The Israel Koschitzky Virtual Beit Midrash

Surf A Little Torah
Yeshivat Har Etzion

by Rav David Silverberg

There is a custom among many communities to recite Parashat Vayishlach on Motza'ei Shabbat. Wherein lies the connection between this parasha the end of Shabbat?

Some have suggested that this practice evolves from a Chassidic tradition that the beginning of this parasha - Yaakov's return to Canaan and dispatching of messengers to appease his brother - occurred on Motza'ei Shabbat. Needless to say, this claim itself requires explanation. What is the significance of Parashat Vayishlach's unfolding with the conclusion of Shabbat?

We may perhaps suggest that this notion symbolizes Yaakov's having drawn the strength to overcome Esav from "Shabbat." Yaakov had spent twenty years in exile, in the spiritual wasteland of Lavan's home. He spent his days and nights devotedly tending to his father-in-law's flock and raising his family. As Rashi notes in his comments to the second verse in our parasha, Yaakov maintained his adherence to Torah and mitzvot throughout this period. This is "Shabbat": the consistent devotion to sanctity in an otherwise mundane lifestyle. Shabbat means the elevation of the six workdays, the infusion of a spiritual quality into a week characterized by secular pursuits. The power of Shabbat allowed Yaakov to stubbornly uphold his values and priorities even when he was no longer a "dweller of tents," even in the threatening environs of Charan. He managed to find his "Shabbat" among the corruption and idolatry of Ur Kasdim. "Motza'ei Shabbat" thus symbolizes the aftermath of Shabbat, the effects of its formidable power. Yaakov overcame the threat of Esav specifically on Motza'ei Shabbat, through his ability to retain his devotion to his religion even under the most difficult circumstances. It is this power we bring to mind through the recitation of Parashat Vayishlach on Motza'ei Shabbat.

Others explain this custom as related to the well-known passage in Midrash Rabba about Rabbi Yehuda Ha-nasi. Whenever he embarked to Rome to plead on behalf of the Jewish community, Rabbi Yehuda would review Parashat Vayishlach, his guidebook for dealing with hostile gentiles. Similarly, the custom developed to look to Parashat Vayishlach for inspiration and encouragement when taking leave of the peace of mind of Shabbat to the turbulent waters of the workweek. While for some Saturday night means movies and pizza, in many ways it ushers in the unsettling feeling associated with the return to one's responsibilities after a twenty-four hour respite. We therefore review Parashat Vayishlach, which shows us how to steadfastly confront the challenges awaiting us and overcome the obstacles lying before us as we begin a new week.

* * * *

Parashat Vayishlach tells of Yaakov's successful confrontation with the mysterious attacker. Recall that Yaakov suffered a serious wound to the leg over the course of the contest, which we commemorate, as the Torah writes, through the prohibition of eating the "gid hanasheh" (thigh muscle) of an animal.

Rav Moshe Feinstein raises an interesting question: why do we commemorate this miracle of Yaakov's victory over the angel through inaction, by refraining from a given activity? In two weeks we will celebrate the Hasmonean defeat over the Greeks through the observance of Channuka. This observance entails the recitation of hallel, lighting candles to publicize the miracle, and modes of festivity. On Purim, too, our commemoration of the miracle requires several rituals and active festivity. Why do we commemorate Yaakov's struggle with the angel by simply refraining from eating the "gid hanasheh"?

Rav Moshe suggests that this mitzvah commemorates a specific kind of miracle: overcoming challenges and trying circumstances. Although Rav Moshe does not elaborate, he implies that Yaakov's wrestle with the mysterious assailant symbolizes his struggles in exile and ultimate triumph. This type of miracle warrants a less enthusiastic commemoration. We pray every day (towards the end of "birkhot ha-shachar"), "Do not bring us to tests." We much prefer not to confront exile and grueling conditions, even if we eventually overcome these obstacles. Our ultimate triumph over adversity and trying times deserves commemoration, but a much different type of commemoration than other miracles involving the overthrow of our enemies. Yaakov's successful struggle with the angel is thus commemorated passively and somewhat subtly, through restrain and inaction, rather than active celebration.

