S.A.L.T – PARASHAT VAYETZE

By Rav David Silverberg

Motzaei

            Rashi, in his commentary to Parashat Vayetze (28:11), famously cites the Gemara’s presentation of a seemingly bizarre account of Yaakov’s experiences as he slept along his journey to Charan.  The Gemara (Chulin 91b) tells that Yaakov originally took several stones to put beneath (or, according to Rashi, around) his head as he slept, but during the night a quarrel broke out among the stones.  Each demanded the exclusive right to have the great tzadik place his head upon it.  God finally stepped in to resolve the conflict by melding the rocks into a single stone, so that they would all be positioned underneath Yaakov’s head.

            What message do our Sages seek to convey through this story?  What might this image of quarreling stones underneath Yaakov’s head represent?

            Within the mind of a tzadik – or, for that matter, of any spiritually conscientious person – a battle rages between different values, between conflicting ideals and concerns.  Torah life consists of many different values and pursuits that should occupy a person’s time on earth – study, prayer, family, friends, community, acts of kindness, and caring for one’s own physical well-being, to name just a few.  And, of course, within each of the aforementioned aspirations there are innumerable subsets – countless different areas of Torah to study, many different communal and charitable causes that demand our attention, numerous family members, friends and relatives who deserve our time, and so on.  These values fight with each other vigorously within the religious individual’s mind, struggling bitterly for priority and precedence.

            The tzadik, the Gemara teaches, is the person who can successfully merge all these conflicting concerns and ideals into a single, integrated life of religious observance and commitment.  The righteous do not sacrifice one ideal for the sake of another; they do not reduce religious life into just one or two religious values.  Rather, they create a single “stone” that comprises the full range of Jewish ideals, living a balanced, proportioned life of religious commitment.

            The lesson the Gemara seeks to teach is that Torah life demands balancing different – and, often, conflicting – values.  It might be tempting to define Judaism in simplistic terms, as promoting just one or two important values, but this is not how the tzadik approaches his religious obligations.  Instead, he assembles many different “stones,” encompassing the full set of Torah ideals, and merges them into a comprehensive and perfectly balanced life of sincere avodat Hashem.

(See also the transcription of a sicha by Rav Yehuda Amital zt”l on this topic at http://www.etzion.org.il/vbm/archive/10-sichot/07vayetze.php.)

Sunday

            Yesterday, we discussed the Gemara’s comments in Masekhet Chulin (91b) concerning the stones that Yaakov placed under (or near) his head as he slept along his journey from Canaan to Charan.  The passage reads as follows:

It is written, “He took from the stones of the place” (28:11), and it says [later], “He took the stone” (28:18).  Rabbi Yitzchak said: This teaches that all those stones were assembled in the same place, and each one said, “This righteous man shall place his head upon me.”  A berayta states: They were all blended into a single [stone].

The Gemara proposed this theory to resolve the seeming contradiction between two verses in this narrative.  First, the Torah says that Yaakov took “mei-avnei ha-makom” (“from the stones of the place”), suggesting that he used several stones, whereas the Torah later speaks of “ha-even” – a single stone.  The Gemara thus claims that Yaakov had taken several stones, but by the time he arose in the morning they had come together to form a single rock.

            Tosefot briefly comment that according to the peshat – the straightforward reading of the text – there is no discrepancy between the two verses at all.  The phrase “mei-avnei ha-makom,” which the Gemara had understood as a reference to multiple stones, may in fact be read to mean, “one from among the stones of the place.”  According to this reading, there is clearly no contradiction that requires a resolution.  This reading of the verse is adopted by several traditional Torah commentators, including Ibn Ezra and Abarbanel.

            The question arises as to the intended purpose of this comment by Tosefot.  The Tosefot commentaries to the Talmud focus on interpreting the Gemara and resolving seeming inconsistencies between different Talmudic passages.  Why would they make a comment regarding a verse cited by the Gemara that is entirely unrelated to the Gemara’s discussion of the verse?  Tosefot do not suggest a reason for why the Gemara chose not to accept the peshat interpretation, and simply note the alternative explanation.  What, then, was the purpose of their comment?

