Vayishlach – Find[ing] a New Way of Living

There’s a place for us,
Somewhere a place for us.
Peace and quiet and open air
Wait for us
Somewhere.

 There’s a time for us,
Some day a time for us,
Time together with time spare,
Time to learn, time to care,
Some day!

Somewhere.
We’ll find a new way of living,
We’ll find a way of forgiving
Somewhere . . .

 There’s a place for us,
A time and place for us.
Hold my hand and we’re halfway there.
Hold my hand and I’ll take you there
Somehow, Some day, Somewhere!

“Somewhere”, from West Side Story

Yaakov’s long journey home was fraught with grave dangers.  First, he had to escape from the clutches of his father-in-law, Lavan, who clung more tightly to his pagan ways than his own flesh and blood.  It was, after all, Lavan who worshipped terafim, carved gods of stone^[1], and who called upon a god of his grandfather Nahor^[2], a proud pagan worshipper of idols.

Yaakov’s father-in-law professed love for him, embraced him and showered him with riches, as long as Yaakov was willing to cast off the yoke of his father’s God.  Yaakov survives that existential threat only to stare down at antisemitism’s twin brother, Esav, who (also) hates Yaakov because of his devotion to God.  Unlike Lavan, however, Esav is not simply looking to coopt Yaakov’s spirit.  He wants to destroy the man.

Neither Lavan nor Esav can tolerate the Jewish commitment to Torah.  Lavan resolves to strip Yaakov of Torah. Esav, with far more blunt force, goes after Yaakov himself.  They each fail.

That, at least, is how the story has been interpreted by us (and for us) for millennia.  But when you read the actual words of the Torah stories – without the added insights of midrash and classical commentaries – you see that the good guys are not always completely righteous, and the bad guys are not always utterly evil.  The Biblical text is far more nuanced.  It is raw and unfiltered.  Shades of gray have an uncanny way of creeping into the black letters on the white parchment of the scroll.

Chazal chose the prophecy of Ovadiah as the haftorah for Vayishlach for a compelling reason.  The Book of Ovadiah – consisting of a mere 21 verses – is the shortest self-contained prophesy in all of Tanach.  But packed in its terse and cryptic verses is a description of the evil nation of Edom, a perpetual enemy of Israel.  The connection to the parsha is easy to see.  Edom descended from Esav^[3] and is, in later rabbinic tradition, a pseudonym for Rome^[4].  Like the nation of “Amalek”, “Edom” becomes a code word, representing ever present, rabid, institutional and systemic anti-Semitism.

The Torah tells the tale of battle of twin brothers, Yaakov and Esav, each struggling to make sense of childhood grievances that are still haunting them into adulthood.  The haftorah tells the tale of their descendants, the twin nations of Judah and Edom, fighting ancient feuds and still unable to coexist in one land despite the fact that they remained geographically separated.

Chazal read Ovadiah not just as an account of the historical struggle between the Judeans and Edomites but also as a prophecy of Israel’s never-ending battle with political and religious forces bent on our annihilation.  Beyond the message that Israel will ultimately prevail, what makes Ovadiah’s prophesy especially poignant is the prophet himself.

Ovadiah was a righteous man, היה ירא את ה’ מאד, who feared God greatly[5].  Unfortunately, he found himself in the unenviable role as an advisor to the wicked king Ahab.  When Ahab’s wicked wife sought to eliminate the moral voices standing in her way,

Obadiah took one hundred prophets, and hid them, fifty men in a cave, and fed them with bread and water”

ויקח עובדיהו מאה נביאים ויחביאם חמשים איש במערה

[I Kings 18:4]

Ovadiah chose to do what was morally right despite the enormous risk.  There was no upside, and no pecuniary reward to be claimed.  That alone made Ovadiah a great man.

Ovadiah did not invent the strategy of separating the prophets into two groups and placing them in separate hiding places to protect at least half of them from the invading enemy.  He picked up this tip from Yaakov Aveinu, who employs this very technique in our parsha:

Jacob became very frightened and was distressed; so he divided the people who were with him and the flocks and the cattle and the camels into two camps.	וַיִּירָ֧א יַֽעֲקֹ֛ב מְאֹ֖ד וַיֵּ֣צֶר ל֑וֹ וַיַּ֜חַץ אֶת־הָעָ֣ם אֲשֶׁר־אִתּ֗וֹ וְאֶת־הַצֹּ֧אן וְאֶת־הַבָּקָ֛ר וְהַגְּמַלִּ֖ים לִשְׁנֵ֥י מַֽחֲנֽוֹת:
And he said, “If Esau comes to one camp and strikes it down, the remaining camp will escape.”	וַיֹּ֕אמֶר אִם־יָב֥וֹא עֵשָׂ֛ו אֶל־הַמַּֽחֲנֶ֥ה הָאַחַ֖ת וְהִכָּ֑הוּ וְהָיָ֛ה הַמַּֽחֲנֶ֥ה הַנִּשְׁאָ֖ר לִפְלֵיטָֽה:

[Gen. 18:9-15]

Who was this man Ovadiah, who drew military strategy from his knowledge of Torah, and who had the moral courage to stand up to the dreadful ruling class?

