר את זרע ישראל ומעלתם, אז גם אנחנו מתעוררים להכיר את עשו כי אחינו הוא וכמו שרבי היה אוהב לאנטונינוס וכן הרבה" (העמק דבר, בר' לג, ד).
Here, Jacob and Esau’s reunion was a moment of goodwill and mutual affection. The Netziv continues to explain that “Esau hoped that Jacob would come to Edom so that he could receive his brother like a king” (Ibid., v. 12). Jacob, however, refused this invitation. Then “Esau understood that Jacob’s warmth towards him was merely pragmatic and temporary, that he had no interest in communing with Esau or his men... This dismayed Esau who never spoke to his brother again, yet also could not find it in his heart to harm him (v. 15).” The Netziv holds Jacob responsible for the fact that Esau “went on his way – meaning frustrated. They did not separate with a kiss, but rather Esau went himself to Se’ir. As a result, Jacob never traveled to Se’ir to be welcomed honorably by Esau because he saw from his brother’s face that the affection had faded (v. 15).” In this sensitive reading, the Netziv blamed Jacob for the coldness between him and his brother at the end of their encounter. The Netziv’s clear sympathy for Jacob did not blind him to the negative consequences of Jacob’s actions. Above all, The Netziv — who was of course cognizant of Rashi’s explanation of this story—rejects the so-called “Halakha” which identified the hatred between Jacob and Esa as intractable and eternal.
The Ideology of Hamas, as we saw on October 7th and have heard continuously since then, relies on a burning hatred that almost certainly cannot be bridged. The religious and national worldviews that lay at the core of their atrocious deeds cannot be explained only according to power relations, continued injustices, or political events. At the same time, this does not mean that all these factors do not contribute to the formation of their hatred. There is no “Halakha” that dissolves our responsibility to shape a joint future, nor does the “Halakha” excuse us from constantly reconsidering how our actions fan the flames of hate. We then are not free to abandon our hope that at some moment mercy might reemerge and reconciliation will be possible.
Dr. Yoel Kretzmer-Raziel is an educator and lecturer at Achva Academic College, CET- The Center for Educational Technology and Midreshet Roni. A founding member of Yashar.