Yaakov's Travels: Shechem After Beit El

          Yesterday, we discussed the question as to why Yaakov, upon returning to Canaan, first settles in Shekhem, before proceeding to Beit-El, where he had promised to establish a beit Elokim, and before reuniting with his father in Chevron.  As we saw, Rabbi Menachem Leibtag, in his internet shiurim (http://tanach.org/breishit/vayish3.htm), suggested that in truth, Yaakov settled in Shekhem only after erecting a monument in Beit-El and visiting his father in Chevron, and the Torah's presentation of the sequence of events does not follow chronological order.

            Among the advantages of this bold theory is that it results in Shimon and Levi being at an older age at the time when they took up arms against the male population of Shekhem.  Let us try calculating how old Shimon and Levi were upon Yaakov's return to Canaan.  Recall from Parashat Vayetze that Yaakov worked a total of twenty years for Lavan before returning to Canaan (31:41), and he married Leah after the first seven years (see 29:20-25).  Thus, even if we should assume that Leah conceived with her oldest son immediately, and bore Shimon and Levi – her second and third children – very soon thereafter, Shimon and Levi could have been no older than eleven or twelve, or so, when Yaakov left Lavan's home thirteen years after his marriage to Leah.  According to Chazal (Megila 17a), Yaakov spent a year and a half in Sukkot (see 33:17) before crossing into Eretz Yisrael, and thus Shimon and Levi were approximately thirteen years of age when Yaakov returned to his homeland.

 

It seems difficult to imagine, Rabbi Leibtag contended, that two boys of this age would be capable of waging the kind of battle in Shekhem that Shimon and Levi waged to avenge their sister's rape.  If, however, we claim that the incident of Shekhem occurred several years later, after Yaakov journeyed to Beit-El and then to Chevron, Shimon and Levi are in their late teens or so at the time of their assault on Shekhem, an age that far better suits such a bold and violent measure.

 

What more, this theory also helps explain Shekhem's attraction to Dina.  Dina was Leah's seventh child (see 30:21), and the Torah records a gap between the births of Leah's fourth and subsequent children (see 29:35).  Thus, Dina could have been born no earlier than the eighth year or so of Leah's marriage to Yaakov, or five years before Yaakov's return to Canaan.  If Yaakov settled in Shekhem just one or two years after leaving Padan Aram, it would be hard to explain Shekhem's lustful desire for Dina, who was all of seven years of age, at most.  Once we explain that Yaakov spent several years in Beit-El and Chevron before settling in Shekhem, Dina becomes a young teenager at the time when she "went to see the daughters of the land" and fatefully caught Shekhem's attention.

 

Of course, this theory must provide some explanation for why the Torah would arrange the events out of chronological sequence.  Rabbi Leibtag suggests a number of possible reasons, the simplest of which being that the Torah sought to combine Yaakov's experiences in Shekhem into a single narrative.  Before the story of Dina's capture by Shekhem, the Torah tells of Yaakov's purchase of a plot of land outside the city, where he also erected an altar to God (33:19).  Rabbi Leibtag suggested that Yaakov made Shekhem his first stop in Canaan to follow in the footsteps of his grandfather, Avraham, who first stopped in Shekhem when he arrived in Canaan and erected an altar at that site (12:6-7).  Yaakov's purchase of a plot of land was likely an investment made in anticipation of his future, permanent settlement in the area.  The Torah perhaps wished, in the interest of clarity, to combine all of Yaakov's Shekhem-related experiences into a single narrative, and therefore presented the story of Dina immediately following the account of Yaakov's purchase of land outside Shekhem.

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Yaakov's Travels: Why Shechem Before Beit El?

   Parashat Vayishlach tells of Yaakov's return to Canaan after twenty years in the service of his uncle and father-in-law, Lavan, in the distant region of Padan Aram.  Upon returning to Canaan, Yaakov had two immediate responsibilities: fulfilling the vow he had made during his flight from Canaan, to establish a beit Elokim ("house of God") at Bet-El (see 28:22), and returning to his father, who had settled in Chevron.  We would therefore have expected Yaakov to travel directly to Beit-El, fulfill his vow, and then proceed southward to Chevron to reunite with his father.

