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PARASHAT
VAYISHLACH By Rav
David Silverberg
Parashat Vayishlach tells of Yaakov’s return to Beit-El, the site where
he had beheld the famous prophetic vision of the ladder as he escaped from
Eretz Yisrael. Now, upon Yaakov’s return to the land,
he goes to Beit-El with his family and constructs an altar to God, whereupon he
receives a prophecy in which God blesses him and reiterates his name’s change to
“Yisrael” (chapter 35).
Curiously, the Torah interrupts this narrative to report the death of a
figure to whom we had not previously been introduced: “Devora, Rivka’s
nursemaid, died, and was buried below Beit-El, underneath the oak, and he
[Yaakov] called its name, ‘Oak of Weeping’” (35:8). Why did the Torah find it necessary to
relate the death of Rivka’s nurse? Shadal comments, “The purpose of this
story is to teach us proper etiquette [mida tova] to honor the nursemaid
who exerts effort in raising the suckling infant – even after he has been
raised, especially this one, who left her land and father’s home to go with
Rivka.” According to Shadal, the
Torah seeks to teach a basic lesson in respect and gratitude, to show
appreciation for all those who give quality, devoted service. Yaakov took the time to bury and give
respect to Devora because he felt grateful for the care she gave his mother many
years earlier. Teaching this basic
measure of decency and manners, which unfortunately is so often neglected,
warranted adding this verse in the Torah to report Devora’s death and
burial. It is also worth emphasizing that this
incident transpired at Beit-El, immediately after Yaakov’s building of an altar
at the site, and just prior to the prophecy he received. Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch briefly notes
a number of parallels between Yaakov’s pilgrimage to Beit-El and the Revelation
at Sinai, and concludes that the events in Beit-El in fact served for Yaakov and
his family as a kind of Ma’amad Har
Sinai. Significantly, it is during this event
that Yaakov must take the time to give honor and respect to Devora. This verse might underscore the
importance of not losing sight of one’s basic moral duties amidst his
involvement in lofty, spiritual pursuits.
Even during his personal “Ma’amad Har Sinai,” Yaakov did not neglect his mother’s loyal
nurse, and he afforded her the respect she deserved. He understood that spiritual experiences
such as the events at Beit-El must enhance a person’s commitment to proper
ethical conduct, not lead him to neglect it. Even – and perhaps especially – while
serving God at Beit-El, Yaakov ensured to fulfill his basic moral obligation of
gratitude to Devora, and for this very reason, perhaps, the Torah found this
episode worthy of mention. *******
We read in Parashat Vayishlach the tragic story of Dina’s abduction and
defilement by Shekhem, the prince of the city with that same name (chapter
34). After Dina’s abduction,
Shekhem and his father approach Yaakov and his sons to propose that the two
clans join through marriage and economic cooperation. Yaakov’s sons, speaking with what the
Torah described as mirma
(literally, “deceit”), express their approval of the plan, on condition that all
the males of Shekhem agree to undergo circumcision. Shekhem succeeds in persuading the
people of his city to accept these terms, and all the men are circumcised. Three days later, Shimon and Levi
assault the city, kill every male, loot the city’s property, and rescue their
sister.
Among the questions raised concerning this incident was whether Yaakov’s
other sons, besides Shimon and Levi, were party to this scheme. In describing the exchange between
Yaakov’s family and Shekhem, the Torah tells that “Yaakov’s sons deceptively
answered Shekhem and his father Chamor” and stipulated the condition that the
people of Shekhem undergo circumcision (34:13). This would clearly suggest that all of
Yaakov’s sons took part in this deception.
Later, however, we read that only Shimon and Levi attacked the city
(34:25). One might suggest, at
first glance, that all the brothers conspired together, but only Shimon and Levi
– who were perhaps the warriors in the family – carried out the attack. On the other hand, it seems difficult to
imagine that only two brothers would be sent to attack the city if they all took
part in the scheme. Wouldn’t they
want as many men as possible to undertake this daring mission? Furthermore, Yaakov’s condemnation of
the attack – both here and as he lay on his deathbed, as recorded in Parashat
Vayechi – are reserved for Shimon and Levi, indicating that only they schemed
against the people of Shekhem.
The question thus remains, why does the Torah speak of “Yaakov’s sons,”
without specifying Shimon and Levi, as the ones who presented the condition of
circumcision?
