Parshat Vayishlach: "Jacob arrived שָׁלֵם in the city of Shechem..."

BY: Eddie Ashkenazie

Upon his return to Canaan from Haran, Jacob fearfully encountered his brother Esau. He was relieved to learn that Esau harbored no ill-will towards him and wished for them to stay together for some time. Jacob refused his brother’s offer and they parted ways, only to come together again to bury their father. Upon taking leave of his brother, Jacob built a house for himself in Sukkot, on the eastern side of the Jordan River. After crossing the Jordan and formally entering Canaan, Genesis 33:18 narrates: וַיָּבֹא יַעֲקֹב שָׁלֵם עִיר שְׁכֶם אֲשֶׁר בְּאֶרֶץ כְּנַעַן בְּבֹאוֹ מִפַּדַּן אֲרָם וַיִּחַן אֶת פְּנֵי הָעִיר. “Jacob arrived shalem (שָׁלֵם) in the city of Shechem which is in the land of Canaan- having come thus from Padan-aram – and he encamped before the city.” ¹ There is no clear consensus from the classical or modern commentators as to how to understand the word shalem in this verse. However, when the same root² appears in 34:21: הָאֲנָשִׁים הָאֵלֶּה שְׁלֵמִים הֵם אִתָּנוּ וְיֵשְׁבוּ בָאָרֶץ וְיִסְחֲרוּ אֹתָהּ וְהָאָרֶץ הִנֵּה רַחֲבַת יָדַיִם לִפְנֵיהֶם אֶת בְּנֹתָם נִקַּח לָנוּ לְנָשִׁים וְאֶת בְּנֹתֵינוּ נִתֵּן לָהֶם, “These people are sheleimim let them settle in the land and move about in it, for the land is large enough for them; we will take their daughters to ourselves as wives and give our daughters to them”³ as sheleimim, most of the commentators agree as to the meaning of the word, which I will discuss below. However, on 33:18, even though no consensus emerges, the commentators can be grouped based on their understanding of the word.

One common understanding is that shalem means whole or complete. Rashi quotes Talmud Bavli Masechet Shabbat 32B to say that Jacob was שלם בגופו...שלם בממונו...שלם בתורתו, he was “of full body,” in that he was healed from his fight in Genesis 32; he was “full in his money,” in that even though he gave a gift to Esau, his wealth was intact; and he was “full in his Torah knowledge,” in that he did not forget of the Torah he had learned, even though he lived in the house of Laban for many years. Similarly, the Rada”k’s first opinion is that Jacob was complete because he was not lacking any of his possessions after meeting Esau. The Hizquni also agrees with this definition of shalem, that he entered into the city as a whole man, even after the traumatic incident that had occurred in Shechem (see Genesis 34). he Aramaic translation of Onkelus and the Judeo-Arabic translation of Rav Saadiah Gaon both translate shalem into their respective languages as whole, Onkelus using the Aramaic שלים while Rav Saadiah Gaon uses סאלמא.

Ibn Ezra presents another understanding of shalem meaning peacefully, explaining that Jacob arrived in Shechem peacefully without any incidents, even after the Dinah incident of Genesis 34. The Seforno agrees and explains it as peacefully, בשלום. The second possibility suggested by the Rada”k is that shalem means peaceful, because until this point, Jacob was not harmed, in contrast to what happens to him when he enters the land of Canaan and interacts with the people of Shechem.

Lastly, the Rashbam, the first opinion of the Hizquni and the Jerusalem Bible’s English translation view shalem as the name of a town to which Jacob arrived. The Hizquni elaborates that it is a suburb of Shekhem, which is also found in the Jerusalem Bible as “...came to Shalem, a city of Shekhem, which is in the land of Kena’an...”

The majority of the commentators view shalem as referring to Jacob physically, in that he arrived there complete. Others view it as a physical state in that he arrived peacefully and nothing bad happened to him. Lastly, there are some who view shalem as a physical location. However, when the word sheleimim is used in Genesis 34:21, commentators view the word as a description of the state of the people, that they come to Jacob in peace, בשלום. Through these different understandings of the root שלם, we see the importance of examining words through different lenses and from multiple perspectives.

