ר"ע תיתד תונויצל ינויערה גוחה ,םולשו זוע

"And Yaakov was left alone" – Said Rabbi Elazar: He remained (he had forgotten) for small items. From this we learn that tsaddikim value their property more than their persons. And why is this? Because they do not steal. (Bavli Hullin, 91a)

"And Yaakov was left alone": Our Rabbis expounded 'alone' (ודבל) were written 'for his pitcher (ודכל), to teach that he returned for small vessels, to teach that tsaddikim value their property so that they distance themselves from theft – thus did Rashi explain. The intent of this is that the little children not be endangered en route by insufficient drink, and therefore he jeopardized himself by returning, and the adversary confronted him immediately.

"Therefore the Children of Israel do not eat the sinew that is on the socket of the thigh" This is to say that it is right that the Children of Israel be fined and punished by the prohibition against eating that sinew, for they left their father alone, as is written "And Yaakov was left alone". They were brave men, and they should have waited for their father to help him if necessary, yet they did not accompany him and because of them he was injured, and from here on this will be a remembrance and they will be diligent in the mitzvah of 'levaya' – accompaniment - and therefore Yosef accompanied Yaakov.

When conflicting interests pit two sides – two individuals, or two human groups –against each other, must one necessarily prevail at the other's expense? In view of the troubling conflicts of interest that permeate our lives, I asked this question of the Torah portion of Vayishlah, which opens with two intertwined stories of struggle: that between Jacob and his brother Esau, and that between Jacob and the mysterious "man" who wrestled with him at the ford of the Jabbock stream.

According to a midrash to the Book of Numbers, the notion that one's gain is another's loss seems to be a divinely ordained aspect of human affairs:

The midrash gives an example of this divine ordering:

Coming closer to our portion, Joseph gains at his brothers' expense in the inheritance ordained by Jacob in Genesis 48:22:

Ibn Ezra and Rashi explain that the word shekhem in this verse has two meanings. On the one hand, it refers to the city of Shechem, which Joseph's brothers, as related in our portion, were to despoil, and which, upon the conquest of the land, became part of the territory assigned to the two tribes descended from Joseph. On the other, it means "portion," referring to the double portion assigned to Joseph by virtue of the adoption of his two older sons by the dying Jacob. Thus, Jacob passed on to his younger son Joseph the birthright – the right of the firstborn to a double portion of his father's inheritance – which he himself had taken by means of cunning from his older brother Esau. Wrapped up in this single verse, then, we find both the deadly rivalry between Jacob and Esau and the blood-feud between Jacob and his descendants and the other inhabitants of the land.

But is that rivalry – between brother and brother, and between Israel and its enemies – everlasting? Listen to the following midrash from the Sifre to the Torah portion of Shoftim:

The midrash goes on to cite an episode from the book of Chronicles, according to which the men of the army of Judah, who had taken captives in a battle against their rivals from the kingdom of Israel, were instructed to give them clothes, shoes, food and water, and to return them to their homes. According to this source, it would seem that relations with those we see as our "brothers," even in time of conflict, differ radically from relations with our enemies. Vanquished enemies are to be destroyed; vanquished brothers are to be rehabilitated and allowed to regain their previous position of balance over against us.

But the matter does not rest there. A quick glance at two parallel verses in the Torah shows that the brother/other opposition is unstable and fluid:

Commenting on the substitution of ah (fellow, brother) for sone (enemy) in the second appearance of this mitzvah, commentators have pointed out that a righteousness person has the ability to turn an enemy into a brother.

And what happens in the fraternal struggle described at the opening of our portion? In the tense prelude to Jacob's inevitable reunion with his brother Esau, the Torah reports that Jacob was "greatly frightened and anxious." According to a well-known midrash, what troubled Jacob was precisely the apprehension that a clash between the two would lead to the prevailing of one and the demise of the other:

Instead, however, the two brothers embraced. This is Nachmanides' explanation for their reconciliation:

Esau interpreted Jacob's humble behavior toward him as an acknowledgement of his past mistreatment, and that understanding led to a balancing between the two brothers, much like the balancing that followed the confrontation between Jacob and Laban at the end of the previous Torah portion. In both stories, each side finally acknowledges the complaint of the other, and the two agree to go their separate ways and live out their lives in peace. This implies an additional meaning in the struggle between Jacob and the mysterious man at the Jabbock ford, which separates the two stories. Neither side wins in that struggle: though Jacob prevails, it is he who is wounded. In these three episodes, Jacob reached a new stage of spiritual maturity, in which he understood that the route to prosperity in the land led not through absolute victory over his rivals, but through mutual recognition and separate coexistence.