            Rav Meshulam Rath addresses this question in his work Kol Mevaser (1:30), where he presents a novel reading of the Gemara’s discussion in this passage.  After presenting the seeming contradiction between the two verses, the Gemara cites two comments from two different sources. Rabbi Yitzchak comments simply that “all those stones were assembled in the same place,” each vying for the privilege of lying underneath Yaakov’s head.  He says nothing about the stones’ merging into a single rock.  This incident is sourced in a berayta, which the Gemara documents after citing Rabbi Yitzchak’s comment.

Rav Rath claims that Rabbi Yitzchak does not accept the theory mentioned in the berayta, that the stones merged.  As Tosefot clarify, Rabbi Yitzchak follows the peshat reading of the verse, according to which “mei-avnei ha-makom” means that Yaakov took one of the stones.  Rabbi Yitzchak sought to resolve a different difficulty in this verse, namely, why the Torah did not simply state that Yaakov “took a stone,” and instead wrote that he took “from among the stones of the place.”  Is it not obvious that the stone he took was from the area where he was located?  Rabbi Yitzchak therefore explained that the stones had all come together to that spot, eagerly vying for the opportunity to have Yaakov place his head upon them.  The Torah therefore writes “mei-avnei ha-makom,” as if to say, “from among the stones that had assembled at that site.”  According to Rabbi Yitzchak, the stones all assembled there in the hope of being selected, but only one rock was taken – in accordance with the peshat reading of this verse.  It is only the berayta, which the Gemara cites after recording Rabbi Yitzchak’s remark, which claimed that the stones miraculously merged underneath Yaakov’s head.

Therefore, Tosefot’s comment is indeed very relevant to the discussion at hand.  Their intent was not to offer an alternative reading of the verse, but rather to explain Rabbi Yitzchak’s comment.  He read the verse to mean that Yaakov took a single rock, and sought to explain why the Torah wrote, “from among the stones of the place,” rather than stating simply, “a stone.”

Monday

            The Torah in Parashat Vayetze tells of Yaakov’s arrival in Charan, where he would spend the next twenty years with his uncle and father-in-law, Lavan.  Yaakov first arrived at the well outside the city, and soon thereafter, he saw Rachel, his cousin who shepherded her father’s sheep, bringing the flock to the well.  The Torah relates, “When Yaakov saw Rachel, the daughter of Lavan, his mother’s brother, and the sheep of Lavan, his mother’s brother, Yaakov went ahead and rolled the stone off the mouth of the well and watered the sheep of Lavan, his mother’s brother” (29:10).

            Upon reading this verse, one is immediately struck by the triple repetition of the phrase, “Lavan, his mother’s brother.”  The Torah has already introduced Lavan as Rivka’s brother in earlier narratives in Sefer Bereishit, including as recently as the final verses of Parashat Toledot, when Rivka instructed Yaakov to go to her brother’s home (27:43, 28:2,5).  And even if the Torah found it necessary to remind the reader of Lavan’s relationship to Yaakov (which would be difficult to imagine, as we already know that Yaakov was traveling to his uncle), why would this need to be repeated three times?

            Rabbenu Bechayei suggests (as the first of his two explanations):

The text says several times, “Lavan, his mother’s brother” to teach that Yaakov’s efforts with Lavan’s flock and his mercy upon Rachel, Lavan’s daughter, were not done in Lavan’s honor, but rather for his mother’s honor.  Thus, whenever the text mentions the wicked man Lavan, it mentions [that he was] his mother’s brother… [Yaakov] remembered in his heart his mother who loved him and advised him to go to Lavan.

According to Rabbenu Bechayei, the text emphasizes that Yaakov’s desire to assist Rachel was motivated by his devotion to his mother.  Aware of Lavan’s devious and corrupt character, Yaakov would not have ordinarily volunteered to assist in tending to Lavan’s flocks.  But Yaakov nevertheless sought to assist Lavan because he was, after all, his mother’s brother, and he viewed helping Lavan and his daughter as a way of showing honor to his mother.