            Surprisingly, however, Yaakov first settles outside the city of Shekhem, where he purchases a lot of territory (33:18-19).  The ensuing story, of the rape of Dina and her brothers' destruction of the city, strongly suggests that Yaakov and his family had established a permanent residence in the area.  The governor of Shekhem, Chamor, in requesting Dina's hand in marriage for his son, extends to Yaakov an offer of business and social relations: "You will marry with us: you will give your daughters to us, and you will take our daughters; you will live with us: the land shall be before you – settle and do commerce with it, and take possession of it" (34:9-10).  Chamor was clearly under the impression that Yaakov and his family had settled near Shekhem as a long-term arrangement.  Had Yaakov settled there for only a brief period, as a way station along his trip to Chevron, it seems hardly likely that Chamor would invite him to become business and marriage partners.  And besides, as mentioned, Yaakov purchased a plot of land, which certainly indicates that he planned on settling there permanently.

            The question thus arises, why did Yaakov settle in Shekhem, before going to Beit-El to fulfill his vow and to Chevron to reunite with his father?

            Rabbi Menachem Leibtag (http://tanach.org/breishit/vayish3.htm) suggests resolving this question by boldly postulating that the Torah's narrative in this parasha does not follow chronological sequence.  The events recorded after the Shekhem narrative, namely, God's prophecy to Yaakov at Bet-El, the birth of Binyamin and Rachel's death, and Yaakov's arrival in Chevron, occurred before the story of Shekhem.  In truth, Yaakov, as we would have expected, proceeded directly to Beit-El, where he erected a monument, and thereafter he journeyed to Chevron, during which time Rachel died.  After reuniting with his father, Yaakov settled with his family outside Shekhem, until God instructed Yaakov to move away from Shekhem and erect an altar in Beit-El.  (Essentially, this theory claims that the section of 35:9-29 belongs chronologically before chapter 34.)

            Rabbi Leibtag draws support for his theory from the opening verse of the section that tells of the prophecy at Beit-El and Rachel's death: "God appeared to Yaakov once again, when he arrived from Padan Aram…" (35:9\).  The Torah describes this event as having occurred "when he arrived from Padan Aram," strongly indicating that it took place shortly, if not immediately, after Yaakov's return to Canaan.  

However, according to the sequence of events as they appear in the Torah, Yaakov had already settled outside Shekhem, where his daughter was raped and his sons' ransacked the city, and he had then traveled with his family to Beit-El.  Why would the Torah date this event as occurring "when he arrived from Padan Aram" if Yaakov had already lived for some time in Canaan?  This verse becomes more easily understood once we claim that this incident occurred earlier, immediately upon Yaakov's arrival in Canaan.  Likewise, shortly before his passing, Yaakov recalls Rachel's death and refers to this tragedy as occurring "when I arrived from Padan" (Bereishit 48:7), reinforcing our suspicion that these events transpired earlier than the point at which they appear in the narrative, soon after Yaakov's return to Canaan.

            In the coming days we will be"H discuss this theory further.

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The Haftara of Vayishlach: Edom, Thieves and Vintagers

 

            The haftara for Parashat Vayishlach, the book of Ovadya, foretells the eventual downfall of the kingdom of Edom, and lists a number of crimes for which this kingdom was deserving of such a fate.

            Towards the beginning of this prophecy, Ovadya rhetorically asks, "Even if thieves came upon you, nighttime marauders – how were you destroyed?  Wouldn't they steal only what they needed?  And even if vintagers came to you, wouldn't they leave gleanings?" (1:5).  The prophet expresses his astonishment over the complete ruin of what was once a powerful and prosperous empire.  Even when plunderers ransack a city, they don't leave it empty; they take only that for which they could conceivably have some need.  And when vintagers clean a vineyard of its grapes, they leave behind the undesirable produce.  The Edomite kingdom, however, as the prophet foresees, would be left in utter ruin, which nothing remaining.  Ovadya expresses this bewilderment after describing the kingdom's hubris and arrogant sense of security (verse 3).  History would prove that Edom is not only vulnerable, but also headed towards extraordinary devastation.

