TORAH PORTION: VAYISHLACH
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Parashat Vayishlach
November 20, 2021, 16 Kislev 5782
Torah: Genesis 32:4-36:43; Triennial 35:16-36:43
Haftarah: Obadiah 1:1-1:21
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In this week's Torah Sparks, you'll find a D'var Torah on the Parashah by Ilana Kurshan called "The Struggles that Shape Us", Vered Hollander-Goldfarb poses questions titled "A Dotted Kiss" and Bex Stern Rosenblatt writes about "Compassionate Fantasies" in the Haftarah.
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The Struggles that Shape Us
Ilana Kurshan
On the eve of Jacob’s climactic re-encounter with his brother Esau, he finds himself alone at night on the banks of the Yabbok after having sent his wives and children ahead. There he wrestles with and prevails against a mysterious aggressor, who wrenches Jacob’s hip at the socket. In response to Jacob’s request for a blessing, the assailant renames him Israel. What is the significance of this name change, and how does it transform Jacob? The midrash recounts a dialogue between Jacob and the angel that sheds light on the significance of names and the ways we are able to define and redefine ourselves over the course of our lives.
Until this point in his life, Jacob has been defined by his struggle with his twin brother Esau. He received his name because he tried to prevent his brother from being first to exit the womb by holding on to his heel; the name Jacob comes from the Hebrew word “akev”, meaning heel. Rashi (on 25:29) explains that Jacob was conceived before Esau and therefore felt it was only right that he should be born first. According to this reading, Jacob was born with a sense of resentment and grievance; he believed that he was meant to be the firstborn, and he spent his childhood defining himself in relation to his brother. While Esau became a hunter and an outdoorsman, Jacob became just the opposite – a mild man dwelling inside his tent. Moreover, he seized every opportunity to attempt to redress the injustice he felt was committed in utero. First he took advantage of his brother’s hunger and exhaustion to buy his birthright. Then—abetted by his mother—he disguised himself as Esau and claimed the blessing meant for the firstborn, not just tricking his brother but trying to become him. He even fled to Haran for twenty years to escape his brother’s wrath, unable to regard himself as anything other than a kid brother grasping on to his older brother’s heel, never quite able to prevail in that struggle.
And then, in our parashah, Jacob has an encounter that changes the way he views himself. At night by the banks of the Yabbok he thinks he is wrestling with a man, but when he emerges victorious, he is told that he has in fact wrestled with a divine being. His aggressor asks him his name, and he responds “Jacob” – he continues to see himself as the frightened kid brother. But the angel tells him otherwise: “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human and have prevailed.” (32:29). Jacob is the only one of the patriarchs or matriarchs who receives a completely different name – unlike Sarai who becomes Sarah, or Abram who becomes Abraham, it is not just a single letter that is changed or added to his name. And yet as Yakov Z. Mayer notes in his book Drishot (Yediot 2016, untranslated), Jacob only grasps the full significance of his name change after he asks his aggressor to tell him his name, and receives a surprising answer.
Jacob says to the angel, “Pray tell me your name,” wishing to know the identity of the being he has prevailed against. But he is told in response, “You must not ask my name” (32:30). According to the midrash (Genesis Rabbah 78:4), the angel does not reveal his name because he cannot, since he doesn’t even know it. The midrash connects this verse to another encounter between a human and angel that appears in the book of Judges: Manoach, who will soon become the father of Samson, inquires about the name of the angel he and his wife have encountered, and the angel responds, “Why do you ask my name? It is unknowable” (Judges 13:18). The midrash explains that angels do not know their own names because their names are ever-changing based on the particular mission they are sent to accomplish at any given moment. They are defined by their missions, and with each mission, they receive a new name.
At this point, as the sun rises after a night of struggle, it dawns on Jacob that he has the power to decide how he will be defined. Just as the angels change names based on their mission, he can control which experiences will determine the way he regards himself. He is not just Jacob who is caught in a prolonged struggle against Esau, but also Israel who wrestles with a divine being. Moreover, he is not just Jacob who lost the struggle even before he was born, but also Israel who emerged victorious even at a particularly fraught and vulnerable time in his life when the odds were against him. Armed now with this knowledge of the power of naming and renaming, Jacob names the place Peniel, meaning “I have seen a divine being face to face, yet my life has been preserved.” (32:31). He will no longer think of the banks of the Yabbok as the place where, all alone, he quaked in his boots before encountering his intimidating older brother; now it becomes, in his consciousness, the site of a divine encounter.
With his new name, Jacob will have no trouble confronting his brother confidently and assuredly, seeking for the first time not to take from his brother what he believes is rightfully his or to bribe him to win his favor, but rather to share his bounty. “Accept from me this gift,” he will tell his brother, “for seeing your face is like seeing the face of God” (Genesis 33:10). Jacob, now well-heeled, no longer sees himself as grasping on to his brother’s heel, ever trying to catch up and best Esau. Now, after the encounter with the angel, he realizes that in so many ways, he has already prevailed. No longer weighed down by his own fears and insecurities, he is able to see the face of God even in his longstanding sibling-rival.
Like Jacob, none of us has full control over the struggles life will present to us. There is so much that is determined even before we are born, like our genetics, our birth order, and the cultural and historical milieu in which we are raised. Nor can we fully control when we will be prevailed upon, and when we will prevail. But we can choose which struggles will define the way we view ourselves. From Jacob we can learn to choose which experiences will shape our sense of self, so that we find ourselves transformed and ennobled by our struggles.
