Vayishlach — From Yaakov to Israel

Good evening, good evening. Well, listen — you’ve settled the dates, that’s very good. Good evening, everyone. We are now at a chapter of transition between Parashat Vayishlach and Parashat Vayeshev. With Vayeshev we will begin to analyze the whole story of Yosef and his brothers, and tonight we will, in a sense, first close the whole of Yaakov’s journey, which reaches its first conclusion with his return to his father. He had promised that if he arrived safe and sound at his parents’ home, he would build an altar to G-d — not only as a sign of gratitude, but also to spread, to make shine forth, the kindness of that divine providence which had accompanied him throughout his journey. Very well. So the text begins by reminding Yaakov of his obligation.

“And G-d said to Yaakov: Arise, go up to Beit El and dwell there, and make there an altar to G-d who appeared to you when you fled from before Esav your brother” (Bereishit 35:1). That is what He said to Yaakov: first build an altar to the Almighty who revealed Himself to you when you fled from Esav your brother. And Yaakov, before proceeding to build this altar, invites his whole household to rid themselves of the foreign gods, of the garments of exile. Whether we like it or not, by remaining mingled with the usages and customs and cultures of other peoples, we always carry away certain principles, certain mores; and one must not come to Israel importing all of that and walling oneself up inside it.

At that point we would have done nothing: we would simply have transported the galut (exile) into Israel. That is what must not be done, and it is the first lesson here: all those fashions, even all those ways of behaving — one must try to change them in order to open oneself to a new art of living. That is how one goes up to Beit El. And when one builds a new altar, it is “to G-d who answered me on the day of my distress” (Bereishit 35:3). Because in reality, “on the day of my distress,” the day of my misery, the day of my suffering, is what generates a new liberation, and this regeneration, this blossoming into a new life, must be allowed to flourish — but for that one must first rid oneself of all one’s garments of exile, whatever form they take. Yes? And indeed, “they gave Yaakov all the foreign gods that were in their hands” (Bereishit 35:4): they handed over to Yaakov all the foreign gods — they call them gods. What are these gods? They are principles, they are mores, they are a way of life. Can one really sweep everything away?

No — but they must be converted. In reality, nothing is abolished; things are not annihilated. In every culture, in every exile, there are sparks of holiness that must be recovered, and consequently what is at stake is conversion. Let us not forget that what the spies brought back with them from Israel were three fruits: the grape, the pomegranate and the fig. What was the message? Israel presents fruits. The grape has a seed inside, yes. One must try to rid oneself of it — but careful: in ridding oneself of it, one must not destroy the germ. It is not a matter of banishing from Israel everything that existed in order to build something new; rather, it is on those ruins that one will rebuild. The second is the pomegranate. With the pomegranate, it is the seeds themselves that one eats; it is the grain that is consumed. Of course, one throws away the skin of the pomegranate, but this time it is the kernel that one eats. And what does one reach at the third stage? The fig: there is no stone, everything is consumed. In the stages of our lives, we must indeed arrive at this: first extract the substance of the fruit, then, from its seed, its grain, make food, and then pass on to that fruit in which everything is consumed — that is, a life that one calls, in Israel, […] beyond the contingencies of life.

Now, let us not forget that with Yaakov we are closing a period of history, that of the patriarchs — but the patriarchs concentrate within themselves the whole future journey of the children of Israel. We will see this again later. So what does Yaakov do with these gods? He does not destroy them, he does not cast them into the sea: he buries them in the earth. He buries them beneath the terebinth near Shechem, because it is there, in the earth, that all these gods will be purified — all these mores and customs and principles and ways of life that we have carried with us, isn’t that so? The earth is a means of filtering, and also of cultivation and of new germination — do you see what that means? And it is said that, with this resolve, a terror from G-d fell upon all the surrounding cities and they did not pursue the children of Israel (Bereishit 35:5). The children of Israel are pursued only when they try to imitate other peoples, to live like the other nations, to copy their ways of life in their new destination, or in the promised land. The principle of the land of Israel is that it must escape that same foreign life of other cultures, of other modes of civilization — and that is the meaning of velo radfu, “and they did not pursue.”

