Pure Oil – Parshat Miketz

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Rav Kook (Shemuot Re’iah)

Parshat Miketz provides a unique opportunity to explore the personality of Yosef, and his unique spiritual potential. There are also many connections between Yosef and Channukah,[1]and it is not a coincidence that Parshat Miketz falls out on Channukah every year.

Any correct perspective on the conflict between Yosef and his brothers must start with an understanding that this wasn’t a petty squabble motivated by jealousy. The root of the disagreement among the brothers was ideological. There were two approaches to Divine service in Ya’akov’s family, one championed by Yosef, the other by Judah. Each of them was the most prominent descendant of their respective mothers, and laid the foundation for the spiritual architecture of the Jewish people. As stated in Megilat Rut (4:11), “Like Rachel and Leah, both of whom built the House of Israel.”

The fundamental divergence between Yosef and Yehuda was as follows. Yosef stressed the mission of the Jewish people as “a light unto the nations.” In order to fulfill this goal, Yosef felt that we must interact with the nations of the world and make a concerted effort to draw them toward the monotheistic teachings of Judaism. His rise to power of Egypt was more than a matter of politics or economics. It served a deeper spiritual purpose as well. His oversight of Pharaoh’s empire enabled him to introduce G-d consciousness into the pagan darkness of Egypt, which was the most powerful and influential empire in the world at that time. Indeed, when Yosef sends word to his father that he is still alive, he asks his brothers to report that “G-d has placed me a master over all of Egypt,” שמני אלקים לאדון על כל מצרים. These words contain a deeper level of meaning as well – “I have placed G-d as a Master over all of Egypt.”

Yehuda, on the other hand, was concerned about the inevitable negative influences that come from interacting with pagan cultures. He emphasized the separateness of particular sanctity of the Jewish people, as “a nation that dwells alone” (Bamidbar 23:9). Yehuda feared that Yosef’s philosophy of openness and integration would endanger Israel’s future.

These conflicting views are embodied by the contrast between the Mishkan and the Temple in Jerusalem. Until it was destroyed by Phillistines in the period of the Shoftim, the Mishkan stayed at Shiloh after the Jews entered and conquered the Land of Israel. Shiloh was in the territory of the tribe Yosef, so there must be a profound connection between the Mishkan and Yosef. The Mishkan was a temporary structure, and expresses the idea of Israel’s kedushah spreading outward. For this reason, the Talmud )Zevachim 118b) teaches that while the Mishkan was in Shiloh, korbanot could be eaten outside its walls, as long as the Mishkan was in sight. In fact, this is derived from a verse about Yosef, which describes him as בן פורת עלי עין.

The Mikdash, on the other hand, rested primarily in the territory of Yehuda. And korbanot in the Temple could only be eaten within the walls of the Temple or the city of Yerushalayim (depending on the type of korban). The Mikdash expresses the perspective of Yehuda, that one must build walls in order to protect the unique sanctity of the Jewish people.

The holiday of Chanukah commemorates a similar struggle, the conflict between Israel’s integration with the rest of humanity and the need to preserve our distinct sanctity. The Greeks demanded adoption of their customs, the prevalent culture of the day. We know about their persecution against Torah observance, but the midrash (Vayikra Rabbah 13:5) records a peculiar Greek decree from that period. They demanded that the Jews “write on the horn of the ox that you have no share in the G-d of Israel.” Some interpret this as a reference to the Golden Calf, but in light of our earlier discussion, it seems more likely that it alludes to Yosef, who is referred to as an “ox” in the blessing of Moshe (Devarim 33:17).[2]The Hellenists claimed that they were only calling on us to continue in Yosef’s path, which they misinterpreted as an endorsement of assimilation and a rejection of Jewish distinctiveness.

This is the same reason that, according to the Mishnah (Midot 2:3), the Greeks broke down certain walls in the Mikdash. (We reference this in Ma’oz Tzur, in the stanza ופרצו חומות מגדלי.) Specifically, the Greeks specifically broke down the soreg, the wall that delineated the area into which non-Jews were not allowed to proceed in the Temple. Unlike other oppressors throughout our history, the Greeks were not opposed to the existence of the Mikdash. Nor were they set on destroying it. They didn’t even want to physically exile us from our land. Instead, they were opposed to any concept of chosenness, of distinction between Israel and the nations, between pure and impure.

Thus, the conflict with the Greeks was not only a physical war, but a spiritual conflict as well. The Chashmonaim were Kohanim from the tribe of Levi, whose natural spiritual path aligns with the separation and exclusiveness of Yehuda. As kohanim, they drew on the special sanctity of priesthood that separated them from the rest of the Jewish people. As part of their victory over the Greeks, they discovered a single jar of oil that had remained tahor, with the seal of the High Priest intact. This jar of pure oil was a sign that the inner sanctity of Israel remained intact, undefiled by contact with Greece and its paganism.