            Rav Asher Brander (http://kehilla.org/parsha-reflections-1/vayetzei-5770-stuff-of-greatness) notes a practical lesson that perhaps emerges from Rabbenu Bechayei’s comments.  Simply put, if we do not feel naturally inclined to deal kindly with an undeserving beneficiary, we should nevertheless consider other factors that warrant doing so.  Lavan was not somebody whom we would deem worthy of special kind gestures, and we could have forgiven Yaakov had he shown no interest in doing his uncle favors.  But Yaakov looked at the broader picture and found good reason to lend a hand despite his understandable misgivings about his wily uncle.

            Even if we don’t naturally feel like helping somebody – and even if those feelings are justified – we should take a moment to examine the situation more fully, and we will likely discover compelling reasons to extend help despite our instinctive ambivalence.

Tuesday

We read in Parashat Vayetze that after Rachel bore her first child, after many years of infertility, she declared, “Asaf Elokim et cherpati” (“God has withdrawn my shame” – 30:23). The plain meaning of this phrase, as Rashi explains, is that Rachel felt relieved that she would no longer be known as an infertile woman. Especially in contrast to her sister, who began bearing children to Yaakov immediately after marrying him, Rachel’s infertility was a source of shame and embarrassment. This shame was finally lifted with the birth of Rachel’s first son.

However, Rashi then proceeds to cite a second, somewhat startling, interpretation from the Midrash (BereishitRabba73:5): “As long as a wife does not have a child, she has no one on whom to blame her mishaps, but once she has a child, she blames him: ‘Who broke this utensil? Your son. Who ate these figs – your son.’” According to this Midrashic interpretation of the verse, Rachel refers here not to the shame of infertility, but rather to the shame of everyday mishaps that occur in the home. She will no longer have to bear this humiliation, since she now has a convenient scapegoat – little Yosef – for anything that goes wrong in the household.

The obvious question arises as to what led the Sages to attribute such thoughts to Rachel. The meaning of her proclamation, as noted, seems clear and obvious enough: Rachel had suffered shame as a result of her inability to conceive, and this burden of shame was lifted. According to the Midrashic reading, however, Rachel refers to the “shame” of relatively inconsequential household accidents. Rarely do we find such discordance between the plain meaning of a verse and its Midrashic interpretation. While it is true that one might reasonably feel some degree of embarrassment in front of his or her spouse after breaking a dish, this humiliation can hardly compare to the shame of infertility, especially in Rachel’s circumstances. According to the plain reading, Rachel refers to her failure with regard to one of her fundamental roles as a wife – to reproduce. The Midrash, however, reads this verse as referring to trivial, everyday mishaps that occur in every household. What led Chazal to reinterpret Rachel’s “shame” as a reference to such minor mistakes, when it seems so clear that she referred to the shame of childlessness?

It would appear that the Sages sought to teach us that these two experiences of “shame” are not quite as distant from one another as we might think. Seemingly minor, everyday aggravations can also be destructive to a relationship. We mustn’t think, the Midrash warns us, that marriages are threatened only by major issues that touch upon the heart and core of the relationship – such as infertility, in Rachel’s case. Human nature is such that seemingly trivial, everyday problems and mistakes have the potential to snowball and permanently ruin a relationship. It goes without saying that Rachel’s primary response to her long-awaited delivery of a child was the relief from the shame of humiliation. However, the Midrash notes that the relief from smaller, everyday sources of embarrassment also crossed her mind. Even minor, daily aggravations can prove harmful to a marriage – and therefore the ability to attribute mishaps to a child is also a significant factor that could enhance a relationship.

The message of the Midrash, then, is to beware of the seemingly trivial “problems” that commonly arise in relationships. Even relationships that are free from major, obvious sources of tension and discord are not immune to the effects of the daily grind of life – the broken utensil and the missing figs. These mishaps must be handled patiently, tolerantly and maturely, to ensure that they do not evolve into something more consequential and significant than they really are.

(See Rabbi Yaakov Neuberger’s article “Family Focus” at http://torahweb.org/torah/2002/parsha/rneu_vayetsei.html)

Wednesday

            The Torah in Parashat Vayetze tells the famous story of Yaakov’s marriage to Leah.  Yaakov and his uncle, Lavan, had arranged that Yaakov would work for him for seven years and then marry his younger daughter, Rachel.  At the time of the wedding, however, Lavan brought Leah, instead of Rachel.  The next day, in response to Yaakov’s protest, Lavan agreed to allow Yaakov to marry Rachel, as well, the following week, in exchange for yet another seven years of service.

