Why Would Yaakov's Family Members Own Items of Pagan Worship?

We read in Parashat Vayishlach of Yaakov’s return to Beit-El, the site of the famous dream he dreamt when he had fled from Canaan many years earlier. Upon returning to Canaan, he went to the hallowed site in order to fulfill his pledge to erect an altar. Before journeying to Beit-El, Yaakov issued a startling instruction to his family: “Remove all the foreign deities that are in your midst…” (35:2). The straightforward reading of the verse implies that Yaakov’s family members had idols or other articles of pagan worship in their possession, which needed to be eliminated before the family made its pilgrimage to Beit-El to worship the Almighty. Two verses later, we read that the members of the household indeed submitted to Yaakov “all the foreign deities that were in their possession,” and he buried them.

The question naturally arises as to why and how such articles were found among Yaakov’s family members. Rashi explains that they came into the family’s possession when Yaakov’s sons looted the city of Shekhem, as we read in the previous section. Still, the question remains, why would they seize objects of idol worship?

We find several different approaches among the commentators. The Radak explains that these were not actually objects of worship, but rather articles which bore images of pagan deities. This also seems to have been view of Chizkuni, who explained that Yaakov wished to eliminate these objects in order to avoid the impression that the family’s prayers and sacrifices in Beit-El were directed toward the images in their possession. The Ramban and Seforno explain that Yaakov’s sons had the residents of Shekhem renounce their idolatrous beliefs – a process known in halakhic jargon as “bittul” – such that the articles became permissible for use. Nevertheless, Yaakov did not wish to have these objects in the family’s possession in Beit-El. The Ramban explains that this was for the purpose of “taharat ha-kodesh” – to ensure an especially high standard of purity – whereas the Seforno writes, “Remove them from your midst now, as we go to Beit-El, in order to distance all thoughts of idolatry from your hearts.”

A somewhat similar approach is taken by Ibn Ezra, who, commenting to this verse, writes, “Chalila chalila [Heaven forbid] that the prophet [Yaakov] would sleep with women who worshipped foreign deities. You will find the explanation in Parashat Vayelekh Moshe.” Ibn Ezra outright rejects the prospect that idolatrous objects were found among Yaakov’s family members, and refers us to his comments to Parashat Vayelekh (Devarim 31:16). There he writes: “We know that God is one, and change comes from the recipients… And part of serving God is maintaining the capacity to receive in accordance with the place.” Ibn Ezra’s comments are characteristically vague, but he seems to be saying that the pilgrimage to Beit-El required a heighted level of sanctity, and thus the term “elohei ha-neikhar” (“foreign gods”) is used here in a relative sense. Yaakov was telling his family that items which were acceptable to have in their possession until then would be regarded as “elohei ha-neikhar” in Beit-El, a place which demanded a higher level of spiritual awareness. He refers not to idols, but rather to property which was legitimate in some contexts and not others.

Ibn Ezra specifically formulated in his interpretation in terms of a general religious teaching: “And part of serving God is maintaining the capacity to receive in accordance with the place” (“U-mei’avodat Hashem li-shmor koach ha-kibul kefi ha-makom”). We must ensure that our conduct is not only acceptable, but suitable for the setting and context. Measures taken in one set of circumstances might be regarded as “elohei ha-neikhar” in another. Part of our avodat Hashem is carefully considering the appropriateness of our behavior in any given situation, and to ensure that we serve the Almighty the way He wants us to in each and every context.

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Suffering or Strength - Ben Oni or Binyamin

We read in Parashat Vayishlach of the birth of Rachel’s second son, Binyamin, and her death during childbirth. The Torah (35:18) relates that in her final breath Rachel named her newborn son “Ben Oni,” but Yaakov called him “Binyamin,” which is, of course, the name by which he would be known. The name “Ben Oni” is commonly translated as “son of my distress,” or (according to the Ramban), “son of my lament.” Rachel, it seems wished that her son would always remember that his life is owed to his mother’s death, that Rachel had to sacrifice her life to give him his. Yaakov, however, made the bold and undoubtedly difficult decision to deny his beloved wife’s last wish, and to name the infant “Binyamin” – “son of the right,” signifying strength, poise and confidence, as opposed to grief and anguish.

