Meeting Life

By RABBI SUSAN SILVERMAN

Parashat Vayishlach (Genesis 32:4-36:40)

On the eve of my own exciting, uncertain journey, I sit to write about the journeys of our ancestors. Reading of Jacob's frantic and anxious preparations for his meeting with Esau, and of Dina's "going out", I think about my long prepared for my journey to Ethiopia—now only two days away. I am leaving for Addis Ababa to meet and bring home our son, a nine-month-old whose pictures we have stared at longingly for nearly his whole life. As the moment of our introduction approaches, I find myself both painfully eager to hold him, and, conversely, savoring the last moments of mystery, trying to etch into my soul the memory of not knowing this child.

Neither Jacob nor Dina was able to predict or decide the outcome of their journey. Jacob is uneasy about the impending reunion with his brother, Esau. Years earlier, after stealing Esau's blessing from their father Isaac, he fled from the infuriated Esau.

Jacob hates and fears the unknown, the possibility of Esau's vengeful wrath. Thus, Jacob makes carefully choreographed preparations to protect his family, servants and wealth. He reminds God, beseechingly, of the deal they had struck earlier when Jacob had prayed for God to rescue him from the hands of Esau and God had responded with assurance.

Dina, on the other hand, demonstrates fearlessness—openness to whatever she may encounter in her going out "to see the daughters of the land". She embraces mystery. The intricate maneuverings of Jacob's preparations to move on are juxtaposed with the free-spiritedness of Dina's excursion.

The results of their respective journeys are also entirely different. Jacob meets his brother and they treat each other with kindness and generosity, but their reunion is short-lived. Dina's journey culminates in her rape at the hands of Shechem, the Hivvite prince of the region. Her journey is traumatic, although exactly to what extent we do not know because her voice, her thoughts and her feelings were not recorded. But by all accounts, Jacob's much feared encounter was peaceful, and Dina's openness led eventually to violence.

Dina's unrestrained, unburdened approach to her expedition balances Jacob's panicky desire to control the unknown. Reading these stories that reach from one extreme to another informs my understanding of how my family approaches the unknown and huge changes we are now facing. Ethiopia! A new child! A brother for our two daughters! I know that I do not want to attempt (inevitably in vain) to control every detail of what this new child will mean for our family, fearing the vicissitudes of life so much that I cannot allow life to unfold. Nor do I want chaos to be the ruling force, wholly submitting myself to chance.

Instead, our preparations for the adoption have involved both ends of the spectrum. On one end, we meticulously worked through piles of tedious paperwork with an inner sense of fearful, frantic faithlessness in the bureaucratic process. Will it fail us? How can we affect it, control it, speed it up, ensure that it goes well? On the other end, we experienced a simple but true faith that propelled us into the world and to one of millions of orphans. Letting mystery fill our souls.

In working through this process—as with parenting our two birth children—we have learned to take control when possible and appropriate, and, other times, to embrace mystery. Like Jacob, we are preparing for the worst—medical specialists have been located, practitioners of child development researched, a therapist consulted. Like Dina, we are stepping out of the familiar, feeling the wind on our faces, and, open-hearted and unafraid, meeting life.

(Postscript: Adari Daniel Abramowitz-Silverman arrived in the United States on October 16, 1999.)