Parshas Vayishlach: Asking for a Name

 Parshas Vayishlach: Asking for a Name

 

Do manners matter? It’s a funny question, especially as just about everyone who might be reading this (or listening to it) was, without question, raised on a steady diet of being told to say please and thank you and to hold the door for the next person. Truth be told, though, the etiquette of manners is really dependent on the society in which you live. (For instance, the European kissing of the cheeks of everyone becomes a problem in our community.)

 

Sociological discussions about manners in religious communities would probably focus on that which we call mitzvos bein adam l’chavero. These mitzvos include actions that most of us consider standard behavior – visiting the sick, giving charity, taking care of people in need, hosting guests, and etc. And our traditions are rife with such interactions and considerations. However, throughout Jewish tradition there are references to far more subtle actions that are important to manners and etiquette. Indeed, even to such a simple action as smiling…there are several references to the importance of smiling.

 

In this week’s parsha, Parshas Vayishlach, there is the extremely famous but somewhat perplexing narrative of the wrestling match between Yaakov and an angel. Don’t worry, the good manners are not attacking someone at midnight. At the end of the wrestling match, when the malacha has declared himself bested, he gives Yaakov a new name in response to Yaakov’s demand of a bracha. Yaakov’s response is fascinating in and of itself:

 

“Yaakov inquired and said, ‘Please tell your name.’ He replied, ‘Why do you ask my name?’ And he blessed him there” (Bereishis 32:30). At this point it is obvious that Yaakov’s opposition is not a mortal man, so why did Yaakov ask for a name? Tradition has several answers to this and makes it a point to note that names are sources of power. That is not the point too this dvar Torah.

 

The perek ends with the angel blessing Yaakov…but perhaps that should be restated as the angel blesses Yaakov again. Afterall, the change of name was Yaakov’s bracha, was it not? So why does the angel bless him again. Perhaps because he stopped to ask his name. Yaakov stopped to recognize the identity, so to speak, of the being with whom he was conversing. Yaakov wasn’t intimidated by the nature of his companion, and he bore no grudge to the violence of their initial interaction. He asked his name, and that was significant; that was a recognition of basic respect.

 

Think about the effort that Adam HaRishon put into naming all creatures. Names have significance and meaning. Names have an impact. Names have power, and asking someone’s name immediately makes them feel seen and respected…individualized.

 

The commentator Chizkuni points out on the angel’s response: “‘Why are you asking for my name?’ The angel informs Yaakov that there is no point in knowing his name; he explains that when people that have not seen one another ever, upon meeting, will extend greetings with one another and bless each other wishing each other well, and ask one another for their names, they justify this in the event that they wished to communicate with each other in the future.” Asking for a name means building a bond, but, as almost all the commentaries point out, the malachim have temporary identities that are actually statements of their missions rather than core identities.

 

Nevertheless, that Yaakov inquired, that Yaakov demonstrated his recognition of the malach as unique and significant, even if it was only for his temporary existence, was a moment of derech eretz.

 

Most of us are faced with dozens of opportunities to impact the lives of others on a regular basis. Random people do kindnesses for us all the time, and we don’t even always thank them much less ask for their name. But what of the people who we see regularly, with whom we share regular moments on an ongoing basis – the barrista at the coffee shop, the crossing guard, the doorman, etc. – Perhaps we should be making the effort to learn their names. And even if a person is transient in our lives, as the malach suggested he himself was in Yaakov’s world, there is still, in here, a reminder of meeting their eyes and smiling our thanks and expressing a connection, a recognition of the impact they have made.

 

May we all be blessed with reasons to smile and reasons to be grateful to others.

 

Wishing you all a Shabbas Shalom

Parshas VaYishlach – Echoing the Present in the Past

We are all well-aware of the fact there is no land as special as Eretz Yisrael, and as frequently fought over, as the Promised Land. This current, horrible embroilment is just the next step. Not surprisingly, there is something relevant to discover in this week’s parsha.

