Parashat Vayishlach

For many a pious Jew, a seemingly peculiar question comes up repeatedly throughout the book of Genesis: Why is this written? Why are we reading this? The oddity of the question is self-evident. This is our history, where we come from, the story of our forebears, the foundation of our religion! Yet this query is raised right from the beginning of the Beginning by Rashi, who explains why the Torah begins with בראשית, “in the beginning.” For those who ask this question, the focus of Torah is halachah, the central question being: How does what I am learning affect the way I should live my life? When it comes to halachah, the connection is straightforward: The halachah says I should do x, therefore I will do x; the halachah says I should not do y. . . . You get the idea. How, then, does the book of Genesis teach me how to live? We have Avraham digging wells, Yitzhak redigging the same wells. We have children fooling their parents. We have Yaakov traveling from one place to the next, from Canaan to Padan Aram and back again. How does studying these stories teach me how to live a pious Jewish life?

Ramban picks up on this question, and provides his own answer. His answer is based on Midrash Tanchuma. In Parashat Lech-Lecha, section 9, Rebbe Yehoshuah from Sichnin says that God gave Avraham a sign: everything that happened to him would also happen to his descendants. Ramban cites this source when he first addresses this essential question, also in Parashat Lech-Lecha, Chapter 12 verse 6. Ramban interprets this assertion as meaning that the actions of our forefathers cement the future for their descendants. Those things that happen to all of our forefathers, not only Avraham, are destined to be repeated for their children and their children’s children.

Now, in the dog days of Sefer Bereshit, Ramban addresses this issue once again. This time, it comes in an introduction to Parashat Vayishlach, this week’s parashah. Yaakov is leaving the house of his father-in-law to return to the land of Canaan. On his way back, he sends messengers to Esav. It turns out that Esav is coming with an army to meet Yaakov. Yaakov fears for himself and his family, whom he splits into two camps, thinking that if one gets attacked, the other will be able to escape. Yaakov and Esav meet, embrace, and then each goes on his way. Why is this part of the narrative included? Not only does it not clearly explain how a pious Jew should live, but it seemingly has no long-term effect on Yaakov’s life either! This is where Ramban’s unique take on Rebbe Yehoshuah from Sichnin’s idea takes shape.

Ramban explains that the conflict and reconciliation between Yaakov and Esav will take place over and over again for Yaakov’s descendants. The form of Esav will change: Sometimes it will be oppressive rulers, other times conflicts with the people in our lives, still other times the Esavs are as-of-yet unknown enemies. We can be better prepared for these conflicts by emulating the actions of Yaakov we read about here.

Yaakov prepares for his encounter with Esav in two ways. Yaakov, as mentioned, is afraid of what Esav might do to him and his traveling party. He takes practical steps to protect as many people as he can. At the same time, Yaakov girds himself spiritually by turning to God in prayer, uttering “Deliver me, I pray, from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esav.” We too, says Ramban, should not rely on one approach or the other to be saved from potentially harmful conflict. We can, and should, take all practical steps to be protected. This, however, cannot come in place of turning to a higher power for spiritual confidence.

It is inevitable that in our lives, we will come into conflict, and, like Yaakov, fear the prospect of that conflict. May we also be like Yaakov in the way we prepare for those conflicts: the practical and the spiritual, the physical protection and emotional guidance. And may it be that when we take this dual approach, we come out of our conflicts like Yaakov does: שלם, whole.