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Yeshivat Har Etzion

Towards the end of Parashat Vayetze, we read of the argument that erupts between Yaakov and his father-in-law and employer, Lavan. After Yaakov flees from Lavan's home, Lavan chases after him and then rummages through his belongings in search of his missing "terafim" (idols). When he fails to find them, Yaakov berates his father-in-law and affirms his honesty and integrity with respect to Lavan's property. He also makes reference to the high standards he maintained while working as a shepherd for Lavan's flock: "I was ravaged by scorching heat by day and frost by night, and sleep fled from my eyes" (31:40). Yaakov testifies to his devoted work on behalf of Lavan, tending faithfully to his sheep even for very long hours, and even under the most inhospitable conditions.

The Gemara in Masekhet Bava Metzia (93b) cites a dispute as to whether Yaakov's dedicated service represents the standard required of a "shomer sakhar" – a person hired to guard the property of another. According to one view, a worker who is paid to guard someone else's property accepts upon himself the responsibility to work at the standards described here by Yaakov. If he works at a lower standard, and the property is damaged as a result, he bears liability for the damages. According to the second view in the Gemara, this rigorous standard is required only of city watchmen, those hired by the municipality to guard the city. Private watchmen, however, need not guard at this standard, but may work at the lower standard of "ke-de-natri inshi" – as people normally guard. He does not have to exert himself excessively, but rather to the same extent that people normally protect their belongings.

According to this second view, it turns out that Yaakov worked for Lavan at a much higher standard than was required by the terms of their agreement. He did not feel content performing only the minimum requirements to which he was bound, but rather made a point of serving his employer at the highest possible standard and devoting himself tirelessly to the protection of Lavan's property. Indeed, Yaakov had earlier told his wives, "I have served your father with all my might" (31:6).

The Rosh Yeshiva, HaRav Aharon Lichtenstein shlit"a (in an address delivered to the yeshiva in 5760), elaborated on Yaakov's standard of work for Lavan, and what this reveals about Yaakov's character. Yaakov was a man who made a point of doing everything at the highest standard possible. This was not merely an issue of ethics, of honestly fulfilling one's duties to his employer. Rather, this was Yaakov's approach to life – to never settle for anything less than maximum achievement. The Gemara tells (Chulin 91b) that when Yaakov arrived at his destination – Charan – he realized that along his journey he had passed by the future site of the Mikdash without stopping to offer a prayer. He thus decided to return all the way back to Jerusalem to pray at the sacred site. Why would Yaakov go through the trouble of traveling the long distance from Charan back to Jerusalem simply to pray at Mount Moriah? Rav Lichtenstein explained that, as we have seen, Yaakov insisted on nothing short of the highest standards of achievement, and thus spared no efforts in the pursuit of excellence. Any opportunity for further spiritual growth could not be squandered, and no effort was too great to stand in the way of capitalizing on these opportunities.

The Rosh Yeshiva cited in this context a passage from Masekhet Berakhot (32b) which asserts that four areas of life require "chizuk" – maximum effort: Torah study, good deeds, prayer and "derekh eretz." Commenting on this final term, "derekh eretz," Rashi explains, "If he is a craftsman – in his craft; if he is a merchant – in his business; if he is a military man – in his battles." Regardless of the area in which he chooses to work, a person must exert himself to the utmost and excel. This is the legacy of Yaakov Avinu, who invested maximum effort not only in his pursuit of spirituality and closeness to God, but also in his work as a shepherd for his unscrupulous father-in-law.

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The opening verse of Parashat Vayetze reads, "Yaakov left from Be'er Sheva and went towards Charan." Rashi, commenting on this verse, claims that the clause "Yaakov left from Be'er Sheva" does merely describe Yaakov's physical departure from his hometown. Rather, it alludes to the impact his departure had on the city. Rashi writes, "This teaches that a tzadik's departure from the area leaves an impact, for when a tzadik is in the city, he is its majesty, he is its radiance, he is its glory. When he leaves from there, its majesty leaves, its radiance leaves, it glory leaves."

