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The theology of sin and forgiveness in Judaism is anchored in God’s description of God’s self in Exodus 34:6-7: “The Lord! The Lord! A God compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in kindness and faithfulness, extending kindness to the thousandth generation, forgiving iniquity, transgression, and sin; yet He does not remit all punishment, but visits the iniquity of fathers upon children and children’s children, upon the third and fourth generations.” 
 
When we chant this verse in front of the open ark on Festivals and repeatedly throughout the Selichot services associated with the High Holidays, we leave off the part that highlights how our mistakes and personal challenges can undeniably impact the psyche of subsequent generations. Perhaps the crafters of our liturgy were suggesting that, by engaging with Torah and doing the hard work that true t'shuvah requires, this natural extended suffering can be mitigated. 
 
At the end of last week’s parashah, we encounter our compelling patriarch Avraham in all his pathos. Prepared to slaughter his 2nd born (Isaac) on the alter and spared that torturous act by the split-second intervention from the voice of reason, he walks away from that experience without the son he nearly killed (we are not sure how or with whom Isaac gets home) and does not return to Isaac’s mother Sarah. Avraham (who lives until the age of 175) spends the rest of his days in Beer-Sheva and Sarah dies at the age of 127, in Kiriath – Arba. 
 
Some midrashim suggest that, upon hearing that Avraham has taken Isaac to be slaughtered, Sarah dies on the spot, ergo the announcement of her death as the next narrative in the Torah. Avraham mourns Sarah for the requisite amount of time and purchases a family cave (Mahpelah in Hevron) that will be Sarah’s final resting place. In time Sarah will be joined by Avraham and their shared descendants who will eventually be “gathered to their kin.”  
 
Although the Torah emphasizes that “the Lord blessed Abraham in all things,” the close reader of text can discern that Avraham must have carried a lot of unresolved personal pain about his broken family of origin, the ongoing tension and competition between the mothers of his children, and the loss of relationship with not one but two sons. No amount of wealth could heal his personal failings and emotional wounds that remained unaddressed in his lifetime. 
 
Isaac certainly carried Abraham’s burden into his experience of fatherhood. Somewhat of a recluse, he lived with twin boys who were at odds from birth, made known that Esau was his favorite, and, as Abraham did with Sarah, conspired with to Rebecca to rob Esau of his place as their first born even though that may not have been Isaac’s true desire. 
 
Speaking of complicated people with a lot of unresolved issues, Jacob’s lack of fatherly love and approval created an internal void and dark feelings of inadequacy that could not be remitted by his own accumulated wealth or progeny. His questionable gesture of singling out Joseph as the favorite from among his twelve sons set in motion the wheels of history that led to our descent into and ultimate redemption from Egypt, but the book of Genesis concludes with the 11 brothers wondering if Joseph is just waiting for Jacob to die so he can take sweet revenge upon them all. The extended narrative of Judaism’s “first family” ends with more questions than answers and, based upon the texts we have to work with, only Judah and Joseph show growth of any kind with respect to facing their personal shortcomings. 
 
The passing down of generational pain caused by unresolved hurts and resentments is one way to understand what the Torah means when it says that even third and fourth generations could be "visited by the iniquity of fathers," potentially paying a high price for the limitations of parents, grandparents and great grandparents that do not or cannot confront their demons or take ownership of their errors while alive. 
 
In “The Real Housewives of Canaan,” Sarah appears to have chosen to live the latter part of her 127 years alone, without her husband by her side, perhaps because she was disgusted to know that Abraham not only considered sacrificing Isaac, but actually took the initiative. Rebecca lives out her days never again seeing her favorite son, Jacob, and, instead, being cared for by Esau (an excellent model of forgiveness who does love his parents in spite of what they did) and his wives. We do not see Jacob trying to help Rachel and Leah work through their jealousies and rivalries, and he too lives to a ripe old age grieving the loss of his son Joseph who he believes has been killed. The children of Abraham are a hot mess!! 
 
It is human nature to carry and often live out the burdens of our parents and grandparents. Using God's forgiving attributes as our model, we learn that it does not need to be this way – we all have agency to rewrite our family scripts. When we take ownership of our failed relationships, do the hard work required to understand our own roles in painful personal dramas and grant forgiveness to those who have hurt us, the payoff may not be fully realized in the moment. However it can definitely reduce the amount of toxicity that may be passed on to subsequent generations, planting the seeds of honesty, integrity and compassion needed in order for  generational healing to blossom. 
 
Shabbat Shalom u’mevorakh, 
Rabbi Marcia Tilchin