In Genesis 31:51, we hear Laban say to Jacob, "Here is this pile and here is the monument that I have established between me and you.” Now, this might sound like a simple boundary marker, but as Rabbi Yoḥanan points out in Bereshit Rabbah, the Hebrew word used, yariti, could also mean "like one who throws a spear." A bit more aggressive than your average handshake, right? This yariti can also mean to cast a stone in a threatening manner.
The agreement was clear: “This pile is witness, and the monument is witness, that I will not pass this pile toward you, and that you will not pass this pile and this monument toward me, for harm” (Genesis 31:52). But here’s the catch – the verse specifies “for harm.” So, what about for, say, commerce?
This little loophole opens up a whole can of worms, and the Rabbis in Bereshit Rabbah jump right in. They ask: what happens when those agreements are broken?
The Midrash tells us a story of King David dispatching Yoav to Aram Naharayim and Aram Tzova, where they encountered Edomites and Moabites. David, wanting to attack them, was presented with their own versions of that boundary agreement. The Edomites essentially said, "Enough! You're entering our territory – back off!" quoting Deuteronomy 2:3–5. The Moabites chimed in with, "God told us not to mess with you," citing Deuteronomy 2:9.
Talk about awkward!
Yoav, unsure what to do, sends a message back to David. David, in turn, does something pretty remarkable. He takes off his royal garb, humbles himself, and goes to the Sanhedrin, the Jewish high court. "I came here only to teach. If you give me permission, I will teach," he says. He lays out the situation: these nations are invoking old agreements, but haven't they broken them first?
He reminds the Sanhedrin of past transgressions. Hadn't Eglon, king of Moab, allied with the children of Ammon and Amalek (Judges 3:13)? The Amalekites, like the Edomites, are descendants of Esau. Hadn't the Moabites hired Bilam to curse Israel (Numbers 22:5–6)? It’s a fascinating moment of humility and a recognition that even a king is subject to the law and the wisdom of the community.
"A letter [for David to teach]" (Psalms 60:1). How many letters did he write? Rabbi Aivu suggests David wrote two letters, one about the Edomites and one about the Moabites. Rabbi Ḥanina, however, thinks it was just one. And it's interesting to note that "A letter [mikhtam] for David to teach" (Psalms 60:1) can also be interpreted as "poverty [makhut] and faultlessness [tamut]," highlighting David's humble approach before the Sanhedrin.
The passage then grapples with a seeming contradiction in the numbers of Edomites slain. One verse says 18,000 (I Chronicles 18:12), while another says 12,000 (Psalms 60:2). The solution? Two separate wars, one with each count.
So, what can we take away from this deep dive into Bereshit Rabbah 74? It's not just about ancient treaties and battlefield strategies. It's about the complexities of agreements, the importance of humility even in positions of power, and the need to consider the full context of any situation. It reminds us that history is rarely simple, and that even seemingly clear-cut rules can have surprising loopholes. And maybe, just maybe, it offers a little food for thought the next time we find ourselves navigating a tricky family dynamic.