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Yeshivat Har Etzion


PARASHAT VAYISHLACH

Rav David Silverberg

 

            We read in Parashat Vayishlach that God revealed Himself to Yaakov in Beit-El upon his return from Charan, just as He had spoke to him there as he fled from Canaan (35:9).  The Torah writes that upon concluding this second prophecy, "God ascended from him, at that place where He spoke with him" (35:13).  Rashi comments on this verse, "I do not know what this teaches."  Rashi saw no reason why the Torah would emphasize that God left Yaakov "at that place where He spoke with him."  (See Ramban, Radak and Keli Yakar.)

 

            Rav Moshe Leib Shachor, in his Avnei Shoham, suggests a possible explanation for this emphasis, claiming that the Torah wished to "downplay" the significance of Beit-El as a site of divine revelation.  The Torah anticipated that this location, where God had twice appeared to Yaakov at critical junctures in his life, to either promise him protection or predict the emergence of dynasties from his progeny, might one day be looked upon as a shine of sorts.  Indeed, when Yerovam ben Nevat led the cessation of the ten northern tribes and established the Kingdom of Israel, he designated Beit-El as one of the new kingdom's religious centers.  Conceivably, the Avnei Shoham speculates, Yerovam succeeded in drawing attention to Beit-El by pointing to its rich prophetic history, as the site where God had appeared to Yaakov.  The Torah perhaps sought to dispel this misconception of Beit-El as a holy city comparable with Jerusalem, and therefore emphasized that God left Yaakov at that site.  Meaning, once the prophecy concluded, God's presence departed and Beit-El returned to what it had been previously, without obtaining an eternal status as a holy city.

 

            Why, in fact, did Beit-El not earn a special status, given the prophetic revelations that Yaakov experienced there?

 

            It might be suggested that Jerusalem, rather than Beit-El, was selected as the permanent "holy site" of Am Yisrael because of the theme of sacrifice which it embodies.  As the Rambam famously writes in Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira (2:2), the site of the Mikdash in Jerusalem had been designated many centuries earlier as a site for sacrificial offerings. Adam, Kayin, Hevel and Noach all offered sacrifices at this site, and of course it is there where Avraham bound his son Yitzchak upon the altar preparing to offer him as a sacrifice.  And at this site King David offered sacrifices to bring an end to the plague that ravaged the country.  Significantly, the site chosen as the eternal "holy place" is the site that represents this theme of sacrifice, of giving of oneself for the Almighty, rather than Beit-El – the place where God promised to bless and protect Yaakov.  We must focus our attention on our responsibilities to God, our obligation to serve Him to the very best of our ability, rather than on that which God promises to do for us.  It is for this reason, perhaps, that tradition has elevated the status of Jerusalem while downplaying that of Beit-El – because our concern must be, first and foremost, how to best serve the Almighty, rather than how the Almighty can best serve us.

 

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            We read in Parashat Vayishlach that at one point during Yaakov's return to Canaan, he was left alone in the middle of night and came under attack by a mysterious assailant (32:25).  A famous Midrashic passage (Bereishit Rabba 77) finds significance in the Torah's description of Yaakov being "alone."  The Midrash notes that the term le-vado ("alone") used in reference to Yaakov in this verse parallels the prophet's depiction of God's status in the Messianic era.  Yeshayahu tells of the eventual downfall of the world's arrogant tyrants, adding that "the Lord shall alone be exalted on that day" ("ve-nisgav Hashem le-vado ba-yom ha-hu" – Yeshayahu 2:11).  The Midrash points to this parallel as reflecting a point of resemblance between Yaakov and God.  Even though Moshe declares before his death "ein ka-Kel" – that there is none like God (Devarim 33:26), Yaakov marks the exception to this rule, as he, like God, is described as le-vado – "alone."

 

            Rav Yerucham Lebovitz explained that the quality of le-vado spoken of by the Midrash refers to independent capability.  Among the fundamental properties of God is that His existence does not depend on any other entity; He is entirely and independently self-sufficient, capable of sustaining His own existence even if all other matter would cease to exist.  In the context of a human being, Rav Yerucham explained, the notion of le-vado means the ability to achieve spiritual greatness irrespective of any external factors and conditions.  The person who reaches the level of le-vado does not need any person or specific circumstance to succeed in avodat Hashem; he can do so independently.

