In this morning’s Torah reading, we read the account of Jacob’s
love for Rachel. Of how he loved Rachel
so much, that he agreed to indenture himself to her father for seven years, for
the opportunity to marry her. And we all
know the story. Laban tricked Jacob into
marrying Leah, Rachel’s older sister instead.
When Jacob protested, Laban responded and told Jacob that it wasn’t
their custom to marry off the younger daughter before the older.
Laban’s response drips with sarcasm. It sounds as if he thinks he’s reminding Jacob
of a custom, about which the latter should have known. This, despite that Jacob was born and grew up
in the Land of Canaan, not Haran. In any
case, we traditionally read the chapter with the understanding that Laban tricked
Jacob. That there was no such custom. Or at least if there was, it wasn’t something
that Jacob would be assumed to know.
After all, when Jacob asked to marry Rachel, Laban did not tell
him, “Okay, after you will have served me seven years…and subject to her
older sister being married in the interim.
Since Laban did not respond in this manner, we can probably
safely assume that he had in mind all along to trick Jacob, the naïve rustic,
into marrying Leah instead.
There is a tradition that the Jewish custom of a bride being veiled
at her chuppah by her groom – only after her groom gets a chance
to actually see who he’s marrying – has its origin in this event. So that a groom would avoid being similarly
tricked by his father-in-law.
Laban offers Jacob the option of completing the week of celebration
over his wedding with Leah. And then marrying
Rachel. And then serving him, Laban,
another seven years in return for Rachel.
When we read these words, it’s hard to hear anything other than Laban’s
cackling over his having bested his nephew, the chump. But Jacob is so crazy in love with Rachel
that he agrees to the terms.
Chump or not, Jacob teaches us an important lesson. About the power of love. And the importance of sacrificing for it,
when necessary. That sense of sacrifice
is hard to find today. And
unfortunately, the resulting loss is not, for most of us, especially
liberating.
Much has been said about the sense of entitlement today. And I have personally said some of it. It permeates our society at every level. It is easy to adopt a mindset that says, in
effect, because I’m here, I’m entitled. And
it is easy to criticise it. And I’m sure
it bores you to hear me do so, as I do from time to time. But it is important for me to say this,
repeatedly. Because that sense of entitlement
is one of the major stumbling-blocks to happiness, in our world today. If I’m entitled, and I don’t think I’m getting
what I’m entitled to, then how can I be happy? That’s the rub…I cannot be happy. Since the entitlement-addicted never thinks
he’s getting what he’s entitled to, how can he be happy?
Contrast this spirit, with that of Jacob. Out of his love for Rachel, he is willing to
serve his father-in-law seven years. And
then another seven!
We’re told of how Jacob was willing to serve 14 years for Rachel’s
love. We’re not told of how Rachel
reciprocated. By we sense that Rachel’s
devotion to Jacob was as strong as his for her.
Because we know that a one-way devotion cannot endure. We have another name for a one-way
devotion. We call it an obsession. And we recognise it as being patently
unhealthy. So devotion has to be
two-way.
When one makes sacrifices for the one they love, it is necessary
for the partner to make sacrifices in at least similar measure. If not at the same moment, then over time. And love has the patience to wait and not ‘keep
accounts’ of how much reciprocation is necessary.
What about tremendous sacrifice to one’s country, which we shall memorialise
on Monday, Remembrance Day? If the
patriotic instinct is to be sustained, the soldier has to feel that his service
is appreciated by his nation. That the
military command structure, as much as possible, is watching his back. That the nation is ready to make good for him
if he is severely wounded. Or for his
family if he is killed.
Service in war is not the only sacrifice one can make to one’s
country. Did John F. Kennedy not hit the
nail on the head when he stated in his inaugural address to the American
people: Ask not what your country can
do for you, ask what you can do for your country. (You insert ‘proper’ Bostonian accent
here…) Kennedy wasn’t talking only about
military service. After all, it was
Kennedy who, in one of his first executive actions after taking office,
established the Peace Corps.
But ask what you can do for your country is not to be
understood only in terms of the most intense and deep commitments such as
volunteering years of your life to a specific kind of service. In the way that we live from day to day, we
should be asking what we can do for our country. In small, everyday acts. They are the only opportunity that most of us
will have, to give back to our country.
But they are a very important opportunity. An opportunity to be grasped and cherished.
Serve to others is a worthy enterprise. It is a necessary enterprise if we’re
going to reach our potential as human beings.
This morning we read the narrative from the 29th chapter of
Genesis, about what Jacob had to do to get Rachel as his wife. It is only natural to read this as an account
of the trickery of Laban, Rachel’s father.
It is only natural to read this as an account of Jacob’s
gullibility. I am proposing to you that
we read it differently. That we read it
as a love story. As an account of the
power of love that would make Jacob agree to serve his father-in-law 14
years. As an example of one man’s
willing sacrifice for the love that meant everything to him. As a lesson in the importance of being
willing to sacrifice ourselves for love.
Because in reality, love is not possible without that willingness. Perhaps your love will not require of you a
sacrifice of 14 years of service. But it
will, at some point and in some degree, require of you a sacrifice. Will you consider your love to be worthy of
that sacrifice? Our patriarch, Jacob,
clearly though Rachel’s love worthy of a very big sacrifice. Shabbat shalom.
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