They did not pursue the children of Israel; they did not persecute them. There is a message here, whether one likes it or not: we will win the respect of the nations when we are ourselves, when we apply to the land of Israel the way of life that is its own. And that is why he builds an altar and calls the place “the house of the Almighty,” “for there G-d had been revealed to him” (Bereishit 35:7), because that is where G-d revealed Himself to him in his flight. But now we have seen that Yaakov no longer flees from Esav; he is able to face him. And this episode, if you like, is rounded off by the death of Devorah, Rivkah’s nurse (Bereishit 35:8). No one had spoken of her until now, but she is a nurse who accompanied Rivkah, and so a tribute is paid to her: it was she who shaped her, who raised her, who accompanied her throughout her life. And this is an entirely new idea — namely, that these women were instructed and educated in the house of Nachor.

I had told you that the difference between Nachor and Avraham is this: either one goes to Israel and from there forms a society that is the focal point of the nations; or one considers that there is no need for a land, no need for a nation — we are simply a people, a “light to the nations,” and on the contrary we must be mingled among the nations the better to spread our beliefs, our ideas, our principles. Now, these are the women Avraham chose for his son from within the family of Nachor — that is, women who had been formed in exile to this absence of a land, and rather to the radiance of the qualities that were their own. So they had nurses, they had a tutor of sorts who accompanied them all along. And just as all the foreign ideas of the exile were buried, so too was Rivkah’s nurse — Devorah — buried. And indeed, when we wish success to a newly married couple, we invoke neither the personality of Sarah nor that of Rivkah; we invoke above all that of Rachel and Leah.

But Rachel and Leah were accompanied by Bilhah and Zilpah, and Bilhah and Zilpah were integrated into the house of Yaakov, since there are children of Bilhah and of Zilpah who are part of the tribes, or who complete the tribes. So you see here: “And G-d appeared to Yaakov again when he came from Paddan Aram” (Bereishit 35:9) — a new revelation, a new manifestation of G-d, and this time to confirm the name Israel. Until now the name Israel had been given to Yaakov only by the angel; now the Holy One, blessed be He, will confirm it, saying to him, “Israel shall be your name” (Bereishit 35:10) — that is: you will not lose the name Yaakov, but you will always aspire to realize yourself as Israel. And the difference is this: when the Holy One, blessed be He, changed the name of Avram to Avraham and of Sarai to Sarah, He changed the name definitively. In fact, one may no longer call them Avram or Sarai; it will always be Avraham and Sarah, and whoever uses the old name transgresses a rule, a law. Whereas for Yaakov and Israel, no: Yaakov remains an earthly dimension, and Israel a spiritual dimension, entirely spiritual.

That is why G-d uses the future tense here: yihyeh, “shall be” — it will be, in the future. Of course you will have to fight, you will have to use cunning to attain what you want in your life, because you will indeed be surrounded by people who will want to drain you of your substance; but the name to which you will aspire is Israel. It is the one through which you will be fruitful and multiply — “a nation and a congregation of nations shall come from you” (Bereishit 35:11) — it is through it that you will convince, convert, persuade the other peoples; “and kings shall come forth from your loins” — it is the name through which you will be able to govern. As for the land, of course it reverts to you, to you and to your descendants: I give it. And then: “And G-d went up from him” (Bereishit 35:13) — G-d, who until then had been above him, who was counting on him, who was pursuing, let us say, His march with him, since Yaakov, like Avraham, is the merkavah of the Shechinah, the chariot of the Divine Presence.

So now He withdraws and lets Yaakov act. And Yaakov sets up a statue — a pillar, excuse me — in the place where He had spoken with him (Bereishit 35:14); he consecrates this arrival in the land of Israel, and names that place Beit El (Bereishit 35:15). Beit El, then, is the first name of the land of Israel as it was inaugurated by Yaakov. But with it comes the drama: the death of Rachel, at the edge of the land. Rachel meets her death, yes — but the moment she meets her death is the moment she brings her second child, Binyamin, into the world. Recall that when she had Yosef, she asked that this Yosef extend himself into a second child: “May G-d add to me another son” (Bereishit 30:24) — that he bring another with him. And why? Because she truly aspired to give Israel a child who would live and be born at the edge of the land of Israel.