            Later in the parasha, we read the mysterious story of the duda’im (generally translated as “mandrakes”), the plants discovered by Yaakov’s eldest child, Reuven, who brought them to his mother, Leah.  Rachel asked Leah for these plants, to which Leah responded, ‘Is it not enough that you took my husband, that you shall also take my son’s duda’im?!” (30:15).

            Leaving aside the obvious question of why Leah reacted so harshly to her sister’s request – and why Rachel ultimately agreed to forego on her night with Yaakov in exchange for these duda’im – it seems difficult to understand Leah’s accusation, “you took my husband.”  Did Rachel take Leah’s husband?  Wasn’t Rachel the intended wife – until Leah, who cooperated with her father’s cruel scheme, took Rachel’s husband?  How could Leah have made such a charge, and why didn’t Rachel defend herself?

            This question becomes especially difficult in light of the celebrated passage in the Talmud (Megila 13b) which tells that Rachel selflessly and voluntarily facilitated Leah’s marriage to Yaakov.  Suspecting that her father would try to substitute her with Leah, Rachel wanted to ensure that Leah would not be humiliated on the wedding night.  She therefore “prepped” her sister ahead of time so that Yaakov would not realize who she was.  She taught her the special “signals” that she had arranged with Yaakov, such that Yaakov would assume she was Rachel, and she would be spared humiliation.

            If so, then how could Leah possibly have the audacity to accuse her sister of taking her husband?  To the contrary, if not for Rachel, she herself would never have been married to Yaakov at all, and, moreover, she would have been exposed as an accomplice to her father’s nefarious ruse.  How, then, can we understand Leah’s accusation?

            We find numerous different interpretations to this verse among the commentators.  The Ramban explains, “You took for yourself my husband as though you are his wife and I am the handmaid.”  It appears that according to the Ramban, Leah refers not to Rachel’s marriage to Yaakov per se, but rather to her attitude toward her relationship with Yaakov.  Rachel conducted herself as Yaakov’s primary wife, which Leah naturally found offensive.

            One might argue, however, that Leah had no right to expect anything different from Rachel, who was, after all, the woman whom Yaakov had desired to marry.  Leah was made Yaakov’s way only by way of a cruel trick – one in which she was a full participant.  It thus seems more than justifiable for Rachel to see herself as Yaakov’s main wife.

            Seforno (see also Chizkuni) explains differently, claiming that Leah criticizes Rachel for agreeing to marry Yaakov.  While it is true that Rachel was unfairly cheated out of her groom, after the fact, she should not have entered into this problematic, polygamous relationship.  By agreeing to marry Yaakov, Rachel indeed took away Leah’s husband, as she left her little chance to earn Yaakov’s affection.  Even if Rachel selflessly assisted her sister and facilitated her marriage to Yaakov, Leah charged, she acted cruelly by then joining the marriage, thereby denying Leah the possibility of being loved.

            The Radak explains differently, suggesting that Yaakov spent more nights with Rachel than with Leah, in order to increase her chances of conceiving.  As Rachel was having difficulty conceiving, whereas Leah (at least originally) conceived immediately, Yaakov engaged in intimacy more frequently with Rachel, in the hope that she would bear a child.  Leah resented this favoritism showed to Rachel, and it is to this preferential status that she refers when she accuses her sister of taking away her husband.  This explanation of the verse works well with Rachel’s response, offering to forego on her scheduled turn to spend the night with Yaakov.  Upon hearing Leah complain that she receives intimacy more frequently, Rachel offers to relinquish her next turn in exchange for the coveted duda’im.

Thursday

            Yesterday, we discussed the episode in Parashat Vayetze where Rachel asks Leah to share with her some of the duda’im plants that Leah’s son, Reuven, had brought her.  Leah’s response to her sister’s request seems startling: “Is it not enough that you took my husband, that you shall also take my son’s duda’im?!” (30:15).  Yesterday, we raised the question of how Leah could have had the gall to accuse Rachel of “taking her husband.”  After all, Rachel was the woman Yaakov desired to marry, and it was only a result of her father’s shameless ruse – in which Leah seems to have been an active and cooperative participant – that he mistakenly married Leah.  How can we explain Leah’s accusation against Rachel?