According to Rashi, then, the Torah's emphasis on Yaakov's departure from Be'er Sheva – rather than mentioning simply his trip to Charan – is meant to underscore the impact this event had on the city of Be'er Sheva. The question arises, however, as to why Rashi found it necessary to describe this impact with three different terms ("hod," "ziv," "hadar" – which we have loosely translated as "majesty," "radiance" and "glory"). To what does Rashi refer with these three distinct expressions? Furthermore, why must the Torah emphasize this rather obvious concept, that a righteous person has a profound influence on his surroundings? Is this something that we would not have understood without the Torah's emphasis?

Rav David Kaviat, in his "Sukat David," suggests that these three terms refer to three different levels at which a righteous person impacts upon his community. Firstly, and most obviously, is his direct interaction with the populace, his work as teacher and authority figure. A community with a sage living in its midst has access to his knowledge, scholarship and insight. But a tzadik influences his surroundings in less direct ways, as well. His general personality and lifestyle – besides his explicit instruction and rulings – also serve to guide and direct people towards proper conduct. Even when a righteous person is not formally teaching, he continues teaching indirectly, serving as an example for others to follow. But in addition, our tradition teaches that Torah observance affects one's surroundings in a third way - on a mystical, metaphysical level. The performance of a mitzva yields a cosmic affect on the person himself, on his immediate surroundings, and even on the world at large. The mishna says in Pirkei Avot (4:11) that each mitzva a person performs generates a "peraklit" – a "defending angel" that works on his behalf, whereas every transgression gives rise to a "kateigor" – a prosecuting angel that works against him. We do not – and perhaps cannot – fully understand why or how our actions and even thoughts yield a spiritual effect upon us and our surroundings. But this is the third level at which a tzadik impacts upon his city, beyond the direct effects of his instruction and the general impact of his personality and conduct. (Rav Chayim of Volozhin's famous work, "Nefesh Ha-chayim" is devoted mainly to this theme, of the metaphysical effects of Torah learning and mitzva performance.)

If, indeed, Rashi refers to these three levels of influence, then we can perhaps understand why – according to Rashi – the Torah found it necessary to underscore the impact a tzadik has on his city. The emphasis here, perhaps, is on the less obvious and intangible effects of piety, the fact that a tzadik's impact often occurs in ways that we cannot perceive with our senses.

It is worth noting in conclusion that this same concept emerges several verses later, from the description of Yaakov's famous dream at Bet-El. Yaakov beholds a ladder stretching from the ground to the sky, and "divine angels" ascending and descending the ladder. The Malbim, in his "Torah Or" (printed alongside his standard commentary on the Torah), explains that the angelsascending the ladder symbolize Yaakov's merits earned through his Torah study and mitzva performance. The descending angels represent the heavenly grace bestowed upon him as a result of those merits. Here, too, the Torah alludes to the invisible effects of Torah and mitzvot, beyond the direct impact that we can easily sense and perceive. We do not necessarily have to feel and experience the spiritual quality of our religious observance for it to be meaningful. We are to believe that our Torah learning and mitzva performance is inherently valuable and yields a profound effect on the world, regardless of whether or not we can tangibly sense this effect.

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Parashat Vayetze tells of Yaakov's initial encounter with Rachel, whom he marries later in the parasha, and that he wept upon meeting her (29:11). Rashi offers two explanations for Yaakov's weeping, the second of which is that Yaakov came to Rachel penniless. Citing the Midrash, Rashi tells that after Yaakov left home and began making his way towards Charan, Esav ordered his son, Elifaz, to pursue and kill Yaakov. Elifaz, however, had been raised by his saintly grandfather, Yitzchak, and thus refused to kill his uncle. When he reached Yaakov, he asked for an idea how to nevertheless obey his father's command without actually killing. Yaakov suggested that Elifaz take all his money and leave Yaakov penniless, which is equivalent (on some level) to killing him. Yaakov thus cried when he met Rachel, as he realized the stark contrast between his arrival and that of Avraham's servant, who came to Charan to find a wife for Yitzchak with ten camels full of gifts and riches for the bride and her family.

