not every boundary, or border, is healthy
אַל־תַּ֭סֵּג גְּב֣וּל עוֹלָ֑ם אֲשֶׁ֖ר עָשׂ֣וּ אֲבוֹתֶֽיךָ׃
Do not move the long-standing boundary marker which your ancestors have established – Mishle (Proverbs) 22.28
In this, the third year of the Triennial Cycle of Torah, we discover the benefits of having our attention forced away from the marquee event (Jacob’s vision of a ladder) to the more subtle lessons of Shabbat VaYetze. Our reading of the parashah, two-thirds of the way through it,begins with Jacob, Leah and Rachel agreeing that the time has come to leave their family of origin in Padan Aram in order to move to Jacob’s family dwelling in Canaan.
The in-law relationship between Jacob and Laban has been tense and the parting is no different. The two finally agree to go their separate ways by way of setting a boundary marker between them,
וַיֹּ֨אמֶר יַעֲקֹ֤ב לְאֶחָיו֙ לִקְט֣וּ אֲבָנִ֔ים וַיִּקְח֥וּ אֲבָנִ֖ים וַיַּֽעֲשׂוּ־גָ֑ל וַיֹּ֥אכְלוּ שָׁ֖ם עַל־הַגָּֽל׃
And Jacob said to his kinsmen, “Gather stones.” So they took stones and made a mound; and they partook of a meal there by the mound.
וַיִּקְרָא־ל֣וֹ לָבָ֔ן יְגַ֖ר שָׂהֲדוּתָ֑א וְיַֽעֲקֹ֔ב קָ֥רָא ל֖וֹ גַּלְעֵֽד׃
Laban named it Yegar-sahadutha, but Jacob named it Gal-ed.
וַיֹּ֣אמֶר לָבָ֔ן הַגַּ֨ל הַזֶּ֥ה עֵ֛ד בֵּינִ֥י וּבֵינְךָ֖ הַיּ֑וֹם עַל־כֵּ֥ן קָרָֽא־שְׁמ֖וֹ גַּלְעֵֽד׃
And Laban declared, “This mound is a witness between you and me this day.” That is why it was named Gal-ed;
וְהַמִּצְפָּה֙ אֲשֶׁ֣ר אָמַ֔ר יִ֥צֶף ה’ בֵּינִ֣י וּבֵינֶ֑ךָ כִּ֥י נִסָּתֵ֖ר אִ֥ישׁ מֵרֵעֵֽהוּ׃
and [it was called] Mizpah, because he said, “May ‘ה watch [tz.p.h] between you and me, when we are out of sight of each other. (Genesis 31.46-49)
In these moments we are witnessing the establishment of a healthy boundary between two people who, at best, are going to agree to disagree. Notice that they are able share a meal together (an important part of a two-party pact) without even agreeing on what the boundary should be named!
In a living tradition such as Judaism, boundaries – of law, custom, and habit – must be humanly flexible to be alive. Dr Menachem Fisch teaches that you can see Jewish law as a living thing, and watch it breath out and in as it flexes in some ages to incorporate new interpretations of a law, and contracts in others to codify and settle that new understanding.
A 19th century rabbi, the Hatam Sofer, reads something of this into Jacob’s response when Laban accuses him of having stolen his “household gods [elohim]”: הַֽכֶּר־לְךָ֛ מָ֥ה עִמָּדִ֖י – look at what is with me (Gen. 31.32). Rabbi Moshe Sofer explains:
Jacob put his faith in Elohim Hayim, the living G*d, source of creation, and Laban put his into wood and stone carvings….this is the essential question: “look at what is with me” in order to recognize [whether one has] a living faith. (Itturei Torah, VaYetze, 277)
We set boundaries based on what we believe. Although respecting boundaries is a long-established concept in our people’s culture, then as now, judgement devolves upon whether the boundary is healthy. Does the boundary protect life and allow it to thrive, or is it strangling life?
Consider that the various boundaries you may impose on others—and on yourself as well—are all designed (however unconsciously) for self-protection. For the most part, they’re to keep others from taking advantage of you, or to hold them at whatever distance you deem necessary to feel safe. But what if your needs for safety (whether physical, mental, or emotional) are exaggerated? distorted? or self-sabotaging? In short, what if they’re dysfunctional? What if they undermine other needs, which you may be less aware of but which are actually more vital to your happiness or welfare? And here I’m referring to such universally held needs and desires as the full, non-constrained expression of self. Or—because we’re all social animals at heart—the need to share yourself intimately with others, and have them do the same with you. (Leon Seltzer PhD, “Are Your Boundaries Making You Miserable?” Psychology Today)
Boundaries, walls, fences, borders: in a rough neighborhood, well-justified fear can cause us to overdo it. So much that blocks growth and even awareness comes with the walls that are obstructing our sight lines.
After the Second Intifada (2000-2005), Israel’s prime minister Ariel Sharon initiated a Separation Wall which may have lowered suicide bombing rates (that was its intent) but also cut off nearly all social contact between Israelis and Palestinians. Is there a link between it and many Israelis’ difficulty in empathizing with Palestinians twenty years later?
Coincidentally, in 2000 Dr Robert Putnam published Bowling Alone, in which he asks why U.S. democracy is in crisis. One of his insights was that 20th century amenities such as television, air conditioning and fences brought an end to relationships between people who had seen each other on a regular basis from their porches or at shared entertainment. A recent documentary is available on Netflix for your perusal: Join Or Die.
Jews, whose lives are predicated upon the assumption of community, should have an advantage here when creating respectful flexible living boundaries for ourselves and each other. But U.S. Jews have lost some of that communal wisdom (we have TVs too, and far too few of us take part in intentional community).
Yet we do have community, and the stories in our culture carry so many fascinating lessons that can shed welcome light on what is obstructing our vision now. This is not a time for fencing oneself in unto social isolation; while circling the wagons is necessary, we need to continue to be able to breathe, and to welcome that which supports life. As Jacob suggests through the interpretation of the Hatam Sofer: look at what is with you and see, is your belief rooted in life?
Torah for the 21st Century by Rabbi Ariel Stone 