Yaakov’s decision may perhaps convey a lesson about the kind of religious identity we are to forge. He did not want Binyamin’s spiritual mission to be identified by the burden of guilt imposed by the knowledge that his mother died so he could live, or by the challenge he would have to overcome growing up without a mother. Religious commitment undoubtedly demands overcoming adversity and meeting difficult challenges, but this is not how we should define our spiritual mission in this world. Our ambitions must extend beyond “Ben Oni,” dealing with the difficulties and complexities that Jewish life entails. Yaakov wanted to ensure that his descendants would define themselves as “Binyamin” – a people with ambitious goals and aspirations that they confidently pursue.

The Jewish nation’s survival throughout the millennia of hardships and persecution is miraculous and awe-inspiring, but should never define who we are. Our identity and mission is far deeper and more meaningful than mere survival and surmounting enormous obstacles. We are not just “Ben Oni” – we are to identify ourselves as “Binyamin,” people firmly and proudly committed to God’s will.

The Gemara in Masekhet Shabbat (21b) famously asks, “Mai Chanukah” – “What is Chanukah?” – and proceeds to tell the story of the Maccabean revolt and the miracle of the oil. Perhaps, the Gemara’s intent is that the Chanukah celebration is about not just the victory over adversity, but about the lighting of the menorah – our mission to shine the light of faith and spiritual devotion. The victory we celebrate did not end when the Greeks left the Land of Israel; it culminated with the kindling of the menorah, our renewed commitment to Jewish belief, values observance after a prolonged period of spiritual darkness.

(Based on a sermon by Rabbi Henry Hoschander)

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What is the Identity of the Angel Wrestling with Yaakov?

We read in Parashat Vayishlach of Yaakov’s wrestle against a mysterious assailant as he made his way back to Canaan and prepared to meet his brother, Esav. Yaakov was injured during the fight, but ultimately prevailed and trapped his attacker. Before releasing him, Yaakov asked to know his name, to which the man – who is commonly identified as an angel – responded, “Why do you ask my name?” (32:29).

The angel’s response to Yaakov’s question has been interpreted symbolically, as indicating that Am Yisrael’s “assailant” throughout its history has no single “name” or identity. We cannot point to any one particular threat as the exclusive nemesis and source of danger to our existence and mission. The “angel” dispatched to obstruct our path and prevent us from fulfilling our mission assumes many drastically different forms, and we must be prepared to address each and every one. If we make the mistake of assigning that “angel” a name, a single identity, then we will focus all our efforts on responding to that particular threat while failing to address the many others that demand our attention.

Along these lines, the Gemara in Masekhet Chulin (91) cites two views regarding the appearance of Yaakov’s assailant. One view says that the angel appeared to Yaakov as an idolater, while the other claims that he assumed the appearance of a talmid chakham. As in many Aggadic disputes recorded in the Gemara, it seems likely that these are not two opinions, but rather two perspectives that combine to convey the lesson which we are to learn. The Gemara here teaches that potential threats lurk everywhere, spanning the spectrum from corrupt pagans to saintly scholars.

We might intuitively assume that our primary concern must be the “idolater,” external enemies that seek our physical or spiritual downfall, the foreign peoples and ideas that are poised to infiltrate and “attack,” either frontally or deceptively. But the Gemara teaches that we need protection not only from the idolater, but also from the “talmid chakham.” Spiritual dangers lurk even within our own ranks, and even within our inherently sacred settings and institutions. Praying in the synagogue or studying in the yeshiva does not necessarily guarantee security from saro shel Esav, from spiritual threats.

As human beings, we are, by definition, flawed and prone to making mistakes, and mistakes could be made under any circumstances. As such, we must not be concerned only about the “idolater,” about outside influences and forces; we must equally concerned about the “talmid chakham,” about our conduct within our familiar contexts, and recognize the need to struggle under all circumstances and in all settings.

