PARASHAT VAYETZE

By Rav David Silverberg

            We read towards the end of Parashat Vayetze of Yaakov's escape from the home of his father-in-law, Lavan, after a period twenty years of work.  Three days after Yaakov and his family's departure from Padan Aram, Lavan is informed of his son-in-law's escape and pursues him.  The evening before Lavan reaches Yaakov, God appears to Lavan in a dream and warns against attempting to cause Yaakov harm, indicating that Lavan had indeed planned to kill or otherwise cause harm to Yaakov.

            The Ba'al Ha-Turim (31:22) notes the similarity between the Torah's formulation in this context – "It was told to Lavan on the third day that Yaakov had fled" – and a verse in Sefer Shemot (14:5), which tells that after the Exodus from Egypt, "It was told to the king of Egypt that the nation [Israel] had fled."  The Ba'al Ha-Turim cites a comment from the Midrash that it was Amalek who informed Lavan of Yaakov's escape, and Amalek likewise brought the news to Pharaoh of Benei Yisrael's departure from Egypt.  Presumably, this Midrash refers to Amalek the person in the context of Yaakov's escape from Lavan, and Amalek the nation with regard to the Exodus.  Amalek, as we read in Parashat Vayishlach (36:12), was a grandson of Esav, and he was likely old enough to report Yaakov's escape to Lavan.  The Exodus, of course, occurred over two centuries later, by which point Amalek had most likely passed away, but a small nation had already emerged (as we of course know from Amalek's attack on Benei Yisrael after the Exodus).  It should be noted that the identification of Amalek as the ones who reported Benei Yisrael's flight from Egypt appears in the Mekhilta, whereas the notion of Amalek reporting Yaakov's escape appears nowhere other than in the Ba'al Ha-Turim.

            Conceptually, the association between Amalek and these two incidents would appear to depict Amalek as the force that attempts to resist Benei Yisrael's process of redemption.  Yaakov's travails in Padan Aram and his ultimate return to Canaan are often seen as symbolic and representative of the Jewish people's experiences in exile and the hope of their eventual return to their homeland.  Both in this instance and during Benei Yisrael's redemption from Egyptian bondage, efforts were made by Amalek to interfere with and reverse this process of return, to bring Benei Yisrael back into exile under the influence and subjugation of their foes.  (Similarly, we read in Parashat Vayishlach of a mysterious assailant who wrestles with Yaakov upon his return to Canaan, a man commonly identified by Chazal as saro shel Esav, Esav's heavenly angel, who likewise attempted to thwart Yaakov's return.)  Amalek represents the forces that oppose Benei Yisrael's spiritual destiny, that seek to divest the Jewish people of their stature as God's special nation.  Chazal famously compare Amalek's attack on Am Yisrael to a person who cools a scolding pool of water by jumping in.  After the Exodus, Benei Yisrael's stature was clear and evident to all, until Amalek "jumped in," attempting to demonstrate that Benei Yisrael are vulnerable just like all peoples on earth, that their stature does not exceed that of any other nation.

            Interestingly, consistent with the theme of "ve-nahafokh hu" that characterizes so many aspects of the Purim story, Haman, a descendant of Amalek, had the precise opposite effect upon the Jewish people.  The Jews in Persia had sunken into a steady process of assimilation and spiritual indifference, as they gradually integrated into the gentile society at the expense of their traditions and laws.  Haman's decree awakened the people to their vulnerability in exile, and inspired a widespread recommitment to Torah and mitzvot.  As the Gemara famously writes, the Purim miracle was followed by a formal reacceptance of the Torah that is seen as a renewal of the covenant of Sinai.  Whereas Amalek generally signifies the efforts to disrupt Benei Yisrael's process of redemption and pursuit of their spiritual destiny, Haman effectively thwarted the Jews' process of assimilation, and brought about a revitalized dedication and loyalty to Torah observance.

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            The Torah tells in Parashat Vayetze that upon the birth of Yosef, Yaakov's eleventh son, he expressed to Lavan his desire to return to Canaan.  Rashi, citing the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 73:6), explains that Yaakov prophetically understood that Yosef's birth would enable him to confront his brother, Esav, from whom he had been hiding all these years.  The prophet Ovadya (1:18) foresees the time when "the house of Yaakov shall be a fire, and the house of Yosef a flame, and the house of Esav straw."  A small fire is not capable of spreading to vast distances to consume all traces of straw.  Only a large "flame" has the energy needed to destroy the straw.  Yaakov thus felt confident that with the birth of Yosef, the "flame," he is now able to confront and defeat his hostile brother.