            Rav Mendel Hirsch, in his commentary to the haftarot, draws an insightful distinction between the two analogies drawn by the prophet in the aforementioned verse – thieves, and vintagers.  The first analogy involves people who have no legal right to the property they seize, who lawlessly and forcefully capture the desired goods.  The harvesters, by contrast, are of course invited into the vineyard, summoned for the very purpose of removing the produce.

  Accordingly, Rav Hirsch suggests, the prophet here speaks of two groups of enemies that would visit destruction upon the Edomite empire.  First, the kingdom would fall prey to the "nighttime marauders," people with no prior association with Edom and thus no justification at all for launching their assault.  Additionally, however, Edom would be overrun by "vintagers," nations that it had "invited" into its kingdom through the wrongs it committed against them.  After many years of enduring the cruelty of Edomite oppression, these peoples are perhaps justified in raiding the kingdom to "harvest" its "produce."  Yet, even they are not justified in seizing the "gleanings," in clearing the country out completely. 

 Even in a justified war, there are basic limits on the extent of damage that may be inflicted upon the enemy.  And so even the "vintagers," those who perhaps have a legitimate right to invade Edom, should know to at least leave behind "gleanings."  However, in retribution for Edom's own ruthless and unrestrained oppression of other peoples, it, too, will one day lose even its "gleanings," and will suffer the same humiliation and destitution that it had visited upon others over the course of its history.

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Rav Hirsch on Yaakov's Dread

      Parashat Vayishlach begins by telling of Yaakov's discovery that his brother, Esav, was approaching with an army of four hundred men.  Yaakov's response is characterized by fear and dread, and he instantly divides his family and belongings, offers an impassioned plea to God for assistance, and sends his brother expensive gifts accompanied by a message of submission and appeasement.

 

            Yaakov's apprehension about this anticipated confrontation with his brother seems to contrast sharply with the manner in which he had approached his conflict with his uncle and father-in-law, Lavan.  Towards the end of Parashat Vayetze (31:36-55), we read of Yaakov's harsh exchange with Lavan, who responded by agreeing to a peaceful settlement.  There Yaakov speaks with confidence, conviction and poise, as he forcefully presents his claims and grievances against his wily, conniving father-in-law.  In his message to Esav, by contrast, Yaakov speaks with almost self-deprecating submission, repeatedly referring to himself as Esav's servant and to Esav as his master.

 

            Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch, in a brief but trenchant passage in his commentary, attributes Yaakov's different approaches to his two nemeses to the different circumstances surrounding these conflicts:

 

And how different is Jacob's attitude to Esau to what it was to Laban.  We can recognize what strength the consciousness of innocence gives, and what an oppressive feeling even an appearance of guilt awakens.  Twenty years endurance of a fight against wrong which you innocently have to bear do not have such a depressing effect as one minute's feeling towards somebody whom we know feels hurt by us, and who may not see the motive which, though it may not justify our action, can at least excuse it.

 

According to Rav Hirsch, Yaakov's forceful, confident words to Lavan were spoken from the unquestionable moral high-ground.  Both he and Lavan knew without doubt that he – Yaakov – was the innocent victim of twenty years of devious schemes and machinations.  In a sense, Rav Hirsch asserts, fighting such a battle is far easier than the conflict Yaakov now confronts after taking leave of Lavan – his conflict with his vengeful brother.  Yaakov knows full well that he bears – in Rav Hirsch's words – at least "an appearance of guilt."

  Even assuming that his "theft" of Esav's blessing was justified in light of Yitzchak's mistaken image of Esav, as is traditionally explained, there is still some legitimate basis for Esav's resentful feelings towards his brother.  Yaakov could not feel the same confidence in his conflict with Esav as he did when confronting Lavan because of the degree of guilt – be it perceived or actual – that he bore with regard to his strained relationship with his brother.  This uneasiness yielded, in Rav Hirsch's words, a "depressing effect" that undermined Yaakov's conviction and resolve, and resulted in the fear and apprehension described towards the beginning of this parasha.

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Yaakov's Struggle: Escape or Triumph

  The Torah in Parashat Vayishlach tells the mysterious story of Yaakov's nighttime wrestle with an assailant as he makes his way towards Canaan, where he would reunite with his brother Esav.  By the end of the narrative it becomes clear that Yaakov's assailant is angelic, rather than human, as Yaakov demands from him a blessing and he renames Yaakov "Yisrael," a name-change that is confirmed by God later in the parasha (35:10).

