No Holds Barred: The dangers of favoring a child

In Jacob, as in Jefferson, we find a man who is timeless and relevant, inspirational and a role model; strong-willed, determined and effective precisely because of his humanity.

Pyramids 521 (photo credit: Ricardo Liberato)
Pyramids 521
(photo credit: Ricardo Liberato)
I’ve always seen Jacob as characterized by two central yet seemingly contradictory facets. On the one hand he is the patriarch who is always around his kids. He is a father and a husband first and foremost. On the other hand, his family appears to be deeply dysfunctional, with strife, bitterness and jealousy rending the family asunder.
Beginning with the time he was a boy, Jacob witnessed his father Isaac’s favoritism toward Esau. When he gets older Jacob repeats this error by favoring Joseph. It’s unbelievable that the Torah actually says, “And Jacob [Israel] loved his son Joseph more than all his other sons.” Which father does that, or is so blatant about it? This leads, of course, to enormous, nearly deadly resentment toward Joseph from his elder siblings. But in last week’s Torah reading, just when you think that the family is finally united and things are healed, Jacob does it again.
In Egypt, in his dying moment, after Joseph has forgiven his brothers their attempted fratricide and brought everyone together, saving them from famine, Jacob first seeks to bless Joseph’s children, but not necessarily the children of his other sons.
And second, he gives the first-born blessing to Efraim, and not Menashe, the older son.
What is it about Jacob that he seemingly can’t stop the favoritism? When Joseph objects and essentially says, “Please father, bless Menashe first, for he is the firstborn,” Jacob responds, within earshot of the older boy, “I know, my son. I know. And while he will grow to be a great man, he will be outdone by his brother.” Surely Menashe didn’t feel good hearing this.
Is this simply a case of family dysfunction becoming a family heirloom, passed from generation to generation? I have seen this hundreds of times with families I have counseled. The same toxic patterns are repeated from parent to child to parent to child. Studies show, for example, the high prevalence of repetitive adultery in families.
If your parents cheated, there is a likelihood that you will cheat as well. The same is true of divorce. Children of divorce have a far higher rate than the national average.
IS THAT what this is about? Abraham favored one son, Isaac, and cast off Ishmael, albeit with Sarah’s prodding and even God’s acquiescence. Isaac repeats the favoritism with Esau, thereby scarring Jacob deeply.
And Jacob repeats it first with Joseph, then with Joseph’s children, and then with just one of Joseph’s sons. Seemingly unable to break free of the pattern, Jacob’s family remains divided by bitter jealousies.
This might explain why Jacob, in describing how elusive happiness has been in his life, makes one of the more startling statements of the Torah. When introduced to Pharaoh and asked how old he is, presumably because he looks older than his years, Jacob responds, “I am 147 years old. My life has been short and bitter, and has not reached the length of my ancestors’.” Talk about a downer.
But there are few things in life that can cause greater pain than family dysfunction and continual fighting. No parent likes watching their children assail each other.
Jacob was worn down by the constant strife. But he also seems challenged to rise above its basic causes.
Amid the Bible’s descriptions of his paternal shortcomings, I have always identified with Jacob more than with any other biblical personality, with the exception possibly of King David (whose humanity is so vividly detailed in the Bible).
The reason: Jacob is so lifelike, complex and real. He is a man whose righteousness is defined not by perfection but by a constant striving to live by the will of God amid the scarring he has endured and the human limitations that tie the hands of us all. He is the father of his nation, named for that constant wrestling and striving, “Israel, he who wrestles with God.”
To use a modern example, Abraham would be like George Washington, seemingly perfect and inscrutable. The marble man. One, the father of monotheism. The other, the father of his nation. But Jacob would be Jefferson. Jefferson, the quintessential American. The man of great complexity and even greater contradictions. But the true author of our independence. The man who, in his multifaceted, intricate nature captures the true spirit of America in all its glory, its virtue, its inconsistencies and its shortcomings.
OUR PATRIARCH Jacob is nothing like the Christian Jesus. There is not only no pretension to divinity, there is no pretension to absolute, angelic-like behavior. Rather, in Jacob, as in Jefferson, we find a man who is timeless and relevant, inspirational and a role model; strong-willed, determined and effective precisely because of his humanity.
A man who never shirks from confronting the evil of the world, even if it sometimes seems to compromise him. But a man, above all else, who believes in eternal principles and ultimately never abandons them. Jacob is the “most special of all the patriarchs.” A man whom we can all identify with, who inspires us by his spirited and indefatigable example.
The writer, “America’s rabbi,” whom Newsweek and The Washington Post call “the most famous Rabbi in America,” is the international best-selling author of 29 books.
On January, 9, 2013, he will publish The Fedup Man of Faith: Challenging God in the Face of Tragedy and Suffering. Follow him on Twitter @RabbiShmu