JACOB AND FANTASY PROBLEMS

My mother would have referred to Jacob as a nervous choleria—which would be Yiddish for a nervous wreck. All right, can you blame him? He’s been away from his brother Esau for 20 years and the last time they were together, Jacob had visions of Esau chasing him around the wilderness with a butcher’s knife raised above his head. Well, not exactly, but suffice to say that Esau was prepared to murder his brother over the stolen birthright. And now the time has come to return home, to face his brother, and perhaps the consequences. Oy—what to do?

 

So this is what Jacob does. He first sends messengers to Esau saying that while in Haran, he had become exceedingly wealthy, implying thereby that some gifts would be forthcoming. The messengers come back saying that Esau is on his way to meet Jacob accompanied by 400 men. 400 men? That doesn’t sound like the Rockettes, even if they were dressed in tights—which they weren’t—so Jacob’s anxiety deepens. He divides his camp into two, thinking that if Esau attacks the one, the other may escape. Then he prays to God. Then he sets aside a gift to Esau fit for an unrepentant and venal Wall Street capitalist—200 she goats, 20 he-goats, 200 ewes, 20 rams, 30 camels and their colts, 40 cows, ten bulls, 20 she donkeys and ten he-donkeys. It was like giving Esau the Bronx Zoo. Did that set Jacob’s mind at ease? No—he was up all night, wrestling with an angel, and with the break of dawn, walked away in need of a hip replacement. Finally, he divided his family into thirds. The front guard consisted of the maids and their children, next Leah and her children, and last Rachel and Joseph, placing the family dearest to him in the rear guard, hoping that they, at least, would survive the inevitable slaughter.

Jacob is a man in need of xanax. And then the moment of truth arrives: Esau and his band of 400 non-Rockette types. So what happens? Esau runs to greet Jacob, embraces his brother, kisses him, and there are tears, even flowing from “I’m-Going-To-Rip-Your-Head-Off” Esau. Esau initially refuses the gifts, though Jacob prevails upon him to accept, and then Esau offers that the two brothers travel home together, though this plan does not come to fruition for good reasons. As for the birthright—not a word about the theft is spoken: not a single word. So much worry for so little. What is the Torah trying to teach us here?

You know—you can’t predict the future. We would like to be able to predict the future, but we can’t. Some of us are worriers. Wait—if you’re Jewish, then by definition, you’re a worrier. But many of the problems that occupy our days and our nights are what I like to refer to as fantasy problems. They are the problems that we don’t have right now, but they are the problems that we think we’re going to have tomorrow. And we base many of our decisions not on the problems that we face directly, but on the problems we think we’re going to face tomorrow, or at some future date, which brings me back to a fact of life—no one can predict the future.

We get ourselves crazy over fantasy problems. We think we know what we will face tomorrow, even though such an idea defies all reason. The Torah forbids anyone from acting as a fortune teller (Deuteronomy 18:10-12). Since no one can predict the future, it is a dishonest business. And to consult such people is to waste your money. James Russell Lowell, the American poet, critic and diplomat, wrote: “Let us be of good cheer, remembering that the misfortunes hardest to bear are those that will never happen.” So true. Jacob could have used a good dose of Lowell, but the point is, we all could!