 

            Rav Yerucham cites in this context the famous Mishna in Pirkei Avot (4:1) that defines the qualities of wisdom, might, wealth and honor:  "Who is wise?  He who learns from all people…Who is mighty?  He who restrains his inclinations… Who is wealthy?  He who is content with his lot… Who is honored?  He who honors people."  The common denominator between all these definitions, Rav Yerucham observes, is that they allow a person to achieve these qualities in all and any circumstances.  A person can achieve wisdom even without being exposed to scholars; one can display might even if others are blessed with greater physical strength; wealth depends solely on one's perspective and attitude, regardless of how much or little he has in relation to others; and honor does not depend on how others look upon a person, but rather on how he looks upon others.

 

            This Mishna thus conveys the lesson of le-vado, that we must strive for "independence" in our religious observance, to be able to succeed in all areas of avodat Hashem regardless of the circumstances and conditions in which we find ourselves.

 

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            The Torah in Parashat Vayishlach tells the mysterious story of Yaakov's nighttime wrestle with an assailant as he makes his way towards Canaan, where he would reunite with his brother Esav.  By the end of the narrative it becomes clear that Yaakov's assailant is angelic, rather than human, as Yaakov demands from him a blessing and he renames Yaakov "Yisrael," a name-change that is confirmed by God later in the parasha (35:10).

 

The Rashbam advances a particularly novel and unconventional reading of this incident, claiming that God dispatched the angel in order to prevent Yaakov from escaping from Esav.  According to the Rashbam, Yaakov's nighttime crossing of the Yabok stream, which took place just prior to the assault (32:23), was intended as a secret escape route.  The Rashbam refers us in this context to the verses in Sefer Shemuel II (17:21-24), which tell of King David crossing the Jordan River during the night to escape from the rebel forces led by his son Avshalom.  Nighttime river-crossings thus appear to be associated with escape routes, and the Rashbam claims that here, too, Yaakov attempted to avoid his confrontation with Esav by escaping.  God, however, who had promised to protect Yaakov and return him safely to Canaan, wanted to ensure that Yaakov would reunite with Esav and emerge safely from this confrontation, which would confirm the truth of the divine promise.  He therefore sent an angel to delay Yaakov until dawn, at which point Yaakov would be no longer able to make an inconspicuous escape.  For this reason, once morning arrived the angel wished to take leave of Yaakov ("shalecheni ki ala ha-shachar" – 32:27); now that Yaakov could no longer escape along a secret route under the protection of the nighttime darkness, the angel's mission has been accomplished.

 

This approach of the Rashbam seems difficult to accept for a number of reasons, primarily, perhaps, because of its implications with regard to the name "Yisrael."  The angel confers this title upon Yaakov because "sarita im elohim ve-im anashim va-tukhal' – "you have struggled against angels and men and have prevailed" (32:29) – presumably referring to Yaakov's triumph over the angel.  According to the Rashbam's understanding of this episode, however, it is doubtful whether this triumph should be seen in a favorable light.  As Professor Nechama Leibowitz noted, it emerges according to the Rashbam's approach that Yaakov's "victory over the angel implies that his weakness, his wish to flee from the Lord, his natural physical fears triumphed over his faith and trust."  In the Rashbam's view, Yaakov's confrontation with the angel was necessitated as a result of his unjustified fear of his brother; this is hardly one of the great, heroic moments in Yaakov's life.  It seems very difficult to imagine that the name by which his progeny is forever known – Yisrael – serves to commemorate a moment of spiritual weakness, an event in which Yaakov failed to display the confidence and trust in God's promise that we would expect from our great patriarch.

 

For this and other reasons, Professor Leibowitz expresses her strong preference for the traditional reading of this verse, as Rashi cites from the Midrash, that Yaakov's assailant was Esav's representative angel, and this incident alludes to the fact that Yaakov and his descendants will always emerge triumphant from their harsh confrontations against the hostile enemies that rise against them.

 

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            Parashat Vayishlach begins by telling of Yaakov's discovery that his brother, Esav, was approaching with an army of four hundred men.  Yaakov's response is characterized by fear and dread, and he instantly divides his family and belongings, offers an impassioned plea to God for assistance, and sends his brother expensive gifts accompanied by a message of submission and appeasement.

 

            Yaakov's apprehension about this anticipated confrontation with his brother seems to contrast sharply with the manner in which he had approached his conflict with his uncle and father-in-law, Lavan.  Towards the end of Parashat Vayetze (31:36-55), we read of Yaakov's harsh exchange with Lavan, who responded by agreeing to a peaceful settlement.  There Yaakov speaks with confidence, conviction and poise, as he forcefully presents his claims and grievances against his wily, conniving father-in-law.  In his message to Esav, by contrast, Yaakov speaks with almost self-deprecating submission, repeatedly referring to himself as Esav's servant and to Esav as his master.