Parshas Vayishlach begins with Yaakov and his family returning to the Land and coming into confrontation with Esau and a cadre of 400 men. Although there is a great deal of tension and undercurrents, they part in peace – and while Esau invited Yaakov to be closer to him, Yaakov wisely knew that that was a dangerous path.

At the end of the parsha, when the Torah delineates Esau’s lineage, there is a pair of verses that state:

Esau took his wives, his sons and daughters, and all the members of his household, his cattle and all his livestock, and all the property that he had acquired in the land of Canaan, and went to another land because of his brother Jacob. For their possessions were too many for them to dwell together, and the land where they sojourned could not support them because of their livestock. (36:6-7)

This pasuk is strangely reminiscent of the incident that occurred with Avraham and Lot when they returned to the Eretz Canaan after going to Pharaoh’s court in Mitzrayim. Lot separates from Avraham, for their possessions had also become to great to sojourn in the land together.

The duality of Yitzchak/Yishmael and Yaakov/Esau is well known, but when one sees how Bereishis 36:7 reflects Bereishis 13, one realizes that Lot was Avraham’s contrast. Lot is not considered a forefather of any continuing civilization the way Yishmael and Esau are, but perhaps one could say that he was the forefather of an over-all collective of the self-serving who have no strong belief.

What is interesting here is to note that, in history, the descendants of Lot and the descendants of Esau moved away from their claim to the Promised Land. The descendants of Yishmael did not, just as Yishmael himself seems to have remained attached to Avraham and, one might presume, continued to hope for a portion of the Promised Land.

There is no take-away inspiring take away message here. There is only the fascination with the Torah’s continual revelation of history. And that theme continues on a totally different note when one looks at the story of Shechem.

It is almost frightening to point out that the story of the City of Shechem begins with the abduction and violation of Dena, an innocent young lady who went out to visit the local ladies. The king of Shechem, in collusion with his people, presented his violating son as a potential suitor, and the situation ends with Levy and Shimon murdering the men of the town. It seems like “disproportionate” violence, and Yaakov even reprimands them while noting his fear of the neighboring tribes’ reactions. The Torah sheh’ baal peh, the oral Torah, however, makes it quite clear that the entire city was happy to celebrate Shechem’s behavior and therein we know that there was a deep evil rooted here.

Again, there is no call to action in this Dvar Torah. There is only the fascinating information one can discover in the Torah and the inspiration that provides.

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Parshas Vayishlach: Grammatically Inspired

Parshas Vayishlach continues the narrative of Yaakov’s life. Parshas Vayishlach is a reminder that Yaakov’s life was rarely easy. Having finally extricated himself and his family from living with his greedy, idol-worshipping father-in-law, Yaakov is almost immediately forced to reckon with his hate-filled brother, his daughter is molested, and his sons go to war. Yaakov’s life was not easy. 

Perek lamed-hey, the penultimate perek of the parsha, begins with an interesting pasuk: “Hashem said to Yaakov, ‘Arise, go up to Bethel and remain there; and build an altar there to the God Who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau’” (Bereishis 35:1). That Yaakov was told to leave Shechem is not surprising. After all, his sons had just taken vengeance on the city for the abduction and abuse of their sister Dina. Right or wrong, it was time to leave. Nor is it odd that he is commanded to build an altar, since the avos did this frequently when they moved about in the Promised Land.

What is interesting is that Yaakov is instructed to build the altar to “the God Who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau.” Most commentators take this descriptor, “Who appeared to you when,” as a reminder to Yaakov that he had made a promise when he slept in Bethel on his way to Haran. “Yaakov then made a vow, saying: ‘If God remains with me, protecting me on this journey that I am making, and giving me bread to eat and clothing to wear, and I return safe to my father’s house— Hashem shall be my God. And this stone, which I have set up as a pillar, shall be God’s abode; and of all that You give me, I will set aside a tithe for You’” (Bereshis 28:20-22).

The sentence structure of Bereishis 35:1, however, is particularly intriguing. “Who appeared to you when…” is not a separate phrase adding information as to who or why. It doesn’t say “an alter to God, Who appeared…”, but rather ‘an alter to the God Who appeared…” The difference is a matter of commas, from an English grammatical point of view. The question is a matter of essential verses non-essential – of a phrase that is a specific identification or an added description. The structure of Bereishis 35:1 presents the description of God with “Who appeared” as an essential clause, as a part of the identification of to whom the altar should be built. 