1 JPS translation

2 According to the concordance of Abraham Even Shoshan.

3  JPS translation

Parshat Vayeitzei: A Benzene-Like Journey

By TALIE LEWIS

I apologize to all of the non-science minds for the following metaphor, but in organic chemistry, Benzene (shown above) is an exceptionally stable compound. This stability comes from tiny particles moving along a circular path inside of its outer boundary and makes it difficult to break the bonds (represented by each line of the hexagon) that hold benzene together. Like organic chemists, we equate stability with strength and so we spend much of our time attempting to establish a place for ourselves, in which we feel comfortable and safe. The easiest way to establish such a place is to stay where we feel most comfortable and grow within those confines. The harder way is to leave this comfort zone, embark on a journey and eventually find a new place to establish ourselves.

Parshat Vayeitzei is the story of Jacob’s journey. It begins with his departure from Be’er-sheva, and leads into his journey to Haran. Upon his arrival in Haran, chapter 28: verse 11 states “and he [Jacob] was impressed by the place.” The expression “was impressed” (vayifga) demonstrates a passive experience. Haran is where God appeared to Jacob and made an impression on him.  Jacob was affected by Haran, and so Haran, the place, is identified as the active player. He then continues along his journey and settles down in Lavan’s house. Initially, he is a foreigner, but eventually, he builds a life for himself there. This building process was certainly not a smooth one, however Jacob overcame the challenges he faced. Towards the end of the Parsha, after Jacob left Lavan’s house, he was met by God and angels. As it says in chapter 32: verse 2: “And they [God and the angels] were impressed by him [Jacob].” The same Hebrew word is used here as was used in chapter 28 (va’yifgau), except here we see a role reversal. Prior to Jacob’s journey, he experienced the world passively. He allowed his environment to affect him. However, after leaving his home and establishing a new home, he no longer played this passive role. His experiences gave him the power to influence not just his environment, not just the people in that environment, but even God and angels.       

Just like Jacob, both Abraham and Isaac had experiences in foreign lands. All three of our forefathers were strangers among people who had very different values from their own, and all three established places for themselves in those lands. The story of the Jewish people is not one of simply remaining in our own communities where we feel stable and safe. Our story is about breaking out of that stability, embarking on a journey to somewhere new and re-establishing that sense of stability.

Returning to aromatic rings for just a moment. One might assume that because they are already so stable, they do not react. The common purpose of chemical reactions is to create a more stable product, so it would seem that there would be no reason for aromatic rings to react. However, they do react and consequently lose their stability temporarily, but then re-establish it by forming a new product. I wish all of us the strength to not be complacent with our own stability. We must break out of it, despite our fears or discomfort, so that we ourselves as well as the communities we influence can constantly be striving for greater stability.

Parshat Toldot: Family Matters

BY: Ayelet Kahane

Genesis is fraught with complicated and tense familial relationships. The prototypical relationship in Genesis is one that includes jealousy, deceit, and rivalry. The relationships found in Parshat Toldot are no exception. The parasha begins with an introduction to Rebekah, Isaac, and the home they ultimately create together. Rav Elchanan Samet points out that from Genesis 25:19-26, the narrative's focus is Rebekah and Isaac. Then, from verse 27 to 34, the narrative's focus is Esau and Jacob. Within each of these segments, there are two distinct subsections. In the first section, where the primary characters are Isaac and Rebekah, verses 22-23 speak of Rebekah's difficult pregnancy and the prophecy that foretold of the two nations that she would bear. Verses 24-26 speak of the birth of Esau and Jacob, with Esau emerging from the womb first with Jacob, quite literally, at his heel. Isaac and Rebekah then name their newborn twins.

In section two, where the primary characters are Esau and Jacob, there is a division in the storyline between verses 27-28 and verses 29-34. In verses 27-28, Esau and Jacob grow into two very distinct individuals. Esau becomes a man of the fields, while Jacob becomes a man of the tents. Esau is loved by his father, while Jacob is loved by his mother. Then, in verses 28-34, Esau infamously sells his birthright for a bowl of soup that Jacob was cooking.[1]

The first subsection of each segment focuses on the conflict between Esau and Jacob. Rebekah's difficult pregnancy was a premonition, an indicator of the tumultuous relationship that would develop between Esau and Jacob. Her two sons would begin their relationship in conflict and the divide and rivalry between them would increasingly grow as they developed in distinct and diverging directions.