This story of Elifaz raises an interesting question, with possible halakhic ramifications. The Riva (one of the Ba'alei Tosefot) cites Rabbenu Tam as questioning the need for Elifaz to symbolically obey his father's order. Halakha explicitly mandates that a child must refuse to obey his parent's command if it entails a violation of the Torah – a category in which murder obviously belongs. If Elifaz was conscientious enough to refuse his father's command to actually kill, then why did he bother finding a way to "kill" in the secondary sense of the term?

The Riva cites a somewhat ambiguous answer in the name of Rabbenu Elyakim: "Nevertheless, he asked for a suggestion how to fulfill his father's command without sinning." Rabbenu Elyakim apparently felt that even in a situation where one's parent asks that he commit a violation, the child – though obviously bidden to disregard the request with respect to the given prohibition – must nevertheless seek some method of partially fulfilling his parent's wish within the parameters of Torah law. Clearly, not always will this be possible; however, when the possibility exists of satisfying the parent's wish at some level without transgressing the Torah, the child must do so.

Rav Avraham Yitzchak Sorotzkin, in his "Rinat Yitzchak," writes that this position of Rabbenu Elyakim would appear to touch upon a conceptual issue that has been debated among the scholars, concerning the halakha that one must disregard a parent's order to violate the Torah. Conceptually, one could understand this halakha in one of two ways. One might claim that very simply, in such a situation the mitzva of kibbud av (honoring parents) does not apply. The obligation to respect parents and obey their commands applies only when their wishes and instructions lie within the parameters of Torah law. When a parent's wish oversteps the bounds of Torah law, the mitzva simply does not apply at all. Alternatively, one might argue that the mitzva applies even under such circumstances; a person remains bound to fulfill his parents' wishes even if they involve a Torah violation, but as a practical matter one cannot violate the Torah in order to fulfill his parents' wish. In principle, the mitzva remains in force, but in practice, the constraints of Torah law make it impossible for the child to fulfill the mitzva in that particular situation.

Rabbenu Elyakim clearly embraced the second theory, that the mitzva remains applicable, but not technically viable. Therefore, he requires a person in this situation to fulfill his parent's wish to the best of his halakhic ability. According to the first approach, that the mitzva does not apply at all when a parent's request entails a violation, then the child would bear no obligation at all with respect to this request. The mitzva of kibbud av does not obtain in this circumstance, so the child may simply ignore the request altogether.

Rav Sorotzkin notes that the Rambam appears to argue with this position of Rabbenu Elyakim. In Hilkhot Mamrim (6:12), the Rambam rules that a person may not even violate an issur de-rabbanan (rabbinically ordained prohibition) to fulfill his parent's wish. Seemingly, if the mitzva of kibbud av remains in force when a parent's request conflicts with Torah law, we should require a child to transgress an issur de-rabbanan in order to fulfill the Torah obligation of honoring parents. Although kibbud av does not override Torah law, its status as a Torah obligation should, presumably, enable it to override a rabbinic enactment. If the Rambam rules otherwise, that even an issur de-rabbanan does not give way to a parent's wish, he must have felt that the mitzva of kibbud av does not apply at all in a situation where a parent's wish conflicts with Halakha. Therefore, when a parent makes a request requiring the violation of an issur de-rabbanan, the child is not bound by the mitzva of kibbud av, and he must therefore ignore the parent's request.

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Towards the beginning of Parashat Vayetze, we read of Yaakov's flight from Canaan and the famous dream he beholds in Bet-El. Yaakov sees a ladder extending from the ground to the heavens, with heavenly angels walking up and down the ladder (28:12). This vision is accompanied by a prophecy, in which God assures Yaakov that He will protect him along his journey and bring him back safely to his homeland.