And this is interesting, particularly because the pasuk does not use the term l’Hashem but uses la’Kel – “Kel” is a more generic term for a god and “la” – rather than le – includes the definite article. Written as “to the God Who appeared…” Why does the Torah make it appear as if he is talking about a specific God, rather than just Hashem?

From the time Yaakov made his vow until this point in the narrative, a lot has happened to him. He fell in love and was deceived into marrying a different woman. He became an indentured servant and worked for decades to appease his father-in-law. He had a large and thriving household, but we know that the dynamic of the family had deep tensions as well. Then Yaakov left to return and was confronted with Esav, from whose subtle snares he safely navigated his large household. Then he had to deal with the situation in Shechem. From the time Yaakov made his vow, life had not been easy on him. It would be easy to understand that a man who has lived such a tumultuous existence has changed. - Indeed, we know he has had significant inner change since he has already wrestled with the angel and received the name Yisrael. 

When Hashem tells Yaakov to “build an altar there to the God Who appeared to you when you were fleeing from your brother Esau,” He is telling Yaakov that he needs to remember who he was then. Yaakov’s prayer in Bereishis 28 was simple but passionate. It was inspired and came from his core understanding that everything that would happen would come from Hashem. Now, after all of his trials and tribulations, Hashem wants Yaakov to remember that basic level of emuna.

Go back to Bethel and fulfill your vow. Go back to Bethel and remember that moment of inspiration. Remember the man that you were as you left the Promised Land. Remember the “Eish tam,” the simple man you were who didn’t have flocks and herds and wealth but just the clothes on your back. Go back to Bethel and remember what being that person was like, because that is important. 

Life can be tumultuous. We have times of great inspiration and times of great turmoil. We have time when prayer comes straight from our heart, when we have clarity about Hashem’s hand in the world. And we have times when we just don’t understand any of it. 

The wording of Bereishis 35:1 can be read as a powerful reminder that it is up to us to take action for ourselves. When times are difficult and our emuna is a struggle, we need to go back – mentally, emotionally - to a different time in our lives, to a moment of heartfelt inspiration. When it feels as if the tidal wave of obstacles has drowned us, we need to draw strength from times in our lives in which we already saw yeshuos and remember that Hashem ultimately demonstrates His control of the world.

Yaakov’s life was rarely easy, and we can relate. Our lives are not always easy. Our paths are not always simple. We sometimes quietly question the purpose of the challenges we have faced. In those times, however, chizuk is often right at hand in our own personal experiences.

The Era of Eliphaz

 

The dynamic of Yaakov and Eisav is one that echoes throughout time. We frequently speak of the foreboding prophecies given to Rivkah when the twins fought within her womb and the shifting balance of power embedded in the brachos received from Yitzchak. In Jewish tradition, Eisav being Edom means Eisav is the forefather of Rome and thus of the Christian world. From all that has been passed down through the generations, the struggle with Eisav has the perpetual overtone of the wrestling match that took place between Yaakov and the malach in Perek 32, and yet the two nations are capable of living in peace, as many would say has been the experience of the Jewish people in North America for decades.

 

The beginning of Parshas Vayishlach is dedicated to the final confrontation of the opposing brothers. Yaakov enters the region of Eisav’s residence and immediately prepares for trouble. He prays, he prepares, and he thinks each move through. There is tension in their reunion, but at the end of the narrative, when Eisav heads toward his settlements and Yaakov says he will follow, it appears as if they have come to terms with one another. Indeed, the very next pasuk states that Yaakov came in peace to the city of Shechem (Bereishis 33:18). Henceforth the Torah focuses on Yaakov and his children, and Eisav appears to only be mentioned in a listing of his family.