The Rashbam advances a particularly novel and unconventional reading of this incident, claiming that God dispatched the angel in order to prevent Yaakov from escaping from Esav.  According to the Rashbam, Yaakov's nighttime crossing of the Yabok stream, which took place just prior to the assault (32:23), was intended as a secret escape route.  The Rashbam refers us in this context to the verses in Sefer Shemuel II (17:21-24), which tell of King David crossing the Jordan River during the night to escape from the rebel forces led by his son Avshalom.  Nighttime river-crossings thus appear to be associated with escape routes, and the Rashbam claims that here, too, Yaakov attempted to avoid his confrontation with Esav by escaping.  

God, however, who had promised to protect Yaakov and return him safely to Canaan, wanted to ensure that Yaakov would reunite with Esav and emerge safely from this confrontation, which would confirm the truth of the divine promise.  He therefore sent an angel to delay Yaakov until dawn, at which point Yaakov would be no longer able to make an inconspicuous escape.  For this reason, once morning arrived the angel wished to take leave of Yaakov ("shalecheni ki ala ha-shachar" – 32:27); now that Yaakov could no longer escape along a secret route under the protection of the nighttime darkness, the angel's mission has been accomplished.

This approach of the Rashbam seems difficult to accept for a number of reasons, primarily, perhaps, because of its implications with regard to the name "Yisrael."  The angel confers this title upon Yaakov because "sarita im elohim ve-im anashim va-tukhal' – "you have struggled against angels and men and have prevailed" (32:29) – presumably referring to Yaakov's triumph over the angel.  According to the Rashbam's understanding of this episode, however, it is doubtful whether this triumph should be seen in a favorable light.  

As Professor Nechama Leibowitz noted, it emerges according to the Rashbam's approach that Yaakov's "victory over the angel implies that his weakness, his wish to flee from the Lord, his natural physical fears triumphed over his faith and trust."  In the Rashbam's view, Yaakov's confrontation with the angel was necessitated as a result of his unjustified fear of his brother; this is hardly one of the great, heroic moments in Yaakov's life.  It seems very difficult to imagine that the name by which his progeny is forever known – Yisrael – serves to commemorate a moment of spiritual weakness, an event in which Yaakov failed to display the confidence and trust in God's promise that we would expect from our great patriarch.

For this and other reasons, Professor Leibowitz expresses her strong preference for the traditional reading of this verse, as Rashi cites from the Midrash, that Yaakov's assailant was Esav's representative angel, and this incident alludes to the fact that Yaakov and his descendants will always emerge triumphant from their harsh confrontations against the hostile enemies that rise against them.

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Why was Beit El not Chosen?

   We read in Parashat Vayishlach that God revealed Himself to Yaakov in Beit-El upon his return from Charan, just as He had spoke to him there as he fled from Canaan (35:9).  The Torah writes that upon concluding this second prophecy, "God ascended from him, at that place where He spoke with him" (35:13).  Rashi comments on this verse, "I do not know what this teaches."  Rashi saw no reason why the Torah would emphasize that God left Yaakov "at that place where He spoke with him."  (See Ramban, Radak and Keli Yakar.)

            Rav Moshe Leib Shachor, in his Avnei Shoham, suggests a possible explanation for this emphasis, claiming that the Torah wished to "downplay" the significance of Beit-El as a site of divine revelation.  The Torah anticipated that this location, where God had twice appeared to Yaakov at critical junctures in his life, to either promise him protection or predict the emergence of dynasties from his progeny, might one day be looked upon as a shine of sorts.  Indeed, when Yerovam ben Nevat led the cessation of the ten northern tribes and established the Kingdom of Israel, he designated Beit-El as one of the new kingdom's religious centers.  

Conceivably, the Avnei Shoham speculates, Yerovam succeeded in drawing attention to Beit-El by pointing to its rich prophetic history, as the site where God had appeared to Yaakov.  The Torah perhaps sought to dispel this misconception of Beit-El as a holy city comparable with Jerusalem, and therefore emphasized that God left Yaakov at that site.  Meaning, once the prophecy concluded, God's presence departed and Beit-El returned to what it had been previously, without obtaining an eternal status as a holy city.