Interestingly, the sibling rivalry described between Esau and Jacob closely resembles the first biblical sibling rivalry, that of Cain and Abel. Esau and Jacob are described as distinct to an extent that the world is seemingly divided between them. Cain's dominion extended to the fields, to agriculture, while Abel's dominion extended over animals,as a shepherd. So too, Esau is described as an "ish sadeh," a man of the fields, while Jacob is described as "yoshev ohalim," a dweller of tents. Commenting on the phrase "yoshev ohalim," the Chizkuni (R. Hezekiah ben Manoach, 13th century France) explains that the most direct, text-based translation is that these were tents for sheep. He furthers this point by explaining that it makes sense that Jacob was a professional shepherd because he was an incredibly successful shepherd for Laban later on in his life.[2] In line with a peshat (simple reading) interpretation of this verse, Nehama Leibowitz posits that in addition to meaning hunter, "ish sadeh" could imply that Esau was also a man of agriculture, a man who worked the fields. If this is the case, Esau and Jacob occupied the same distinct physical realms that Cain and Abel did- agriculturalist and shepherd.[3]

Verses 24-26, which constitute the second part of the first section, describe the unusual birth of Esau and Jacob and foreshadow the future selling of the birthright, as described in verses 28-34. The events prior to their births impacted the birth of Esau and Jacob and the continued directions of their lives. The second part of section two describes the fulfillment of the prophecy found in section one. The flow of the entire story points to the omnipotent hand in all of these events. This becomes increasingly apparent through the story of the blessings which occurs later in this parasha in Genesis 27.

In Genesis 27, the drama continues to unfold. Robert Alter points out that there are seven distinguishable scenes within this larger story and each scene includes only two characters. The chapter begins with an interaction between Isaac and Esau, where Isaac tells Esau to prepare a meal for him, in order for Isaac to bless Esau before his death. Overhearing this conversation, Rebekah then interacts with Jacob, telling him to pose as Esau and receive the firstborn blessing. The next scene includes only Jacob, disguised as Esau, and his frail father Isaac. Following this third scene, Esau interacts with Isaac, learning that his blessing has just been given to his younger brother Jacob. Hearing that Esau is intent on murdering his brother for the deed he has just done, Rebekah tells Jacob that he must flee to his brother's house in Padan Aram. Rebekah then goes to Isaac and argues, under the veil of despising the women of Ca'naan, that Jacob must go to Padan Aram and find a wife there. The two-character interactions then continue, with Isaac sending Jacob off to Padan Aram.[4]

Throughout the entire parasha, the four dominant characters are interacting in a convoluted web of actions. Notably, though, every single scene includes a mere two characters. All the events and relationships in the parasha unfold in a series of interconnected scenes, but they only happen between pairs of characters- rather than three or four characters- and there is very little communication between the conflicting characters. In Genesis 27, it is not until the sixth scene in the larger narrative that Isaac and Rebekah communicate. Furthermore, they communicate under false pretenses, pretending that the nature of their conversation and its urgency have solely to do with Jacob finding a proper wife, and not with Jacob`s safety from Esau. Additionally, there is no communication between Esau and Jacob throughout the entire episode of the blessings.

The structure of the parasha boldly emphasizes the contentious and complicated nature of the relationships between the four dominant characters. It connects this story with the larger context of history and God's plan, of what has happened in the past and what will happen in the future. 

___________________________________________

[1] Elchanan Samet, Studies in the Weekly Parasha (Jerusalem, Israel: Hemed Press, 2003), 102-121.

[2] Chizkuni, Yoshev Ohalim, Genesis 25:27

[3] Moshe Sokolow, Studies in the Weekly Parasha: Based on the Lessons of Nechama Leibowitz (Jerusalem, Israel: Hemed Press, 2008), 42.

[4] Robert Alter, Genesis (New York, N.Y.: W.W. Norton & Company, 1996), 137-150.

Parshat Hayyei Sarah: Is there a "Jewish" Destiny?

By AJ BERKOVITZ

The question of destiny is always of interest. Luckily for me, I am not here to answer it. It is a very complex issue that tomes, sometimes unnecessarily, have been written on. Perhaps one of the most classic questions of destiny is: do we have the ability to create our own destiny or is it predetermined. As a people living in Western democracy and perhaps also connoisseurs of popular culture, we like to believe that we are in control and the center of our existence, present and future. We are very anthropocentric beings. On this note, it is very interesting how the protagonist of a book or movie chooses a destiny very similar, if not the same one, as the one predetermined by the ‘prophecy’. For a nice example see the now not so recent Alice in Wonderland.

