ב'ה
The Inner Cosmic Reality
Lifting The Veil Of Earthly Phenomenon
By Rabbi Yoseph Kahanov, Jacksonville, FL
Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaria, Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Akiva went up to Jerusalem. When they reached Mt. Scopus, they tore their garments. When they reached the Temple Mount, they saw a fox emerging from the place of the Holy of Holies. The others started weeping; Rabbi Akiva laughed.
Said they to him: "Why are you laughing?"
Said he to them: "Why are you weeping?"
Said they to him: "A place [so holy] that it is said of it, 'the stranger that approaches it shall die,' and now foxes traverse it, and we shouldn't weep?"
Said he to them: "That is why I laugh. For it is written, 'I shall have bear witness for Me faithful witnesses—Uriah the Priest and Zechariah the son of Jeberechiah.' With Uriah, it is written: 'Therefore, because of you, Zion shall be plowed as a field; [Jerusalem shall become heaps, and the Temple Mount like the high places of a forest.]' With Zachariah it is written, 'Old men and women shall yet sit in the streets of Jerusalem.'
"As long as Uriah's prophecy had not been fulfilled, I feared that Zechariah's prophecy may not be fulfilled either. But now that Uriah's prophecy has been fulfilled, it is certain that Zechariah's prophecy will be fulfilled."
With these words they replied to him: "Akiva, you have consoled us! Akiva, you have consoled us!" (Talmud, Makkot 24b)
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Our Parsha, Vayishlach, relates the dramatic tale of Yaakov’s conciliatory encounter with his older brother Eisav. This narrative appears to be chuck-full of allusion. Even on the most cursory level the message rings cryptic. Deep cosmic truths appear to lie hidden between the lines; begging to be mined.
Add to this the Midrashic observations, as well as the seventy different levels upon which the Torah is expounded, and you have, what amounts to, fertile grounds of foretelling insights and truths.
In fact, call it an epiphany or what have you, after some fifty odd years of reading this Parsha, the very narrative has, for me, taken on new meaning. Its inner message appears all but obvious, almost too obvious.
I doubt very much that I’m the only one for whom the poignant story of this week’s Torah portion seems so prophetically clear. Yet I must admit that, while much of what I share here is sourced in traditional commentary, nowhere have I seen it spelled out in quite this way.
"A man wrestled with him"
The book of Bereishis contains its fair share of brotherly rivalry. Following the quarrel of Cayin and Hevel; in which Cayin murders his only brother (Ch. 4), we read about the tension between Yishmael and Yitzchak; culminating in the banishment of Yishmael (Ch. 21). Our attention is then turned to the strife between Yaakov and Eisav; in which Eisav seeks to physically destroy Yaakov. (Ch. 27).
The focus in this week's Torah reading on reconciliation – the heartrending reunion of Yaakov and Eisav – is hence quite a welcoming change. The brothers appear to kiss and make up and live happily ever after; each going their merry own way. But is this legend truly all that warm and fuzzy? Is it really the end of the story, or perhaps just the beginning?
Preceding the account of Yaakov’s fateful meeting with Eisav, the Torah presents a rather peculiar incident in which Yaakov is found embroiled in a battle with a mysterious "Man:" “And Yaakov was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until daybreak. And when he saw that he was not able, he touched the hollow of his thigh; and the hollow of Yaakov's thigh was put out of joint…” (32:25-26).The nine verses that comprise this narrative (25-34), have indeed captured the fascination of commentators throughout history.
Anticipating the critical encounter with his brooding brother, Yaakov makes a series of preparations – setting aside a gift, praying and readying himself for battle – he is then found alone and in the dark. His entire camp lay on one side of a ford called Yabok, while he remains on the other. Now, we can certainly understand that this was a good and propitious juncture for some deep meditative soul-searching, but what happens next is by all accounts surprising and somewhat bizarre.
