We Can't Stand Idly By

Vayetze

Genesis 28:10-33:3
Précis: As Jacob travels towards the household of his uncle Laban, he dreams of a ladder (some translate it as a ramp) to heaven, with angels ascending and descending. He vows to build a great house for God on the spot (identified by some as the same site as the Akedah and the site of the future Temple). Jacob meets and falls in love with Laban’s younger daughter, Rachel. Laban agrees to the match, provided that Jacob works for him for seven years. Laban switches the older daughter, Leah, for Rachel; Jacob works an additional seven years for Rachel’s hand. After the 14 years, Jacob works for Laban for another six, and acquires great wealth and flocks through shrewd husbandry. During the stay with Laban, most of the children of Jacob are born. At the conclusion of the parasha, after tense negotiations with Laban, Jacob leaves with his possessions and family.


Genesis 29:7 “And he [Jacob] said [to the shepherds at the well], ‘Lo, it is yet high day, and it is not time to round up the cattle; water the sheep, and then go feed them.’”

Because of recent events at Penn State, I felt it appropriate to repeat in part an analysis I originally presented in a weekly d’var torah in 2006. Sforno, the 16th century Italian commentator, states that in this story, Jacob, a stranger, chastises the workers for quitting early and thereby depriving their employers of a full day's work for a full day's pay. From this, Sforno draws an ethical mandate: a righteous man objects to a wrong that is being done before his eyes, even though the wrong is done to others. Thus, one can't stand idly by when a wrong is being done to another just because one is not personally affected.

The connection to the allegations of inaction by officials at Penn State who observed or learned of sexual assaults on children by a staff member is clear. One must stand witness to protect the lives and health of others, and one is obliged to demand that those who commit the most heinous of crimes are not protected by inaction, silence, or by simply turning one’s eye away.

Of course, this ethical demand transcends any single institution or situation. It is certainly a principle inherent in the Jewish values of family, congregational and communal life.