Let us examine some of the many different explanations given for the symbolic meaning of the vision of the ladder and angels.

Rashi, based on the Midrash, writes that Yaakov here beholds the return heavenward of the angels who protected him in Eretz Canaan, and the arrival of the angels charged with protecting him outside the land. It would appear that this Midrash understood this vision as intended to calm Yaakov's fears as he embarks on his journey outside his homeland. He had many reasons to fear what would happen outside Canaan. For one thing, by leaving the land he loses the unique spiritual quality of Eretz Canaan which perhaps has afforded him protection from Esav thus far. Additionally, beyond the fear of Esav, Yaakov must have felt concerned about the potential far-reaching repercussions of his departure from Canaan. Does his relocation outside the Promised Land not de facto translate into his relinquishing of his father's blessing? How can he claim to be heir to God's blessing to Avraham and Yitzchak if he leaves the land promised in that blessing, to marry and build a family in a distant country? Recall that his grandfather, Avraham, was adamantly insistent that his son, Yitzchak, would remain in Canaan. Avraham forbade his servant from ever bringing Yitzchak outside the land for purposes of marriage, to the extent that should the girl refuse to relocate in Canaan, the servant would be permitted to choose a wife from the local Canaanite population (see 24:8). Now that Yaakov's parents had instructed him to leave Canaan and marry one of Lavan's daughters in Charan, he must have questioned his future as builder of God's chosen nation. God therefore shows him the divine angels who have come to accompany him even as he crosses the border. Despite leaving Eretz Canaan, he remains under God's special protection and has not forfeited the promise of Avraham.

Abarbanel, however, in his commentary, appears to understand this Midrash differently. In his view, the arrival of a new team of angels serves as an indication of the unique spiritual quality of Eretz Canaan. So distinct is the naturof the land, that the angels who accompanied Yaakov there could not continue with him outside the land, and a new set of angels had to descend to protect him across the border.

A different Midrash, in Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer (35), identifies these angels as the heavenly representatives of the four major kingdoms that would oppress the Jewish people: Babylonia, Media, Greece and Rome. These "angels" first ascended the ladder, alluding to the given kingdom's rise to power, but then descended – symbolizing that nation's ultimate decline. The fourth angel, however, representing Rome, ascended the ladder but never descended, alluding to the particularly lengthy Roman exile, which continues to this very day. (Chazal always viewed western, Christian civilization as heirs of the Roman Empire.) Yaakov saw the angel remaining in the heavens and feared lest it never return back to earth. God therefore assured him that even this final angel, representing the rise of the Roman Empire, will ultimately collapse and the Jewish people will be redeemed.

Why would Yaakov be shown this vision at this point, as he leaves Eretz Canaan? Instinctively, we might explain that Yaakov's personal exile from Canaan symbolizes his descendants' banishment from their homeland many centuries later. Thus, when God appears to him along his journey to guarantee his safe return to Canaan, He assures him as well that his descendants, the Nation of Israel, will likewise survive their exiles - even the seemingly endless exile of Rome – and one day return to Eretz Yisrael to reestablish their sovereignty.

The Ramban, however, in his commentary to this verse, advances a different approach to this Midrash. He writes that according to the Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer, this vision corresponds to the "berit bein ha-betarim" – the covenant God establishes with Avraham in Parashat Lekh-Lekha (15), in which He forewarns of these future exiles that Benei Yisrael will endure. The Ramban here implicitly refers to his commentary to Bereishit 15:12, where he interprets the darkness that fell upon Avraham during the berit bein ha-betarim ceremony as an allusion to the four exiles that the Pirkei De-Rabbi Eliezer mentions here. There, the Ramban explains that God made mention of the specter of these exiles as a qualification of the promise He makes to Avraham, that his descendants will become a large nation in Eretz Canaan. This promise, God informs Avraham, does not preclude the possibility of Benei Yisrael's exile and oppression at the hands of enemy nations if they violate their side of the agreement. According to the Ramban, then, God appears here to Yaakov to formally confer upon him the promise of Avraham. Necessarily, then, He must also warn Yaakov – just as He had warned Avraham – that his descendants will be punished for violating this covenant by being exiled among cruel and oppressive enemy nations.

