S.A.L.T. – PARASHAT VAYISHLACH

By Rav David Silverberg

MOTZAEI

            Parashat Vayishlach tells of Yaakov’s mysterious encounter with an unnamed “ish” (“man”), who wrestled with him through the night as he made his way back to Canaan from Charan (32:25).  Rashi cites the famous Midrashic tradition identifying the assailant as “saro shel Esav,” the heavenly angel of Yaakov’s older twin.  This view is cited in Bereishit Rabba (77) in the name of Rabbi Chama bar Chanina, and is the commonly accepted understanding of this episode.  According to this approach, Yaakov’s victorious struggle symbolizes his ultimate triumph over his brother, and his descendants’ triumph over his brother’s descendants.  Though we are often challenged and confronted by “Esav,” and, like Yaakov, we will suffer injuries and bruises as a result of these encounters, we will ultimately emerge triumphant.

            Earlier in Bereishit Rabba, however, the Midrash cites a description of this confrontation in the name of Rav Huna which appears to point us in a different direction:

He [the assailant] appeared to him [Yaakov] in the form of a shepherd.  He had sheep, and he [Yaakov] had sheep; he had camels, and he [Yaakov] had camels.  He said to him, “Bring yours through, and then I will bring mine through.”  Our patriarch Yaakov brought his through, and he then turned around to see if perhaps he forgot something.  Immediately, “A man wrestled with him.”

While this account is not entirely clear, it seems that the attacking angel appeared to Yaakov as a shepherd who, like Yaakov himself, was traveling with large herds of cattle.  Apparently, the angel traveled in the opposite direction, and there was not enough room on the road for both to pass.  The angel allowed Yaakov to bring his belongings across the road first, and when Yaakov finished bringing his possessions, he turned around to ensure that he had not forgotten anything.  This aroused the angel’s suspicion, who thought that Yaakov may be trying to steal his possessions, and promptly attacked the patriarch.

            What might be the underlying symbolism of this account?  According to the conventional understanding of this incident, as mentioned earlier, Yaakov’s confrontation with the angel symbolizes Am Yisrael’s long but successful struggle against the “Esav’s” who wage war against them.  But how might we understand the meaning of the account presented by Rav Huna, whereby the attacking angel appeared to Yaakov as a cattle-laden shepherd?

            It seems clear that according to Rav Huna’s account, the assailant was not the angel of Esav, but rather than angel of Yaakov.  Rav Huna emphasizes the fact that the mysterious assailant, like Yaakov, was a shepherd traveling with camels and sheep.  In his view, Yaakov did not wrestle against an external enemy, but rather struggled with the enemy within, with himself.

            What kind of struggle took place between Yaakov and his “other self,” and why did that “other self” grow suspicious of Yaakov?

            Several different interpretations can be considered.  One explanation, perhaps, is that the other shepherd represents Yaakov’s unfulfilled dreams and aspirations.  We all live two different lives: the life that actually unfolds, and the life we long for and aspire to.  Generally speaking, these identities remain separate throughout our lives.  As Chazal famously reminded us, “A person does not die with half of his aspirations realized.”  Even those who are fortunate to enjoy happy, successful and meaningful lives have in their minds a different person whom they wanted to be, but were unable to become.  As in the case with Yaakov and his assailant, there is not enough room for both people to pass through.  The natural limitations of life force us to pass through it with only ourselves, and to leave behind the person whom we ideally want to be.

            For the most part, that other person graciously allows our real self to pass through peacefully.  At one point or another, we all accept our limitations and live with a general sense of ease, recognizing that we cannot achieve all our ambitions.  On some occasions, however, our “other self” feels envious, and launches an assault.  It feels threatened by our real, pragmatic self, and struggles to overtake us.  These are the times in life when we feel beset by disappointment and a lack of fulfillment, when we cannot live peacefully in the face of frustrated aspirations and unfulfilled dreams.