But because this is a parsha blog, let us see what God, or what scholars may call JE +R think about destiny. As a methodological note, I will actively veer from what is known as pshat. Please do not come brandishing swords and flaming arrows. If, however, you do wish to seek a target, my institution, well… never mind.

The primary focus of our parsha is the dialogue between Abraham and his servant and then the servant with the various family members of Rebecca. During this discourse, Abraham makes his servant swear not to bring home a Canaanite shiksa. The servant, politely unoffended, retorts: what if the woman does not consent to follow me to this land, shall I then take your son back to the land from which you came?” (Gen. 24:5). So this is, of course, the biblical source that all good bachurs need to be set up via shadchan. It also shows the failure of the system. If you cannot get someone be proactive. Go the extra, well in this case, many hundred miles.

But seriously, if a projected rejection is anticipated why not just take Isaac along ab initio? Equally startling is Abraham’s response: On no account must you take my son back there!” (6) Like every good Jewish parent, Abraham is worried. Traveling is wearisome and dangerous. Abraham’s fear, however, is peculiar. It not is just a by command that Abraham requests his son remain but also though oath: And if the woman does not consent to follow you, you shall be clear of your oath to me; but do not take my son back there” (8). The placement of this verse is extremely peculiar. It comes AFTER Abraham says that his servant will be absolved of his oath if he fails to get a nice frum meidelah. In light of its position, there must be some anathema of returning Isaac to Mesopotamia.

Many commentators claim this oversensitivity stems from Isaac’s near death as a sacrificial lamb. In fact, Ḥazal pick up on this oddity, combine it with Isaac’s sojourn in Gerar, and develop the opinion that Isaac truly had sacrificial status and was not able to leave Israel. While this is brilliant exegesis, I would like to present an alternative explanation: Isaac as a symbol of Jewish identity and destiny.

God’s first command to Abram is the famous call of “go forth!” Abram is told to leave: “your native land, and from your father’s house, to the land I will show you.” (Gen. 12:1). While this verse is a fantastic mini-depiction of Jewish history, it stands in slight contrast to a few verses before. We are told in 11:31: “Terah took his son Abram, his grandson Lot, … and they set out together from Ur of the Chaldeans for the land of Canaan, but when they came as far as Haran they settled there.” Abram has already been uprooted, what exactly is God’s command?


This is where the darshani aspect enters: perhaps the command of Lekh Lekha is not merely a positive commanded to get to Israel but also contains the inverse: DON’T COME BACK! Once God has charted a national destiny it is utter blasphemy and potentially life-threatening to attempt to completely uproot it. You may just end up dead, or worse, in the belly of a fish. “Hermione you need to get your priorities straight.” Wait, wrong book. Regardless, this may yet be Abraham’s tension in letting Isaac return to Mesopotamia. Isaac is now the symbol of Jewish destiny. Going back would set Jewish history in inverse. We can now understand the primary placing of “land whence you came” in this Abrahamic discourse.


The anathema of resetting Jewish history by undoing the will of God is ever-present in Tanakh. A more famous example is the prohibition of returning to Egypt. Although the Egypt of today is no longer the Egypt of magic, Pharaohs, and frogs, we are still prohibited to return. Maimonides in chapter 5 section 7 in Laws of Kings mentions three sources of torah prohibitions from returning to Egypt. One of the more famous sources for this negative commandment is in the laws of kings in Deut. 17. A king is not allowed to have too many horses lest he send people to Egypt to get more, and this is wrong “Since the Lord has warned you, you must not go back that way again” (17:17). Crossing God by intervening and undermining a completed historical process is dangerous.

This, in fact, does happen! After most of the land is exiled during 586 BCE, Yohanan ben Quareah begins to lead the remnant Jewish populace towards Egypt. Jeremiah, in a brilliant and harrowing prophecy (chapters 43-45) delineates the destruction awaiting the populace who returns to Egypt. Stay in the land, Jeremiah claims, and God will provide your needs.

Attempting to go back to the past is impossible and undesirable. Jewish destiny on a mass spectrum is not to be tampered with lest it fall into total ruin. Abraham sensed this in not allowing his son, Isaac, to return to Abram’s birthplace. God explicitly commands us not to return the place where he actively removed us from. God delineates a forward moving destiny for the Jewish nation. We are in constant progress and we are to strive to advance to the next historical landmark. The non-existence of a Jewish homeland, according to this reading, is not a valid option. Returning, dwelling, and wallowing in the past is not only ineffective, but destructives. So while we may be the heralds of our own destiny we are prevented one option: return to past existence.