* * * *

When Yaakov beseeches the Almighty for protection from Esav, he asks God, "Please save me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esav… " The Bet Ha-levi notes Yaakov's double request: salvation from his brother, and salvation from Esav. Yaakov understood that Esav could defeat him in one of two ways: either through frontal combat, or deceptively, in the guise of an ally. He therefore sought divine assistance in both his struggle against Esav, who hated him and planned his destruction, and the threat of "my brother," Esav's possible disguise as a friend who offers aid and support.

We should perhaps add that the threat posed by this second category of enemies, those who present themselves as "our brethren," comes in two forms. First, those who approach us peacefully may use the alliance to turn against us later. David Ha-melekh pleads for God's help against these foes in Tehillim 120: "In my distress I called to God… save me from false lips, from a deceitful tongue… Too long have I dwelt with those who hate peace. I am all peace; but when I speak, they are for war." David recognized - and experienced - the danger of those who falsely speak the language of peace but seek confrontation and hostility.

Phony allies threaten Benei Yisrael in a more roundabout manner, as well. Friendship necessarily involves mutual respect, and one cannot always distinguish between the different facets of the personality of another, those aspects worthy of emulation and those best rejected. Alliances with foreign cultures often leads to an admiration of those cultures, which itself results in a neglect of one's own beliefs. It is often difficult to erect the necessary barriers between us and "our brother Esav." This threat, too, Yaakov feared.

* * * *

The disturbing story of Dina's rape by Shekhem has occupied many commentators throughout the ages. Among the issues raised by this incident is a halakhic one: did the entire city of Shekhem deserve annihilation and, if so, on what grounds?

The Rambam (Hilkhot Melakhim 9:14) writes that the entire population of Shekhem deserved capital punishment for having violated one of the seven Noachide laws: "dinim" - establishing a judicial system. The government of Shekhem had no judicial system that could try and reprimand Shekhem for his heinous crime. Given the principle known as, "azharatam zo hi mitatam" - that gentiles are liable for capital punishment for willful violation of any of the seven Noachide laws (when they live under Jewish rule during a period when Jewish courts had the power to administer capital punishment), Yaakov's sons sentenced the population of Shekhem to death for their neglect of this important law.

The Ramban, in his commentary on our parasha, sharply disagrees. He claims that according to the Rambam's approach, Yaakov had no reason to condemn his sons' violence; it was legally mandated. Furthermore, the Ramban notes that the provision calling for capital punishment for a gentile's violation of one of the Noachide laws applies only to active transgressions, sins involving actual misconduct. They are not to be punished for inappropriate inaction, refraining from fulfilling a given obligation. Therefore, the residents of Shekhem did not deserve capital punishment for their failure to bring Shekhem to trial.

One answer suggested for the first challenge against the Rambam dibetween the punishment deserved by the population of Shekhem andmanner in which Yaakov's sons administered it. Namely, Yaakov accused his sons of the same crime for which they killed the people of Shekhem: lawlessness. Rather than themselves conducting formal, legal proceedings to charge and sentence the population of Shekhem, Yaakov's sons recklessly stormed the city and killed its inhabitants. We may thus uphold the Rambam's explanation for their having deserved punishment while understanding full well Yaakov's objection to their conduct.

As for the Ramban's second challenge, that gentiles are not culpable for passive violations, the Chatam Sofer (Shut, vol. 6, 14) offers an innovative, albeit questionable, resolution for the Rambam. He draws a subtle distinction between the formal, legal status of "chayav mita" - deserving of the death penalty, and the court's empowerment to carry out the sentence. The Chatam Sofer argues that violation through inaction does, in fact, afford the gentile the official status of "chayav mita." The Jewish court, however, cannot administer the punishment. The Rambam agrees, suggests the Chatam Sofer, that Yaakov's sons acted improperly by killing the people of Shekhem. All he meant is that they did not violate the formal prohibition of murder. Since the city's population had acquired the formal status of one sentenced to capital punishment, their violence did not, strictly speaking, constitute a violation of the prohibition of murder.