            Rav Menachem Bentzion Zaks, in his work Menachem Tziyon, offers an explanation for the symbolism of the "fire" of Yaakov and the "flame" of Yosef.  Confronting evil requires the balance of two generally conflicting characteristics: patience and calculated thinking on the one hand, and, on the other, youthful passion and energy.  The Midrash here teaches that spiritual success requires a combination of slow, disciplined planning, and raging emotion and energy.  Generally speaking, people in their youth possess the "flame" of Yosef, the emotional energy and passion to achieve, but lack the small "fire" of Yaakov, the patience and discipline that comes with maturity.  Conversely, many adults develop proper discipline, but at the expense of their youthful, idealistic passion.  Yaakov understood that triumphing over evil requires both elements, that only with the maturity and wisdom of Yaakov, alongside the emotion and passion of Yosef, can Esav be once and for all defeated.

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            Among the more famous approaches taken in understanding the meaning behind Yaakov's mysterious dream of the ladder and angels is that of the Midrashic works Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer (35) and Midrash Tanchuma (Vayetze 2).  According to this approach, the angels ascending and descending the ladder represent the powerful nations of the world that, throughout history, have risen to prominence and then ultimately declined.  The significance of this vision, as the Ramban explains (though he himself suggests a different understanding of the dream), lies in God's promise to Yaakov that He will protect his descendants throughout their experiences among these fearsome nations.  The Ramban adds that according to this approach, this vision beheld by Yaakov parallels the prophecy of berit bein ha-betarim, wherein Avraham was informed of his descendants' subjugation to foreign nations.  In both these prophecies, God promises the patriarch that a great, successful nation will descend from him, but that this nation will have to endure periods of hardship and persecution along the road towards realizing their national destiny.

            As Seforno briefly notes, this understanding of the dream sheds light on the word nitzav used by the Torah in describing the Almighty "standing" over Yaakov: "Behold, there was a ladder stationed in the ground, and behold, angels of God ascended and descended it; and behold, the Lord was standing over him…" (28:12-13).  This term, nitzav, denotes not merely "standing," but standing firmly, resiliently and defiantly.  For example, in Sefer Devarim (29:9), after Moshe describes the dreadful calamities that God threatened to bring upon the people should they disobey the Torah, he declares, "Atem nitzavim hayom" – "You stand here."  As Rashi explains, Moshe sought to encourage the disheartened nation by reminding them that despite their having sinned against God in the wilderness, they have nevertheless survived and continue to "stand" as a large nation.  Similarly, the Hebrew overseers in Egypt are described as "nitzavim" – "standing" – outside Pharaoh's palace to express their objection to Moshe and Aharon after their efforts had worsened the slaves' plight in Egypt (Shemot 5:20).  They stood with a stubborn defiance, prepared to reject Moshe and Aharon as representatives of the Hebrew slaves.

            Accordingly, the image of God nitzav – standing firmly – over Yaakov is intended to sharply contrast with the constant motion of the world powers.  This dream demonstrates that nations come and go, the realities of the world continuously change, but the relationship between God and Am Yisrael remains constant.  And this constancy is manifest in two ways, corresponding to the two directions of the ladder: from the nation towards God, and from God towards the nation.  From Benei Yisrael's perspective, we must retain our firm, unrelenting devotion to the Almighty regardless of who currently climbs the ladder, irrespective of which nation has risen to prominence and exerts its political and cultural influence on the rest of the world.  And, in response, God guarantees Yaakov's descendants that His protection remains constant under all conditions, regardless of the viciousness and cruelty of the nations in power.  Nations come and go, but Am Yisrael's devotion to God, and God's promise to shield His nation from harm, remain intact forever.

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            The first section of Parashat Vayetze tells of Yaakov's departure from Canaan and his journey to Padan Aram.  Upon awakening from his famous dream of the angels on the ladder, he declares a vow whereby he promises to donate one-tenth of his earnings if God protects him during his stay outside Canaan and returns him home safely (28:20-22).

            Commenting on the words, "and [if] I return safely to my father's home" (28:21), Rashi writes that this refers not to Yaakov's physical return to Canaan, but rather to his spiritual well-being: "'Safely' – perfect, without sin, that I do not learn from Lavan's conduct."  Yaakov conditions his vow not only on God's physical protection, but also on his spiritual survival in the corrupt environment of Lavan.

            What might have compelled Rashi to advance this interpretation of the verse?  Why did he prefer this seemingly homiletic reading over the straightforward meaning, whereby Yaakov refers simply to his safe return home?

            The Maharshal, in his work on Rashi's commentary entitled Yeri'iot Shelomo, suggests a surprisingly simple answer.  In formulating the terms of his vow, Yaakov mentions all the conditions in reference to God: "If God shall be with me and protect me…and give me bread to eat…" (28:20).  When, however, he comes to the condition of his safe return home, he does not attribute this to God: "and I return safely to my father's home."  Rather than saying, "and He returns me safely to my father's home," attributing his return to God, he speaks of returning himself, with his own efforts.  Thus, whereas protection and the provision of needs are attributed to the Almighty's providence, his return home is attributed to himself.

