Weekly On-line Rabbi's D'var-Torah
December 12, 2024
13 Kislev 5785
Vayishlach
Although I’m an enthusiastic football fan, I have never liked the Baltimore Ravens. From the moment that the owner of the Cleveland Browns moved the team to Baltimore, I found the whole organization dislikable. However, I have to admit that there is one Baltimore Raven whom I’ve come to appreciate over the years, and that’s their kicker Justin Tucker.
Entering this season, he was statistically the greatest kicker of all time. He had the highest success rate and he set the record for the longest field goal ever made.
But all of a sudden, he’s been missing kicks that he typically made in previous seasons. He’s missed 10 kicks so far this season (with 4 more games to go) after missing a total of 13 over the previous TWO seasons. Although he seems to be healthy and he can still kick the ball over 60 yards in the air, he is clearly not kicking at the same level as he did in previous seasons. No one knows exactly why.
This is very similar to a baseball phenomenon called Steve Blass Disease (a/k/a Wild Man Syndrome)—an affliction feared by every major league pitcher.
What is this, you may ask? It is the complete and almost total inability to throw a strike to major league (and sometimes minor league) batters. This affliction is named after pitcher Steve Blass, who pitched for the Pittsburgh Pirates from the mid 1960’s to the mid 1970’s, the first documented victim. After about a decade as a reasonably successful major-league pitcher, Steve Blass suddenly lost his ability to throw strikes. There was nothing wrong with his arm or any other part of his body. Somehow, he lost his confidence. He began to doubt himself. It was completely in his head. He just couldn’t throw a strike anymore. In the end, he had no choice but to quit the game he loved.
Ever since, whenever a physically healthy pitcher suddenly loses the ability to throw the ball over the plate or throw it accurately to first base, he is inevitably compared to Steve Blass. I don’t know if Justin Tucker is much of a baseball fan, but it seems as though he has the football equivalent of Steve Blass Disease—he inexplicably can’t kick the way he used to.
In this week’s Torah portion, Jacob has a similar problem. Even after 20 years, his brother Esau is living in his head. As Jacob prepared to head home, he started off by sending messengers ahead with gifts and a message for Esau. He divided his family into two separate camps so that if Esau attacked one camp, the other would be safe. He separated himself from both of his family’s camps and spent the night praying. It was during this tense night that Jacob wrestled with an angel and got his new name—Israel.
Despite this buildup, when Jacob finally came face-to-face with Esau, they embraced as brothers, kissed, and wept. It had all been in Jacob’s head. Esau had gotten over Jacob’s youthful trickery. He had moved on and created his own life and family. And now, Jacob could do the same. Esau essentially gave Jacob permission to move on as well.
However, Jacob couldn’t do that until he heard it from someone else—in this case, his brother. So, when we see someone in our lives who has something going on in their heads, who can’t function as they once did, we should be like Esau and help them clear their heads so they can move on. And then, hopefully, they’ll start throwing strikes and kicking field goals like they used to.
Shalom,
RAF.
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