The Internal Struggle (Vayetzei #3)

Next week's parsha, Parshas Vayishlach, contains the famous scene of Yaakov wrestling with the angel. Did you know, however, that this week's parsha also contains an inference to wrestling?It is part of the process of naming Naphtali, and perhaps it does not get noticed because it is one verse in the middle of 28 verses related to the birth and naming of Yaakov's first 12 children. Perhaps it is given less attention because this sixth son of Yaakov is the second son of Rochel's handmaid Bilha. Nevertheless, it is an interesting pasuk: "And Rochel said, ’With mighty wrestlings have I wrestled with my sister, and I have prevailed,’ and she called his name Naphtali" (30:8).

The word for wrestling here, naftal, is not the same as the word used for wrestling at the end of the parsha, which is y’avak. There is no need to imagine Rochel and Leah physically attacking each other, as happened to Yaakov. Rochel's struggle was more internal. Indeed, it is quite possible that Leah did not even realize the extent to which her sister saw them as adversaries.

One can only imagine how painful it was for Rochel to watch her sister bear the man that she loved child after child. Her sadness, anger, pain, and resentment must have constantly been at odds with her basic love and loyalty that she felt for her sister; a love proven by the help she provided her sister on the the night that Leah wed Yaakov. Knowing, or assuming to understand, how hard it was for Rochel to share her husband with Leah, one can only imagine Rochel's internal conversations that led her to give Yaakov “Bilha, her handmade, to wife” (30:4). She did this only after she felt strangled by envy (“Give me children or else I die" - 30:2). And so she named Bilha’s firstborn child Dan, saying “God has judged me and has given me a son" (30:6), which shows that she was anxious in her choice of action until Hashem blessed the union. With the birth of her second son through Bilha, Rochel could finally begin to let go of her negative feelings. She could finally begin to feel on par with her sister. And thus she could now admit how difficult her relationship with Leah had been.

The internal nature of her struggle can, perhaps, be recognized by their contrast to Leah’s actions. Leah followed Rochel's lead and gave her handmaid Zilpah to Yaakov. Her choice of action was because of her sister’s successful course, not because of the same desperate desire that inspired Rochel. Zilpah bore two sons in Leah’s stead, and the choice of names, and their reasons, are also clues to how differently Leah saw their relationship. (Although in the naming of Leah's first four sons we do see her struggle to feel loved too, but that angst is directed at Yaakov, not Rochel.) Leah named the first son of Zilpah Gad, saying “What luck!”, and the second son she named Asher after declaring, “What fortune!” Both of these names indicate that Leah took the addition of these sons as a happy, but not necessarily significant, event.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch comments that Rochel's use of the term Noftulee Elokim means sacred wrestling (whereas others translated the term as mighty) and says: "a sacred wrestling competition did I wage with my sister, not a match that struggles for something low or common, of which one would be ashamed, but for a sacred end did I compete against my sister, to do my part, too, for this spiritual building up of our house.”

An internal wrestling match with one's feelings of jealousy and loyalty, resentment and love, is extremely human. It is worth noting here because the important thing is what one does with those emotions. The Tur HaAruch understands Noftulee Elokim Niftalti as Rochel declaring “I have writhed repeatedly in prayer before God,” which, he further explains, is also prophecy of Naphtali's descendant Chirom being in charge of the construction of the Beis Hamikdash (as opposed to Leah’s descendant Betzalel, who constructed the Mishkan).

Rochel's declaration of her feeling of having wrestled with her sister could have been hurtful, but we see no such reaction from Leah. This, too, points to the internal nature of Rochel’s struggle. And, as noted by Rav Hirsch, it is a struggle that has as much to do with the desire to build Klal Yisrael as it is the wanting of children. This struggle, based in something larger than one's personal and immediate gratification, leads to a positive end. The RADAK notes that Rochel's use of the word Noftulee may come from the root of pey sav lamed, Pitel, to twist or be twisted as in “two strands of yarn combined to make a cord, twisted. By pulling the two strands together, the whole stream becomes stronger.”