            Why, in fact, did Beit-El not earn a special status, given the prophetic revelations that Yaakov experienced there?

            It might be suggested that Jerusalem, rather than Beit-El, was selected as the permanent "holy site" of Am Yisrael because of the theme of sacrifice which it embodies.  As the Rambam famously writes in Hilkhot Beit Ha-bechira (2:2), the site of the Mikdash in Jerusalem had been designated many centuries earlier as a site for sacrificial offerings. Adam, Kayin, Hevel and Noach all offered sacrifices at this site, and of course it is there where Avraham bound his son Yitzchak upon the altar preparing to offer him as a sacrifice.  And at this site King David offered sacrifices to bring an end to the plague that ravaged the country. 

 Significantly, the site chosen as the eternal "holy place" is the site that represents this theme of sacrifice, of giving of oneself for the Almighty, rather than Beit-El – the place where God promised to bless and protect Yaakov.  We must focus our attention on our responsibilities to God, our obligation to serve Him to the very best of our ability, rather than on that which God promises to do for us.  It is for this reason, perhaps, that tradition has elevated the status of Jerusalem while downplaying that of Beit-El – because our concern must be, first and foremost, how to best serve the Almighty, rather than how the Almighty can best serve us.

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Esav - Much Arrogance?

 Parashat Vayishlach describes Yaakov’s reunion with his older twin, Esav, an encounter which, though Yaakov had dreaded, ultimately proved peaceful.  During the brothers’ brief exchange, Esav declined the expensive gifts that Yaakov had earlier sent as an expression of goodwill and reconciliation.  Esav tells Yaakov, “I have much; my brother, let what you have be yours” (33:9).  Yaakov responds, “…Take, please, my blessing that has been brought to you, for God has graced me and I have everything” (33:11).

 

            Rashi (33:11) notes the difference between Esav’s affirmation, “I have much” (“yesh li rav”) and Yaakov’s response, “I have everything” (“yesh li khol”).  Instinctively, we might have explained these two phrases as reflecting a difference between Yaakov’s sense of contentment and Esav’s insatiable greed.  Yaakov lived his life feeling he has “everything,” whereas Esav acknowledged only that he has “much,” with still more that he would like to obtain.  Rashi, however, explains differently: “’I have everything’ – all my needs.  But Esav spoke in an arrogant manner: ‘I have much’ – far more than my needs.”  According to Rashi, Esav’s recognition that he has “much” reflected not a lack of contentment, but to the contrary, the feeling of having far more than he needed.  Yet, Rashi considers this affirmation a sign of Esav’s arrogance (in Rashi’s words, “Esav diber be-lashon ga’ava”).  Why is it arrogant to acknowledge that one has more than he needs?

            The simple answer, perhaps, is that the arrogance lay not in the mindset, but rather in the manner of speech.  It is acceptable, and even laudable, to silently live with sense that one has been given far more than he needs to live contentedly.  However, speaking about this feeling is viewed as a sign of arrogance.  A person who tells others about his wealth flaunts his material blessings and invites envy, usually intentionally.  The humble person will describe himself in simple terms, as having what he needs, in order not to arouse jealousy, even if inside he acknowledges that he has far more than that.

            Rav Mordechai Gifter (in Pirkei Torah) suggests a different explanation for Rashi’s comments.  A person who views his wealth as something given to him by the Almighty will come to realize that he has received it for a purpose.  Such a person will look upon his assets as a means for properly serving God, in all that this entails.  As such, he will acknowledge, as Yaakov did, that he has “everything” – everything he needs to accomplish his assigned mission in the world.  Esav, however, took pride in his fortune and viewed it as the product of his own efforts and skill, rather than a gift from the heavens.  He thus naturally felt entitled to use his wealth as he pleased, without any sense of responsibility or higher purpose.  Hence, he could say that he has “far more than my needs.”  One who sees material possessions as a means to achieving his role in the world will acknowledge that he has “everything,” while a person who takes personal credit for his fortune, and thus fails to recognize the responsibility that comes with possession, will claim to have “much” – more than he needs.

