We're looking at section 76, which grapples with Jacob's prayer as he prepares to meet his brother Esau after years of separation (Genesis 32:10). Remember the setup: Jacob is understandably nervous!
He prays, "God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac, Lord, who says to me: Return to your land, and to the land of your birth, and I will benefit you." Now, the rabbis immediately pounce on something: why does Jacob only invoke Abraham and Isaac? What about Esau? After all, Esau was also Isaac’s son.
The text asks, “Jacob said: God of my father Abraham and God of my father Isaac – but not of Esau?” This isn't just a grammatical question; it's a theological one. What does it mean to claim a connection to the divine through your ancestors? Is it automatic, or does it require something more?
The answer offered is profound: "One who chooses their path and performs actions like theirs, I affirm My presence over him; one who does not choose their path and does not perform actions like theirs, I do not affirm My presence over him."
Wow.
It's not merely about lineage, is it? It’s about aligning yourself with the values and actions of those who came before you. God's presence, God's blessing, isn't inherited; it's earned through emulation. It's about walking in the footsteps of your righteous ancestors.
To illustrate this point, Rav Huna, quoting Rabbi Aḥa, brings in a powerful example from the Books of Kings. Think about David. Who was close to David? Was it not Ahaz, one of his descendants? Yet, the prophet doesn't invoke the "God of Ahaz." Instead, when speaking to Hezekiah, another descendant, the prophet says, "So said the Lord, God of David, your father" (II Kings 20:5).
Why? Because, as the text emphasizes, "One who chooses their path and performs actions like theirs, I affirm My presence over him; one who does not choose their path and does not perform actions like theirs, I do not affirm My presence over him." Ahaz, despite his bloodline, did not follow in David’s righteous path. Hezekiah, on the other hand, did. Therefore, the divine connection is affirmed through David, bypassing Ahaz altogether.
This isn't about judging anyone. Instead, it's about understanding the responsibility that comes with being part of a heritage. It’s a reminder that we actively participate in shaping our connection to the divine, and to our ancestors, through the choices we make every day.
So, what does this mean for us today? Perhaps it encourages us to reflect on which aspects of our own heritage we choose to embrace. Which ancestors do we feel a particular kinship with, and why? And, most importantly, how can we strive to live lives that honor the best parts of our lineage, creating a connection to the divine that is both inherited and earned?