Incidentally, this approach clearly resolves the first question, as well.

(Many later Acharonim have disputed the Chatam Sofer's analysis. See Yehuda Nachshoni, Haggot Be-parshiyot Ha-Torah, vol. 1, pp. 138-140.)

* * * *

Among the many episodes related in Parashat Vayishlach is Yaakov Avinu's nighttime wrestle with the angel, identified by Chazal as the angel of Esav. The Gemara in Chullin 91a cites two opinions as to how this mysterious being appeared to Yaakov: either as an idolater or a Torah scholar. What does this mean?

One explanation is cited in the name of the Avnei Nezer (by his son, in "Haggadah Shem Mi-Shmuel"). He views Yaakov's assailant as representative of the yetzer ha-ra (evil inclination). The two disguises mentioned in the Gemara correspond to the two primary tactics employed by the evil inclination that works within each and every one of us. The more straightforward confrontation occurs by the yetzer ha-ra that appears to us in the form of an idolater. Like Adam and Eve long ago, we are often tempted by that which we know is forbidden and religiously foreign. The shrewder strategy of the evil inclination is its disguise as a Torah scholar. Knowingly or otherwise, we so often delude ourselves into turning the forbidden into laudable conduct; we confuse the contemptible with the praiseworthy. This is the second form of struggle that we, the descendants of Yaakov, confront on a daily basis.

The Pardes Yossef suggests another interpretation of the Gemara. He suggests that the two masks worn by the angel represents the two methods our enemies employ in their campaign to destroy us: the sword and the intellect. The disguise of the idolater symbolizes the oppression Yaakov and his offspring had suffered at the hands of the pagan world. The image of the scholar points to a different type of warfare: the battle of the minds. Enemies of the Jews have frequently attempted to undermine our commitment to our faith through rational argumentation and debate. As the prophet Yeshayahu tells us, neither approach will succeed in destroying the Jewish people: "No weapon formed against you shall succeed, and every tongue that contends with you at law you shall defeat" (54:17).

* * * *

Parashat Vayishlach opens with Yaakov's dispatching of "malakhim," identified by Chazal as angels (see Rashi) to attempt to pacify his brother, Esav. One subtle peculiarity in the verse caught the attention of the great Rebbe of Kotzk (in "Ohel Torah"). The Kotzker observes the seemingly superfluous term, "lefanav" - "ahead of him." Why must the Torah add this word? Where else would Yaakov send his messengers, if not ahead to Esav?

The Kotzker uses this expression to arrive at a rather daring interpretation of this incident. He associates the word "lefanav" with the term, "milefanav." This second word generally refers to sending someone or something not for any specific purpose, but simply to dismiss the person or object, to send him or it away. The recorded words of the rebbe appear in characteristic brevity, but he seems to imply that although Yaakov charges the angels with a mission, he intends primarily to discard them. The Kotzker explains that Yaakov "had no use for their assistance, being that Hashem can assist without angels and without any reason." Yaakov had no need for angels; he turned to the Almighty directly to save him from his brother.

This approach relates to a common theme of the Kotzker Rebbe: don't look for shortcuts. Yaakov Avinu understood that he cannot rely upon any force other than God Himself; even angels could not guarantee his protection from his enemies! Instead, as Chazal emphasize, Yaakov did whatever he could - sending an appeasement gift to Esav and preparing for possible military confrontation - and turned to God in prayer. There is no other way to deal with adverse or threatening situations.

This perhaps brings to mind the common tendency to look for "segulot" - deeds or words with some mystical power - to solve all types of problems. While many "segulot" may be well documented and valid, the Kotzker teaches us that ultimately, we may never rest our faith upon anything in the world besides the Almighty Himself. People speak about all kinds of "segulot" to help find a suitable mate, bear children, success in learning, etc. But, as we have seen, even angels weren't good enough for Yaakov Avinu, for there is no substitute for exerted effort and genuine prayer to help us through difficult times.