Yaakov is suddenly engaged in a struggle with a mysterious and unnamed foe; an “Ish,” who seems to appear out of nowhere. He wrestles with him all through the night until dawn. Unable to prevail over Yaakov, the opponent dislodges Yaakov’s sciatic nerve, causing him to limp. When the rival wishes to leave, Yaakov refuses to let him go until he blesses him. The nameless “Man” blesses Yaakov and proceeds to inform him that his name would soon be changed to Yisrael.
Who is this man with whom Yaakov wrestles and what is the struggle about? What, for that matter, is the significance of the name change?
Our Sages maintain that the mysterious entity is none other than Eisav’s “Sar” – his guardian angel and spiritual embodiment. Their struggle, which "Raised up dust,” they assert, is the cosmic struggle between two nations and two worlds – the spirituality of Israel vs. the materiality of Edom. The night through which they wrestled is the long and dark Galus (exile), in the course of which Yaakov’s descendants suffer bodily harm and spiritual anguish, but emerge in the end victorious.
The wrestling scene, hence, functions as a bridge between the two units of cosmic reality; night and day, reflected in the two halves of the story. The first half, which occurs during the night, corresponds to the dread Yaakov experienced at the time; the ominous and uncertain future awaiting him and his family. Standing alone by the riverbank in the dead of night, Yaakov reached the low point of his journey. It is at this very time and place that the dramatic turnaround occurs.
Eisav’s angel suddenly attacks Yaakov. Rather than flee, Yaakov garners all his strength and stands his ground. The confrontation continues through the rest of the night, forming a most appropriate parallel to the dread and terror of exile. As the sun rises the battle is not yet over, despite Yaakov’s leg having been wounded.
Still, the early-morning rays of light give way to the first sign of redemption, Yaakov’s tenacity and resilience had paid-off. The angel recognizes that Yaakov's dark night is over; that the light of redemption had broken through the horizon. He thus suggests ending the match in a stalemate: "Let me go, for dawn is breaking."
However, revitalized by his successful campaign against his combatant and the promising rays of the dawn, Yaakov refuses to give in: "I will not let you go unless you bless me." Clearly Yaakov refers here not just to any blessing, but to “The” blessing on whose account he is forced into this ugly crisis to begin with.
Eisav's 400 man march towards Yaakov reflects his unrelenting mindset of hostility towards his brother for the apprehension of the original blessings. Yaakov’s triumph represents the angel’s (i.e. Eisav’s) acquiescence; his concession of Yaakov’s rights to the blessings.
In that regard, the name change is highly significant. The word "Yisrael" contains the word Yashar, "straight.” By changing Yaakov's name to Yisrael, as Rashi asserts, the angel confirms that the blessings are no longer considered to have been taken through deceit and circuitry, as the name Yaakov might suggest. After this head-on struggle, Yaakov emerges as "Yisrael," bringing to light his righteousness in all that had appeared dishonest. The word Yisrael is also an expression of prowess and grandeur, implying that had Yaakov rightfully earned his father's blessings.
By way of Yaakov’s victory, the rivalry that began in the womb and progressed throughout the brothers' lifetimes, had reached its climax. The one who earned his original name by grabbing his brother's ankle has now defeated his brother entirely; he has overcome the embodiment of Eisav’s evil spirit. Eisav suddenly harbors no animosity. Even before his encounter with Eisav himself had begun, Yaakov is assured of his victory. The change occurs towards the end of the night, even as Eisav is underway with the 400 men.
By daybreak the change is clear. As a result of the angel's early morning surrender along the riverbank at the Yabok crossing, Eisav greets his brother warmly – he runs to him, hugs and kisses him, in a state of tears. Eisav himself is unaware as to what lead to his drastic change of heart; what came over him.
In the above light, the wrestling narrative is no longer a bizarre scene from nowhere. Not only is its time and place understood, but also its central significance: it is the key factor in Eisav’s change of heart that occurs between the first half of the story and the second half. Thanks to this victory, the final obstacle in Yaakov’s journey home is removed. Yaakov is now finally able to leave his brother and return to the land of Canaan.