 

Within the genealogical history listed in Bereishis 36, however, we actually learn a bit more about the fate of Eisav. He marries several wives and has a great host of children. He also makes what appears to be a deliberate choice to leave his brother’s presence: “And Eisav took his wives and his sons and his daughters and all the people of his house and his possessions and all his cattle and all the acquisitions he had acquired in the land of Canaan and went into a land away from his brother Yaakov” (Bereishis 36:6). Given his reaction to Yaakov receiving the bracha and his desire to kill Yaakov even, according to the midrashim, at their reunion, the idea that Eisav peacefully relinquished his claim seems surprising. And yet the pasuk narrates that Eisav has a perfectly rational acceptance of his brother’s dominion over the Land of Canaan, so much so that he recognizes that their grazing animals are too numerous to share the space.

 

Could we learn here the secret to surviving the great Gulus Edom (the Diaspora of Rome)? Yes, but it is not a secret of living peacefully, but more a question of being prepared and knowing that the Yaakov/Eisav dynamic is always in play.

 

Eisav’s eldest son is actually a fascinating snapshot of historical practicality. Eliphaz, according to the Midrash Tanchuma, grew up with Yitzchak’s influence and was righteous enough to have Divine inspiration. He was one of the three confidants and advisors of the beleaguered Eyov (Job). When his father commanded him to find and kill Yaakov (before the brothers’ reunion), he robbed him instead, relying on a concept that a man with no possessions is as a man who is dead. But Eliphaz’s sons were far more influenced by their own grandfather in their feelings for Bnei Yisrael. In fact, the Midrash in Devarim Rabbah says that “Amalek was raised on Eisav’s lap” (2:20).  The Midrash Yalkut Shimoni expands this idea and notes that Esau spoke to Amalek about how he had failed to kill Yaakov and that his grandson should avenge him (Chukas 764).  More significantly, this Midrash describes how Eliphaz directed his son to help Bnei Yisrael, who are destined to inherit both This World and the World To Come, in order that he will have a share in the World to Come, and this advice greatly angered Amalek, encouraging his descendants to attack Bnei Yisrael (Beshalach 268).

 

Not much is recounted about the other descendants of Eisav, but Jewish tradition implies that they were warlike - by the fact that in the genealogical listing they are not noted as sons but rather as clans, using the military term Aluf before their names. One later Midrash, Yelamdeinu, accounts Eliphaz’s son Zepho as the man who built Rome but who was killed by Tirat king of Elisha (Yelamdeinu, Batei Midrashos 160).

 

The generations born in the late 20^th century were born into an era of tolerance and acceptance, into a culture so seemingly unconcerned about our separate national character that one could almost say we lived in the age of Eliphaz. That Age has come before, and it may come again (though Imerz Hashem Moshiach will be here soon!). When, after the great devastations of just over a century ago, the world seemed to choose to step away from us, to let us rebuild and rise up toward our birthright, Eisav’s whispering to Amalek did not disappear.

 

We have all born witness to the startling rise in anti-Semitism over the last several years. After living in general peace, it was certainly unexpected for many. This does not mean we are imminently in danger. This is not a call of dire alarm. Amalek himself did not attack Yaakov, but his deeply rooted hatred festered over time. Significantly, “his” attack came not when we were at our lowest, in the Divinely ordained slavery of Egypt, but when we were at our highest, our most connected, just after crossing the Yam Suf (Sea of Reeds).

 

Incidents of anti-Semitism rise and fall. Sometimes there seems to be a reason, but most times not. Sometimes there seems to be a pattern, but that is just our human desire to make sense of challenging situations. We are living in gulus. We are scattered by Divine decree until the coming of Moshiach. Let us learn from our forefathers, from the Holy Torah, and from the history of the Jewish people that when Eisav gathers 400 men, it is not always for peace.

 

*Please note that this is not saying that only Israel inherits all of the world, it is a far more complex matter not for this simple Dvar Torah.

How Do You Bow, Why Do You Bow? (Vayishlach #2)

 Like all of the parshiot in Bereshis, a lot happens in Parshas Vayishlach. Indeed, the action moves so fast that it is easy to react to the overview and not stop for the details. For instance, Yaakov’s introduction of his divided camps.