* * * *

Petitioning God to save him from his revengeful brother, Yaakov recalls what he considers the undeserved kindness bestowed upon him by the Almighty: "I am unworthy of all the kindness that You have steadfastly shown Your servant… " (32:11). The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat, cited by Rashi, explains that Yaakov feared the diminishing of his merits on account of the blessings he had enjoyed. Whereas he did not deserve - in his mind - the wealth and prestige he had acquired, his account has become depleted, perhaps leaving too little to earn protection from Esav.

In this context, the Kotzker Rebbe calls our attention to a clause in our daily tefilot, from the paragraph of "ezrat avoteinu," recited before shemoneh esrei: "mashpil gei'im u-magbi'ah shefalim." We acknowledge God's quality of "lowering the haughty and raising the humble." The Kotzker notes that the haughty remain haughty even after having been lowered, while the humble retain their humility even after the achievement of glory. The arrogant will fail to acknowledge their shortcomings even in the advent of failure and ruin. Instead, they will attribute their downfall to external forces and stubbornly insist upon their inherent greatness. Yaakov Avinu well represents the second half of the clause, the humble person's maintenance of humility even after his rise to fame. Yaakov never takes credit for his accomplishments, be it his impressive victory over Lavan's financial warfare, his accumulation of wealth and honor, or, most of all, his piety. Instead, he recognizes the Hand of God that has led him throughout his journey into exile and provided him with all his needs. No matter how great their achievements, the truly humble deny any credit for themselves and attribute their successes to the Almighty.

by Rav David Silverberg

Long before the Puritans, Yaakov Avinu set the standard of what we might term the "Jacobian work ethic." After Lavan - his father-in-law and employer - chases after him and accuses him of theft, Yaakov vehemently rejects the accusation and upholds his loyalty:

Yaakov's testimony of his devotion to Lavan's flocks contains all the elements of a proper work ethic. First, he speaks of competence: "your ewes and she-goats never miscarried." Yaakov accepted the responsibilities of shepherd only after having acquired sufficient know-how to properly tend to the sheep. Next comes honesty: "nor did I feast on the rams of your flock." Alone in the field with his employer's sheep, Yaakov had plenty of opportunities to catch a "quick snack" at Lavan's expense. Yet, he faithfully held out and never took Lavan's sheep for himself. Yaakov also worked with a keen sense of accountability: "That which was torn by beasts I never brought to you; I myself made good the loss." Rather than presenting Lavan with excuses, Yaakov maturely accepted responsibility for any mishaps that may have occurred to the flock under his charge. The final ingredient of Yaakov's work ethic is elbow grease: "Scorching heat ravaged me by day and frost by night, and sleep fled from my eyes." When the going got rough, Yaakov kept going. His devotion to his work overcame the hostile natural forces and fatigue.

Besides teaching us about honesty and integrity in the workplace, Yaakov's example may shed some light on our ultimate responsibility in life, that of "avodat Hashem." Our religious observance must feature these basic elements: competence, honesty, accountability, and hard work. The need for competence requires us to educate ourselves regarding our many responsibilities as observant Jews. We cannot possibly claim loyalty to God's laws so long as we remain ignorant of the many detailed halakhot that arise on a regular basis. Secondly, Yaakov teaches us to fulfill our duties honestly. Granted, here the parallel falters a bit, as one can never fool the Almighty. But all the more so, we have what to learn from Yaakov Avinu in this regard: there is no such thing as cheating or cutting corners when it comes to Torah observance. Accountability in this context essentially translates into teshuva: when we err, we must hold ourselves accountable and humbly confess our wrongdoing. We are then to do whatever necessary to reverse the effects of our sins. Finally, the elbow grease: we cannot be "fair weather Jews." Just as Yaakov remained with his flock during the seething heat and frigid winds, often losing nights of sleep, so must we never abandon our duties when adverse situations arise.

This is perhaps how we become as loyal servants of God as Yaakov was of Lavan.

