We're All Terrible Drivers and Here's What the Bible Says About That
Actual photo of me getting angry at another driver.
The other day when I was driving to work, the car in front of me stopped appropriately at a stop sign, but for some reason refused to move. They just sat there. It was a small residential street devoid of traffic except for the two of us, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out what was happening. Finally the passenger door opened and someone started to (very slowly) exit the car. As I whipped around them, I said aloud to the other driver, "You know, emergency lights would have been great here." I rolled my eyes and gave a sigh to show just how put upon I was.
Of course they couldn't hear me; I was in my car driving away. But it never ceases to amaze me how thoughtless other drivers can be, and how quick I am to share my "wisdom" with them. The snark just came out of my mouth. And of course I recognize that everyone does it — certainly I make stupid decisions when driving all the time and what must people say then?
Sometimes when I get cut off or someone refuses to let me into their lane, I really hold onto my irritation, reveling in the rising indignation and telling myself a whole story about the other driver. “Someone who drives like that probably doesn’t tip well and they never hold the elevator for anyone!” How righteous I am! How thoughtless are they! Well did you ever?!
But I know I should forgive other people their bad driving, and I should definitely forget it, if for no other reason than I am sometimes a terrible driver too and I wouldn’t want someone bearing a grudge against me. We are all terrible drivers.
There’s a scene from this week’s Torah portion, Tol’dot, that really drives this home for me.
Isaac — second of the patriarchs, father to Jacob and Esau, husband to Rebekah — is dying. In his belief, he has but one significant deathbed blessing to give and it must go to his firstborn and heir to the family fortune, Esau. Isaac sends Esau into the woods to bring home some game and prepare a meal, at which point Isaac would then offer Esau his final blessing. While Esau is out hunting, Jacob comes in dressed as Esau, convinces his dad that he’s his brother, and receives the blessing that Esau should have gotten.
Jacob is a jerk. Easy as that! Who does that? Is he so desperate and greedy that he has to resort to thievery and lies? And this is the guy that’s our people is named after! Father of the twelve tribes!
Authentic painting of Rebekah cooking the final meal for Isaac.
Authentic painting of Rebekah cooking the final meal for Isaac.
Well…it turns out that his mom Rebekah put him up to it. She offers to cook the meal that Esau should have prepared, and even helps him dress up as his brother. (Thus beginning a long tradition of moms hurriedly making costumes for their kids at the last second!) When he worries aloud about being cursed by his father for the deception, Rebekah says, “Upon me by thy curse, my son.” Favoring one son over another? For shame!
Rebekah is a terrible human being. Obvs! What mom favors one kid over another, particularly around something as important and tradition-bound as an inheritance? And all this to fool her own husband, whom she’s spent a lifetime with. For shame!
Well…it turns out that Rebekah was fulfilling one of God’s prophecies. See, back when the twins were still in her womb, she complained to God that the boys were struggling with each other even then. And God’s response, in part, was the foretelling that “the elder shall serve the younger.” So Rebekah knew that God wanted Jacob to be the inheritor of the family fortune and the recipient of Isaac’s final blessing. So she was just acting on God’s will.
So it was all God’s fault. Actually, the God of the Bible can be pretty vicious and spiteful, so it’s pretty much in line with God’s character.
Except… well… it turns out that Isaac probably knew all along that the young man in front of him wasn’t his son Esau. Isaac by this point was blind, but he wasn’t dumb. When Jacob first walked in the room and said hi to his dad, Isaac’s response is, “Who are you, my son?” And when Jacob assured his dad that he is Esau and presented the meal his mother had prepared, Isaac again asked, suspiciously, “How did you hunt down a deer so quickly?” And in Jacob’s attempt to fool his father, he put animal skin on his arms so that he would be as hairy as Esau. Isaac, still unconvinced that it was actually Esau doing all of this, notes aloud that the voice he hears is Isaac’s, but the arms he feels are Esau’s.
And still, despite all of Jacob and Rebekah’s effort, Isaac asks one final time, “Are you really my son Esau?” Jacob of course is fully committed to the lie and assured his dad one last time, yes, yes I am Esau. And you know what? Isaac goes ahead and blesses him! Despite all his misgivings, all the clues that something was up, all the suspicions that he feels and voices, in the end Isaac shrugs and goes, “Eh, whatever.”
Let’s face it, Isaac totally knew he was blessing the wrong son, bestowing this significant and unique honor on Jacob. And he did it anyway.
It was all Isaac’s fault.
Bad driving is just something we have to deal with.
Except that…we know it wasn’t anyone’s fault. Or maybe it’d be more accurate to say it was everyone’s fault. No one is blameless in this story — except for Esau I suppose. And even Esau clearly shows the sins of gluttony and carelessness, just not in this particular chapter of the Bible. Everyone is flawed here. And the not-s0-clear line of blame gets more tangled the deeper we get into the story.
We are all terrible drivers from time to time. Even with the best of intentions, sometimes we cut people off. Or forget to turn on a blinker. Or stop to let someone out of our car in an unideal location. We drive too slow, we drive too fast. What can you do? We’re human!
It’s easy enough to take the facts of the situation and make assumptions about the motivations behind them. Jacob was greedy and entitled, so he stole the blessing that should have been his. Isaac was an overindulgent parent, too laissez faire to call out his son when he knew he was sneaking around. Rebekah was manipulative and angry. But none of these explanations are accurate or complete. We could reframe their motivations in countless ways, all of which we could read into the text.
Given the incomplete information in the Bible, we could make any of these characters sympathetic or vile, sneaky or sincere. It’s all in the story we choose to tell. So when you get cut off on your way to work, why tell a story of venality and arrogance? Why assume the worst in total strangers, when all you have to go on is a few moments of interaction at a distance of ten feet? When you could instead cultivate an appreciation for how hard it is to be alive, for how hard we all have to work all the time, and then cut the other driver some slack. It’s all a story you’ve made up in your head either way, so why not write a story that acknowledges your shared humanity? It spares you the physical stress of and emotional violence of your anger, and helps you nurture a feeling of contentment, acceptance, and love. You don’t have to be thrilled you got cut off, but you can forgive it.
Maybe we should consider name-your-own speed limits? Hmm…maybe not.
Maybe we should consider name-your-own speed limits? Hmm…maybe not.
The next time someone seemingly tries to run you off the road, or races past you far beyond the speed limit, instead of cursing them for a moron and a jerk, take a deep breath instead. Remind yourself of a time when you made a stupid decision on the road. (Let’s face it, it shouldn’t be that hard to find one example!) And then take the instinctive reaction to assign the stranger a story of blame, and write a story of sympathy instead.
“She’s distracted because she had a really tough day at work.”
“He didn’t see me so he moved into my lane uncomfortably close. But he feels bad now that he saw I had to slam on my brakes.”
“That person is driving so fast because someone they love has just been admitted to the hospital.”
One story is as good as another, so let’s choose a story with a little grace and compassion. Who knows, maybe someone will do the same for you some day.