Written by Bob Weir and John Perry Barlow
Song Performed by The Grateful Dead
Originally released 1987, Arista Records
My brother Esau killed a hunter
Back in 1969
And before the killing was done
His inheritance was mine
But his birthright was a wand to wave
Before a weary band
Esau gave me sleeplessness
And a piece of moral land
My father favoured Esau
Who was eager to obey
All the bloody wild commandments
The old man shot his way
But all his favour ended when
My brother failed at war
He staggered home
And found me in the door
Esau skates on mirrors any more
Meets his pale reflection at the door
Yet sometimes at night I dream
He's still that hairy man
Shadowboxing the apocalypse
Wandering the land
Esau holds a blessing
Brother Esau holds a curse
I would say that the blame was mine
But I suspect it's something worse
The more my brother looks like me
The less I understand
The silent war that bloodied both our hands
Sometimes at night, I think I understand
Way late at night, more I feel I understand
It's brother to brother and it's man to man
And it's face to face and it's hand to hand
We shadowdance the silent war within
The shadowdance, it never ends
Never ends, never ends
Shadowboxing the apocalypse, yet again
Yet again
Shadowboxing the apocalypse
And wandering the land
Song Performed by The Grateful Dead
Originally released 1987, Arista Records
My brother Esau killed a hunter
Back in 1969
And before the killing was done
His inheritance was mine
But his birthright was a wand to wave
Before a weary band
Esau gave me sleeplessness
And a piece of moral land
My father favoured Esau
Who was eager to obey
All the bloody wild commandments
The old man shot his way
But all his favour ended when
My brother failed at war
He staggered home
And found me in the door
Esau skates on mirrors any more
Meets his pale reflection at the door
Yet sometimes at night I dream
He's still that hairy man
Shadowboxing the apocalypse
Wandering the land
Esau holds a blessing
Brother Esau holds a curse
I would say that the blame was mine
But I suspect it's something worse
The more my brother looks like me
The less I understand
The silent war that bloodied both our hands
Sometimes at night, I think I understand
Way late at night, more I feel I understand
It's brother to brother and it's man to man
And it's face to face and it's hand to hand
We shadowdance the silent war within
The shadowdance, it never ends
Never ends, never ends
Shadowboxing the apocalypse, yet again
Yet again
Shadowboxing the apocalypse
And wandering the land
The narrative of Jacob and Esau within Jewish tradition captures the essence of sibling rivalry, destiny, and the intricate nature of human relationships. Born to Isaac and Rebecca, these twin brothers entered the world locked in a struggle that would define their lives and echo through generations. Jacob, described as a quiet man who dwelled among the tents, and Esau, a skillful hunter, and man of the field, embodied contrasting aspects of the human experience, symbolizing the eternal tension between the spiritual and the material.
From their very conception, Jacob and Esau were marked by conflict. The Torah recounts that during Rebecca's pregnancy, the twins struggled within her womb, foreshadowing the discord that would characterize their relationship. This struggle, often depicted in art and literature as a physical battle, is understood in Jewish tradition to represent a deeper, existential conflict. Jacob and Esau, though born as twins, embodied different paths and destinies. Jacob, whose name would later be changed to Israel, became the progenitor of the Jewish people, while Esau was associated with the Edomites, a neighboring nation. This dichotomy has been interpreted to symbolize the struggle between the spiritual and the material, the righteous and the worldly.
Traditional interpretations of the Jacob and Esau narrative often emphasize their differences and the conflict between them. Jacob is typically portrayed as the hero, the chosen one who receives the blessings of his father Isaac, and carries forth the divine covenant. Esau, on the other hand, is often cast as the villain, the wayward brother who squanders his birthright and is ultimately rejected by his family. However, these interpretations, while valid in their own right, only scratch the surface of the deeper truths embedded in this biblical story.
The opening lines of the song, written by Bob Weir and John Barlow, "My brother Esau killed a hunter, Back in 1969, And before the killing was done, His inheritance was mine," set the stage for a narrative steeped in themes of destiny and conflict. This reflects the biblical story where Esau sells his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of stew. This act of trading something of eternal value for immediate gratification highlights the tension between the spiritual and the material, a core theme in the story of Jacob and Esau and one that reverberates through the song.
The imagery of "shadowboxing the apocalypse" can be interpreted as our tendency to build up an existential threat in our minds where none exists. This line captures the futility of fighting against our shadows - battling against perceived enemies that are, in fact, parts of ourselves.
This notion resonates with the teachings of the Tanya, which emphasize the concept of Echad (oneness). According to the Tanya, the ultimate reality is the oneness of God, which permeates all of creation - that all beings are interconnected and that the illusion of separateness is just that—an illusion. The Altar Rebbe points to verses from the Zohar to suggest that this illusion of separateness is created by the intentional concealment of God's oneness in our world, and that only by this mechanism can we possess free will. We can, at all times, choose to either affirm the eternal oneness, or pursue the illusion that anything exists independent of the Divine.