This question led a number of commentators to suggest that all the
brothers conspired against Shekhem – but not with the intent of murdering its
male population; this plan was devised only by Shimon and Levi. The Ramban (34:13) explains that the
brothers did not expect the people of Shekhem to agree to undergo
circumcision. By making Dina’s
marriage contingent upon the people’s circumcision, Yaakov’s sons essentially
sought to sabotage the deal proposed by Shekhem, so that Dina could be safely
returned and not married to Shekhem.
And in the unlikely event that the Shekhemites agreed to the condition,
the brothers felt, they could easily enter the city while the men recovered from
the procedure and rescue Dina without confrontation. It was only Shimon and Levi who,
independently, decided to resort to violence. (See also Rav Shimshon Refael
Hirsch.)
Shadal explains along similar lines, though in his view, the brothers
never even imagined that the people of Shekhem would agree to circumcise; such a
possibility never entered their minds.
They imposed the condition of circumcision as an excuse for rejecting
Shekhem’s offer, so that Dina can be returned. But the Shekhemites’ unexpected consent
to this condition put Yaakov’s family in a very difficult position: now that the
people of Shekhem had fulfilled their side of the deal, Yaakov’s family had to
fulfill theirs, and allow Dina to marry Shekhem. Shimon and Levi refused to allow this to
happen, and they therefore took up arms against the city of
(See also Chizkuni, Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor and
Abarbanel.) ******
Parashat Vayishlach begins with Yaakov’s anxious preparation for his
reunion with his brother Esav. As
part of these preparations, he sends large, expensive gifts ahead to Esav, with
specific instructions to his servants who delivered these herds:
When my
brother Esav meets you and asks you, saying, “To whom do you belong, where are
you going, and whose are these that are before you?” – you shall say, “[I
belong] to our servant, Yaakov; it is a gift sent to my master Esav, and he is
also behind us. (32:18-19) Interestingly,
the Torah found it necessary to report in detail all the specific questions that
Yaakov anticipated from his brother: “To whom do you belong, where are you
going, and whose are these that are before you?” Seemingly, it would have sufficed for
the Torah to simply record what Yaakov instructed his servants to tell Esav,
without specifying the particular questions Yaakov
anticipated.
One explanation, perhaps, relates to Rashi’s comment on verse 19, where
he notes that Yaakov instructed his servants to answer Esav’s questions in the
sequence they were asked (“al rishon rishon ve-al acharon
acharon”). In light of Rashi’s observation, we
might say that the Torah specified the anticipated questions to show the
precision that Yaakov demanded from his servants in responding to Esav, in an
effort to display the highest level of respect. This, in turn, teaches that answering
multiple questions in the sequence in which they were asked is an expression of
respect and proper etiquette.
Rav Gamliel Rabinowitz, in his work Tiv Ha-Torah
(
It is human nature to inquire about other people, and to take inordinate
interest in what they have and what they are doing. Beyond the danger of invasiveness and
denying people the right to privacy, excessive curiosity can also lead to a
wasteful consumption of a person’s time and attention. Those who constantly ask the kinds of
questions asked by Esav – inquiring about the details of other people’s lives –
run the risk of draining their limited resources of time and mental energy. While we most certainly show concern for
others and interest in their needs, we mustn’t hunt for useless knowledge about
other people. It is far preferable
to reserve our curiosity and inquisitiveness for Torah study and other
beneficial and productive areas of interest – the kind of behavior commonly
associated with Yaakov, rather than Esav. ********
We find in Parashat Vayishlach the story of Yaakov’s encounter with a
mysterious assailant in Penuel the night before his reunion with Esav. Yaakov wrestles with the attacker
throughout the night, and ultimately prevails. The Torah writes at the conclusion of
this narrative, “The sun
shone for him as he passed Penuel” (32:32). The Gemara in Masekhet Chulin (91b)
comments that God at this
point “returned” to Yaakov the daylight that He had “withheld” many years
earlier, when Yaakov first left Eretz Yisrael to Charan. The Sages famously teach that as Yaakov
left home and arrived at the site where he dreamt his famous dream, God had the
sun set early so that Yaakov would sleep at that site. Now, twenty years later, God “returned”
the daylight by having the sun rise early that morning for Yaakov at
Penuel.
What deeper message might this account, of the early sunset and sunrise,
seek to convey?
