Vayishlach
Genesis 32:4-36:43
Ovadiah 1:1-21
As Bob Dylan sang, “When you ain’t got nothing, you got nothing to lose.” Yaakov finds himself in a very desperate position in this week’s Torah portion. The last time he was in his brother’s presence, Esav expressed intent to kill him. Headed home after 20 years on the run, he learns that Esav is coming to meet him, accompanied by 400 troops.
Terrified and anxious, Yaakov makes the kind of decision no human being should ever have to make. He splits his family into two groups, and spreads the camps apart from one another. Since Esav does not know that Yaakov has four wives and a dozen children, when the older brother comes and kills half the family he will mistakenly think that that is all and never seek the surviving camp.
And Yaakov prays. But the prayer he offers is odd in so many ways. I will list but a few.
He opens with what appears to be a reminder to HaShem of his lineage — as if HaShem had forgotten after they spoke several days earlier. Further, a person asking for something would do well to make himself look worthy, instead of saying “I am too small for all the kindness … you have shown me” (32:11).
He pleads with HaShem to “save me please from the hands of my brother, from the hands of Esav,” as if HaShem is unaware that Esav is his brother.
And after all of this, Yaakov receives no answer. He simply finishes, and then goes to sleep. Why is there no response?
It seems to me that Mr. Dylan makes a good point. When Yaakov first crossed this river and ran away, all he had was his walking stick. He was alone, with almost no worldly possessions. Nothing to lose except his own life. Yet upon his return he now had a great many attachments and was deeply committed to his spouses and children.
Perhaps this preoccupation with relationships explains why he opens his prayer with references to family. Thinking of the pain of losing family, he speaks of Esav as “my brother.” He is begging HaShem not to put him through any more lost relationships, as he had suffered in losing the love of his sibling to vengefulness.
Yaakov is aware of how blessed he is to be in those relationships, to have a flourishing family, even as the prospect of being separated from them causes him so much pain. He is at once thanking HaShem for the privilege of being so bonded with so many and terrified of losing those connections.
Perhaps HaShem did in fact answer Yaakov, though not in words. The Radak suggests that the ensuing episode, in which Yaakov is assaulted in the night and wrestles with an angel, is in fact HaShem’s answer to Yaakov’s prayer. Yaakov is separated from his family, confronting the depth of his fears of being alone and bereft. A strange attacker in the night, and no help to be found. But Yaakov stands up and resists. He discovers that he can make it on his own, and that is the point that the angel was sent to show him. And ultimately, dawn breaks as well.
Yaakov is being shown that if Esav strikes with impunity in the morning, Yaakov can and will survive. Of course there will be a traumatic price paid, and the Torah records that Yaakov leaves the encounter hurt and limping. Although the message to him was that he could and will survive the possible trauma on the horizon, that doesn’t mean it won’t hobble him on some level. One never goes through a loss perfectly intact.
We are so blessed to have relationships, precious people in our lives. Do we get to hang on to them forever? No. Are we anxious in fear of loss? Yes. I wish that I had a sweet, “pick me up” ending for this column, but writing one would be tantamount to trying to sugar-coat a hand grenade.
Let me just say this. The Torah is teaching that if loss comes, it will no doubt be excruciating. But Yaakov learns that while limping we can get through it, and that new dawns do come. In the meantime, let us take time to treasure what we have.
Rabbi Judah Dardik is the spiritual leader at Orthodox Beth Jacob Congregation in Oakland. He can be reached at [email protected].