 

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in a brief but trenchant passage in his commentary, attributes Yaakov's different approaches to his two nemeses to the different circumstances surrounding these conflicts:

 

And how different is Jacob's attitude to Esau to what it was to Laban.  We can recognize what strength the consciousness of innocence gives, and what an oppressive feeling even an appearance of guilt awakens.  Twenty years endurance of a fight against wrong which you innocently have to bear do not have such a depressing effect as one minute's feeling towards somebody whom we know feels hurt by us, and who may not see the motive which, though it may not justify our action, can at least excuse it.

 

According to Rav Hirsch, Yaakov's forceful, confident words to Lavan were spoken from the unquestionable moral high-ground.  Both he and Lavan knew without doubt that he – Yaakov – was the innocent victim of twenty years of devious schemes and machinations.  In a sense, Rav Hirsch asserts, fighting such a battle is far easier than the conflict Yaakov now confronts after taking leave of Lavan – his conflict with his vengeful brother.  Yaakov knows full well that he bears – in Rav Hirsch's words – at least "an appearance of guilt."  Even assuming that his "theft" of Esav's blessing was justified in light of Yitzchak's mistaken image of Esav, as is traditionally explained, there is still some legitimate basis for Esav's resentful feelings towards his brother.  Yaakov could not feel the same confidence in his conflict with Esav as he did when confronting Lavan because of the degree of guilt – be it perceived or actual – that he bore with regard to his strained relationship with his brother.  This uneasiness yielded, in Rav Hirsch's words, a "depressing effect" that undermined Yaakov's conviction and resolve, and resulted in the fear and apprehension described towards the beginning of this parasha.

 

******

 

            The Torah in Parashat Vayishlach tells the mysterious story of Yaakov's nighttime wrestle with an assailant as he makes his way towards Canaan, where he would reunite with his brother Esav.  By the end of the narrative it becomes clear that Yaakov's assailant is angelic, rather than human, as Yaakov demands from him a blessing and he renames Yaakov "Yisrael," a name-change that is confirmed by God later in the parasha (35:10).

 

The Rashbam advances a particularly novel and unconventional reading of this incident, claiming that God dispatched the angel in order to prevent Yaakov from escaping from Esav.  According to the Rashbam, Yaakov's nighttime crossing of the Yabok stream, which took place just prior to the assault (32:23), was intended as a secret escape route.  The Rashbam refers us in this context to the verses in Sefer Shemuel II (17:21-24), which tell of King David crossing the Jordan River during the night to escape from the rebel forces led by his son Avshalom.  Nighttime river-crossings thus appear to be associated with escape routes, and the Rashbam claims that here, too, Yaakov attempted to avoid his confrontation with Esav by escaping.  God, however, who had promised to protect Yaakov and return him safely to Canaan, wanted to ensure that Yaakov would reunite with Esav and emerge safely from this confrontation, which would confirm the truth of the divine promise.  He therefore sent an angel to delay Yaakov until dawn, at which point Yaakov would be no longer able to make an inconspicuous escape.  For this reason, once morning arrived the angel wished to take leave of Yaakov ("shalecheni ki ala ha-shachar" – 32:27); now that Yaakov could no longer escape along a secret route under the protection of the nighttime darkness, the angel's mission has been accomplished.

 

This approach of the Rashbam seems difficult to accept for a number of reasons, primarily, perhaps, because of its implications with regard to the name "Yisrael."  The angel confers this title upon Yaakov because "sarita im elohim ve-im anashim va-tukhal' – "you have struggled against angels and men and have prevailed" (32:29) – presumably referring to Yaakov's triumph over the angel.  According to the Rashbam's understanding of this episode, however, it is doubtful whether this triumph should be seen in a favorable light.  As Professor Nechama Leibowitz noted, it emerges according to the Rashbam's approach that Yaakov's "victory over the angel implies that his weakness, his wish to flee from the Lord, his natural physical fears triumphed over his faith and trust."  In the Rashbam's view, Yaakov's confrontation with the angel was necessitated as a result of his unjustified fear of his brother; this is hardly one of the great, heroic moments in Yaakov's life.  It seems very difficult to imagine that the name by which his progeny is forever known – Yisrael – serves to commemorate a moment of spiritual weakness, an event in which Yaakov failed to display the confidence and trust in God's promise that we would expect from our great patriarch.

 

For this and other reasons, Professor Leibowitz expresses her strong preference for the traditional reading of this verse, as Rashi cites from the Midrash, that Yaakov's assailant was Esav's representative angel, and this incident alludes to the fact that Yaakov and his descendants will always emerge triumphant from their harsh confrontations against the hostile enemies that rise against them.