Parshat Vayera: Brothers in Yarns

By BEN GREENFIELD

The Biblical narratives of Aqeidat Yitzhaq and of “Yishmael's Expulsion” hold radically different places in the hearts and minds of Jewish readers. Aqeidat Yitzhaq is, after all, Aqeidat Yitzaq! - familiar to us through repeated emphasis in Jewish liturgy, literature, and theology – while the story of Abraham sending Yishmael and Hagar away is, well, somewhere in Bereishit. What may surprise you, however, is that the Torah seems to disagree with this well-known dichotomy. Instead, she implores us – constantly, emphatically – to read treat these two episodes as a singular whole.

The Torah employs two tools in closing the gap between these two narratives: structural parallels and textual parallels. To appreciate the first, it may be worthwhile to briefly summarize both stories. 

Aqeidat Yitzhak, it may be recalled, flows roughly as follows:

Avraham is commanded to kill Yitzhaq; Avraham rises and prepares; they journey, without a set destination; for a moment, it seems Yitzhaq will be killed; Divine intervention saves Yitzhaq; Avraham opens his eyes and sees a replacement; God blesses Avraham's seed; cut to the genealogy of Yitzhaq's future wife (cf. Gen 22)

Now consider Aqeidat Yishmael Yishmael's Expulsion:

Avraham is commanded to banish Yishmael and Hagar; Avraham rises and prepares; Yishmael and Hagar journey, without a set destination; for a moment, it seems Yishmael will die; Divine intervention saves Yitzhaq; Hagar's eyes open and she finds water; God blesses Hagar's seed; Yishmael finds a wife (cf. 21:12-21)

The parity, I pray, is perfectly perceptible. Of course, my summaries overextend themselves just a bit in an attempt to emphasize the resemblance. Nonetheless, the point remains: in their structural core, the two stories are pretty much one.

In addition, a wide range of syntactic parallels likewise link these two tales. A full survey is beyond the scope of brief dvar – but suffice it to say that many relatively rare phrases are blatantly repeated between the two stories: “Abraham rose early in the morning”; “a distance”; “laid it upon”; “the angel of the Lord called to him”; “lifted up”; “get up”; “listen to . . . the voice” . . . the list goes on. One can find even dissimilar words that bind the texts together: Hagar places her dying child under a bush ( הַשִּׂיחִם) and Avraham finds a ram caught in a thicket (בַּסְּבַךְ ): rarely does shrubbery play such a prominent role in the Biblical chronicle without first being set ablaze.

In effect, reading Aqeidat Yitzhaq on its own is simply impossible: one cannot scan it without immediately thinking of Yishmael and Hagar. Reading over Yishmael's Expulsion elicits the converse effect, as Aqeidat Yitzhak language and themes are soon invoked. And the effect is profound.

For one, this connection liberates the Yishmael story from its otherwise “mediocre” place in the Stories--of-Biblical-Significance hierarchy. Much as the re-canonization of Shir HaShirim transformed it from an apocryphal piece of poetry to a central theological work, the re-Aqeidazation of Yishmael's story invites us – allows us, even – to find rich meaning therein. In addition, this literary bridge rescues us from the trap of necessarily reading the Yishmael story through “negative glasses”. Several traditional commentators seem to snatch at every hermeneutic opportunity to gloss virtue into Yitzhaq's tale and vice into the Yishmael story. (For example, Rashi to 21:14: “Avraham gave them bread and water – But not gold or silver, for Avraham hated Yishmael for developing evil ways.”) Guided by the tight similarities of these texts, we may see in Hagar and Yishmael tremendous signs of virtue¹ or, alternatively, be emboldened by the Torah to read constructive criticism into the Akeida chapter. Granted, in reading these texts carefully, we may arrive at the same conclusions transmitted by Rashi and captured in our liturgy – but in letting them live side-by-side, we breathe new life into Yishmael's story and discover a fresh view of the familiar Aqeida story.

1Several Islamic hadiths do just that, reading faith and heroism in those self-same Biblical details. Check out http://www.answering-islam.org/Index/I/ishmael.html for these texts in translation.