Let’s be honest. By the time you get to Bereishis 33:6, you’ve been disarmed by the text. Chapter 33 begins with the dramatic: “And Yaakov lifted up his eyes and he saw…” Not just a simple coming upon, but a marked recognition of a serious situation. Esau arrives with 400 men, and Yaakov quickly jumps to an earlier thought to divide the camp. He then approached his brother alone, bowing deeply and repeatedly. And Esau appears to embrace him, to welcome him home and rejoice in their reunion. Then, rather than rehash old arguments or resume the path of threatening Yaakov’s life, Esau asks after children.

“Then the maids and their children came forward and bowed, next Leah and her children came forward and bowed low, and last, Yoseph and Rochel came forward and bowed” (33:6-7). It’s a flash of two verses that usually procure the most attention for being seen as a demonstration of the household hierarchy. There is Rochel at the back with her one little child, specially protected. Shouldn’t Leah’s many children be protected more? And what of poor Bilha and Zilpa, whose status as wives appear to be negligible?

In translation, the language of verses 33:6-7 seems dully repetative. In the Hebrew, however, there is a bit more variation in the words, and those variations are fascinating. Let’s look at the word for “come forward.” Verse 6 uses the feminine plural to describe the maid servants and their children stepping forward. This usage makes sense and is similar in its usage as the use of the feminine singular to describe Leah and her children coming forward. In both cases, the verb indicates the action of the women only and does not include their children. To describe the plural would, in both places, require the male plural version since a mixed gender group takes a male attribute in conjugation. However, the end of verse 7 states nigash Yoseph v’Roachel, nigash being a slightly different, more passive, form of the word meaning “come forward.”

Another significant difference is that whereas the male – or mixed gender – group conjugation is used in vayishtaachavu, and they bowed down, for both Leah and Rochel’s group, Verse 6, uses the slightly strange form of vatishtachavenan, the meaning is the same, but why not use the same verb and format as in the next verses?

The third alteration in the format of the verses is in order. In verse 6 it says the maids and their children. Verse 7 continues with the approach of Leah and her children. But the final phrase places Yosef before Rochel.

Several commentaries understand the different gender uses of vayishtaachavu as a means of learning about the behavior of the children and how they saw themselves, particularly the children of the handmaids. The Daas Zkainim notes that in verse 6 “the emphasis in this verse is on the servant maids, to tell us that their children did not prostrate themselves. They considered their respective mothers as socially inferior to themselves. On the other hand, when the children of Leah observed that their mother prostrated herself, they followed their mother’s example and did likewise.”

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch notes on verse 33:2, where the act of separating is first presented, that “It is possible that his feelings and greater affection directed this order, but it is by no means necessary to assume that this was the reason for it.” Rav Hirsch goes on to look at the different forms of the verb for bowing and explains that the haindmaids and their children came first and bowed together because: “Through their whole origin and past they were accustomed to bow before much less feared persons.” Their bowing was a direct correlation to the status of these women, and so the word used is vayishtachavenan and not vayishtaachavu. He continues on: “Then Leah stepped forth, the noble, proud, self-conscious wife, the mother and keeper of the household. A Leah does not bow down before an Esau, the children do it.” Thus the lack of the feminine in the word for bowing. “Then Rachel and her child should have come to the fore, but Yoseph protectingly steps in front of his mother as her knight, and Rachel, afraid that Esau would take offence, quickly bows to disarm him, so that Yoseph should also bow, and so both of them bow.” This not only explains why mixed gender plural is used for bowing, but also the strange use of the niphal for coming forward and the placement of Yoseph before Rachel. Rav Hirsch concludes: “Therein the motive for arranging the order of their approach may also lie. Yaakov let the maidservants go first because he could quietly reckon on their behaving with due humility. Rachel and Yoseph last because he expected the least from them.”