That child born at the edge of the land of Israel is Binyamin. That is the reason Binyamin is the immediate neighbor of Yehudah, the support of Yehudah’s kingship: because he is the one who was born in Israel, he is the one who can claim, who can physically justify by his birth, the identity of Israel. And Binyamin is also the one in whose portion Jerusalem and the Beit HaMikdash (the Temple) are situated; he is there, he is present, because he is the child born in Israel, over whom no one will have any hold. But this Binyamin has two names. He is Ben Oni, “son of my sorrow” — son of my sorrow because he is orphaned of his mother. […] But on the other hand, his father calls him Binyamin, “son of my right hand,” the son on whom I will now lean.

No particular role was played by Binyamin, but he is truly […]. And being at the edge, having been born at the edge of the land of Israel, he stands on one side at the border of exile, and on the other within the holiness of the land of Israel: on one side chol (the profane), on the other kodesh (the holy). And so it is: “Binyamin is a ravenous wolf” (Bereishit 49:27) — what does Yaakov say when he blesses Binyamin? Let me give you right away the blessing of Binyamin: “Binyamin is a ravenous wolf; in the morning he devours the prey, and in the evening he divides the spoil.” […]

[…] He nourishes himself to the utmost of everything, and Onkelos says: in the morning he builds the sanctuary, and in the evening he distributes — in a sense, he apportions the fruits of all this holiness. Yaakov sees in Binyamin the culmination of his descendants. And it is in this respect that even Moshe, when he blesses Binyamin, will say — one moment, I don’t have the text before my eyes and I would not want to quote it carelessly; I don’t have the book here, forgive me, I will do it next time. Let me return to my text. So Yaakov sets up the pillar of Rachel’s grave […]. Rachel is buried on the road to Ephrat […], and Yaakov sets up “the pillar of Rachel’s grave, until this day” (Bereishit 35:20).

And you know what our Sages say about Rachel, who was not buried with Yaakov even though she was, quite simply, Yaakov’s beloved: it is she who watches over the future of all her children, over the return of all her children. In other words, Binyamin, of course, is the price paid — a death — for this arrival, for the close of this exile and the arrival in the land of Israel. And on the other hand, he is the starting point of a new life: Binyamin, the son of my right hand. And here comes back the episode of Reuven, who interferes in the intimate life of his father. Now, we knew very well that Yaakov had pitched his tent chiefly with Rachel, and from time to time it was Leah who claimed her due, but he was devoted [to Rachel].

But after Rachel’s death, he takes Bilhah and places his bed with Bilhah. That does not please Reuven, Leah’s firstborn son, who defends the honor and dignity of his mother and moves his father’s bed into Leah’s tent. […] He understood the message, he says nothing […] — and we have already said that it is now these children who have taken over and carry on. And the Torah condemns this intervention of Reuven; it goes so far as to regard it as though he had lain with Bilhah, his father’s concubine. “And Israel heard” (Bereishit 35:22): Israel heard, but he did not react. He understood. Here vayishma is meant in the sense of understanding. He did not, for all that, exclude Reuven from his children for having acted in this way, and that is the reason the Torah tells us, “and the sons of Yaakov were twelve.” Nothing, now, will — let us say — shake or unbalance this house of Yaakov. It will remain what it is, with its parasites, if you like, within the family, those people who will not always follow the current of their parents; but it is this whole that forms the structure of Israel, the permanence of Israel. And there is a lesson here: at no moment is one ever right to exclude anyone whatsoever from the house of Israel.