 

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Sunrise and Sunset for Yaakov

   We find in Parashat Vayishlach the story of Yaakov’s encounter with a mysterious assailant in Penuel the night before his reunion with Esav.  Yaakov wrestles with the attacker throughout the night, and ultimately prevails.  The Torah writes at the conclusion of this narrative, “The sun shone for him as he passed Penuel” (32:32).  The Gemara in Masekhet Chulin (91b) comments that God at this point “returned” to Yaakov the daylight that He had “withheld” many years earlier, when Yaakov first left Eretz Yisrael to Charan.  The Sages famously teach that as Yaakov left home and arrived at the site where he dreamt his famous dream, God had the sun set early so that Yaakov would sleep at that site.  Now, twenty years later, God “returned” the daylight by having the sun rise early that morning for Yaakov at Penuel.

            What deeper message might this account, of the early sunset and sunrise, seek to convey?

            There is perhaps nothing in the world that can be anticipated with more assurance and certitude than the cycle of the sun’s rise and descent.  While other natural forces seem to occur arbitrarily, at least to some extent, the astronomical cycle can be predicted with absolute certainty.  In the story of Yaakov’s exile from and return to Eretz Yisrael – which is often viewed as a symbolic precursor of his descendants’ exile and redemption – even the sun’s rise and setting did not occur at the anticipated times.  

     For Yaakov, even the most predictable phenomena in life did not unfold as planned.  This might symbolize the fact that in the history of Am Yisrael, and perhaps in the lives of individuals, as well, few events, if any, can be predicted with certainty.  Rarely do life’s events unfold according to plan, or follow the person’s carefully designed schedule.  In Yaakov’s case, this was shown in the extreme, in the delay of nature’s most unfailingly predictable events.  These deviations are perhaps meant as models of the unexpected twists and turns that individual life and our national history so often take.

            Sometimes we confront an unexpected “sunset,” problems and hardships that we could not possibly have foreseen beforehand.  In other instances, we are treated to an entirely unanticipated “sunrise,” good fortune from an unexpected source or turn of events.  The story of Yaakov teaches that while we must work, plan and prepare as best we can, and attempt to steer our lives in the proper direction, we must also accept the reality that some things cannot be planned, that, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse, even the most predictable aspects in life cannot always be predicted.

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Yaakov Anticipating Esav's Questions: Why So Many Words?

    Parashat Vayishlach begins with Yaakov’s anxious preparation for his reunion with his brother Esav.  As part of these preparations, he sends large, expensive gifts ahead to Esav, with specific instructions to his servants who delivered these herds:

When my brother Esav meets you and asks you, saying, “To whom do you belong, where are you going, and whose are these that are before you?” – you shall say, “[I belong] to our servant, Yaakov; it is a gift sent to my master Esav, and he is also behind us. (32:18-19)

Interestingly, the Torah found it necessary to report in detail all the specific questions that Yaakov anticipated from his brother: “To whom do you belong, where are you going, and whose are these that are before you?”  Seemingly, it would have sufficed for the Torah to simply record what Yaakov instructed his servants to tell Esav, without specifying the particular questions Yaakov anticipated.

            One explanation, perhaps, relates to Rashi’s comment on verse 19, where he notes that Yaakov instructed his servants to answer Esav’s questions in the sequence they were asked (“al rishon rishon ve-al acharon acharon”).  In light of Rashi’s observation, we might say that the Torah specified the anticipated questions to show the precision that Yaakov demanded from his servants in responding to Esav, in an effort to display the highest level of respect.  This, in turn, teaches that answering multiple questions in the sequence in which they were asked is an expression of respect and proper etiquette.

            Rav Gamliel Rabinowitz, in his work Tiv Ha-Torah (Jerusalem, 5768), suggests another message that perhaps underlies the Torah’s unusual verbosity in these verses.  Posing these kinds of questions upon confronting a group of shepherds with herds of animals might reflect an excessive degree of curiosity.  By anticipating Esav’s posing all these questions, the Torah perhaps sought to establish an association between excessive curiosity and the negative character of Esav; in other words, the Torah here teaches that overcurious inquisitiveness is a trait associated with Esav, a manifestation of the yetzer ha-ra, and hence something we ought to avoid.