Efrayim Miksha’a, a student of R. Meir, said in the name of R. Meir:	אמר אפרים מקשאה תלמידו של רבי מאיר משום רבי מאיר
Obadiah was an Edomite convert.	עובדיה גר אדומי היה
And this is as people say: From and within the forest comes the ax to it [as the handle for the ax that chops the tree is from the forest itself.]	והיינו דאמרי אינשי מיניה וביה אבא ניזיל ביה נרגא

[San. 39b]

Rabbi Meir, author of this opinion, struggled mightily with Rome.  He witnessed Rome execute the greatest sages of the day, including his beloved mentor and teacher, Rabbi Akiva.  Since Rome shattered the political structures of Israel, Rabbi Meir found comfort in the divine comedy that like Edom, Rome would ultimately produce its own prophet of doom, just as the ax handle that falls a tree is made of the same wood.  Hashem selected Ovadiah, an Edomite by birth, to deliver the message of Edom’s downfall to Israel.  And to Edom.  God, taught Rabbi Meir, will do so again when Rome finally collapses under the weight of its own evil.

While Rabbi Meir liked the irony that “from and within the forest comes the ax”, I think there is a more generous approach that can be gleaned from the linking of Ovadiah with Edom, and our parsha.  Chazal consistently taught that many of our greatest heroes have ignoble backgrounds.  The wicked Esav produces Ovadiah, the righteous convert turned prophet.  The Prophet Samuel descends from the rabblerouser Korach.  And of course, our Mashiach descends from Ruth, the virtuous convert who was the daughter of Eglon, the king of Moab, mortal enemy of Israel.

The opposite unfortunately, is also true.  Evil often emerges from the lineage of our greatest heroes.

Chazal link Ovadiah with Vayishlach to teach us that the light of Torah is available to anyone, even the daughter of Moav and the son of Edom.  We must not shun someone merely because of his lineage.  Nor may we condemn the next generation for the sins of their parents.  Everyone deserves to stand on his/her own two feet.

Another compelling lesson of both the Torah and Haftorah is that sometimes, a life-long enemy becomes our brother:

Esau ran to greet him. He embraced him and, falling on his neck, he kissed him; and they wept.

וַיָּ֨רׇץ עֵשָׂ֤ו לִקְרָאתוֹ֙ וַֽיְחַבְּקֵ֔הוּ וַיִּפֹּ֥ל עַל־צַוָּארָ֖ו וַׄיִּׄשָּׁׄקֵ֑ׄהׄוּׄ וַיִּבְכּֽוּ׃

[Gen. 33:4]

Not every commentator thinks that the Esav’s embrace of Yaakov was sincere.  But none other than, the great mystic who, like Rabbi Meir, was also a devoted student of Rabbi Akiva, believed that נהפך רחמיו באותה שעה ונשקו בכל לבו, at the moment they embraced, the bitterness that consumed Esav’s heart finally melted away, and the void left was immediately filled with compassion and mercy^[6].

Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai was speaking not only of Esav but also of Edom.  And Rome.

Estrangement can be healed, even if cannot always be entirely cured.  Love can sprout where just a moment ago there was hatred.  It just needs to be watered with tears, nurtured with a kiss, and kept warm with a tender and heartfelt embrace.

[1]. Gen. 31:30.

[2]. Gen. 31:53.

[3]. Gen. 36:1, 8-9.

[4]. j. Ta’anit 4:8, 68d: תני אמר רבי יהודה בי רבי אלעאי ברוך רבי היה דורש הקול קול יעקב והידים ידי עשו קולו של יעקב צווח ממה שעשו לו ידיו של עשו בביתר.  See, also, Gen. Rab. 63:7.

[5]. I Kings 18:3.

[6]. The dispute is based upon the unusual series of dots above the word וַׄיִּׄשָּׁׄקֵ֑ׄהׄוּׄ.  The Torah lets us debate whether the wicked Esav’s emotions were an act, or whether this cold-hearted man had a genuine transformation of spirit.