Escaping from Laban the Aramean
The period since October 7th has been the hardest one of my rabbinic career. Each week has had a tenor of its own, and the past week, alone, has felt like a month. Within it, I, along with so many of you, have found myself mired in local politics around Israel, with the Seattle City Council and within the Seattle Jewish community. The rise in antisemitism has hit very close to home now, with the vandalism of Herzl-Ner Tamid Conservative Synagogue on Mercer Island this week (oy!), on top of suspicious packages received over the last weeks by multiple local Jewish institutions. And last but not least, for days now, we have been waiting with bated breath for a ceasefire to take effect and for hostages to be released from Gaza. On this day after Thanksgiving, it is wonderful to be able to give thanks for the 25 individuals -- 12 Thai citizens and 13 Israeli women and children -- who were just freed from captivity, even as we wait to bring home the scores of other hostages still being held by Hamas.
As we continue in our Torah cycle this week with Parashat Vayetze, we follow the patriarch Jacob as he journeys in and out of the land. Sandwiched between two chapters of the ongoing family conflict between Jacob and his twin brother Esau is... yet another family drama: this one between Jacob and his uncle, Laban.
At the start of this week's Torah portion, Jacob is fleeing from Esau, fearing revenge after having tricked him out of his blessing and birthright. He sets out to the birthplace of his mother Rebecca in Haran (modern-day Turkey). There, he immediately falls in love with Rachel at a well, who turns out to be the daughter of his uncle. Laban promises Rachel to Jacob as a wife in exchange for seven years of labor. However, when this period of indentured servitude is up, Laban tricks Jacob, switching out Rachel for Leah at the wedding and requiring Jacob to work yet another seven years in order to be granted Rachel's hand in marriage.
For some twenty years, Jacob continues to work for his uncle Laban. During this time, Jacob amassesses quite the entourage: four wives, twelve children, camels, donkeys and flocks. Following the birth of Joseph (son #11), Jacob decides it's finally time to leave and head back towards his home in the land of Canaan (modern-day Israel). He says to Laban: "shalcheini v'eilcha el m'komi ul'artzi; t'na et nashai v'et y'ladai asher avad'ti ot'cha" -- "release me that I may go to my place and my land; give me my wives and my children, for whom I have served you" (Gen. 30:25-26).
In this call for release from servitude, the ancient rabbis hear a foreshadowing echo of the Exodus story from Egypt. Based on this connection, Jacob's uncle "Laban the Aramean" (as he is called in this week's parasha) features prominently in Passover haggadah:
"Go out and learn what Lavan the Aramean sought to do to Ya'akov, our father; since Pharaoh only decreed [the death sentence] on the males but Lavan sought to uproot the whole [people]. As it is stated (Deuteronomy 26:5), 'An Aramean was destroying my father and he went down to Egypt, and he resided there with a small number and he became there a nation, great, powerful and numerous.'"
You may well recognize this passage from the Passover seder. Although the full story of Laban and Jacob is rather complex (and worth a read in its entirety, if you aren't already familiar with it), in the rabbinic imagination, Laban is transformed from a simple trickster and liar into a quintessential enemy of the Jewish people. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, former Chief Rabbi of the British Commonwealth, does not mince words when he claims that "Laban is, in effect, the first antisemite" (click here if you'd like to read his full essay).
As to what we learn from this narrative, Rabbi Sacks draws out the following conclusion: "If Laban is the eternal paradigm of hatred, then Jacob is the eternal paradigm of the human capacity to survive the hatred of others."
This is a beautiful and important sentiment to remind ourselves of as we move into this particular Shabbat. As much as these recent weeks have been filled with obstacles, horrors, and heaviness, they have also highlighted our community's strength and resilience.
On a webinar last week, Joel Migdal and Peggy Brill, speaking from their home in Israel, described the inspiring ways that Israeli civil society has mobilized since October 7th. Although the Israeli government has widely been described as "missing in action" during these recent weeks, the Israeli protest movement that had been organizing weekly anti-government demonstrations for nine months transformed overnight into a well-coordinated volunteer network, filling nearly every void. Some 60% of Israelis have volunteered in the last month. Here in the American Jewish community too, we are trying to figure out what solidarity and resilience look like. In the wake of the awful graffiti at Herzl-Ner Tamid, volunteers showed up to power wash and repaint the exterior of the building, and interfaith colleagues have reached out to express their solidarity.
Today, I am so very grateful for the release of this first large group of hostages. We are reminded that in our Jewish tradition, pidyon shevuyim, the redemption of captives, is considered a highest-level mitzvah; we can recite the blessing: Baruch atah adonai eloheinu melech ha-olam matir asurim; Praised are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the universe, who releases the captive. In addition, I am thankful for the temporary ceasefire, and very much supportive of efforts to bring in more humanitarian aid to the Palestinian people of Gaza, who have suffered in ways that are unimaginable over these last weeks.
Without a doubt, there will be more hard days to come. We will continue to pray - and push - for the release of the many hostages who remain in captivity. We will do everything in our power to speak out against antisemitism, along with all other forms of hatred and bigotry, in America and around the world. This week, may we find strength in Jacob’s escape from Laban and the continuation of his journey, as we continue our own.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum