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Today we will continue yesterday's discussion concerning the symbolic meaning of Yaakov's famous dream, recorded towards the beginning of Parashat Vayetze, in which he sees a ladder extending from the ground to the heavens, with angels ascending and descending the ladder (28:12).

The Ramban explains that this vision alludes to God's unique providence over Yaakov, and its distinction from God's rule over the rest of mankind. Generally, God governs the world through "angels" that ascend and descend to and from the heavens. God's messengers (a reference to the various forces that affect world events) ascend to the Heavenly Throne, as it were, to receive instructions and orders from the Almighty. They then return to the earth to execute the divine command. Yaakov, however, will be under the direct protection of God. As the Ramban mentions, a famous verse in Sefer Tehillim (91:11) describes how God assigns angels to oversee and protect the righteous: "For He will order His angels to guard you wherever you go." Yaakov's stature, however, surpassed that of other tzadikim, to the point where he earned God's direct providence and protection. God therefore shows Yaakov the angels ascending and descending the ladder – a reference to the standard form of providence – and then informs him, "Behold, I am with you; I will protect you wherever you go" (28:15). Unlike other righteous people, who are protected indirectly, through God's "angels," Yaakov goes to Charan under the direct protection of the Almighty Himself.

Abarbanel, after citing numerous approaches taken by earlier sources, suggests an explanation of his own, based in part on a comment in the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 68; Sifrei, Bamidbar 119) associating Yaakov's dream with the Beit Ha-mikdash. This association emerges from Yaakov's own exclamation upon awaking after his dream: "This is none other than the House of God, and this is the gateway to heaven!" (28:17). As the commentaries explain (see Rashi, Ramban), Yaakov here realizes that the place where he slept is the future site of the Mikdash. Accordingly, the Midrash claims that the angels ascending and descending the ladder represent the kohanim in the Temple, who walked up and then down the ramp to the altar while performing the avoda (sacrificial service). Abarbanel explains that now that Yaakov must flee from his enraged brother, he begins to wonder whether his seizing of the blessings intended for Esav was perhaps a mistake. God therefore reassures him that he and his descendants will indeed earn the blessings bestowed upon him by Yitzchak, which included a special relationship with God, manifest particularly in the Beit Ha-mikdash. In a different vein from the Midrash, Abarbanel explains that the ascending angels symbolize the smoke of the sacrifices, and the prayers, offered at the site of the Mikdash which rise to the heavens. The descending angels represent the special divine providence Benei Yisrael earn through their service and worship. God here assures Yaakov of the ultimate fulfillment of the blessing he seized from his brother, which will be manifest most clearly in the Mikdash.

Incidentally, we should mention that Abarbanel here assumes that the blessing Yaakov received from Yitzchak by disguising himself as Esav included the "birkat Avraham," the spiritual blessing to Avraham that he will father God's special nation. This would mean that Yitzchak had planned to name Esav exclusive heir to the "birkat Avraham," but Yaakov deceptively seized that privilege by disguising himself as Esav. A cursory reading of Yitzchak's blessing, however, suggests that this blessing involved only material prosperity and leadership (see 27:28-29). Abarbanel, in his commentary to Parashat Toldot, addresses this point and argues that Yitzchak's blessing to Yaakov – intended for Esav – in fact included the spiritual blessings of "birkat Avraham." The Torah tells that before Yitzchak proclaims the blessings of material success and authority, he kissed his son, smelled his clothes, and "blessed him" (27:27). According to Abarbanel, this blessing – the precise content of which is not specified in the Torah – refers to the "birkat Avraham," which Yitzchak bestows upon Yaakov – mistaking him for Esav – at this point. Consistent with his comments there in Toldot, Abarbanel here explains the dream of the ladder as God's reaffirmation of Yaakov's right to the "birkat Avraham" that he seized from his brother. In response to Yaakov's doubts as to the prudence of his having seized this blessing, God assures him of His consent to Yaakov's right to the blessings, and guarantees their ultimate fulfillment during the time of the Beit Ha-mikdash.