            Today we will present two novel and unconventional approaches to understanding this verse.

            Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch, in his commentary, takes the classical commentators to task for treating this entire episode of the duda’im too seriously:

This business of the mandrakes has again and again been taken by commentators in a serious vein.  But it is quite unthinkable that Leah, whose whole life was devoted to gain the complete love of her husband could possibly have uttered the words “You have got my man and now you want my bunch of flowers also” in any serious sense.  As if the possession of a few flowers could come into the very slightest consideration in connection with, or in comparison with, the possession of a beloved husband.

Rav Hirsch does not raise the question posed above – as to how Leah could have accused Rachel of taking her husband from her – but rather asks how Leah could have drawn any sort of comparison between being deprived of her husband’s affection and being deprived of flowers.  This question led Rav Hirsch to advance an entirely different reading of this episode.  Whereas this exchange between Leah and Rachel is generally understood as reflecting the tension and rivalry that characterized their relationship, Rav Hirsch understood that to the contrary, it demonstrates the remarkable congeniality that existed between the two sisters.  He writes:

Rather, the whole matter appears as an instance to show a state of the two sisters living together in the most confidential intimacy.  While Jacob is out in the fields the two wives sit together.  His evenings he spends alternatively with each one of them.  Reuben…brings some wild flowers home to his mother.  “Give me some of them” says Rachel.  “What sauce to ask for my precious flowers, etc.” says Leah jokingly, but of course she gives her some… “Now” says Rachel, “because you have been so kind, he shall come to you this evening…. Last evening you have had my husband etc.”

According to Rav Hirsch, Rachel and Leah’s remarks to each other in this instance were said in lighthearted humor.  That night was in any event Leah’s turn with Yaakov, and the two sisters joked together of how they share everything – their husband, their flowers, and so on.  Leah did not accuse Rachel of taking her husband.  Rather, she lightheartedly quipped, “Well, we share a husband – so I guess we can share flowers, too…”

            A much different – but equally unconventional – explanation of Leah’s remarks is cited in the name of Rav Shalom Schwadron.  (This approach is cited and developed by Rav Asher Brander at http://www.kehilla.org/parsha-reflections-1/vayetzei-5769-the-power-of-hidden-love.)  This approach claims, surprisingly enough, that Leah never knew that Yaakov was supposed to marry Rachel.  Lavan arranged for Rachel’s marriage to Yaakov privately, and secretly, and throughout the seven years of Yaakov’s service for Rachel’s hand, nobody other than these three – Lavan, Yaakov and Rachel – was aware of the agreement.  Thus, when Lavan approached Leah and informed her that she would marry Yaakov, she had no knowledge of any scheme.  She innocently assumed that this was being done with Yaakov’s wholehearted consent.

            This theory requires revisiting the Gemara’s famous comment (Megila 13b) about the “simanim” – the “signals” that Rachel taught to Leah before her marriage to Yaakov.  According to the conventional understanding of this account, Yaakov and Rachel anticipated Lavan’s ruse, and therefore devised a plan whereby Yaakov would “test” his bride on the wedding night by asking certain questions to ensure that he is brought the right woman.  Before the wedding, however, Rachel underwent a change of heart and did not want to allow her sister to be embarrassed.  She therefore taught Leah the “signals” so that she would answer correctly and Yaakov would not discover her identity until after the wedding night.  Clearly, this assumes that Leah was fully aware of the fact that she was participating in her father’s cruel and deceitful scheme.

            According to Rav Schwadron, however, the “simanim” refer to something else entirely.  These were not especially designed signals with which Yaakov would test his bride.  Rather, these were certain modes of behavior that Yaakov and Rachel had agreed before their marriage that Rachel would follow.  Upon realizing that she was being replaced by Leah, Rachel sat down with her sister and, as though innocently preparing her for marriage, advised her of these behaviors which Yaakov would expect of his wife.  Rachel passed on this information to her sister so Yaakov would not reveal her identity on their wedding night, but Leah, according to this approach, was entirely unaware that Rachel had this information because she was the intended bride.