            It is human nature to inquire about other people, and to take inordinate interest in what they have and what they are doing.  Beyond the danger of invasiveness and denying people the right to privacy, excessive curiosity can also lead to a wasteful consumption of a person’s time and attention.  Those who constantly ask the kinds of questions asked by Esav – inquiring about the details of other people’s lives – run the risk of draining their limited resources of time and mental energy.  While we most certainly show concern for others and interest in their needs, we mustn’t hunt for useless knowledge about other people.  It is far preferable to reserve our curiosity and inquisitiveness for Torah study and other beneficial and productive areas of interest – the kind of behavior commonly associated with Yaakov, rather than Esav.

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The Brothers and Shechem: Shimon and Levi vs. The Others

           We read in Parashat Vayishlach the tragic story of Dina’s abduction and defilement by Shekhem, the prince of the city with that same name (chapter 34).  After Dina’s abduction, Shekhem and his father approach Yaakov and his sons to propose that the two clans join through marriage and economic cooperation.  Yaakov’s sons, speaking with what the Torah described as mirma (literally, “deceit”), express their approval of the plan, on condition that all the males of Shekhem agree to undergo circumcision.  Shekhem succeeds in persuading the people of his city to accept these terms, and all the men are circumcised.  Three days later, Shimon and Levi assault the city, kill every male, loot the city’s property, and rescue their sister.

            Among the questions raised concerning this incident was whether Yaakov’s other sons, besides Shimon and Levi, were party to this scheme.  In describing the exchange between Yaakov’s family and Shekhem, the Torah tells that “Yaakov’s sons deceptively answered Shekhem and his father Chamor” and stipulated the condition that the people of Shekhem undergo circumcision (34:13).  This would clearly suggest that all of Yaakov’s sons took part in this deception.  Later, however, we read that only Shimon and Levi attacked the city (34:25).  One might suggest, at first glance, that all the brothers conspired together, but only Shimon and Levi – who were perhaps the warriors in the family – carried out the attack.  On the other hand, it seems difficult to imagine that only two brothers would be sent to attack the city if they all took part in the scheme.  Wouldn’t they want as many men as possible to undertake this daring mission?  Furthermore, Yaakov’s condemnation of the attack – both here and as he lay on his deathbed, as recorded in Parashat Vayechi – are reserved for Shimon and Levi, indicating that only they schemed against the people of Shekhem.

            The question thus remains, why does the Torah speak of “Yaakov’s sons,” without specifying Shimon and Levi, as the ones who presented the condition of circumcision?

            This question led a number of commentators to suggest that all the brothers conspired against Shekhem – but not with the intent of murdering its male population; this plan was devised only by Shimon and Levi.  The Ramban (34:13) explains that the brothers did not expect the people of Shekhem to agree to undergo circumcision.  By making Dina’s marriage contingent upon the people’s circumcision, Yaakov’s sons essentially sought to sabotage the deal proposed by Shekhem, so that Dina could be safely returned and not married to Shekhem.  And in the unlikely event that the Shekhemites agreed to the condition, the brothers felt, they could easily enter the city while the men recovered from the procedure and rescue Dina without confrontation.  It was only Shimon and Levi who, independently, decided to resort to violence.  (See also Rav Shimshon Refael Hirsch.)

 

            Shadal explains along similar lines, though in his view, the brothers never even imagined that the people of Shekhem would agree to circumcise; such a possibility never entered their minds.  They imposed the condition of circumcision as an excuse for rejecting Shekhem’s offer, so that Dina can be returned.  But the Shekhemites’ unexpected consent to this condition put Yaakov’s family in a very difficult position: now that the people of Shekhem had fulfilled their side of the deal, Yaakov’s family had to fulfill theirs, and allow Dina to marry Shekhem.  Shimon and Levi refused to allow this to happen, and they therefore took up arms against the city of Shekhem.  Rather than abide by their side of the bargain, Shimon and Levi felt that revenge was in order – a stance that their father would later sharply condemn.

            (See also Chizkuni, Rabbenu Yosef Bekhor Shor and Abarbanel.)

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