It is well known that the lives of the matriarchs and patriarchs had challenges. Some commentaries like to whitewash them, but the truth is that what makes them great is how they handled those challenges, how they overcame their internal battles, and how they strived to build for the future. These are exactly what makes them so important. Divrei Torah focus on Yaakov’s wrestling match with the angel because it is a powerful turning point that shapes the future nation. What is often overlooked, however, is the significance of Rochel’s wrestling match, of her coming to terms with her feelings, which, perhaps, eventually was critical in her being able to bring forth Yosef and Binyamin. But for all time, one cannot diminish the importance of understanding Rochel's feelings of an internal struggle against her sister as a means also of demonstrating the normalcy of emotions and the challenge of overcoming them. 

Inherent Nature (Toldos #2)

In the 1980s, it was popular to speak of people in terms of Type A personalities and Type B personalities. In the 90s, people were all about Myers Briggs and other personality assessments. Today, the terms neurotypical and neurodivergent are popular. All of this is to say that much money and a great deal of time has been, and continues to be, spent on understanding inherent personality. But really, this is a topic that is natural to Jewish scholarship since the very beginning… and the subtleties of Parshas Toldos, which is very nuanced, are an excellent study of nature, nurture, and self-determination.

It is rather interesting to note how even the subtleties of translation can affect how we understand our Biblical ancestors. On a simple, read-through level, the Torah present Eisav and Yaakov as two equal but different youths. וַיִּגְדְּלוּ֙ הַנְּעָרִ֔ים וַיְהִ֣י עֵשָׂ֗ו אִ֛ישׁ יֹדֵ֥עַ צַ֖יִד אִ֣ישׁ שָׂדֶ֑ה וְיַֽעֲקֹב֙ אִ֣ישׁ תָּ֔ם ישֵׁ֖ב אֹֽהָלִֽים

(25:27) – “And when the boys grew up, Eisav became a skillful hunter, a man of the field, and Yaakov was a mild man who dwelled in tents." Most translations I have seen translate va’Yaakov as “but Yaakov,” an expressive statement that implies comparison; whereas, at its most simple, va’Yaakov means “and Yaakov” - a description.

A similar issue happens in the next pasuk, that says: “Yitzchak favored Eisav because he had a taste for game, va’Rivka, and/but Rivka favored Yaakov” (25:28). What is interesting here is the seeming conditional attached to Yitzchak’s love that is glaringly missing in Rivka's relationship with Yaakov. If you think Eisav didn’t pick up on that difference, you are blessed with children who have zero sibling rivalry. Loving Eisav was not natural and easy. For the family that came from Avraham's tents, Eisav was a wild card. He was different. If Eisav had been an only child, he might have come to understand the teachings of his father and grandfather. He might have chosen a path of chesed and devotion. But because that life was more natural and easy for Yaakov, Eisav quite likely struggled with why he had to bother to put so much energy into belonging to his own family.

This sounds like a rousing case for a sympathetic portrayal of Eisav, for a dvar Torah that excuses his later actions. This is not so. It is, rather, a means of looking closer in order to understand humanity and our own selves – and, perhaps most importantly, our children.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch offered the commentary that part of the problem was that Yitzchak and Rivka raised the boys the same and ignored their differences. This is, of course, an important lesson to take from Parshas Toldos. Another important lesson in a day and age when we label people neurotypical or neurodivergent (which, let's be honest, doesn't hide the subtle message of who is considered normal - although if normal means most common, I know far more neurodivergent people than neurotypical) is that the only thing that makes us good or bad are our actions.