            Although this approach certainly gives rise to numerous questions, it provides a sound explanation for Leah’s otherwise baffling accusation, “Is it not enough that you took my husband.”  As Leah was unaware that she was not Yaakov’s intended bride, it indeed appeared to her as though Rachel “stole” her husband by marrying him one week after she did. 

            If this understanding of the episode is correct, it sheds new light on the significance of Rachel’s selflessness.  Of course, when she shared the “simanim” with her sister, Rachel committed a heroically selfless act, assuming that she was forfeiting her groom whom she had waited seven years to marry.  But according to the approach cited, her heroism did not end there.  Even after her marriage to Yaakov, Rachel never disclosed to Leah what she had done, as she did not wish to cause her sister embarrassment.  Rachel thereby subjected herself to Leah’s ongoing resentment and hostility.  As she naturally assumed that she was the intended bride all along, Leah, for good reason, took strong exception to Rachel’s marriage to Yaakov, which drew his attention and affection away from her – the real wife.  But Rachel preferred to endure this hostility than to reveal to Leah that, despite being the older sister, she was not the woman Yaakov had wanted to marry.  Rachel was prepared to save her sister from humiliation even though this meant appearing as the villain in this entire episode and being unable to defend herself – and this, perhaps, is the real act of heroism in this story.

Friday

            We read in Parashat Vayetze that after Yaakov completed his fourteen years of service to his uncle and father-in-law, Lavan, which he owed in exchange for his two daughters’ hands in marriage, he expressed his desire to return to Canaan.  Lavan, however, begged Yaakov to remain and continue working for him: “If only I have found favor in your eyes – I have a superstitious idea that the Lord has blessed me on your account” (30:27).  As a number of commentators explain, Lavan determined through his oracles that it was because of the presence of Yaakov, a righteous man, that his enterprises succeeded over the last fourteen years.  He therefore implored Yaakov to remain so he can continue to reap the benefits of his presence.

            The next verse reads, “He said: Set your wage for me, and I shall give it.”  Significantly, this verse begins with the word “va-yomar” (“He said”), clearly indicating that this is a new statement, and not the continuation of Lavan’s remarks from the previous verse.  As Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch notes, it appears that Lavan’s initial endeavor to persuade Yaakov to stay did not succeed.  After begging Yaakov to remain on account of the blessing he brought to his herds, Yaakov remained silent and steadfast in his desire to leave.  Lavan was therefore compelled to make an attractive offer – “Set your wage for me, and I will give it.”  Indeed, Yaakov then responds and recommends an arrangement for compensation, which Lavan accepts.

            Rav Hirsch elaborates on Lavan’s initial attempt to persuade Yaakov.  He suggests that Lavan wanted to retain Yaakov’s service only for his mere keep, without paying a salary (just as Yaakov had worked for fourteen years without a salary, simply to earn the right to marry his daughters).  Lavan sought to win Yaakov’s consent to this unfair arrangement by attributing his success to the “magical” effect of Yaakov’s presence.  He made this claim, Rav Hirsch explains, for two reasons.  First, it absolved him from having to acknowledge Yaakov’s devoted service and hard work.  He told Yaakov that he brought him success simply by being there – the implication being that Lavan is willing to keep Yaakov there, but not pay him anything more.  Additionally, Lavan hoped to win Yaakov’s service through flattery.  He assumed – wrongly – that Yaakov would be gratified to hear the oracle’s proclamation that he possesses some magical power that brought blessing to Lavan’s flocks.  This gratification would be enough for Yaakov to agree to remain, even without receiving a reasonable salary.  But Yaakov was not moved, and it was only after Lavan offered material compensation, instead of flattering compliments, that he considered staying on as Lavan’s shepherd.

            Lavan’s wily attempt to win Yaakov’s favor reminds us of the strong psychological effects of flattery.  Desperate as we are for a feeling of self-worth, we are very vulnerable to this power of insincere compliments.  Many people are prepared to sacrifice a lot for words such those spoken by Lavan, to hear that they are important and to feel admired and revered.  Yaakov had a healthy enough self-esteem to be able to disregard Lavan’s shallow compliment.   His rejection of Lavan’s offer is instructive in alerting us to beware of the destructive effects of flattery, and not to sacrifice our own interests in exchange for complimentary words that give us a misleading sense of importance.