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Yaakov, Lavan, Rashi, and the 613 Mitzvot

Parashat Vayishlach begins with the message Yaakov sent to Esav, which he introduced by saying, “Im Lavan garti” – “I have dwelled with Lavan.” Rashi, in what is perhaps one of the most famous passages in his Torah commentary, notes that the word “garti” has the numerical value of 613, and thus alludes to the 613 Biblical commands. According to Rashi, Yaakov was indicating to Esav, “I dwelled with the evil person Lavan, yet I observed the 613 mitzvot and did not learn from his evil ways.” (It should be noted that this passage does not appear in earlier editions of Rashi’s commentary, and may have been added later.)

Rashi’s comments, which likely originate from an earlier Midrashic source, give rise to numerous questions, as noted by later writers. First, Yaakov could not possibly have observed all 613 mitzvot, many of which are inapplicable outside Eretz Yisrael and relate to the rituals in the Beit Ha-mikdash or the legal responsibilities of the courts. Moreover, Yaakov married two sisters, which the Torah strictly forbids.

As Rav Menacher Kasher notes in his discussion of this Midrashic comment (note 31), other formulations of this passage exist which implicitly resolve these questions. Rav Kasher cites one source (Yalkut Or Ha-afeila) which states, “I was involved in the mitzvot’ – which have the numerical value of garti.” This likely refers not to the observance of the 613 commands, but rather to the study about the commands. Indeed, as Rav Kasher proceeds to cite, Rabbenu Efrayim explains “im Lavan garti” to mean, “Although I lived with Lavan engaged in hard work and labor, I was not lax in my involvement in Torah, which incorporates 613 mitzvot.” Rabbenu Efrayim then adds, “On this basis our Sages z”l said, ‘Whoever fulfills the Torah in a state of poverty will ultimately fulfill it in a state of wealth’.” Another source cited by Rav Kasher is Chemdat Yamim, which explains, “I fulfilled the 613 commands – [meaning,] I’ve accepted upon my children to fulfill them in the future.” According to this interpretation, Yaakov refers here not to the actual performance of the mitzvot, but rather to the commitment that his descendants would perform the mitzvot. The Chemdat Yamim then suggests a different variation, whereby Yaakov tells Esav that he produced twelve tribes that will, in the future, fulfill all the mitzvot. (It should be noted, however, that at that point the founders of only eleven tribes were alive, as Binyamin had not yet been born.)

In truth, we might simply explain Rashi’s comment as intended not as a precise depiction of Yaakov’s mitzva observance, but rather as a vitally important and relevant message to us. Rashi is not informing us that Yaakov observed the 613 mitzvot, but is rather impressing upon us the possibility of remaining loyal to each and every Torah precept even under the most difficult and challenging circumstances. We are all capable of withstanding pressures and negative influences and living an uncompromising Torah life even when we find ourselves in a spiritually-hostile environment.

Of course, Yaakov did not choose to live with Lavan, but was rather compelled to due to his circumstances, and we, too, should not unnecessarily expose ourselves to spiritually harmful influences. But when such situations arise, we may not excuse ourselves from our religious responsibilities in light of the unfavorable circumstances in which we have been placed. “Im Lavan garti” does not excuse us from “taryag mitzvot”; even when religious observance is a challenge, it remains obligatory, in its totality.

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Why was Yaakov Alone?

We read in Parashat Vayishlach of the mysterious man – commonly identified as Esav’s angel – who attacked Yaakov as he made his way back to Canaan from Charan. The Torah gives virtually no information regarding the background of this fight, stating simply, “Va-yivater Yaakov levado” – Yaakov found himself alone at one point while journeying with his family (32:25). The Gemara in Masekhet Chulin (91a) famously explains this to mean that after Yaakov brought his family across the Yabok stream, he went back to retrieve “pakhim ketanim” – small jugs that had been left on the other side.

Much has been written and said about the Gemara’s comment and the message it seeks to convey. Among the more surprising approaches taken to explain the Gemara’s remark is presented by the Keli Yakar, in his commentary here in Parashat Vayishlach. The Keli Yakar contends that Chazalcriticize Yaakov for endangering himself by crossing a stream alone during the dark of night to retrieve “pakhim ketanim” – small, insignificant possessions. He should have simply left these items where they were rather than go through the trouble of retrieving them, whereby he exposed himself to danger. The Keli Yakar goes so far as to claim that Yaakov was attacked as a punishment for this mistake of showing inordinate concern for “pakhim ketanim.”