To leave it at this, however, would be too simple, both for the complexity of real life and for the compilations of Jewish lore. Is the distibetween Jacob and Esau –bIsrael and other peoples – really so sharp? A midrash appearing in the Talmud (Sanhedrin 98b) again refers to our portion:

"The prince of Esau" and "the prince of Jacob" – the two rivals in the predawn struggle, according to some interpretations – are not fixed, unchanging essences. With the passage of time, they become closer and less clearly distinguishable, and their relations become more and more complex and unclear.

The emerging balance between Jacob and Esau is reflected in mutual recognition of the strength and dignity of the other and their agreement to coexist. However, it is also expressed in our own recognition of their ever-increasing resemblance to one other and the complexity of their interrelationship, which no longer allows for clear, clean boundaries and distinctions. Theologian Rachel Adler, in a discussion of the complex and changing relations between women and men and between feminine and masculine in Jewish tradition, refers to the "thicket" in which Abraham and Isaac found the sacrificial ram after the akedah. In trying to deal with our complex relations with our neighbors, too, we enter a "thicket," one in which sharp distinctions between Israel and the nations, between "us" and "them," dissolve into a morass of mutual violence. Precisely here, we may have hope of recovering the boundaries of our selves in a process of mutual recognition, of finding a reconciliation whereby Israel can lay down its bow and sword.

"And he kissed him." – Can there be real love between Esav and Yaakov?

"And he kissed him." The word is dotted above; the meaning of this is debated in a Berayta in the Sifri; some expound the dotting as indicating that he did not kiss him wholeheartedly. Said Rabbi Shimon ben Yohai: It is a ruling, it is known that Esav hates Yaakov, but his mercy was aroused at that moment, and he kissed him with all his heart. (Rashi, Bereishit 33:4)

"And they wept" – Both wept. This is to teach us that at that moment Yaakov's love for Esav was aroused. And so for generations, when the descendants of Esav are aroused by a pure spirit to recognize the descendents of Yaakov and their qualities, then we too are aroused to recognize that Esav is our brother, just as Rebbi had sincere affection for Antoninus, and so many others.

. . . indeed, a pure humane emotion burst forth from Esav's heart; witness to this is the single word "they cried". Fawning can result in a kiss, but not in tears which burst forth at this moment. The word הכב (cry) – is related to the words עקב (break, burst) and חקפ (open); the tears burst forth from the depths of the human soul. This kiss and these tears show Esav, too, to be a son of Avraham. It cannot be that Esav was no more than a wild hunter; were he such, how could he have succeeded in controlling all development of civilization? The naked sword, brute force alone, cannot qualify him for this. Gradually Esav will put away his sword, increasingly assigning place for his humanity. In regard to Yaakov, in particular, will he have the opportunity to demonstrate to what degree his humanity has prevailed. Respect for the powerful's rights by the powerful is a matter of pragmatism. But when the stronger falls upon the neck of the weaker – as does Esav – throwing away the sword of aggression – only then can we see that justice and humanity have triumphed in his heart.

Home	The Movement Objectives and Principles You can Help!	What's New Activities and Current Events	Articles and Position Papers Peace Judaism and Israel

Weekly Parsha (Hebrew) Weekly Parsha (English)	Search Our Site	Links To Peace Movements

Contact Us
OZ veSHALOM - NETIVOT SHALOM
P.O. Box 4433, Jerusalem, 91043 Israel
Tel: 02-5664218, for Shabbat Shalom only call 053-920206
ozshalom@netvision.net.il
© Copyright 1997-2003 by Oz Veshalom. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.