Our story is one of the few instances in Torah where the veil lifts before our very eyes, allowing us a peek into how earthly phenomenon, which is generally the focus of Biblical narratives, evolves from concealed sublime matter. Earthly reality is in fact, a mere reflection of the more Divine reality.
Edom and Israel
Although the encounter between Yaakov and Eisav has drawn to a close, as did their very lives, the ramifications of their historical episode continue to live and reverberate throughout history. No wonder why it keeps manifesting itself within Scriptures, in a plethora of forms and places. The Parsha of Chukas (Num. 20:14, 26), the Early Prophets (I Kings 11:14), the Latter Prophets (Isaiah 34) and in the Writings (Ps. 137), are but a few of the places that we find its recurrence and reverberation.
The reason for the ongoing metamorphosis is explained in accordance with Nachmanides widely embraced principle, to which he repeatedly returns throughout his Torah commentary: “The ways of the father serve as signs for the children.”Accordingly, the peace of Yaakov and Eisav notwithstanding, their rivalry continues on the historical plane.
Historically, the incarnation of Eisav, is Edom, as the Torah, at the very end of this week’s Parsha, proclaims: “These are the descendants of Eisav, who is (also called) Edom” (Gen. 36:1). The hostilities of Edom towards Israel are hence depicted by the prophets as eternal. Many are the prophecies that describe the enmity of Edom’s ways and its impending punishment.
The malevolence of Edom appeared to be understood in the context of the given geo-political conditions, as described in various eschatological prophecies, including our Haftorah, which declares: “And no survivor shall be left of the House of Eisav” (Ov. 1:18).
The prophet Ovadiah blames the Edomites for taking part in the destruction of Jerusalem: “When foreigners entered his gates and cast lots for Jerusalem, you were as one of them” (Ov. 1:11). The conquest of the Edomites by the Israelites is measure for measure, as Ovadiah says: “As you did so shall it be done to you; your conduct shall be requited” (Ov. 1:15).
Ezekiel recalls the Edomites’ claim to possess the land of Israel, referring to it as “Taunts” and “Arrogance:” “You shall know that I the Lord have heard all the taunts you uttered against the hills of Israel: ‘they have been laid waste… And you spoke arrogantly against Me and multiplied your words against Me. I have heard it” (Ezek. 35:12-13).
Yaakov is hence not merely Yaakov the man, but a symbol of struggle between the peoples of Eisav –Edom and Yaakov – Israel. In fact, a majority of Torah commentators, throughout history, perceive the broader Biblical encounter between Yaakov and his conspicuous counterpart, to relate to contemporary geo-political affairs, in one way or another.
This is to say, that not only do they recognize Yaakov’s opponent to be some sort of force representing Eisav’s evil spirit, but that this phenomenon is an eternal ongoing (real time) occurrence – a cosmic reality.
Rabbi Isaac Abarbanel states that the entity that struggled with Yaakov tried to kill him, but when he failed to do so, he injured his hip instead. There is a hint here, says Abarbanel, of the continuing confrontation between the gentiles and Israel:
The prophetic message, hence, is G‑d telling Yaakov that Eisav will not be able to kill him. He will, however, strike Yaakov's descendants, the fruit of his loins – the same word as "Hip," in such a way that he will not destroy them but will inflict pain and leave them limping.
This situation will continue for as long as Yaakov's descendants are in the land of Eisav, i.e. in the Diaspora. But when the dawn shall break, when the Redemption comes, the gentiles will ask Yaakov's descendants for permission to separate, and then the Jews will not allow them to leave: "I will not let you go unless you bless me" (Gen. 32:27).
The significance of the blessing, then, is the reaffirmation that Yitzchak had indeed blessed Yaakov; the acknowledgement that the blessings were received in good faith and not through guile. This expression by the nation’s, may constitute the willing conferment, on their part, that their entire existential purpose belongs to Israel; true Divinity – the recognition of man’s ultimate intention-creation.