The question arises as to how we might reconcile the Keli Yakar’s comments with the conclusion of this passage in the Gemara. After establishing that Yaakov returned to retrieve “pakhim ketanim,” the Gemara writes, “From here [we may infer] that the money of righteous people is more precious to them than their bodies…because they do not thrust their hands into stolen goods.” It appears that the Gemara views Yaakov’s conduct not as an aberration, a mistake made by an otherwise righteous man, but rather as characteristic of tzadikim, who pay careful attention to protecting their financial assets.

Given their strict ethical standards, righteous people are at a disadvantage as they seek to secure a livelihood, and they must therefore ensure not to lose any property. How could the Gemara have reached this conclusion about tzadikim from Yaakov’s conduct if that conduct was improper and aberrant?

Apparently, the Keli Yakar understood that the Gemara was not lauding a noble practice of the tzadikim, but rather warning about a potential pitfall into which they are prone to falling. Strict, scrupulous honesty is a challenge not only because one must avoid the temptation to profit through deceitful conduct, but also because one feels pressured to protect his assets.

The Keli Yakar perhaps read the Gemara to mean that tzadikim, more so than others, must struggle against the instinct to obsess over money specifically because they are more limited in their opportunities to acquire it. Yaakov’s mistake of endangering himself for “pakhim ketanim” is one which any scrupulously honest person can make, given the pressure to earn an honest living. We are therefore warned not only to avoid dishonesty in the pursuit of assets, but also to avoid unhealthy obsession over the assets we have already acquired, and to maintain a careful balance between sensible caution and responsibility, on the one hand, and frantic preoccupation, on the other.

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Yaakov's Altars in Beit El and Shechem

We read in Parashat Vayishlach the tragic story of Dina’s abduction in Shekhem, after which God appeared to Yaakov and commanded him to settle in Beit-El and construct an altar (35:1). Several commentators note that God refers here to the vow Yaakov had made when he first left Canaan to make a religious site at the place where he had slept and beheld his famous dream of the ladder (28:22). Rashi (among others) goes even further and (based on the Midrash) detects an element of criticism in God’s command: “Because you delayed [fulfilling] your vow, you were punished and had to endure this [trouble] from your daughter.” Startlingly, Rashi asserts that the tragedy of Dina was a punishment for Yaakov’s failure to promptly fulfill his vow. Instead of proceeding directly to Beit-El upon returning to Eretz Yisrael, Yaakov first encamped in the area of Shekhem, where he purchased property and built a home and stables. Rashi asserts that Yaakov acted improperly by delaying the fulfillment of his vow, and thus his residence in the area of Shekhem resulted in a family tragedy.

It is interesting to note, however, that Yaakov did, in fact, construct an altar – outside Shekhem. The Torah makes a point of telling us that after settling outside Shekhem, “he set up an altar there” (33:20). It is thus quite clear that Yaakov did not somehow neglect God as a result of his involvement in building homes and stables. Yaakov remained focused on his duties to the Almighty even as he tended to his mundane affairs and began building his life anew with his family in the Land of Israel. And yet, nevertheless, Chazal found fault in Yaakov’s priorities, as he neglected to fulfill his vow.

The lesson, perhaps, is the importance of tending to our basic responsibilities before seeking additional areas of religious activity. The altar Yaakov was required to build was to have taken precedence over the altar which he voluntarily chose to build. Although Yaakov constructed an altar outside Shekhem, which was certainly a noble and admirable undertaking, he is criticized for not prioritizing the altar in Beit-El, which he had committed to building. Even as we involve ourselves in worthwhile and noble pursuits, we must ensure that they do not come at the expense of our more basic responsibilities and obligations, which must always take precedence and be given priority.

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The Struggle Persists

We noted the Gemara’s comment in Masekhet Chulin (91a) that when Yaakov wrestled against his mysterious assailant, “they raised dust that reached the Heavenly Throne.” The Gemara makes this comment in reference to the word “va-yei’aveik” (32:25) used to describe the confrontation between Yaakov and his attacker – whom the Midrash identifies as Esav’s angel. According to the Gemara’s reading, the word “va-yei’aveik” relates to the Hebrew word avak – dust – and refers to the dust which Yaakov and the angel kicked up with their feet as they fought, and which extended until the Heavenly Throne.