            This subtle but significant distinction, the Maharal claims, led Rashi to adopt the novel reading of the phrase, "and I return safely."  Yaakov understood that spiritual success, his religious and moral survival in an environment of paganism, superstition and deceit, depended, first and foremost, on his own efforts.  ("Ha-kol bi-dei Shamayim chutz mi-yir'at Shamayim.")  His physical and material well-being can be attributed to God, but his ability to withstand spiritual challenges lay within himself, and hinged upon his own hard work and struggles.  Therefore, when Yaakov speaks of God offering protection and providing him with food and clothing, but of himself "returning safely," he must refer to the kind of "safety" that depends mainly on his own efforts and initiative, namely, his success in withstanding the corrupt influences of his unscrupulous father-in-law.

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            The Torah records in Parashat Vayetze a tense exchange between Yaakov and Rachel concerning the latter's inability to conceive.  This exchange begins with Rachel turning to Yaakov to express her frustration: "Give me children, for otherwise I shall die!" (30:2).  Yaakov angrily replies, "Am I in the position of God, who has withheld from you fruit of the womb?"

            The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 71) sharply criticizes Yaakov for his harsh response to his embittered wife: "The Almighty said to him [Yaakov]: Is this how one responds to those who are in anguish?  By My life, your sons shall stand before her son!"  While it is unclear how exactly the authority of Yosef (Rachel's son) over his brothers served as a punishment to Yaakov – Yosef was, after all, Yaakov's son, as well – the Midrash clearly disapproves of what it perceived to be Yaakov's insensitive reaction to Rachel's frustration. 

            At first glance, Yaakov's response to Rachel was a perfectly logical one.  She spoke to him as if he were to blame for her infertility, as if this power lay in his hands: "Give me children."  One can easily detect an element of accusation in Rachel's remark, casting upon her husband the responsibility for her inability to conceive in contrast to Leah's bearing by that point four sons.  In response, Yaakov, quite reasonably, refuted the accusation, noting the obvious fact that it is God, not he, who holds the key to conception.   Why does the Midrash react so harshly to Yaakov's response, asking, "Is this how one responds to those who are in aguish?"?

            Rav Avraham Pam explained that an additional degree of patience and tolerance is required when responding to those experiencing pain.  Rachel's comment was certainly irrational and unwarranted, but she spoke out of pain and anguish.  In this context, a rational response is an insensitive response.  Rachel did not require a theological discourse regarding the Almighty's exclusive power over childbearing; she was in desperate need of compassion and understanding.

            This Midrash thus presents a basic but critical lesson that can – and must – be applied in everyday life.  People experiencing pain, frustration or anxiety often say things that they later regret, words that they know to be untrue or illogical but emerge from the mouth in an emotional outburst.  It is the responsibility of those to whom these words are directed to take them in context and respond with compassion and understanding, rather than pouring salt on the wound through anger and resentment, which can only intensify the feelings of pain.  Such remarks must not be taken as a personal assault, but rather for what they are: an expression of frustration.  Learning and applying this simple lesson, Rav Pam noted, could help avoid much of the tension and friction that often develop among family members and friends during stressful periods.

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            Towards the end of Parashat Vayetze, the Torah records the fiery exchange of words between Yaakov and Lavan, and their ultimate reconciliation.  After Lavan searches through Yaakov's belongings in vain looking for his missing terafim (statues, or oracles), Yaakov frustratingly complains to his father-in-law, noting his impeccable integrity over the last twenty years of service and his tireless devotion to his job as shepherd.  Lavan responds by claiming that everything Yaakov has – including his family and his wealth – had all been given to him from Lavan, and Lavan therefore had every right to chase after Yaakov and search through his belongings.  Lavan then offers a truce, and Yaakov and Lavan indeed pronounce a mutual treaty and erect a monument testifying to their agreement.

            Why does the Torah elaborate in such great detail on this dispute between Yaakov and Lavan and their eventual reconciliation?

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his work Yalkut Yehuda (Denver, 1936), suggests that the Torah recorded this exchange because of its importance with regard to the age-old struggle between labor and management.  Since time immemorial, employers and workers have often harbored mutual feelings of resentment.  Employees feel that all their employers' profits and success were earned through their efforts, by the sweats of their brows, and they deserve more than what they are given.  The employers tend to feel a sense of "ownership" over their workers, as they provide the workers with their livelihood, without which they could not survive.  Naturally, employers feel justified in demanding perfect compliance and absolute devotion on the part of their workers, who depend on them for their daily bread.