Rabbi Shlomo Halevy, in his book Divrei Shlomo, explains the phenomenon in a similar manner: The vision was intended to inform the Jewish people of future happenings. Eisav's angel, Samael, has the upper hand only during the night; the period of exile, while the dawn brings with it redemption. The injury inflicted by the angel-Eisav can only touch the descendants of Yaakov when they are not worthy: "And behold the angel saw that rationally he could not harm Yaakov because of Yaakov's wholesomeness, not to mention the merits of his father and mother and grandfather and grandmother... and so he smote his hip, meaning that he harmed Yaakov's children (the fruit of his loins) who were rendered susceptible because of their lack of virtues" (Divrei Shlomo 170a).
The idea that Eisav-Edom represents the cosmic oppressive force associated particularly with our final exile, (known as Galus Edom), assumed its greatest popularity and significance in the era of Christianity. It has gained its broadest support in the lands of Franco-Germany (Ashkenaz) where roots of Christianity were sowed. This idea is widely reflected in the works of the classic Torah commentator, Rashi, who was born in Troyes France and lived from 1040 till 1105, surviving the massacres of the first Christian crusade through Europe.
Rashi, like many of his contemporaries, staunchly embraces the teachings of earlier Sages, who first introduced the idea that ancient Rome was the incarnation of Eisav. Eisav's brutal ways – as his revered father attested: "By your sword you shall live (Gen. 27:40) – were alive and flourishing in the Roman empire who destroyed the Second Temple and put an end to the independent existence of the Jewish people in their land.
R’ Isaac Karo, in the beginning of his commentary – building on Nahcmanides principle that “The ways of the father serve as signs for the children” – goes a step farther: "What happened to Avraham is a sign of the exile in Egypt,” he says. “What happened to Yitzchak is a sign of the Babylonian exile and what happened to Yaakov is a sign of our current exile... and indeed our exile is the worst, the most bitter, and the longest of them all.”
The deathly trouble of “Our current exile,” came first in the 12th century, out of Rome, at the hands of the Christians; the massacres of the First Crusade in 1096, then out of Spain, about one hundred and fifty years later; the expulsion in 1492, and of course, most recently the worst tragedy of all; the infamous Holocaust. The Jews' condition under Roman (Christian) domination is, indeed, reflective of that of Eisav towards Yaakov.
The struggle between Yaakov and Eisav has indeed found perfect expression in the events of the times. The narrative has not lost its relevance to this very day, for even after the establishment of the State of Israel, the history of these nations has not changed.
As ancient Rome was perceived in its day, by the sages, to have the spirit of Eisav, Christianity and the European continent whence it hails, has become the heir of the declining Roman Empire in the Middle Ages; inheriting the distinguished title and bloodline.
Finally, to take it one step farther; a thought which appears to go entirely unnoticed. At the very end our Parsha the Torah mentions something that is seemingly insignificant, but in face of our conversation seems to have great significance.
The Torah states:
“And these are the generations of Eisav, that is, Edom. Eisav took his wives from the daughters of Canaan: Adah, daughter of Elon the Hittite; and Oholibamah, daughter of Anah, daughter of Zibeon the Hivvite; also Basemath, daughter of Ishmael, sister of Nebaioth.” (Gen. 36:1-3)
In light of the aforementioned teaching, that the Biblical events have eternal ramifications and that our Biblical foe represent enduring cosmic reality, what does this merging of Eisav and Yishmael mean to us today? Can it possibly be an allusion to what has been happening in Europe in recent years? Can it possibly have something to do with the mass Muslim; Yishmael immigration into Europe; Edom? Imagine how prophetic that would make the Torah. I shall let you, the reader, decide this for yourself.
May we take the lessons of this essay to heart perceiving the deeper cosmic Hand of G‑d in all of creation and in our long bitter galus. In doing so we will merit the realization of the ultimate foretelling of the prophets with the coming of Moshiach BBA.