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The Torah tells in Parashat Vayetze that Yaakov, after waking from his famous dream in Bet-El, declares an oath consisting of two parts – conditions, and promises. Meaning, he proclaims that if God fulfills a number of conditions, then he commits himself to a number of promises:

Conditions: "If God is with me, and if He protects me on this journey that I am making, and gives me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and if I return safe to my father's home…

Promises: "This stone, which I have set up as a pillar, shall be God's abode; and of all that You give me,I will set aside a tithe for You." (28:20-21)

In this citation, we omitted one brief phrase which has become the subject of a fundamental dispute among the commentators: "ve-haya Hashem li l'Elokim" ("the Lord shall be my God"). The commentators argue as to whether this phrase is the final of the conditions that God must satisfy for the promise to take effect, or the first promise to which Yaakov commits himself should the conditions be met. At first glance, both possibilities seem very difficult to accept. That the Almighty is Yaakov's God is a statement of fact, an unalterable and undeniable state of being. It is untenable, at first glance, for Yaakov to set this as a condition for God to satisfy, or to take this upon himself conditionally. What, then, does this clause mean?

Rashi views this phrase as the final condition. He explains that Yaakov here hinges his promises on the condition that unlike Avraham and Yitzchak, who had only one son continue their spiritual legacy, Yaakov will father children who are all righteous and hence included in the special blessings bestowed upon him. This is what is meant by "the Lord shall be my God" – that, in Rashi's words, "His Name shall be bestowed upon me from beginning to end," meaning, upon all his offspring.

The Rashbam likewise understands this phrase as a condition, but explains that it refers simply to divine assistance. "The Lord shall be my God" means that God comes to Yaakov's assistance throughout his stay outside his homeland.

The Ramban, by contrast, understands this phrase as a promise, rather than a condition. Yaakov here promises that if God protects him and brings him back home safely, he will serve God at that very site, where he dreamt the dream of the ladder. The phrase, "the Lord shall be my God" thus refers to Yaakov's service of God, rather than the simple fact of the Almighty's being his God. The Ramban adds that on a deeper level of interpretation, this verse alludes to the Gemara's remarkable comment that "whoever lives outside the land resembles someone who has no God" (Ketubot 110b). Yaakov here acknowledges that once God returns him to Canaan, "the Lord shall be my God" on a much more profound level than He was outside the Promised Land.

In a somewhat similar vein, the Radak explains that Yaakov in this clause promises to devote his life entirely to spiritual pursuits and withdraw from all mundane activities. If God brings him home safely, then he will no longer engage in worldly affairs and the accumulation of wealth, as he does during his years abroad. Instead, he will occupy himself exclusively in sacred pursuits and the pure service of God.

(Many other interpretations of this verse have been suggested; see, for example, Abarbanel, Seforno, and Keli Yakar.)

Rav Yechezkel Yaakovson, Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivat Shaalvim, noted that these two basic approaches to this phrase reveal the dual nature of this concept, of "the Lord shall be my God." One group of commentators claims that Yaakov speaks of his relationship with God as a privilege, as a blessing he anticipates and longs for. The second group, as we have seen, interprets this phrase as a reference to a certain responsibility Yaakov assumes upon himself. Indeed, a close relationship with the Almighty is both a privilege and a responsibility. On the one hand, it is a goal that we must pursue, an experience we must wish for, and the greatest blessing we can ever receive. At the same time, however, it entails immense responsibility. A person who establishes a connection with God must live by a higher, far more demanding standard that what is expected from others. The moment an individual grows to a higher level, yesterday's standards cease to apply. He now bears the responsibilities of a stricter level of commitment and a less flexible margin of error.

