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"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.

The Brother, the Other and the Enemy

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.

Editorial Board: Pinchas Leiser
(Editor), Miriam Fine (Coordinator), Itzhak Frankenthal and
Dr. Menachem Klein