Vayishlach
Genesis 32:4–36:43
Obadiah 1:1–1:21
New Zealand is said to be one of the most beautiful places on Earth. Since the “Lord of the Rings” trilogy, tourism to New Zealand has soared, and rightly so. It has breathtaking panoramic vistas of soaring mountains and pristine blue lakes, remarkable biodiversity, incredible beaches and rich traditions.
But there is trouble in paradise: New Zealand has a serious gang problem. According to the book “Gangs” by Ross Kemp, New Zealand has more gangs per head than any other country in the world, perpetrating violent crime and drug trafficking.
Strikingly, a study conducted at the Auckland University of Technology noted that whereas in the rest of the world gang members are identifiable through their insignia and often come from unstable family situations, many of the members of the New Zealand gangs are not recognizable and come from functional home lives. In between perpetrating acts of violence and mayhem, they dutifully attend church with their families. Indeed, a judge in Auckland referred to these youth as “chameleons,” masquerading as normal religious teens yet living dark double lives.
Is the imagery presented in our Torah portion truly any different?
Yaakov spends a long night wrestling with an angel, and just as dawn begins to appear on the horizon the angel makes a request of his victim: “Let me leave, for dawn is breaking” (32:27). Why was the angel ready to give up so quickly? After all, he was winning!
The Talmud (Tractate Chullin 92B) offers a bit of elaboration: that the angel was saying “dawn is breaking, and thus I need to go sing praise [to HaShem] by day.” What an odd, and frankly disturbing explanation. How is it possible for anyone, angel or human, to be involved in a fight one moment and then join the sublime heavenly chorus and sing praises? Is this like the gang members who get into deadly knife fights and then change into their Sunday best? And furthermore, why would HaShem count such a being among the celestial choir?
In opening this portion of the narrative, the Torah notes, “And Yaakov was left alone and a being struggled with him” (32:25). The Talmud (Chullin 91) gleans from this verse that a Torah scholar should not walk alone at night. Why not? And why only a Torah scholar — aren’t the rest of us in similar danger?
Perhaps the angelic attacker was trying to teach Yaakov a lesson: that even having ambushed a lone man in the night, the angel is still invited back to sing praise. Why? Because HaShem always waits for us during our periods of darkness, and will always welcome us back no matter how far gone we may think we are.
And the focus on the scholar? If you don’t think much of yourself, then you fall and it’s no surprise. But if you aspire high and strive to be a person of depth, then the fall is harder; be careful not to be alone when you hit the ground.
Of course, one cannot willfully and calmly commit egregiously immoral acts (like the gangs of New Zealand) and think that by evincing deep religious feeling there will come automatic forgiveness with sunrise. Maimonides decries those who coldly plan to violate on the assumption of return immediately afterward. But that condemnation applies to the one who destroys because he figures that he will be accepted back, not to a person who stumbles as people are wont to do.
When we slip, even behaving in ways that fall far short of our Jewish ideals, we often feel that there is no place for us among those who have a vibrant and joyous relationship with HaShem. We ask ourselves, “How can I sing praise in the morning after what I did last night?” We tell ourselves that HaShem has given up on us and change our self definition as a result, allowing our moments of weakness to mold our identity.
This is a mistake, and it is the lesson of the Angel’s struggle with Yaakov. Even after that battle, the Angel was still an angel, and was welcomed back by HaShem to sing.
In this tempting and crazy world, first things first: We need to make good decisions up front. But then afterward, we need to prepare ourselves and our children for the day after. Sometimes one has to give up on something that cannot be saved, but the one never to give up on is ourselves.
Rabbi Judah Dardik is the spiritual leader at Orthodox Beth Jacob in Oakland. He can be reached at [email protected].