The Sefat Emet explains the Gemara’s comment to mean that “the war against the ‘other side’ and the evil inclination is forever.” The battle between Yaakov and the angel, which is often viewed as symbolic of our struggle against evil in its many different forms, continues throughout our lives. The description of the dust reaching to the Heavenly Throne, according to the Sefat Emet, speaks of the unlimited duration of this struggle. This struggle always persists; never in our lives do we reach a plateau at which we can rest assured that we will no longer confront any manifestations of saro shel Esav, anymoral or religious challenges. The Sefat Emet cites in this context the Gemara’s famous comment (Sukka 52a), “Whoever is greater than his fellow – his evil inclination is greater than his.” While we might have assumed that a spiritually accomplished person faces fewer spiritual challenges, the Gemara teaches us that this is incorrect; to the contrary, a righteous person must face greater challenges than others, because he has already passed the easier tests.

The “dust” from Yaakov and the angel was not confined to that time and place. We should not think that challenges to our faith and commitment occur only at specific times and under specific circumstances. The “dust” of struggle extends throughout our lives, continually offering us new opportunities to achieve and accomplish through hard work and steadfast devotion to our principles and to God.

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Dust from the Struggle Rising to Heaven

The Torah in Parashat Vayishlach tells of Yaakov’s famous struggle against a mysterious assailant, whom the Midrash (cited by Rashi to 32:25) identifies as saro shel Esav – the angelic representative of Esav. The word used in reference to this struggle is “va-yei’aveik,” which the Gemara (Chulin 91a) associates with the Hebrew word “avak” – “dust.” The Gemara explains, “They raised dust with their feet until it reached the Heavenly Throne.” Meaning, the fight between Yaakov and the angel is described with the term “va-yei’aveik” because over the course of wrestling their feet kicked dust up into the air.

The question arises, however, as to what Chazal sought to convey by adding that the dust rose to the Heavenly Throne. Did the dust kicked into the air by Yaakov and the angel truly reach the highest point in the heavens? And if it did, why might this be significant?

Yaakov’s struggle with saro shel Esav is commonly viewed as symbolic of the general struggle we must frequently wage against evil in all its forms, both our internal vices and our external foes. These struggles, almost invariably, produce “avak”; they tend to be “dirty,” unpleasant, and unseemly. We tend to associate “holiness” and “spirituality” with a kind of pristine existence where there is no need to concern oneself with the “dust” of Esav, with base human tendencies and the hostilities of devious foes.

The story of Yaakov, however, demonstrates that these struggles are part of the process of building God’s nation. Yaakov, the “simple man who dwelled in tents,” whom Chazal describe as a spiritually-focused scholar who lived simply and peacefully in the “tents” of study, was eventually forced to confront Lavan and Esav; to outmaneuver his wily uncle and then bribe his angry, vengeful brother. The time came for Yaakov to leave the pure, pristine environs of his “tents” and work in the “dusty,” undignified world of Lavan and Esav. Yaakov’s triumph over the angel is thus symbolic of his and his descendants’ triumph over the many forms of adversity that we confront, challenges that often leave us “dirty” and even lame, but ultimately help us build ourselves and our entire nation into what we are meant to become.

The Gemara teaches us that this “avak” rises to the Heavenly Throne. We should never feel that we would be better off, that we would be purer and holier, if we never needed to struggle, if we never had to confront saro shel Esav. The “dirt” produced over the course of our struggles is itself pure and holy. It rises to the Heavenly Throne along with our prayers and repentance. We must never be ashamed or resentful of the necessary difficult confrontations against our internal vices or external challenges, because they are all part of the process begun by Yaakov Avinu, the process of building God’s special nation which will work to improve the world and removing the unseemly “dust” that continues to cover it.

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Shekhem and Dina: Canaanite Conduct

Parashat Vayishlach tells the story of the abduction and rape of Yaakov's daughter, Dina, at the hands of Shekhem, the prince of the city bearing his name. The Torah describes Dina's brothers' response to the news as follows: "The men were distressed and very angry, because he had committed an outrage in Israel by lying with Yaakov's daughter – and this is not to be done" (34:7).