In this sense, then, both interpretations of this verse are correct: having the Almighty as one's God is both the greatest gift an individual can receive, and an enormous responsibility for one to assume.

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The opening verses of Parashat Vayetze tell that as Yaakov made his way towards Charan, night fell and Yaakov went to sleep. The Torah describes Yaakov's sleep with the phrase, "va-yishkav ba-makom ha-hu" – "he slept at that place." Rashi observes the seeming superfluity in the Torah's emphasis on the fact that Yaakov slept in that location. Based on the Midrash, Rashi explains this phrase as alluding to a certain novelty in Yaakov's sleep in this place: "In that place he slept, but during the fourteen years he spent in the [study] house of Eiver he did not sleep at night, for he was involved in Torah." Thus, "in that place" comes to emphasize that only now did Yaakov sleep, as opposed to the previous fourteen years, during his stay in the yeshiva of Eiver, when he did not sleep. (Rav Chayim Kaniyevsky is cited as explaining that this Midrash does not mean that Yaakov did not sleep at all for fourteen years; it rather means that he slept only occasionally for very brief periods, as opposed to this point, where he goes to sleep for the night.)

Clearly, this Midrash intends to teach the need to compromise on one's physical comfort in order to acquire Torah knowledge. Indeed, the Rambam writes in Hilkhot Talmud Torah (3:12) that Torah scholarship cannot be acquired by those "who study out of luxury, eating and drinking," but rather by someone "who kills himself" in the pursuit of knowledge, and is prepared to deny himself sleep and other physical comforts.

The question, however, arises, why does the Midrash convey this message specifically by way of this contrast between Yaakov's slumber along his journey to Charan, and the fourteen years spent in yeshiva? Does the Midrash here seek merely to justify the Torah's emphasis on the fact that Yaakov slept "in that place," or does it perhaps point to some deeper connection between Yaakov's sleep here and his experience during those fourteen years?

Rav Efrayim Greenblat, in his "Rivevot Efrayim," suggests that the fourteen years of sleepless Torah study enabled Yaakov to sleep soundly that night on the road in the Bet-El. Yaakov is now running for his life, fleeing the rage of Esav. His future is uncertain, as he makes his way to a foreign land where he is to live and build a family for an unspecified duration of time, and he must now sleep outside, on the road, exposed to the elements. We might expect a person in such a situation to have difficulty sleeping. What made it possible for Yaakov to rest at ease under such conditions? It is this question, Rav Greenblat suggests, that the Midrash answers with its comment, "In that place he slept, but during the fourteen years he spent in the [study] house of Eiver he did not sleep at night." His intensive engagement in Torah study for such an extended period of time engendered within Yaakov the trust and faith in God he would need as he made his way towards an uncertain future. Torah learning, which is nothing less than an encounter with the Almighty, reminds a person of God's control over the world and all mankind. This awareness, which Yaakov developed so deeply within himself, provided him with the faith he took with him along his long and precarious journey.

Rav Greenblat enlists this theory to explain yet another Midrashic passage, concerning a verse later in this narrative. Several verses later, the Torah tells that Yaakov awoke from his sleep: "va-yikatz Yaakov mi-shenato" (28:16). The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 69:7) claims that we may read the word "mi-shenato" ("from his sleep") as "mi-mishnato" – "from his study." How are we to understand the Midrashic reading of this verse, that Yaakov awoke "from his learning"? Rav Greenblat suggests that here, too, the Midrash points to Yaakov's devoted Torah study as the reason why he managed to sleep restfully and soundly that night. His years of learning infused him with a keen awareness of his dependence on the Almighty, and His role in determining man's fate. This awareness accompanied him as he departed Canaan, and provided him with a degree of confidence in the otherwise ominous future that lay ahead. Thus, Yaakov's sleep – "" – must be attributed to "mishnato" – his learning, for only as a result of his years of intensive study did he have the confidence and sense of security needed to rest and feel at ease as he traveled towards Charan.