            According to Rav Huna, then, Yaakov’s struggle against the mysterious attacker represents the struggle that occurs within each and every one of us, between the person we are and the person we aspire to be.  Ultimately, of course, the harsh realities of life force us to defeat the frustration and disappointment of unrealized ambition.  But the confrontation nevertheless leave us “limping,” with an ongoing feeling of uneasiness as we resume our lives, ever cognizant of the goals and aspirations that we still wish to fulfill.  We will, by necessity, always defeat that mysterious assailant within us, though not without a “limp,” the lingering feelings of disappointment that hopefully motivate us at every stage in our lives to work harder toward achieving our goals.

SUNDAY

            We read in Parashat Vayishlach of Yaakov’s encounter with a mysterious man who wrestled with him throughout the night during his trip back to Canaan.  The assailant turned out to be an angel, prompting Yaakov to exclaim after his triumph over his attacker, “I have seen God face-to-face, and my life was saved!” (32:30).  Yaakov thus named the site “Peniel,” or “Face of God.”

            Yaakov’s response to this incident seems to suggest is that he was amazed or startled by his “face-to-face” encounter with an angel of God, that this was something extraordinary.  Yet, as we know, this was not Yaakov’s first encounter with angels.  Besides the prophecies of angels which he beheld in Bet El when he left Canaan, and later in Lavan’s home, the Torah writes that Yaakov encountered angels in Machanayim, after his truce with Lavan (32:1).  Why did he now marvel over the fact that he has “seen God face-to-face,” if this was not the first such encounter?

            The Or Ha-chayim explains that Yaakov marveled not over having seen an angel, but rather over having been compelled to fight against an angel.  The phrase, “I have seen God face-to-face,” according to the Or Ha-chayim, refers specifically to confrontation.  The Or Ha-chayim cites in this context a verse from Sefer Melakhim II (14:8) which relates that the Judean king Amatzya challenged the Israelite king Yehoash to a battle, and said, “Lekha nitra’eh panim” (literally, “Let us see each other’s faces”).  The expression “see a face” in this verse clearly refers to warfare, and thus here in Parashat Vayishlach, too, Yaakov speaks of a confrontation with an angel, rather than simply seeing an angel.

            In Yaakov’s previous encounters with angels, the angels were sent to assist and protect Yaakov (see, for example, Rashi to 28:12).  Now, for the first time, an angel was sent to struggle and fight against Yaakov, and this was the new, unusual phenomenon that Yaakov experienced for the first time at Peniel.  Yaakov already experienced the special divine protection that his unique relationship with God afforded him.  Now, he saw that his special bond with the Almighty also entailed formidable challenges that he and his descendants would have to confront.  People who are granted the ability to “see angels,” who live with a sense of spiritual mission and responsibility, will inevitably come upon both kinds of “angels.”  Am Yisrael’s relationship to God brings them unique protection, but also unique challenges.  If we want to enjoy the ongoing accompaniment and assistance of protective angels, then we must also be prepared to confront the hostile angels, the many obstacles that often stand in the way of the fulfillment of our mission and threaten to stop us from achieving our goals.

MONDAY

            Among the incidents told in Parashat Vayishlach is the injury that Yaakov sustained as a result of his nightlong wrestle with a mysterious assailant, who attacked him as he made his way back to Canaan after leaving the home of Lavan.  Although Yaakov prevailed over the assailant, who turned out to be an angel, the angel managed to deal Yaakov a debilitating blow and dislodging his thighbone.  Commentators and darshanim throughout the ages have advanced different theories to explain the significance of this particular injury and how it foretells the future history of Yaakov’s descendants.