Rashi interprets this verse to mean that the brothers were incensed for two reasons. First, Shekhem "committed an outrage in Israel by lying with Yaakov's daughter." The mistreatment of someone from the family of a person of Yaakov's stature was in itself an unforgivable crime. But additionally, "this is not to be done." Even regardless of Dina's family background, Shekhem's act was reprehensible. Rashi comments, based on the Midrash, "This is not to be done – to rape single girls, for the nations forbade sexual immorality upon themselves as a result of the deluge." Knowing that the flood descended upon the earth (at least in part) due to sexual indulgence, the nations adopted sexual norms which mankind generally observed, until Shekhem violated these accepted guidelines of conduct.

Commenting on Rashi, the Beit Ha-levi writes that the brothers suspected that Shekhem would justify his crime with the claim that he was unaware of Dina's prestigious family background. Therefore, the basic reason for their anger – "for he had committed an outrage in Israel" – was not sufficient grounds for their vindictive attack on the city of Shekhem that they will later launch. The Torah therefore makes the second point, as well, that "this is not to be done" – regardless of the victim's identity.

The Ramban, however, disagrees with the entire premise of this Midrash, that the nations adopted respectable standards of sexual morality after the flood. To the contrary, the Ramban writes, after the Torah issues the various prohibitions against immorality in Sefer Vayikra, it adds, "for it is by such that the nations that I am casting out before you defiled themselves" (Vayikra 18:24). The Torah thus attributes to the Canaanite peoples all the sexual offenses listed in that chapter in Sefer Vayikra, including adultery, incest and bestiality, and it is in response to these offenses that "the land spewed out its inhabitants" (ibid., verse 25). How, then, can Rashi claim that the nations maintained proper moral standards? Secondly, the Ramban adds, earlier in Sefer Bereishit we read of the experiences of Avraham and Yitzchak in the Canaanite city of Gerar, where the people would have killed them to take their wives, compelling them to pose as their wives' brothers, rather than husbands. Is this, asks the Ramban, the policy of a society that had taken upon itself respectable guidelines concerning sexual conduct?

The Ramban therefore explains the verse differently, claiming that "this is not to be done" continues the previous clause – "for he had committed an outrage in Israel… " It is the infringement upon the honor of Yaakov that the brothers deemed "not to be done."

Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi, in his work on Rashi's commentary, raises a difficulty against the Ramban's second argument. To the contrary, Rav Eliyahu Mizrachi contends, the incidents of Sara and Rivka actually prove Rashi's theory. So compliant were the Canaanites with the prohibition against adultery that they would kill a man whose wife they desired rather than simply take her by force. Needless to say, this reflects a sorrowful lack of respect for human life, let alone human dignity, but it does demonstrate their strict adherence to proper guidelines of sexual conduct. How, then, did the Ramban point to these incidents as proofs to his contention, that the Canaanite peoples never adopted any rules governing sexual morality?

Perhaps the simplest explanation of the Ramban is that adultery – relations with a married woman – is not the issue at hand. Shekhem did not seize a married woman, and therefore when Rashi speaks of his having violated accepted norms, he undoubtedly refers to the accepted norms concerning relations with unmarried girls. Indeed, Rabbenu Ovadya Bartenura, in his commentary to this verse, notes that the Midrash employs the phrase, "gidru atzman," literally, "they fenced themselves off." Generally, the verb "g.d.r." refers to an additional measure of stringency enacted so as to avoid a given violation. Rabbenu Ovadya Bartenura thus explains that according to this Midrash, the nations took it upon themselves to refrain from all non-marital relations, including with unmarried women (which is technically permitted for gentiles), so as to avoid transgressing the violation of adultery. Accordingly, the Ramban's proof is indeed convincing. The experiences of Avraham and Yitzchak in Gerar indeed prove that the nations were hardly exemplary models of morality when it came to relations with unmarried women. Though they indeed refrained from seizing married women, they were prepared to kill a husband so that they could take his wife, who would then be unattached.

How would Rashi respond to this challenge, as well as to the evidence brought by the Ramban from Sefer Vayikra, that the Canaanites were, indeed, sexually corrupt?