And it is precisely in this way that Yaakov presents himself to his father, at “Mamre, Kiryat HaArba” (Bereishit 35:27). Now we know very well that his father was gevurah, rigor, the attribute of judgment. It is a different structure that Yaakov presents to his father. And what is there at Arba, in the city of the Four — and who are these Four? Several explanations exist, but I retain the allusion: in the city of the Four are the four components of being, of the divine essence, of havayah (existence) — that is the one: Yud-Hei, Vav-Hei. Kiryat Arba, that is Chevron: it is what unites these four. And so Yitzchak — Yitzchak [is faced] with, let us say, the new order of Yaakov’s legacy, of the new structure of the Jewish people, of our children.

He arrives, and this marks the end of [Yitzchak’s] life […]. And at his funeral Esav and Yaakov take part […]. Now, we have spoken of Esav as also being a child who remained attached to his father: “Hear, my son, the instruction of your father” (Mishlei 1:8). That musar (instruction) he retained, he kept — and that is why his head, his reason for being, is buried in Chevron, while the rest of his body, of course, remained outside. And the text tells us: “And these are the generations of Esav, that is Edom” (Bereishit 36:1). Here is the genealogy, here are the descendants of Esav. That is to say, Esav is never a stranger to us. Remember that we spoke of “and his hand was holding Esav’s heel” (Bereishit 25:26): Yaakov was holding Esav’s heels, meaning that in a sense he wanted to follow Esav in his march — but not entirely.

Esav’s heels he wanted to keep for himself. Those traces of Esav — we keep them, yes, we keep them. Esav, that is Edom, until messianic times. At that time there will be a confrontation, a last confrontation, of the same nature as that of Yaakov and Esav, between the people of Israel and the peoples of Edom. Our Sages did not consider Yishmael a continuation of Yaakov, of Israel. They considered Yishmael rather a continuation of Edom, and that Edom stood behind Yishmael, and that it is Edom which, in the end, gives Yishmael his reality. […] Yishmael would in effect be the servant of Edom […]. Well, it is a fact that the exile under Yishmael was not counted.

Whereas that of Edom is still in place, because that is where there is truly an antithesis. And there is an antagonism between Edom — Esav — and Israel, because it is the antagonism that exists between na’aseh and nishma (“we will do” and “we will understand”): between what we can understand, what we can accept, but do not integrate and do not apply — and what one applies without appealing to that nishma. And this antagonism will remain up to the very threshold of messianic times. And we know very well that even within the people of Israel this antagonism exists — this rivalry between the followers of Esav, those who identify with him, and […]. Paradoxically, Christianity, which was generated by Edom, sets practice aside and rests rather on the integration of a teaching that aspires to be borne upward by man, whereas that of the people of Israel is first of all the founder of a new world, and it applies itself above all — yes — within the reality of this world.

Well then, the Torah will now make pass before us — I will not dwell at length on this text […]. With Yosef we will begin another period of history, but one must know that just as tohu, chaos, preceded the creation of this world, [exile] preceded the birth of the Jewish people; each period of history will be introduced by a darkness that invades the world. It diminishes the world, so as to bring forth a new period of history, and so on until — let us say — the final phase of history. We will proceed from filtering to filtering until the end, but each time these panes, these screens, will be preceded by a night of darkness, of suffering […].

There are kings who preceded the creation of this world. So the Torah, [before] the story of Yosef, gives us the list of kings — seven kings who preceded the king of Israel: “And these are the kings who reigned in the land of Edom before any king reigned over the children of Israel” (Bereishit 36:31). One wonders what this text is doing here, and it gives us the names of these kings. Many commentators have dwelt on the meaning of this text, which is — let us say — not understood. But the Zohar says that this passage is full of secrets; it is a bearer of light, except that we are unable to draw it out. In reality, one would have to succeed in imagining a world built from the totality of the divine attributes:

Chesed, Gevurah, Tiferet, Netzach, Hod, Yesod, Malchut — and all of it crowned by da’at (knowledge). So there is this structure of being, which we have often explained and which belongs to our own lives; but sometimes we tend to put more emphasis on chesed, or to put the emphasis on gevurah and ignore chesed. And as a result, the very structure of life does not keep its balance and passes through phases of shadow and light. That is the course of history; that is how the world was created: there were worlds that were built and that were destroyed by G-d, because they did not obey the harmony of all these structures. And the world has the stature of man, and man the stature of time; time, space and man must have integrated these notions of chesed and gevurah, of tiferet and netzach […], together with da’at — so that we arrive at the eighth, at the eighth kingship, and the eighth kingship is the one that will begin with Yosef.