* * * *

The Gemara in Berakhot 26b remarks that upon his departure from Be'er Sheva, Yaakov Avinu instituted the arvit (evening) prayer. Later the Gemara records a controversy between Rabban Gamliel and Rabbi Yehoshua as to whether the evening service is mandatory or optional. It would seem that one who views this prayer as optional must reject its origins in Yaakov's prayer. Why would arvit deserve a lower level of obligation than shacharit and mincha, which, according to this position, were instituted by Avraham and Yitzchak, respectively? Rabbi Yehoshua presumably adopts the second opinion in the aforementioned Gemara, that "arvit" evolved later, in commemoration of the burning of sacrificial animal limbs on the altar in the Bet Hamikdash, which would continue through the night.

Although the halakha follows Rabbi Yehoshua, that, strictly speaking, the recitation of arvit does not constitute an outright obligation, the Jewish people have nevertheless accepted this service upon themselves as an obligation (Rambam, Hilkhot Tefila 1:6). Therefore, should one forget to recite arvit one night he must say two shemoneh esrei's the following morning to compensate. Similarly, if one forgets "ya'aleh ve-yavo" or "ve-tein tal…" and the like during shemoneh esrei of arvit, he must repeat shemoneh esrei just as he would with regard to shacharit and mincha.

Although we do not conduct a repetition of shemoneh esrei ("chazarat ha-shatz") at arvit, Chazal instituted a brief repetition of shemoneh esrei on Friday night. The "Magen Avot" prayer - which actually begins with the previous passage, "Barukh Ata Hashem…" - consists of brief summaries of each of the seven berakhot of the Friday night shemoneh esrei. Although this paragraph was intended solely for the chazan, the custom has evolved for the entire congregation to recite (or chant) "Magen Avot." However, the Mishna Berura (268:22) emphasizes that the chazan himself must repeat the paragraph aloud after the congregation, whereas it was initially instituted for him alone. It is also worth noting the Shulchan Arukh's ruling (268:13) that one who missed arvit or recited the weekday shemoneh esrei on Friday night may fulfill his obligation by carefully listening to the chazan's brief "repetition," from "Barukh Ata Hashem" until "mekadesh ha-Shabbat." In order for this to work, however, the chazan must have in mind to fulfill the obligation on behalf of the listener. Therefore, it would seem that one leading the service on Leil Shabbat should remember to bear this in mind as he recites "Magen Avot."

* * * *

On his way to Charan, Yaakov dreams his famous dream of the angels ascending and descending a ladder that stretched up to the heavens. Several different explanations exists as to what exactly these angels were doing and why they walked continuously up and down the ladder. The Gemara in Chulin (91b) comments that these angels went to heaven "to look upon his [Yaakov's] image up above," after which they descended to earth "to look upon his image down below." Meaning, the angels were busy comparing Yaakov's "image" in the heavens and his image down on earth. What does all this mean?

The following, insightful explanation is cited in the name of Rav Soloveitchik zt"l. Yaakov's "heavenly image" refers to his potential, the persona destined for him to become and the sum total of his innate talents and gifts. His "earthly image" means the manifestation of Yaakov down on earth, how the ideal image adjusted itself to the realities of our world. The angels scurried back and forth between the two, observing that each was in fact a carbon copy of the other. Our third patriarch had actualized his God-given potential and emerged into the spectacular pillar of righteousness that sowed the seeds for the emergence of Am Yisrael.

The Rav is cited as applying this idea to the well-known Midrash of Yosef's encounter with Potifar's wife. The Midrash relates that just as Yosef nearly acquiesced to her advances, he beheld his father's image and withdrew. What about Yaakov's image afforded Yosef the strength to resist temptation? Yosef took note of the perfect symmetry between Yaakov "heavenly" and "earthly" images. He feared the disparity that would result between the "theoretical" Yosef in heaven, the "Yosef Ha-tzadik" that has become synonymous with righteousness, and the Yosef prepared to sleep with his employer's wife. Yaakov's image taught him - and teaches us - that through enough discipline and effort, one can reach his full potential and fulfill the goal for which he was created.