            Rav Yehuda Leib Ginsburg, in his Yalkut Yehuda (Denver, 1936), suggests that the significance of Yaakov’s injury lies in the fact that it caused him to limp and take small, slow steps as he walked (“ve-hu tzolei’a al yereikho” – 32:31).  Symbolically, the blow dealt by the angel to Yaakov’s leg serves to emphasize the importance of taking small steps in all areas of life.  Ambition is vital for success in any endeavor, but it can also be a person’s worst enemy, if it is not accompanied by patience.  The angel made Yaakov limp to teach us, his descendants, that although we must walk persistently, we must walk slowly.  We cannot expect to accomplish our goals in an instant, by taking large steps.  Our aspirations – both individual and collective – are best realized by “limping,” by taking small steps, each moving us closer to our ultimate destination.

            Yaakov had good reason to want to “rush” back to Canaan.  After spending twenty years in the hostile environment of Lavan’s home, geographically and spiritually distant from the land of his father and grandfather, he was understandably eager to return to Chevron and begin the next stage of building the foundations of Am Yisrael.  The angel, perhaps, was sent to deliver the message of “slow down,” to progress at a more relaxed, gradual pace.  “He saw that he could not overcome him, and so he dealt a blow to his thigh socket” (32:25).  The angel saw that he could no longer detain Yaakov, so he injured his leg, causing him to limp.  His intent, it appears, was to force Yaakov to slow his pace, to progress more gradually to the next stage of his life and of Jewish history.  At first he tried to simply obstruct his path, but when Yaakov proved too forceful to be detained, the angel resorted to injuring his leg.  We, like Yaakov, must be vigorous enough to overcome all obstacles that we confront, but patient enough to move forward slowly.  We may not let anybody or anything to get in the way of the realization of our goals, but, at the same time, we must ensure to pursue them one step at a time, at a gradual pace, rather than recklessly lunging forward to the finish line.

TUESDAY

            As we noted yesterday, many different commentators and darshanim have offered various insights into the mysterious episode of Yaakov’s wrestle with an unnamed assailant, as related in Parashat Vayishlach.  Yaakov came under assault one night as he made his way back to Canaan after his twenty-year sojourn in Charan, where he lived with his father-in-law.  The struggle between Yaakov and his attacker – who turned out to be an angel – lasted through the night, and Yaakov ultimately triumphed.  The angel, realizing that he could not defeat Yaakov, dealt a debilitating blow to Yaakov’s leg, dislodging his thighbone.  The Torah writes that Yaakov was left limping as a result of his injury (32:32).

            Among the effects of Yaakov’s limp was his temporary inability to reunite with his family on the other side of the Yabok stream.  Rashi (32:32) cites a Midrash which relates that God miraculously healed Yaakov’s thigh, allowing him to move on past Penuel, the site of his wrestle with the angel.  Otherwise, it appears, Yaakov would have been forced to remain across the river from his family, unable to walk toward them.

            If so, then the injury sustained by Yaakov perhaps alludes to the threat of disconnect between the generations.  The success of Am Yisrael depends upon the ability of the parent generation to connect with the younger generation and transmit to them our religious tradition.  The angel – which one Midrashic source famously identifies as the angel of Esav, the spiritual foe of Yaakov and his descendants – was incapable of destroying Yaakov, so he instead severed the bond between Yaakov and his offspring.  With the Yabok stream separating Yaakov from his children, there was little chance of Yaakov’s family fulfilling its destiny of serving as God’s treasured nation.

            The Torah in this context (32:33) mentions that this incident is commemorated through the prohibition of gid ha-nasheh, which forbids partaking of an animal’s sciatic nerve. Why is it important for us to recall Yaakov’s injury?  The Da’at Zekeinim Mi-ba’alei Ha-Tosefot explains that we commemorate this incident so that we will not repeat the mistake made Yaakov’s children, who allowed their father to be left alone, at night, on the other side of the river.  They failed to escort him across, thus leaving him exposed to danger.  We refrain from the gid ha-nasheh in order to remember Yaakov’s injury which was caused by his children’s neglect of their father’s safety.