It might also be interesting to reflect that Yaakov might, perhaps, have placed Leah in the middle as a protection for her. He was certainly aware of the hours she had spent crying over her fear of marrying Esau, as noted in the Midrash. Now he was confronting Esau with the woman who he might perhaps have felt he had a right to. Yaakov therefore presented first the maidservants and their children, deflecting any quick reaction as Esau received their greetings, and then he brought forward Leah, so as to downplay her as his wife. He left Rachel for last so that Esau’s final impressions of his family would not be focused on Leah.

We cannot know exactly what thoughts went through the minds of the patriarchs and matriarchs. We can however, realize that life for them or for us, is rarely as simple as choosing whom one likes better.

Tell Me Who You Are (Vayishlach #1)

There are many famous questions posed by scholars of all generations about the midnight wrestling match of Yaakov and the malach. It is amazing that even with the surprising amount of details provided, there is a myriad more details still needed to fully understand what occurred and why it is significant.

One fascinating question not among the more frequently discussed commentaries might be concerning pasuk 32:28” “Said he to him, ‘What is your name?’ and he said ‘Yaakov.’” The next verse is the famous pasuk in which Yaakov is given the new name of Yisrael, which perhaps overshadows an interesting oddity. Didn’t the malach know with whom he was wrestling? After all, he was the one who attacked Yaakov!

Let us take a step back to the beginning of the parsha and the one overriding emotion we learn from Yaakov in the beginning of Vayishlach - he was afraid. He plans and strategizes about dividing his camp. He calls out to God with almost desperate fervor, reminding God rather directly of His promise for Yaakov’s future. He sends gifts, lots of gifts, to temper his brother’s feelings.

Let us remember that he is a malach, and therefore, ultimately, an agent of Hashem. Perhaps when the malach asked for his name, what he was really doing was reminding Yaakov to be himself. The name given to him at birth is more than just a reminder that Yaakov grabbed hold of Esau’s heel as they were being born, it tells of an ongoing character trait. From the very beginning, Yaakov knew that he needed to be the one to carry on the work of Avraham, and since birth, nothing stopped him from working to attain the rights of the bachur. He used his brains (buying the birthright), he used his brawn (working hard to marry the women who were destined to create klal Yisrael), and he even challenged Hashem in how he spoke to Him after his dream.  At no point in any of these actions, not even when his mother told him that Esau wanted  to kill him or when he was facing off with Lavan as he removed his family from Haran, is Yaakov described as being fearful or scared.

Now, however, with his wives and his children and the people in his care, Yaakov is afraid. The malach saw that weakness and came to challenge him. When the dawn begins to break, the malach knows that despite all the anxiety that Yaakov has expressed, he is still just as strong in his drive to carry on Avraham’s heritage. When the malach asks his name, he is relaying a message: know yourself. This moment of self-knowledge moves Yaakov to the next level of spirituality. One might even then see significance that the term the Torah uses to describe the actions of their struggle is avek (Aleph Veis Kuf אבק), which is oddly similar to akev (Ayin Kuf Veis עקב), the root of Yaakov’s name. After the wrestling is over, Yaakov’s new level is expressed in his new name, Yisrael, when the term ya’yayavek (יאבק) is exchanged for saaris (שׂרית), a very different type of word for struggle. Then, when Yaakov asks the malach for his name, he is subtly reproved with no answer, because the malach never needed to be reminded of his essence.

When the morning comes and Yaakov is faced with meeting Esau, he is no longer afraid. Perhaps this might explain why, when he meets Esau, his wives and children appear to be divided only into family groups, fairly close together in a non-defensive structure. Now that Yaakov is once again confident of who he is and what he needs to do, he is able to face Esau and to keep him at bay with easy excuses to each of Esau’s seemingly friendly overtures.

Yaakov’s actual encounter with Esau can be, and has often been, understood as an excellent reflection of the recurring cycles of the feints of peace during the exile of Edom. This is significant today. We appear to be entering an era in which the false face of Esau is crumbling once again and the underlying ferment of hate is bubbling to the surface. The wrestling match of Yaakov and the malach of Esau is once again beginning, and we must be prepared to declare ourselves ready to stand with the strength of Yaakov as proud members of Bnei Yisrael, the descendants of he who has “striven with beings divine and human, and prevailed” (Bereishis 32:29).