* * * *

Commenting on the first verse of Parashat Vayetze, Rashi speaks of the profound impact felt by a city upon a tzadik's departure therefrom. Yaakov's flight from Be'er Sheva left itmark on the city, for, as Rashi writes, a righteous man is the city's pride and glory. As he leaves, the city senses a profound sense of loss.

The obvious question arises, this is not the first time in Chumash that a tzadik leaves town! The Torah speaks on several occasions of the travels of Avraham and Yitzchak. Why did Rashi never mention anything about the impact felt on the cities from where they left?

One answer given suggests that Rashi notes the impact of Yaakov's departure because his leaving town might have seemed less consequential than the travels of Avraham and Yitzchak. The Torah informs us of Avraham and Yitzchak's involvement with the community and their role in public life. Yaakov, by contrast, is described as a "dwelotents," or, in contemporary lingo, "a yeshiva bachur." He hadn't yet emerged on the public scene or involved himself in communal affairs. One may have therefore questioned the effects of his departure from a city. Rashi thus feels compelled to point out that Yaakov, was, in fact, the crown jewel of Be'er Sheva. The community suffered a blow when he packed his bags and left.

Particularly in an age of mass media, we often use public notoriety as a barometer of a given individual's contribution to society. A no-name rarely receives credit for accomplishments or acknowledgment for his day-to-day goodness. Yaakov Avinu didn't lead outreach or "chesed" organizations, nor did he speak at public gathering or forums. At least until fleeing from his brother, he led a simple life, working to build for himself the highest standards of Torah knowledge and piety. Yet, his presence impacted upon the local population, and, as Rashi tells us, that impact was sorely missed as Yaakov made his way out of the city.

* * * *

Upon his arrival in Charan, Yaakov encounters the shepherds of three flocks sitting idle near a well. Yaakov takes note of their inactivity and scolds, "It is still broad daylight, too early to round up the animals; water the flock and take them to pasture" (29:7). They explained to Yaakov that their failure to water the flock is due not to laziness or fatigue on their part, but rather to the large stone sitting at the well's opening. No one can move the rock until all the shepherds gather together and push it together.

We ought to be pleasantly surprised by the shepherds' polite response. A strange foreigner comes out of nowhere and administers unsolicited criticism, which resulted from his own ignorance of the local protocol. What more, this criticism essentially constitutes a rather harsh allegation, accusing the shepherds of negligence in their responsibilities towards their sheep! Why are they not infuriated at this nosy stranger who incorrectly and unfairly charged them with delinquency towards their flocks?

Rav Yaakov Kaminetzky finds the answer in a single word: "achai" ("my brethren"). Yaakov first warmly greets the shepherds and speaks softly and pleasantly. He engages them in friendly conversation, inquiring as to the well-being of his Uncle Lavan. In so doing, Yaakov teaches us an invaluable lesson in how to criticize: it must be done politely and pleasantly, rather than in anger and disgust. Hostile and confrontational rebuke only reinforces the other's resistance to accept criticism. Soft-spoken, kindhearted words, however, have a chance of meeting a receptive audience. Yaakov's pleasant demeanor transmitted his sincere concern for the flock and, more importantly, high regard for the shepherds in spite of his critique of their current idleness. Therefore, rather then responding defensively, the shepherds politely explained to the stranger the situation, and a potentially fiery exchange was replaced by a calm, friendly dialogue.

* * * *

In his comments towards the beginning of the parasha, Rashi cites the Midrash that presents a far more complicated version of Yaakov's trip to Charan than that which appears in the verses. Chazal claim that upon reaching Charan, Yaakov regretted having passed Mount Moriah without taking advantage of the site's sanctity to offer a prayer. As soon as he decided to turn around and head back, the mountain miraculously came to greet Yaakov, as it were, and he prayed at the holy site.

Among the many questions this passage raises is a rather simple one posed by the Kotzker Rebbe: why did Yaakov, in fact, neglect to pray at the mountain initially? Did he just forget? Was it only after he reached Charan that he realized the importance of praying at the holy site of the Temple?