Eisav is not a "bad character" because he was born inherently evil, as might be implied by the arts and crafts. His natural personality might have made it harder to fit into a specific mold or expectation, but along the journey of life he made choices. Most significantly, he chose to sell his brother his birthright for a hot meal. It was a rash decision made in a moment when he was, perhaps, in a bad place. But it was his decision, and that, too, might be, a valuable lesson from this parsha – that often times we make decisions in a moment that impact the rest of our lives.

With time and generations, the world has become ever more diverse. We must remember, constantly, that how we think of others can impact how we treat them, and how we treat them can impact how they perceive themselves and that can, and will, affect the choices that they make.

A New Look at YItzchak (Chayei Sarah #3)

 In the way that it is frequently taught, Parshas Chayei Sarah could, oddly enough, be seen as the foundation of a heartwarming Hallmark special: Widowed father, worried for his introverted son, sends his most trusted confidant to find his son a match. Said confidant worries over his ability to do right by the boy but puts his faith in fate and meets a girl who appears perfect. The catch, of course, is that she comes from the nastiest family in town, a bunch of thieves willing to commit murder. The confidant and the girl work together and overcome her family’s attempts to subvert the match for their own means. They return to the home of the father. They arrive just as the son is stepping outside to pray. The girl sees him, sparks fly, and she knows without a doubt that she has made the right choice.

It's a lovely narrative and, in its own way, quite accurate. But because of how overwhelmingly this story focuses on Rivka, we often miss out on seeing the subtle but important detail that is there to help us understand Yitzchak. This detail – this single pasuk – and the Midrashim that come from it, shift our preconceived notions about the seemingly passive nature of Yitzchak.

The verse is 24:32: “And Yitzchak came from having come to the well [called] L’chai Roee, for he dwelt in the land of the south.” Yitzchak was not, as it so often seems, sitting in his father’s tents waiting for Eliezer to return. So what was Yitzchak doing? What or where was the well called L’chai Roee? According to the Midrash, this was the well from which Hagar drew water to save Yishmael. It’s a strange location to associate Yitzchak travelling to, and on this too there are several commentaries. The most simple of these stating that he had travelled there to find Hagar, Avraham’s ousted concubine, and to bring her back to Avraham (who then remarried her under the name Katurot) – Bereishis Rabba 60:40. As simple as it is, the idea of this act is beautiful. Just as his widowed father wished for him to marry, for him to find his life partner, Yitzchak sought a means to guarantee that his father would not be alone.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch adds a different purpose and, in this, a new layer of understanding human uncertainty and the desire for confident prayer. “Yitzchak, the one who was most concerned in the matter [of Eliezer finding a bride] should feel drawn to the place that could strengthen his confidence that God would act for him…” For here at this well, Hashem had already proven that he hears prayers and answers them hastily.

Beyond the question of where or what was the well of L’chai Roee, the language of the pasuk is strange. It doesn’t just say that Yitzchak had journeyed from L’chai Roee, but rather it says ba mevo, literally that he came from coming. The commentators make much of this, noting how incredibly active this phrase is. Often when a person in Tanach goes some place, the terminology of travelling – linsoa or laleches – is used. Ba mevo disrupts the common image of a sedate Yitzchak. It is a secret gem that gives us the opportunity to look closer and see that Yitzchak was, in fact, a person who actively went places. Interestingly, several commentators write that he was coming from time alone, time of isolated meditation encouraged by his father. This is a good reminder that stillness and activity can both be deliberate actions.

The phrase ba mevo also leads to discussions of how, exactly, Eliezer and Rivka came upon Yitzchak. Rather than perceiving Yitzchak to have been waiting at his father’s encampment or at a designated meeting site, the implication, as some understand it, is that they met along the way, as they were both travelling in the same direction. But as the Radak notes: “Now the Torah tells us that Yitzchak encountered them as if by coincidence. The fact is, of course, that God arranges matters for the benefit of those whom He loves without their even being aware of it at the time.”