When we view others as separate from ourselves, we fail to see the Echad - the oneness that binds us all together. The ideas of separateness and 'othering' lead to conflict and misunderstanding, as depicted in the song.
The line, "The more my brother looks like me, the less I understand the silent war that bloodied both our hands," captures a profound realization. As Jacob sees more of himself in Esau, he begins to question the reasons for their animosity. This lyric suggests that recognizing our shared humanity can blur the lines of conflict, making the reasons for our disputes less clear. The "silent war" alludes to the deep, often unspoken assumptions that define their relationship.
This 'silent war' is not just between two brothers but within each of us, reflecting the inner struggle to reconcile our higher spiritual aspirations with our material desires.
Jacob, the spiritual seeker, embodies our divine aspirations, while Esau, representing the material world, symbolizes earthly desires. The Tanya teaches that these aspects of the self are not inherently at odds but complementary parts of a unified whole. Like Rebecca, we carry two distinct dimensions within ourselves - the spiritual self and the physical self - often at odds with one another. "The shadowdance never ends." And like the twin brothers, we share a common denominator with our greatest perceived enemy.
By recognizing the divine spark within each individual and embracing our interconnectedness, we can overcome conflict and work towards a more peaceful and harmonious existence. Just as Jacob and Esau reconciled, we too can strive to reconcile the divisions that separate us from one another, leading to a world of greater understanding, compassion, and unity.
From their very conception, Jacob and Esau were marked by conflict. The Torah recounts that during Rebecca's pregnancy, the twins struggled within her womb, foreshadowing the discord that would characterize their relationship. This struggle, often depicted in art and literature as a physical battle, is understood in Jewish tradition to represent a deeper, existential conflict. Jacob and Esau, though born as twins, embodied different paths and destinies. Jacob, whose name would later be changed to Israel, became the progenitor of the Jewish people, while Esau was associated with the Edomites, a neighboring nation. This dichotomy has been interpreted to symbolize the struggle between the spiritual and the material, the righteous and the worldly.
Traditional interpretations of the Jacob and Esau narrative often emphasize their differences and the conflict between them. Jacob is typically portrayed as the hero, the chosen one who receives the blessings of his father Isaac, and carries forth the divine covenant. Esau, on the other hand, is often cast as the villain, the wayward brother who squanders his birthright and is ultimately rejected by his family. However, these interpretations, while valid in their own right, only scratch the surface of the deeper truths embedded in this biblical story.
The opening lines of the song, written by Bob Weir and John Barlow, "My brother Esau killed a hunter, Back in 1969, And before the killing was done, His inheritance was mine," set the stage for a narrative steeped in themes of destiny and conflict. This reflects the biblical story where Esau sells his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of stew. This act of trading something of eternal value for immediate gratification highlights the tension between the spiritual and the material, a core theme in the story of Jacob and Esau and one that reverberates through the song.
The imagery of "shadowboxing the apocalypse" can be interpreted as our tendency to build up an existential threat in our minds where none exists. This line captures the futility of fighting against our shadows - battling against perceived enemies that are, in fact, parts of ourselves.
This notion resonates with the teachings of the Tanya, which emphasize the concept of Echad (oneness). According to the Tanya, the ultimate reality is the oneness of God, which permeates all of creation - that all beings are interconnected and that the illusion of separateness is just that—an illusion. The Altar Rebbe points to verses from the Zohar to suggest that this illusion of separateness is created by the intentional concealment of God's oneness in our world, and that only by this mechanism can we possess free will. We can, at all times, choose to either affirm the eternal oneness, or pursue the illusion that anything exists independent of the Divine.
When we view others as separate from ourselves, we fail to see the Echad - the oneness that binds us all together. The ideas of separateness and 'othering' lead to conflict and misunderstanding, as depicted in the song.
The line, "The more my brother looks like me, the less I understand the silent war that bloodied both our hands," captures a profound realization. As Jacob sees more of himself in Esau, he begins to question the reasons for their animosity. This lyric suggests that recognizing our shared humanity can blur the lines of conflict, making the reasons for our disputes less clear. The "silent war" alludes to the deep, often unspoken assumptions that define their relationship.
This 'silent war' is not just between two brothers but within each of us, reflecting the inner struggle to reconcile our higher spiritual aspirations with our material desires.
Jacob, the spiritual seeker, embodies our divine aspirations, while Esau, representing the material world, symbolizes earthly desires. The Tanya teaches that these aspects of the self are not inherently at odds but complementary parts of a unified whole. Like Rebecca, we carry two distinct dimensions within ourselves - the spiritual self and the physical self - often at odds with one another. "The shadowdance never ends." And like the twin brothers, we share a common denominator with our greatest perceived enemy.
By recognizing the divine spark within each individual and embracing our interconnectedness, we can overcome conflict and work towards a more peaceful and harmonious existence. Just as Jacob and Esau reconciled, we too can strive to reconcile the divisions that separate us from one another, leading to a world of greater understanding, compassion, and unity.