            This ongoing conflict is very clearly manifest in the bitter exchange between Yaakov and Lavan.  Yaakov argues that he has worked tirelessly for his wives and fortune, and Lavan therefore has no right to restrain him.  Lavan, for his part, observes that Yaakov had come to his home empty-handed and now leaves with a large family and vast assets, all of which he received from Lavan.  This exchange thus encapsulates the age-old struggle between labor and management, between workers and their employers.

            The Torah recognizes both the rights of the workers as well as those of the employers.  Halakha strictly forbids withholding wages and delaying full payment for services rendered.  Furthermore, as the Gemara (Kiddushin 22a) indicates in discussing the laws relevant to the eved ivri (indentured servant), employers must treat their workers with respect and ensure their comfort during their period of service.  By the same token, strict guidelines apply with regard to a worker's obligations towards his employer, to the point where day workers were allowed to recite an abridged text of birkat ha-mazon so as not to deprive the employer the time needed for the recitation of the full text.  As the Rambam famously discusses in the final passage of Hilkhot Sekhirut, workers are obligated to work every moment of the hours for which they are paid, and to invest maximum effort in performing their duties.

            According to Rav Ginsburg, the truce between Yaakov and Lavan is to serve as an eternal reminder of the mutual responsibilities of employers and employees, the agreement that employees must provide faithful and devoted service, and employers must treat them with respect and dignity and pay all the workers' wages in full and on time.  The Torah found it necessary to eternalize this account due to its importance and ongoing relevance, in underscoring the need for mutual understanding and respect between workers and their employers.

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            We read in Parashat Vayetze of Yaakov's marriage to his two cousins, Rachel and Leah.  Many writers over the centuries have addressed the question of why – or if – Yaakov was permitted to marry two sisters.  Marrying two sisters is explicitly proscribed by the Torah in Sefer Vayikra (18:18), and the question thus arises as to why Yaakov, who, as is commonly assumed, observed all the Torah's commands, married both Rachel and Leah.

            Among the more famous answers to this question is a bold theory posited by the Ramban, in his commentary to Parashat Toledot (26:5), where he asserts that the patriarchs observed the mitzvot only in Eretz Yisrael.  During the periods Avraham and Yaakov spent outside the Land of Israel, they did not necessarily conduct themselves in accordance with Torah law.  The Ramban's theory must be seen in light of his celebrated remarks in his commentary to Sefer Vayikra (18:25), where he claims that fundamentally, the mitzvot apply only in Eretz Yisrael.  Torah observance outside the Land is clearly obligatory, but it serves primarily to ensure that Am Yisrael will never forget the Torah's commandments and will be able to observe them to their fullest upon returning to their homeland.

            One question (among several) that arises with regard to the Ramban's theory involves the status of Yaakov's marriage to Rachel and Leah upon returning to Eretz Yisrael.  Even if Yaakov was entitled to marry Rachel after having married Leah, given that this occurred in Padan Aram, why did he remain married to Rachel even after returning to Canaan?

            The Ramban addresses this question in his commentary to Sefer Vayikra, where he claims, astonishingly enough, that for this very reason God saw to it that Rachel would die along the road upon the family's return from Padan Aram.  Since Yaakov could not remain married to two sisters while living in the Land of Israel, God intervened, through the drastic and painful measure of taking Rachel from Yaakov at a young age.

            Aside from the obvious philosophical issues that arise from this theory of the Ramban, we might ask a more basic question: why did Yaakov not divorce one of his wives before crossing the Jordan?  He obviously did not anticipate that God would kill Rachel to save him from the prohibition of living with two sisters in Eretz Yisrael.  Seemingly, then, if he indeed observed the mitzvot in Canaan, why did he remain married to Rachel and Leah even upon returning to Eretz Yisrael?

            Rav Yaakov Kopel Schwartz, in his work Yekev Efrayim, suggests, very simply, that Yaakov did not divorce Rachel and Leah because his observance of the mitzvot was purely voluntary by nature.  Before Matan Torah, no one – including the patriarchs – was bound by the commands of the Torah.  The patriarchs observed the mitzvot voluntarily, understanding the immense spiritual value of Torah observance.  Voluntary measures of piety that a person takes upon himself may never come at the expense of another human being.  Even the most admirable customs, practices and personal stringencies must give way to the overriding concern for the welfare and respect of other people.  Therefore, Yaakov did not allow his commitment to Torah observance in Eretz Yisrael to come at the expense of his responsibilities to his wives.  He was not prepared to abandon Rachel or Leah for the sake of voluntarily observing the Torah's ban on marriage to sisters, before the commandments became binding.  Since he observed the mitzvot on a purely voluntary basis, as they had yet to become obligatory, he afforded preference to his commitment to his wives, over his commitment to the mitzvot.