Perhaps seeing Yitzchak as a more active persona only makes the story more “Hallmark.” A now motherless boy helping his father, praying for his perfect match, and travelling the dry, lonely roads of the south. It’s a different take than the youth waiting at his father's tents who goes out to pray just at the moment his bride comes… Indeed, several of the commentaries on verse 24:63 believe that he went out to converse with a friend, based on the term lasoo’ach, which some translate as meditate (and thus pray) but which is also associated with the word l’siach, to converse.

There is no direct lesson or message here, just a fascinating delve into the wonders of meaning within the words of the Torah and an exploration to learn more about the least described patriarch. Additionally, gaining insight into Yitzchak helps us better understand the future dynamics of this couple, and, in so doing, hopefully helps us understand ourselves a little more as well.

Laughter's Essence (Vayera #3)

When you ask someone, quickly, what emotion they connect with laughter, the normal answer is joy. People laugh when they are happy, right? They laugh when they find something funny, right? Yes, these are true, but people also laugh when they are uncomfortable, when they are nervous, and when they feel powerless and in need of a weapon. They laugh to make others a target. In other words, laughter is complicated. This too is in the Torah. Not directly, but in the fact that Sarah's famous laugh is, in many ways, very ambiguous: "And Sarah laughed within herself, saying: ‘After I am already worn out, shall I have the deepest satisfaction, and my husband is [also] old?’" (18:12).

Is there anything wrong with laughing to oneself? Couldn’t it be that Sarah's laughter was the laughter of unexpected joy or a hiccup of anxiety at imagining the possibility of one's greatest hopes coming true? Sarah's laughter, however, is most often understood as a waver in faith, as a symptom of disbelief, or as a derision of herself and/or her husband. This judgment on her laughter comes from the very next pasuk: "Then God said to Avraham: why did Sarah laugh, saying: ‘Shall I in truth bear a child, old as I am?’” (18:13). If there was not something wrong with Sarah's laughter, why would Hashem question it?

Perek yud-ches (chapter 18) is not, it is important to note, the only place in which laughter is mentioned in this parsha. Significantly, laughter is part of Yitzchak’s name. Perhaps this choice of name was meant as recompense for Sarah's initial response. Or, perhaps, it is a signal for us to return to the woman and her laughter and to look at it more closely - not to judge Sarah, but to understand her, and, in that way, understand our own selves.

According to the Kotzeker Rebbe, as mentioned in the Artscroll Stone Chumash, Sarah "truly thought that she had laughed not in disbelief but in joy, as Avraham did. The truth was that subconsciously she doubted the possibility of miracles." It is only a year later that Sarah is able to realize that until the moment she was holding her son in her arms, she had held back her heart. She had expected the promise not to be fulfilled. Thus when Avraham called him Yitzchak, Sarah immediately understood the implications and declared, "God has made laughter for me, whoever hears will laugh for me." The use of the words yitzachak lee is particularly interestings - not eemee, with me, but lee, for me. This is the laughter of true joy, of joy that spreads. This is the best type of laughter.

One cannot read this parsha and not realize the significance of what takes place in the time between Sarah's laughter. Sarah and Avraham receive an undeniable promise but between then and the one year later when she gives birth, God tells Avraham what he plans to do with Sedom, Avraham and Sarah witness Sedom and its neighbors’ destruction, they travel to Gerar and deal with yet another royal attempt at emotional entanglement - - All this occurs after over a decade of being somewhat settled.

Life is messy. It's a fact most of us are aware of. It was certainly a fact that Sarah was aware of: Watching Avraham with Yishmael, looking on from a distance at the bad choices of her brother Lot, and wanting to hold on to the hope of motherhood. One of the most beautiful facts about the Jewish canon is that our heroes and heroines are not whitewashed. They are human. They have heartache and joy. They have anger and tears. And in parshas Vayera, we learn from their laughter about our own ways of interacting with the world. We can despair and we can doubt, but at the end of the day our goal, no matter what has come between us, should be that those around us laugh for us, that we share joys with others.