The Kotzker Rebbe answers that Yaakov at first felt himself unworthy of frequenting the sacred site where his father and grandfather had performed the "akeida." Yaakov saw himself on a qualitatively lower spiritual plane than Avraham and Yitzchak, and hence he had no right to step foot on the sacred mountain. Only with the passage of time did he realize that he is the only one capable of perpetuating the spiritual qualities of his esteemed predecessors; small as he may be (in his eyes), he still had the right - and the duty - to serve the Almighty on Mount Moriah.

Perhaps two important lessons emerge from this analysis. First and foremost, Yaakov teaches us something about genuine humility. How rarely do we consider ourselves "unworthy" of anything! Quite to the contrary, we so often argue that we deserve this, that or the other thing. One example actually flows quite naturally from this incident involving Yaakov: people often feel insulted after not having received a given honor in the Bet Kenesset, be it an "aliya" or the opportunity to lead the services. According to the Kotzker Rebbe, Yaakov exhibits the exact opposite attitude: he felt himself unworthy of a given religious ritual. He understood that certain forms of service are reserved for the spiritual elite, a status he could not honestly claim for himself.

At the same time, it is noteworthy that in the end Yaakov realizes his mistake. While maintaining his self-effacing humility, he nevertheless accepts the responsibility of heir to the golden chain of Avraham. He recognizes that however undeserving he felt himself to be, no one else but he could continue the tradition of Avraham and Yitzchak, symbolized by worship on Mount Moriah. As soon as he came upon this realization, God came to his assistance and facilitated his worship at the sacred site.

Modesty can often work as an excuse for shortsightedness and underachievement. One can easily shake himself free of a given burden of responsibility on the grounds that he is unqualified. Yaakov disproves the myth of the contradiction between humility and bold ambition. One must know exactly where he stands and act accordingly. At times this may dictate recoiling and excusing oneself from a given position. Nevertheless, one must also acknowledge his skills and capitalize on them to the best of his ability.

* * * *

At the very end of Parashat Vayetze, Yaakov takes leave of Lavan and encounters "angels of God." Ibn Ezra explains that these angels came to assist him, presumably in protecting himself from his vengeful brother. Ibn Ezra also notes that only Yaakov beheld these angels; no one else from his camp saw them.

We may speculate as to the significance of this incident. These angels do not interact with Yaakov, and they seem to contribute nothing to his effort (with the possible exception that, according to the first Rashi in Parashat Vayishlach, Yaakov sent real angels to his brother, a likely reference to the angels he encounters here). Perhaps this is exactly what the Torah teaches us: only Yaakov possessed the insight to see the heavenly protection that accompanied him throughout his ordeals. Whereas everyone else in his camp saw only the events themselves, Yaakov, as he now returned to Canaan, recognized the supernatural forces that had come to his aid.

This encounter is also significant in that it brings Yaakov's excursion to Charan full circle. His trip began with a vision of angels on the ladder, and now closes on a similar note, with the appearance of angels. (Note also the parallel expression, ""/"vayifg'u," in both contexts.) This may come to emphasize Yaakov's maintenance of his prophetic quality despite the years of exile in the spiritually hostile environs of Lavan, tending to sheep and trying to survive his father-in-law's abuse and manipulation. This steadfast consistency displayed by Yaakov may parallel - in the opposite direction - that of Lavan. The previous verse reads that after the truce between Yaakov and Lavan, "Lavan returned to his place." This may be understood not only in geographic terms, that Lavan returned home to Charan, but in an ethical sense, as well: Lavan remained the same corrupt trickster as he had always been. Yaakov, by contrast, left Lavan's home with the same piety with which he had arrived. Just as he merited an angelic entourage twenty years earlier upon his depafrom , so does he now meet an assembly of angels upon his departure from Lavan.

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This shiur is provided courtesy of the Virtual Beit Midrash, the premier source of online courses on Torah and Judaism - 14 different courses on all levels, for all backgrounds.

MakeJewish learning partof your week on a regular basis - enroll in the
Virtual Beit Midrash

(c) YeshivHar EtzioAll rights reserved to Yeshivat Har Etzion

Yeshivat Har Et
Alon Shvut, Israel, 90433
office@etzion.org.il