            In light of what we have seen, we might add that the failure of Yaakov’s children to accompany their father also symbolizes the younger generation’s responsibility to connect to their parents and teachers.  By leaving Yaakov alone on the other side of the river, Yaakov’s children threatened the transmission of Yaakov’s legacy.  The younger generation bears the responsibility not to allow the older generation to remain alone, not to allow any “rivers” to separate between them and the previous link of Jewish tradition.  The bond between the younger and older members of the nation is vital and indispensable for the success of Am Yisrael and its ongoing commitment to our  covenant with God.  It therefore behooves us all to maintain this bond and not allow the forces of “Esav” to sever even a single link in the millennia-old chain of Jewish tradition.

WEDNESDAY

            The Torah in Parashat Vayishlach introduces the prohibition of gid ha-nasheh, which forbids partaking of an animal’s sciatic nerve.  As the Torah explains (32:33), this prohibition serves to commemorate the famous incident of Yaakov’s encounter with an angel as he made his way back to Canaan.  A mysterious attacker – who is later discovered to be an angel – wrestled with Yaakov through the night, and although Yaakov eventually triumphed, the angel managed to dislodge Yaakov’s thighbone.  We commemorate Yaakov’s injury by discarding the gid ha-nasheh, which is located in the area of the thighbone.

            Different theories have been offered to explain why this incident is worthy of commemoration.  The Rashbam presents what is probably the most intuitive explanation, namely, that this prohibition commemorates “Yaakov’s strength and the miracle that the Almighty performed for him, in that he did not die.”  Still, we might wonder why specifically this event is memorialized in the form of a Torah prohibition, and not the other events Yaakov experienced during his tumultuous sojourn away from his father’s home.

            Seforno suggests the following insightful explanation: “So that the injury resulting from the blow to the thigh socket will be an injury in something that is of no significance to us.”  According to Seforno, we refrain from, and thus discard, the gid ha-nasheh to demonstrate that we afford no significance to Yaakov’s injured leg.  By disposing of this part of the animal, we announce that we have no interest in this part of the body which the angel succeeded in injuring, that we can do without it.  The gid ha-nasheh prohibition is intended not to draw our attention to Yaakov’s injured thigh, but to the contrary, to draw our attention away from his injured thigh.  This halakha urges us not to be preoccupied with our patriarch’s injury, but rather with everything else.  We focus our minds not on Yaakov’s injury, but rather on his triumph.  When assessing this incident, we should think primarily of Yaakov’s victory over his assailant, and view his injury as simply a footnote, rather than directing the spotlight onto his dislodged thigh.

            Many situations in life require us to struggle and overcome difficult hurdles.  Often, these experiences leave us “injured” or scarred.  The message of the gid ha-nasheh is that we must try to focus our attention on our successes rather than our failures, to gain encouragement from our achievements rather than fall into despair due to the occasional setbacks that we all inevitably endure.

THURSDAY

            Parashat Vayishlach begins by relating the message Yaakov sent to his brother, Esav, as he made his way back to Canaan after his twenty-year stay with Lavan.  He tells Esav, “I have lived with Lavan… I acquired oxen, donkeys, sheep, servants and maidservants…”

            The Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 75:12) comments that the possessions listed by Yaakov actually refer to his children and future descendants.  The oxen, the Midrash writes, allude to the tribes of Yosef; the donkeys refer to the tribe of Yissakhar; the term “sheep” is a subtle reference to the entire nation of Israel; Yaakov’s servants foreshadow King David, who described himself as God’s “servant” (Tehillim 116:16); and, finally, the term “maidservants” alludes to David’s wife Avigayil.  Elsewhere (ibid. 75:7), the Midrash comments that the animals in this list allude to various positions of national leadership.  The “oxen” allude to the kohen mashu’ach milchama – the kohen who would accompany Benei Yisrael to war – and the “donkeys” refer to the Messianic King.

