Edom and the Death of Alliances
This Dvar Torah was written by Dr. Bella Tendler Krieger, CAJE’s Director, Adult Learning and Growth. To see summer course offerings for July and August, visit CAJEADULTLEARNING.ORG
Photo by Mariam Soliman on Unsplash
This week’s Torah portion, Parshat Chukat, is known for the sequential deaths of Moses’ two siblings, Miriam and Aaron. The loss described in this parsha is personal and national. The Israelites are finally about to reach their destination, but without the beloved leaders who had sustained them along the way. There is also a third family member who “dies” in this week’s parsha, who is rarely spoken about. That sibling is Edom.
Who is Edom and what is its significance to Israel?
The people of Edom are the descendants of Esau, twin brother of the Israelite patriarch Jacob. As you will recall from Genesis, Esau and Jacob had a fraught relationship in their youth. While Esau was the legal firstborn, Jacob tricked him out of his father’s blessing to become the spiritual heir of their family. As a result, Jacob was forced to flee for his life to Paddan Aram, where he eventually established his family and fortune.
Years later Jacob sought to reconcile with his brother. He sent envoys to Esau, then living in Edom, requesting a parley. To his surprise, his brother traveled out to greet him, also seeking peace. After an emotional reunion, Esau invited Jacob back to his home in Edom. Jacob agreed to follow, but at a slower pace, so as not to overtax his flock and children. But Jacob never made it to Edom. Life took its own turns, eventually landing him in Egypt, where his descendants were enslaved, redeemed, and then led through the desert by Moses, Aaron, and Miriam.
Which brings us to our current Torah portion of Chukat. The Israelites, now in the fortieth year of their wanderings through the desert, find themselves at the edge of Edom, with only this one nation standing between them and the Promised Land. To Moses, this hardly feels like an obstacle. Edom is friendly territory, even something of a homecoming. Hadn’t their forefather Jacob intended to visit? Hadn’t they held onto memory Esau’s invitation throughout the difficult centuries?
There is evidence of the deep emotional significance of Edom to the Israelite people preserved in Genesis 36. This chapter is a lengthy genealogy of Esau and his descendants. Over the course of 43 verses, Esau’s wives, lines, tribes, and rulers are named in loving detail. This genealogical excursion seems completely superfluous in a story about the Israelites unless one considers what Edom must have meant to them in Egypt and throughout their desert travails. Powerful relatives, out free in the world, at the edge of the Promised Land, waiting to receive them. One can almost taste the desperation with which they recounted the names of their distant cousins: Timna, Alvah, Jetheth, Oholibamah. Strange names preserved for the sole purpose of reminding the Israelites that they are not alone.
And here they are. Finally ready to meet their long-lost relatives and end their interminable journey. Moses sends a message to their king: Brothers, we are here!
I will quote the exchange at length to demonstrate the pathos in their communication and request:
Thus says your brother Israel: You know all the hardships that have befallen us; that our ancestors went down to Egypt, that we dwelt in Egypt a long time, and that the Egyptians dealt harshly with us and our ancestors. We cried to God who heard our plea, sending a messenger who freed us from Egypt. Now we are in Kadesh, the town on the border of your territory. Allow us, then, to cross your country. (Numbers 20: 14-17)
Despite appealing to their shared history and to the difficulties they had endured, Edom says no. “You shall not pass through; else we will go out against you with the sword.” (Numbers 20:18)
You can taste the shock in the Israelites’ response: “We will keep to the beaten track,” [they plead], “and if we or our cattle drink your water, we will pay for it. We ask only for passage on foot—it is but a small matter.” (Numbers 20:19)
And still, Edom refuses, marching out against them, ready for battle.
Israel cannot comprehend what is happening. They stand frozen at the border, unsure what is going on. You can see them slowly coming to terms with the death of this alliance, with the death of their hopes in Edom. After recounting the two rejections, the Bible repeats in summation, “So Edom would not let Israel cross their territory, and Israel turned away from them.” (Numbers 20:21)
The People of Israel are bewildered, betrayed, and bereft, and so they leave, forced to chart a more circuitous route to the Promised Land.
This, of course, is not the only response they could have had. When the Amorites later refuse to let them pass, they fight and conquer them without qualm. But they could not do this with their brother Edom. The shock was too deep, the betrayal too painful. It is those who are closest to you who can hurt you the most.
This experience is incredibly resonant in our day and age. The sense of betrayal many of us feel about the alliances we came to rely on, particularly after October 7th, cut deep. Many of us feel unmoored. Our partners have abandoned us! We showed up for them, why aren’t they here for us? Through all this hurt, it is hard to know how to react. Should we fight them? Should we try harder to make them see our perspective, to remember the years of hopes we had placed in each other?
Like the Israelites, when faced with the death of their alliance with Edom, I think we should pause, breathe, and step away. There will be time for a reckoning, or if we want it, a reconciliation, but acting from a place of hurt will only add regret to the sense of erasure and abandonment we now feel.
Shabbat Shalom