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A Dotted Kiss
Vered Hollander-Goldfarb
Text: Bereshit 33:1-4
1And Jacob lifted his eyes and saw, and behold, Esau was coming, and with him were four hundred men. And he divided the children among Leah, Rachel, and the two maidservants… 3Then he crossed over before them and bowed himself to the ground seven times, until he drew near to his brother. 4And Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept.
· What does Jacob seem to expect from Esau’s imminent arrival? Is there any basis for this expectation?
· Why does Jacob bow to the ground seven times until he reaches Esau?
· What seems to be Esau’s reaction upon arriving? Why do you think that he ran to meet Jacob? How did you expect Esau to meet Jacob? Why? (Their last joint story was in chapter 27.)
Commentary: Rashi Bereshit 33:4
And embraced him – His pity was aroused when he saw him prostrating himself so many times (Genesis Rabbah 78:8).
And kissed him – Dots* are placed above the letters of this (“kissed”) word, and a difference of opinion is expressed in the Baraita of Sifré as to what these dots are intended to suggest: some explain the dotting as meaning that he did not kiss him with his whole heart, whereas R. Shimon the son of Yohai said: Is it not well-known that Esau hates Jacob? But at that moment his pity was aroused, and he kissed him with his whole heart.
*These dots are marked in the Torah itself and suggest some question regarding the existence of the word in this setting. Rashi brings the midrashic implications.
· Each reading suggests that the word(s) “and he kissed him” may be out of place, either because a kiss would be expected of a brother, but Esau did so half-heartedly; or because it was not expected of Esau, and he surprised everyone by being a loving brother. Which reading bests suits your understanding of Esau? Why?
· Which reading best suits Jacob’s expectations as seen in v.1?
· Which reading is kinder to Esau? Why?
· According to R. Shimon Ben Yochai, how would Esau normally have greeted Jacob? What in the situation might have changed his mind?
Commentary: R. Joseph Bechor Shor Bereshit 33:4
And Esau ran to meet him – So that he will not bow any more.
· Why do you think that Esau did not want Jacob to bow anymore?
· How does that reading play out in each of the midrashic readings that Rashi brought?
· How does Bechor Shor understand Esau’s expectation of this meeting?
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Compassionate Fantasies
Bex Stern Rosenblatt
There is something terribly childish about having a fantasy of your parent scolding your sibling. And yet, in the Book of Obadiah, we find ourselves telling the story of God rebuking the nation of Edom, addressing them rather than Israel. In twenty-one short verses, we get to indulge in someone else’s suffering. Of course, much of the Bible promises that others will suffer, will get their just rewards. But usually, those are promises made to us, telling us that eventually these other nations will suffer as we have suffered, as happens in the Book of Amos just before the Book of Obadiah. In the Book of Obadiah, we get to listen in to it happening, to God giving Edom a talking to, much as God has spent the rest of the prophetic books giving us a talking to.
Of course, it is a bit odd that this talking to, this address from God to Edom has a place in our Bible, nestled snugly in among the Twelve Minor Prophets. What is God doing talking to Edom anyway? And why do we choose to report this text, to treat it as holy?
Our relationship with Edom is complicated. The mess started way back in Genesis 25, in Rebecca’s womb. Jacob and Esau struggled inside of her. God explained to Rebecca that from these two sons two nations would emerge. And then God goes on to say something incredibly cryptic. One of the nations will be stronger than the other. And the one will serve the other. It is unclear which nation is which. They are identified as the “great” nation and the “young” nation, which is confusing enough. Additionally, grammatically, we cannot be sure which is the subject and which is the object.
With this incredibly unclear oracle in mind, Rebecca sets off to bring about her favored son, Jacob’s, assumption of the role of stronger, ruling nation. From that point onward, it is a toss-up whether Israel, emerging from Jacob, is stronger than Edom, emerging from Esau. Edom was already an established kingdom as we were leaving Egypt on our way to conquer Canaan. In fact, they refused to let us pass through their land. Later, our first kings, Saul, David, and Solomon would successfully subjugate Edom. However, as time went on, Edom became more powerful in relation to Israel and Judah, raiding our kingdoms and joining forces with the Assyrians. We suspect them of collaborating with Babylon in the fall of Jerusalem and the destruction of the Temple. But once we re-enter the land after exile, the power and scope of the Edomites is already on the decline.
Somewhere during this history, the Book of Obadiah is written, addressed to Edom, our brother, our twin. When we read these words addressed to another, to our occasional enemy, it is easy to gloat. It is easy to feel relief that for once, it is not us receiving the wrath of our angry God. We recognize many of the phrases God uses against Edom as things God has said against us. And it feels good to hear them addressed to someone who has caused us to suffer. However, even as we delight in the perverse pleasure of schadenfreude, we hear again and again that Edom is our brother. We remember the oracle to Rebecca. Our destinies are tied together, eternally switching places, bound in our desire to rule and fated to be ruled. To read the Book of Obadiah, to treat this text as holy, means to read with compassion for the other, the brother. It means to be able to recognize someone else’s suffering as our own, if only for twenty-one short verses.
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