There is perhaps nothing in the world that can be anticipated with more
assurance and certitude than the cycle of the sun’s rise and descent. While other natural forces seem to occur
arbitrarily, at least to some extent, the astronomical cycle can be predicted
with absolute certainty. In the
story of Yaakov’s exile from and return to Eretz Yisrael – which is often viewed as a symbolic
precursor of his descendants’ exile and redemption – even the sun’s rise and
setting did not occur at the anticipated times. For Yaakov, even the most predictable
phenomena in life did not unfold as planned. This might symbolize the fact that in
the history of Am Yisrael, and perhaps in the lives of individuals, as
well, few events, if any, can be predicted with certainty. Rarely do life’s events unfold according
to plan, or follow the person’s carefully designed schedule. In Yaakov’s case, this was shown in the
extreme, in the delay of nature’s most unfailingly predictable events. These deviations are perhaps meant as
models of the unexpected twists and turns that individual life and our national
history so often take.
Sometimes we confront an unexpected “sunset,” problems and hardships that
we could not possibly have foreseen beforehand. In other instances, we are treated to an
entirely unanticipated “sunrise,” good fortune from an unexpected source or turn
of events. The story of Yaakov
teaches that while we must work, plan and prepare as best we can, and attempt to
steer our lives in the proper direction, we must also accept the reality that
some things cannot be planned, that, sometimes for better and sometimes for
worse, even the most predictable aspects in life cannot always be
predicted. *******
We find in Parashat Vayishlach the story of Yaakov’s encounter with a
mysterious assailant in Penuel the night before his reunion with Esav. Yaakov wrestles with the attacker
throughout the night, and ultimately prevails. The Torah writes at the conclusion of
this narrative, “The sun
shone for him as he passed Penuel” (32:32). The Gemara in Masekhet Chulin (91b)
comments that God at this
point “returned” to Yaakov the daylight that He had “withheld” many years
earlier, when Yaakov first left Eretz Yisrael to Charan. The Sages famously teach that as Yaakov
left home and arrived at the site where he dreamt his famous dream, God had the
sun set early so that Yaakov would sleep at that site. Now, twenty years later, God “returned”
the daylight by having the sun rise early that morning for Yaakov at
Penuel.
What deeper message might this account, of the early sunset and sunrise,
seek to convey?
There is perhaps nothing in the world that can be anticipated with more
assurance and certitude than the cycle of the sun’s rise and descent. While other natural forces seem to occur
arbitrarily, at least to some extent, the astronomical cycle can be predicted
with absolute certainty. In the
story of Yaakov’s exile from and return to Eretz Yisrael – which is often viewed as a symbolic
precursor of his descendants’ exile and redemption – even the sun’s rise and
setting did not occur at the anticipated times. For Yaakov, even the most predictable
phenomena in life did not unfold as planned. This might symbolize the fact that in
the history of Am Yisrael, and perhaps in the lives of individuals, as
well, few events, if any, can be predicted with certainty. Rarely do life’s events unfold according
to plan, or follow the person’s carefully designed schedule. In Yaakov’s case, this was shown in the
extreme, in the delay of nature’s most unfailingly predictable events. These deviations are perhaps meant as
models of the unexpected twists and turns that individual life and our national
history so often take.
Sometimes we confront an unexpected “sunset,” problems and hardships that
we could not possibly have foreseen beforehand. In other instances, we are treated to an
entirely unanticipated “sunrise,” good fortune from an unexpected source or turn
of events. The story of Yaakov
teaches that while we must work, plan and prepare as best we can, and attempt to
steer our lives in the proper direction, we must also accept the reality that
some things cannot be planned, that, sometimes for better and sometimes for
worse, even the most predictable aspects in life cannot always be
predicted. *********
Parashat Vayishlach tells the story of Shimon and Levi’s assault on the
city of
Targum Onkelos translates the term “he-arim” (“the cities”)
in this verse as, “amemaya de-be-kirvei” – “the nations in the
cities.” Since the “dread of God”
quite obviously affected the people, and not the actual cities, the Targum added the word “amemaya” (“the nations”) to clarify that
it was the residents of these cities who were gripped with fear. Rabbenu Saadia Gaon similarly writes in
his commentary, “he-arim – yoshevei he-arim” (“the dwellers of the
cities”).
Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha’kabbala, suggests a different, novel reading
of the term he-arim, citing a number of instances where the word
ar means “enemy.” In Sefer
Shemuel I (28:16), for example, in the famous incident where King Shaul consults
with the spirit of the deceased prophet Shemuel, the prophet warns the king,
“va-yehi arekha,” which the commentaries explain to mean that God has now
sided with Shaul’s foes. And
Yeshayahu (14:21), in foreseeing the eventual downfall of the Babylonian Empire,
declares that this outcome was necessary lest the Baylonians conquer the earth,
such that it would be filled with “arim.” Here, too, Targum and Rashi (in
his first approach) interpret arim to mean hostile peoples. Similarly, the prophet Mikha (5:13)
conveys God’s promise to the Judean kingdom that He will defeat the kingdom’s
enemies, and proclaims, “ve-hishmadeti arekha” – “I shall destroy your
enemies.”
Thus, Rav Mecklenberg suggests, here, too, we might explain that the
“dread of God” fell upon the enemies – arim – of
Yaakov.
In any event, it is worth noting that Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch detects
a parallel between Yaakov’s family’s journey to Beit-El and their descendants’
preparation for Matan Torah many years later. Before Yaakov and his family left
Shekhem, he instructed them to “purify” and change their clothing (35:2),
bringing to mind the similar instructions conveyed to Benei Yisrael prior to the Revelation at
Sinai (Shemot 19:14). Rav Hirsch
comments, “Going up to the place of the revelation to the father in There is, however, one notable
difference between the two journeys.
In the case of Yaakov, the enemies “did not pursue the sons of Yaakov,”
whereas Benei Yisrael were indeed
pursued by their adversaries as they journeyed toward Sinai (“The Lord hardened
the heart of Pharaoh…and he pursued the Israelites” – Shemot 14:8). This contrasting parallel perhaps
reinforces the notion that God’s protection should be recognized no less when He
restrains the potential “pursuers” before they attack, than when He saves His
people after an actual attack. Just
as it was quite clearly the Hand of God that drowned the pursuing Egyptians at
sea, so did He block the enemies’ pursuit of Yaakov before it ever got
underway. We must recognize His
role not only in rescuing from danger, but also His role in ensuring that
dangers would never surface in the first place. *********
Parashat Vayishlach describes the events leading up to Yaakov’s dreaded –
though ultimately peaceful – reunion with his brother, Esav. The Torah here tells of Yaakov’s
crossing of the Yabok stream, specifying that he crossed together with his
family and his belongings. In the
context of this narrative, the Torah makes reference to “shetei nashav” –
Yaakov’s “two wives” – as well as “shetei shifchotav” – “his two
maidservants” (32:23). Quite
obviously, this refers to Leah and Rachel – Yaakov’s primary wives – and Bilha
and Zilpa, his wives’ maidservants whom he eventually
married.
Both Targum Onkelos and Targum Yonatan, in their respective Aramaic translations
of this verse, translate the word shifchotav (“his maidservants”) as “lecheinatei,” the term normally used as the Aramaic
rendition of the word pilegesh – “concubine.” These translations deviate in this
instance from the usual Aramaic translation of shifcha, as ama.
Interestingly enough, in their translations of Parashat Vayetze,
Targum Onkelos and Targum Yonatan translate the word shifcha in reference to Bilha and Zilpa with the
standard term, ama (see the Targumim to 29:24,29; 30:4,7,9,10,12). Here, however, in Parashat Vayishlach,
the Targumim deviate from the literal translation, and
use the word “concubine,” rather than “maidservant,” in reference to Bilha and
Zilpa.
The simplest explanation for this shift likely relates to the different
relationships described. In
Parashat Vayetze, the Torah speaks of Bilha and Zilpa in terms of their
relationship with Lavan, and then with Rachel and Leah. In all these relationships, they were
indeed the “maidservants.” Here, in
Parashat Vayishlach, the Torah for the first time speaks of Bilha and Zilpa in
terms of their direct relationship with Yaakov. The Targumim
apparently felt that the term “maidservant” would be an imprecise description of
this relationship. Technically
speaking, Bilha and Zilpa were the maidservants of Rachel and Leah, and the
wives – more accurately, the concubines – of Yaakov. Hence, the Targumim
concluded that the term shifcha in this
context must be understood to mean “concubine,” rather than
“maidservant.”