            Of course, Esav had little interest in hearing about Yaakov’s historical aspirations, his vision of a sovereign Am Yisrael with twelve powerful tribes under David’s leadership, or of a redeemed world led by the Melekh Ha-mashi’ach (Messianic King).  What the Midrash is referring to, then, is Yaakov’s own perspective on his “oxen, donkeys, sheep, servants and maidservants.”  Yaakov worked diligently and assiduously to earn the enormous fortune under his possession.  The Midrash teaches that in amassing his wealth, Yaakov never viewed it as the ultimate realization of his ambitions, as an end unto itself.  When he looked upon his belongings, he did not just see money and prestige.  Rather, he saw the twelve tribes of Israel, King David, and the Messianic Era.  Yaakov built his family with the knowledge and the awareness that he was building a nation that would bear a historic mission which it would carry with it for millennia, all the way until the final redemption.  As he tended to his flocks, he looked centuries ahead and saw Yissakhar’s descendants sitting on the Sanhedrin, the farmers of Efrayim bringing their fruits to the Beit Ha-mikdash, and King David sitting on his throne composing the Psalms.  His long-term, historical perspective accompanied his everyday tasks and injected them with meaning, purpose and a sense of mission.

            This Midrashic passage thus beautifully encapsulates Chazal’s perspective on the relationship between sacred and mundane.  The toil and aggravation often entailed in the process of raising and supporting a family – of acquiring “oxen, donkeys, sheep, servants and maidservants” – make this process seem far removed from the sublime realm of avodat Hashem.  The Midrash here urges us to approach our immediate responsibilities and obligations as our share in the building of the future generations of Kelal Yisrael.  Just as Yaakov could look at his donkeys and see the Melekh Ha-mashi’ach, similarly, we must look at our desks, paperwork, invoices, spreadsheets and bank records and see the future of Am Yisrael, drawing satisfaction from the knowledge that we do our part in bringing our nation closer to the realization of its historical destiny.

(See also the comments of HaRav Yehuda Amital shelit”a regarding this Midrashic passage, at http://vbm-torah.org/archive/sichot/bereishit/08-59vayish.doc.)

FRIDAY

            We read in Parashat Vayishlach of Yaakov’s wrestle with an angel who had appeared to confront the patriarch as he made his way back to Canaan after his sojourn in Charan.  After defeating the angel and receiving a blessing, Yaakov inquired into his assailant’s name: “Tell me, please, your name” (32:29).  The angel, however, refused to divulge this information, saying, “Why are you now asking my name?”

            Rashi, citing the Midrash (Bereishit Rabba 78:4), explains that the angel could not divulge its name because angels have no permanent names.  An angel’s name changes each time it is dispatched, when it receives a name suitable for the mission on which it embarks.

            What might be the underlying significance of this curious exchange between Yaakov and the angel?

            The angel that confronted Yaakov is often identified as the angel of Esav, the angel representing the various forces of spiritual evil in the world.  The angel in effect told Yaakov that “evil” can never be identified by any specific description.  It can never be said in absolute terms that “x” is the primary spiritual threat to the world, or to the Jewish people.  In a particular situation, when “Esav’s angel” is dispatched to challenge Am Yisrael or a particular member of Am Yisrael with regard to a particular matter, we may perhaps be able to ascribe a “name” to the angel, we can squarely define the specific challenge that has arisen.  But it would be inaccurate to call any issue “the single greatest threat to Judaism.”  The angel sent to obstruct Yaakov’s path as he made his way toward the realization of the Jewish nation’s destiny has no name; his name constantly changes, depending on the specific “mission” for which he is sent.  Similarly, we cannot “name” the force that challenges us, Yaakov’s descendants, along our long journey through world history.  It has taken on, and continues to take on, countless different forms, posing countless different kinds of challenges, each requiring its own strategy and response.  Individually, as well, we each will confront various different spiritual challenges along our personal journeys through life.  We must be prepared to confront each “angel” to the best of our ability, realizing that every situation and challenge must be met with a different set of strategies.

(Based on an insight by Rav Chaim Dov Keller, cited at http://www.torah.org/learning/ravfrand/5764/vayishlach.html)