 

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            We read in Parashat Vayishlach that as Yaakov prepared for his imminent encounter with Esav, he lined up his family and then passed in front of them bowing to his brother (33:3).  The Zohar (Vayishlach, 171b) questions the propriety of Yaakov's bowing to Esav, who in Midrashic and Kabbalistic thought is often associated with forces of evil and even depicted as the embodiment of these forces.  How, the Zohar asks, could Yaakov prostrate himself to Esav, showing honor and respect to evil?

 

            The Zohar responds by offering a most surprising interpretation of this verse, claiming that Yaakov in fact bowed not to Esav, but to God.  When the Torah writes, "Ve-hu avar lifneihem" ("He passed before them"), which is generally taken to mean that Yaakov passed in front of his family, it actually refers to the Almighty.  God, as it were, passed in front of Yaakov's family and stood in between them and Esav; Yaakov thus naturally bowed out of respect and awe for the divine presence.

 

               Rav Eliyahu Dessler, in his Mikhtav Mei-eliyahu vol. 3 p. 156, explains this otherwise perplexing passage by demonstrating how the Zohar here actually complements – rather than negates – the straightforward reading of the verse.  Superficially, it indeed appeared as though Yaakov surrendered and lowered himself in submission to his brother.  On the surface, it seems that Esav has triumphed and Yaakov suffered defeat.  In reality, however, this is not at all what occurred.  Yaakov recognized that it was God who had issued the decree of exile and oppression, and ordained that he would have to bow before his brother.  He bowed not in submission to Esav, but rather in submission to divine authority and justice.  This was thus not a moment of shame and defeat, but a moment of triumph – a moment of unwavering faith in, and sincere devotion to, God's rule over the earth.
 

            Rav Dessler proceeds to show how the idea expressed by the Zohar has been manifest throughout the centuries of Jewish exile.  There were unfortunately many occasions in which we were, as a people, compelled to "bow to Esav," humbly submit to foreign rule.  We nevertheless succeeded in retaining our dignity, pride, and sense of purpose because this submission occurred only externally.  Somehow we always managed to see the Shekhina "pass before them," and recognize the divine presence even in moments of anguish and despair.  We thus bowed not to the oppressor, but rather to God, proudly – if painfully – expressing our faith, loyalty and devotion, which has allowed us to survive and flourish even in our history's darkest hours.

 

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            The haftara for Parashat Vayishlach, the book of Ovadya, foretells the eventual downfall of the kingdom of Edom, and lists a number of crimes for which this kingdom was deserving of such a fate.

 

            Towards the beginning of this prophecy, Ovadya rhetorically asks, "Even if thieves came upon you, nighttime marauders – how were you destroyed?  Wouldn't they steal only what they needed?  And even if vintagers came to you, wouldn't they leave gleanings?" (1:5).  The prophet expresses his astonishment over the complete ruin of what was once a powerful and prosperous empire.  Even when plunderers ransack a city, they don't leave it empty; they take only that for which they could conceivably have some need.  And when vintagers clean a vineyard of its grapes, they leave behind the undesirable produce.  The Edomite kingdom, however, as the prophet foresees, would be left in utter ruin, which nothing remaining.  Ovadya expresses this bewilderment after describing the kingdom's hubris and arrogant sense of security (verse 3).  History would prove that Edom is not only vulnerable, but also headed towards extraordinary devastation.

 

            Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his commentary to the haftarot, draws an insightful distinction between the two analogies drawn by the prophet in the aforementioned verse – thieves, and vintagers.  The first analogy involves people who have no legal right to the property they seize, who lawlessly and forcefully capture the desired goods.  The harvesters, by contrast, are of course invited into the vineyard, summoned for the very purpose of removing the produce.  Accordingly, Rav Hirsch suggests, the prophet here speaks of two groups of enemies that would visit destruction upon the Edomite empire.  First, the kingdom would fall prey to the "nighttime marauders," people with no prior association with Edom and thus no justification at all for launching their assault.  Additionally, however, Edom would be overrun by "vintagers," nations that it had "invited" into its kingdom through the wrongs it committed against them.  After many years of enduring the cruelty of Edomite oppression, these peoples are perhaps justified in raiding the kingdom to "harvest" its "produce."  Yet, even they are not justified in seizing the "gleanings," in clearing the country out completely.  Even in a justified war, there are basic limits on the extent of damage that may be inflicted upon the enemy.  And so even the "vintagers," those who perhaps have a legitimate right to invade Edom, should know to at least leave behind "gleanings."  However, in retribution for Edom's own ruthless and unrestrained oppression of other peoples, it, too, will one day lose even its "gleanings," and will suffer the same humiliation and destitution that it had visited upon others over the course of its history.