Why? Because it is with Yosef that the word “reign” will appear. The notion of kingship borne by the structure of Israel, by the framework of Israel, will come with Yosef — but it will not end with Yosef: it will end with David and Mashiach ben David, the Messiah son of David. That is kingship. So we are told that this kingship of the people of Israel would pass through the kingship of the seven kings of the other nations — kings who do not know one another, who exclude one another, who oust one another, who wage merciless wars against each other […]. The Torah tells you: “you shall set a king over you from among your brothers” (Devarim 17:15); you cannot allow yourself to remain dependent on a foreign king, a foreign government. And if you must designate someone […] — do not remain dependent on the states of Edom; you must be your own master.

And it is on this that the chapter closes, this last chapter, chapter 36 of Parashat Vayishlach. And thus the circuit, the journey of Yaakov, comes to its close. Next time we will move on to Yosef […]. Now, if you have questions to ask. — First of all, concerning the death of Rachel: can one say it is a form of sacrifice on Yaakov’s part? He knew that one of his wives would die on entering Israel; he knew that he could not enter with two wives who were sisters. Is it a form of sacrifice, as there is the sacrifice of Yitzchak? A sacrifice of his love at the entrance to Israel? — You are right to point that out. Some commentators have said that Rachel’s death was necessary at the edge of Israel: Yaakov was no longer to present himself with two wives who were two sisters.

She, Rachel, had to […] — she whom he had loved, and who in a sense stood apart — because, as we have seen, Rachel sacrificed herself throughout her life, and she did not show herself at all, except to ask for a child; she never responded to Yaakov’s love. She remained passive, if you like — but all her love was inward; it was not expressed, it was held within, and for that she was somewhat reproached by our Sages, although a certain priority was granted to her: whenever Rachel and Leah are mentioned, Rachel has always been named before Leah, not Leah and Rachel. Yaakov had concluded his marriage with her sister Leah; that was settled; she, in sum, could justify her love for Yaakov, and so on.

That is a fact. But Yosef and Binyamin [hold] a secondary role — in the sense, let me be precise, that they are the supports, the mainstay of the entity of Israel, even of the entity of the sanctuary; but at no point will they be the decisive elements of the history of the Jewish people, so as not to ratify Yaakov’s second marriage to a sister. Rather, [Rachel] had to be placed within Leah, enveloped within the personality of Leah, so that she forms one body with Leah and not a separate entity. And that is the reason Rachel is buried at the edge of the land of Israel and can no longer go on living at Yaakov’s side: because she remains a second wife, a second sister, not sanctioned from the point of view of the law, of halachah.

— Well, as for this sister […]. I had another small question: Binyamin — how is it, if he is the support, that he had no mission? All the patriarchs and all the personalities we have had — even Yosef had missions. Even Yaakov: we see that each personality had a mission. — What have you studied […] of the last chapter of the Book of Judges? — No, not yet. — Then you’ll see. The last chapter of Judges — yes, that is another chapter, a dramatic chapter. — Yes. All right. — Yes. Another question? Then I will leave you until next Sunday. I believe Daniel wanted to ask you a question too, about the month of July.

— […], you just asked me about the holidays. — Yes. — One moment. — You just want to know the dates: when the last lecture will be and when we resume, so that we can announce them. — Listen, it all depends on you. You decide, you tell me. — I have the 5th, 12th and 19th of July, and from August 23rd we can start again. It’s a proposal. — The 5th, 12th and 19th are Sundays — they’re not Thursdays, after all. — Yes, that’s it; the 5th and the 12th are very good. — And the 19th?