Destiny Need Not Destroy Us

I’m currently watching an engaging series called “The Crown” on Neflix – about Queen Elizabeth II and the royal family.

Lots of intrigue as you might imagine – one source of intrigue is the relationship between Elizabeth and her sister Margaret.  As children, Elizabeth and Margaret knew that one day Elizabeth would become the Queen.  She was educated toward the task, groomed for it in many ways.

They have very different personalities – Elizabeth is reserved, circumspect; Margaret is dramatic, flashy, engaging.

One episode in particular underscores the tension in their adult relationship, with Elizabeth already having served several years as queen, Elizabeth resenting the freedom that Margaret has, Margaret resenting the position and prestige that Elizabeth has.

The element that I want to talk about is DESTINY - expectation writ large - how powerful that is especially in a family, how painful it can be and how it might be managed in the most healthy and productive way.

Elizabeth and Margaret are two different people, with different innate qualities, yet there’s no doubt that the sense of destiny – the sense of where things need to go – is enormously influential.

The Crown is transcendent, it is relentless, it casts one sibling in one light, the other in an entirely different light.  The destiny symbolized by the crown – the connection to a larger cosmic reality – is energizing for the nation but often paralyzing for the monarch and the monarch’s family. 

The story of Jacob and Esau was told millennia before the British monarchy brought its splendor and wrought its havoc – but the sense of destiny is no less ennobling and destructive – the two ends of the same coin are at work.

The first family of the Israelites are profoundly influenced by destiny – each patriarch in each generation is told, in some variation – ונברכו בך כל משפחות האדמה v’niv’r’chu b’kha kol mishp’hot ha’adama – through you, all the nations of the earth shall be blessed.  And in each generation there is the sibling who will be the main inheritor, the one who will ensure the continuation of the Israelite line – and then there’s the other sibling.

So Jacob and Esau in some respects are the Elizabeth and Margaret of ancient Israel.   There is a similar entanglement of personality and destiny – the sons are quite different from one another – Esau is a hunter, איש שדה ish sadeh – a man of the field; Jacob is mild – איש תם ish tam, and he is comfortable staying at home – יושב אהלים yoshev ohalim.

The destiny is revealed to their mother when the boys are still in the womb – the older will serve the younger, Rebecca discovers.

Now again – there is an entanglement of personality and destiny – father Isaac likes Esau cause he feeds him BBQ; Rebecca likes Isaac – we aren’t told why – maybe because he stayed at home, but also likely because her encounter with God during pregnancy revealed that Jacob would become the dominant heir.

The brothers display animosity toward one another as they are growing up – Jacob wrangles the birthright from Esau and ultimately the preferred blessing.

It seems that the destiny plays out in subtle ways.  Nowhere does it say that Rebecca told Jacob about her vision.  And yet – somehow, Jacob feels empowered to out-maneuver his brother at every turn.

The result is that he gets what he wants, but the resentment on Esau’s part is so profound as to become murderous – after Jacob takes the b’chora – the birthright and the bracha – the preferred blessing - Esau wants to kill him.

I suspect that none of us comes from a family, or is raising a family, with future Israelite patriarchs or Windsor kings and queens. 

But destiny plays a role, let’s not kid ourselves.

And what I mean by that is that there is a nexus of expectation that emerges from, and in turn creates, a kind of destiny.

This one is my super-smart kid, reminds me of my paternal grandfather or paternal grandmother who took awhile to find him or herself before becoming successful – may need some "extra encouragement."

This one is my drama king or queen, reminds me of this one or that one, always the center of attention.

This one is really sweet, probably not going to make a huge impact, sort of like my aunt or uncle.

It's seldom as simple as what I outlined, we know that – there are a multitude of factors that we are and aren't conscious of, the interplay between personality and expectation, present, past and future, one sibling and the next – is often subtle – we seldom are aware of it, much less able or willing to articulate it – but over time, one statement or silence after another, one intervention or lack of intervention after another, what starts to seep into the minds and hearts and bodies and souls of our children for better and for worse is a sense of destiny – what they should be, what they are meant to be. 

I want to shift the focus from parents, which some of us are, to children, which all of us are.

We are well aware of, and tend to remember with great clarity, the spoken and unspoken "destiny messages" that we receive.

We know who our parents think or thought were worthy in this way or that way, superior or inferior in this way or that way, capable of this or that.  That web of expectation, that subtle and not-so-subtle articulation of destiny, does what webs do.  It provides us with pathways, but it can also impede and even consume us.

We may expend enormous energy trying to prove to our parents, whether they are alive or have passed on, that we can fulfill their expectations or - just as powerfully - that we can diverge from their expectations.

The impact of destiny as we perceive it can lead us to overcome it -but the process can be damaging for us and those around us.

Esau's tears, say the rabbis, the tears he shed when he discovered he was deprived of the choicer blessing, were partly responsible for the exile of our people.

If you look at pictures of Queen Elizabeth's sister, Margaret, later in life, they appear (to me at least) to suggest that she is not especially content, as though the royal destiny has somehow taken a toll on her.

I'd like to leave us with a suggestion.  When we're on the giving end of expectation, let's try to leave a space.  By that I mean - leaving a space for people we love to diverge from expectations stated or unstated.  Leaving a space for family legacy or destiny to be regarded perhaps with some humor, some flexibility, not always with such earnestness and intensity that there's no room left to breathe.

While we're at it, we can leave space for the possibility that groups of people may diverge from expectation.  In timely fashion I would point out that the expression "Esau hates Jacob" is used to describe a relentless destiny whereby Jacob's enemies always hate him.  The enemies change, the reality of the hatred remains the same.

During the recent horrendous fires in Israel, many Israeli Arabs and Palestinians fulfilled the "Esau hates Jacob" destiny/expectation by expressing celebration; others diverged from it by helping to fight the fires and by donating materials for Israeli Jews to rebuild.

When we're on the receiving end of expectation, we should consider giving ourselves space to diverge.  Elizabeth will discover her transgressive side, Margaret her sense of responsibility.  Jacob will wander, Esau will settle.

We don't have to remain shackled to the nexus of expectation and destiny in our lives, whatever the source, whether it be articulated openly or implied.

I started in England so why not end there, going back to the time of Elizabeth I. Each of us, if we give ourselves space to navigate beyond expectation, beyond destiny stated or implied by others, will come to recognize the extent to which our flaws and our accomplishments lie less in our stars than in ourselves.

Let's give our loved ones and ourselves the space we need to forge destiny, rather than be subsumed or consumed by it.

We may all be pleasantly surprised by the results.

Originally delivered at Temple Israel of Great Neck on December 3, 2016.