Rav Yaakov Mecklenberg, in his Ha-ketav Ve-ha’kabbala,
suggests a different explanation for the Targumim’s
deviation from the standard translation of shifcha in this
verse. Targum Yonatan, in
Parashat Vayetze (30:4,9), writes that when Rachel and Leah urged Yaakov to
marry their maidservants, they formally released the maidservants from their
servant status (“shichrur”). In a slightly different vein, Seforno
(30:6) comments that Rachel and Leah freed Bilha and Zilpa upon the birth of
their – Bilha and Zilpa’s – first children. Otherwise, Seforno notes, these children
would have had the status of servants, and not as full-fledged sons of
Yaakov. Accordingly, Rav
Mecklenberg writes, the Targumim felt compelled to refer to Bilha and
Zilpa in Parashat Vayishlach as concubines, rather than maidservants, since they had already earned their freedom
from servitude.
The question, however, remains, why did the Torah employ the term
shifchotav, if, as
Rav Mecklenberg claims, Bilha and Zilpa no longer had the status of
maidservants?
Rav Mecklenberg suggests, quite simply, that despite having earned their
freedom, Bilha and Zilpa continued to act humbly in the presence of Rachel and
Leah, as though they were still their maidservants. It appears that the Torah sought to
allude to these women’s particular sensitivity to their former mistresses, who
had to suffer the shame of having their husbands marry their maidservants. Rather than proudly assert themselves
and flaunt their newfound freedom, they remained respectful and deferential in
their relationships with Rachel and Leah.
The Torah therefore continues to refer to Bilha and Zilpa as
“maidservants” – not as a derogatory epithet, but rather, quite to the contrary,
to applaud their consideration for the feelings of their former
mistresses. ********
Parashat Vayishlach describes Yaakov’s reunion with his older twin, Esav,
an encounter which, though Yaakov had dreaded, ultimately proved peaceful. During the brothers’ brief exchange,
Esav declined the expensive gifts that Yaakov had earlier sent as an expression
of goodwill and reconciliation.
Esav tells Yaakov, “I have much; my brother, let what you have be yours”
(33:9). Yaakov responds, “…Take,
please, my blessing that has been brought to you, for God has graced me and I
have everything” (33:11).
Rashi (33:11) notes the difference between Esav’s affirmation, “I have
much” (“yesh
li rav”)
and Yaakov’s response, “I have everything” (“yesh
li khol”). Instinctively, we might have explained
these two phrases as reflecting a difference between Yaakov’s sense of
contentment and Esav’s insatiable greed.
Yaakov lived his life feeling he has “everything,” whereas Esav
acknowledged only that he has “much,” with still more that he would like to
obtain. Rashi, however, explains
differently: “’I have everything’ – all my needs. But Esav spoke in an arrogant manner: ‘I
have much’ – far more than my needs.”
According to Rashi, Esav’s recognition that he has “much” reflected not a
lack of contentment, but to the contrary, the feeling of having far more than he
needed. Yet, Rashi considers this
affirmation a sign of Esav’s arrogance (in Rashi’s words, “Esav diber
be-lashon ga’ava”). Why is it arrogant to acknowledge that
one has more than he needs?
The simple answer, perhaps, is that the arrogance lay not in the mindset,
but rather in the manner of speech.
It is acceptable, and even laudable, to silently live with sense that one
has been given far more than he needs to live contentedly. However, speaking about this feeling is
viewed as a sign of arrogance. A
person who tells others about his wealth flaunts his material blessings and
invites envy, usually intentionally.
The humble person will describe himself in simple terms, as having what
he needs, in order not to arouse jealousy, even if inside he acknowledges that
he has far more than that.
Rav Mordechai Gifter (in Pirkei
Torah) suggests a different
explanation for Rashi’s comments. A
person who views his wealth as something given to him by the Almighty will come
to realize that he has received it for a purpose. Such a person will look upon his assets
as a means for properly serving God, in all that this entails. As such, he will acknowledge, as Yaakov
did, that he has “everything” – everything he needs to accomplish his assigned
mission in the world. Esav,
however, took pride in his fortune and viewed it as the product of his own
efforts and skill, rather than a gift from the heavens. He thus naturally felt entitled to use
his wealth as he pleased, without any sense of responsibility or higher
purpose. Hence, he could say that
he has “far more than my needs.”
One who sees material possessions as a means to achieving his role in the
world will acknowledge that he has “everything,” while a person who takes
personal credit for his fortune, and thus fails to recognize the responsibility
that comes with possession, will claim to have “much” – more than he
needs. |