Rav Chaim Hirschensohn, in his Nimukei Rashi(Hoboken, NJ, 1929), explains that Rashi refers only to accepted and legislated standards, not necessarily to universally practiced guidelines. After the deluge, societies understood the value of sexual morality and enacted appropriate measures to encourage the observance of these standards. In practice, however, the Canaanites remained corrupt and indulgent. In fact, he adds, this is precisely why, as the Torah tells in Sefer Vayikra, their corruption resulted in their banishment from the land. If they were unaware of the value of a sexually disciplined life, then God would not have punished them for their corrupt practices. Specifically becasocieties had established certain guidelines, God punished the Canaanites for their widespread violation of and disregard towards these standards.

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I have Lived with Lavan

In one the most famous passages in his commentary to Chumash, Rashi, in the beginning of Parashat Vayishlach, presents a novel interpretation to Yaakov's message to Esav. According to the plain meaning of the verse, Yaakov simply informs Esav, "I have lived with Lavan and have stayed until now" (32:5). Rashi, however, commenting on the words, "im Lavan garti" ("I have lived with Lavan"), writes, "I have lived with Lavan – and I have observed the six hundred and thirteen commandments, and I did not learn from his evil conduct." Yaakov here emphasizes to his brother that despite his lengthy stay in Lavan's home and prolonged exposure to his influence and lifestyle, he nevertheless retained his commitment to all six hundred and thirteen commandments.

Several later writers have noted the seeming redundancy in Rashi's comments. Once Yaakov affirms that he observed all the commandments during his stay with Lavan, why must he add, "and I did not learn from his evil conduct"? Is it not obvious than anyone who remains devoted to God's commandments does not look to Lavan as an example to follow?

One answer is cited in the name of the work, "Maskil El Dal," which explains that Yaakov tells Esav that he did not learn anything at all from Lavan – even the positive lessons tone could have potentially extracted from Lavan's conduct. Lavan's enthusiastic endeavors to earn wealth and the efforts he invested towards this end could have served as an example of the type of efforts one should invest in far more sacred pursuits. Yaakov here claims that he wished to learn nothing at all from Lavan and to distance himself entirely from his behavior – to the point where he did not even draw the lessons that he perhaps could have from Lavan's lifestyle.

Needless to say, this idea leaves unanswered the question of why Yaakov did not want to learn anything at all from Lavan. After all, as the famous mishna in Pirkei Avot (2:1) establishes, "Who is wise? He who learns from all men." Presumably, then, Yaakov had no reason to refuse to learn anything at all from Lavan.

In fact, Rav Meir Shapiro of Lublin suggested the diametrically opposite interpretation of this passage in Rashi. Yaakov here bemoans the fact that he did not learn anything from Lavan. Although he indeed observed the mitzvot, he failed to learn from Lavan's example of enthusiasm and effort in pursuing one's goals.

The most likely interpretation of this passage, however, would seem to be the explanation cited in the name of Rav Yaakov Ruderman zt"l. Yaakov Avinu proclaims that he succeeded religiously in Lavan's home in two areas: he did not forsake the commandments, and he did not adopt Lavan's culture and lifestyle. For it is entirely possible for one to remain fully committed to the strictest standards of mitzva performance while still acting like "Lavan," while still inculcating and adopting the very worst the surrounding culture has to offer. Benei Yisrael's challenge in exile, when it lives among the gentiles, including many "Lavans," is not only to continue our observance of the Torah, but also to continue our observance of the general ideals and lifestyle of the Torah. Yaakov could have adopted Lavan's general conduct and values while still performing the commandments; but instead, as he tells Esav, "I did not learn from his evil conduct," and he remained fully committed to the ethics, values and lifestyle of kedusha that he had received from Avraham and Yitzchak.

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Why Would Yaakov's Family Members Own Items of Pagan Worship?

Suffering or Strength - Ben Oni or Binyamin

What is the Identity of the Angel Wrestling with Yaakov?

Yaakov, Lavan, Rashi, and the 613 Mitzvot

Why was Yaakov Alone?

Yaakov's Altars in Beit El and Shechem

The Struggle Persists

Dust from the Struggle Rising to Heaven

Shekhem and Dina: Canaanite Conduct

I have Lived with Lavan

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