[1]Certain connections are already apparent in Chazal – such as the Talmud’s discussion of the laws of Channukah, where a midrashic exposition of the Yosef story makes an abrupt appearance. Later commentators find many conceptual connections and allusions to Channukah in the Yosef story.

[2]And possibly in the blessings of Ya’akov as well. See Bereishit 49:6 with commentaries.

Food for Thought

Rav Shimshon Pincus (Chanukah Sichot, pg. 51): When Yehuda was born, his mother Leah said, “I thank Hashem.” She recognized that all comes from Hashem, and she gave Yehuda a name that reflects that fact. This was always Leah’s attitude. Thus we read (Bereishit 29:17) that Leah’s eyes were red, for she was always crying her heart out to Hashem. Likewise, Yehuda’s descendant, David, said of himself (Tehilim 22:7), “I am a worm, not a man.” Despite his great accomplishments, David took no credit for himself, for he recognized that all comes from Hashem. In contrast, Yosef attributed to a person greater control over his own spiritual standing. And, he taught that this requires a person to be perfect. In our parashah, both Yehuda and Yosef faced similar challenges. Yehuda seemingly failed his test (with Tamar), but he confessed and moved on with his life. Likewise, Yehuda’s descendants David and Menashe erred and repented. This was not Yosef’s view. He told Potiphar’s wife (paraphrasing 39:9), “If I fail, I shall be considered a sinner.” The Gemara teaches that Yaakov appeared to Yosef at that moment and told him that his place among the tribes would be forfeited forever if he failed his test. In contrast to Leah, Yosef’s mother Rachel is described as perfectly beautiful. Rachel’s descendant King Shaul also had to be perfect, and, for one sin, he forfeited his entire kingdom. Yosef’s brothers felt that Yosef’s approach was dangerously close to Greek philosophy. The Greeks, too, preached self- improvement and perfection, but this ultimately leads to denying G-d. Unlike the Greeks, Yosef’s focus was on spiritual improvement, but Yosef’s brothers felt that any philosophy that attributes undue importance to man’s accomplishments is heretical.

Rabbi Avraham Gordimer: Yosef was severed from his family at the young age of 17. Faced with a strange land and language, as well as a culture of idolatry and hedonism, Yosef pulled through with G-d’s help to become the leader of the Jewish nation and its spiritual protector. Confronted by hatred, enslavement, physical temptation, imprisonment and scorn, Yosef steadfastly kept faith and commitment under the most challenging of circumstances to emerge strong and eventually affirm his stature as the bearer of Yaakov’s mesorah… The Chashmonaim and their supporters were in a very similar position. The Jews at the time were spiritually stifled, having to observe mitzvos clandestinely, while the Greek values of hedone and idolatry were thrust in their faces, backed by military threat. The challenges and adversity to Torah ideology and commitment were immense, and Torah observance was banned and disparaged; despite this all, the Chashmonaim and their followers persevered and emerged victoriously. Just like Yosef’s salvation came about through natural means, but it was clear that Hashem was behind it all, the wars of Chanukah lacked revealed miracles; only the continual flame, representing the Shechinah – Hashem’s Presence – attested that G-d was working it all from behind the scenes and was the source of all that transpired. The realization that Hashem designs and manipulates nature compels our recitation of Hallel on Chanukah, and our perseverance in Torah and mitzvos in the face of the adversity of secular society should be inspired by Yosef and the Chashmonaim, as we commemorate and internalize the miracles “of those days in these (and all) times”.

Professor William Kolbrener: The Jewish Pride of the Hasmoneans got under the skin of the Greeks, just as claims to Jewish exceptionalism gets under the skin of anti-Semites and anti-Zionists today. Of course, for the latter, the state of Israel is the most egregious and unforgivable expression of Jewish exceptionalism. In the time of Antiochus, the Assyrian Greek descendants of Plato and Aristotle exploited their claim towards universalism – the ‘woke’ culture of the time – as part of a program to wipe out Jewish expressions of difference: no Torah learning, no circumcision, no celebration of the new month. The Greeks sought to strike at the heart of Jewish difference – the Jews’ stubborn refusal to give up tradition in the face of a not-really-so-enlightened, and certainly intolerant, enlightenment culture… On Hanukkah, we take a lesson from the courageous Maccabees, and express Jewish singularity and difference. More that, on Hanukkah, we acknowledge that being chosen is not an embarrassment, but a responsibility – so we come out of the closet and advertise the miracle of the Hanukkah lamp, a sign of our triumph over Greek universalist attempts to eradicate us, and our commitment to being guided by a higher ideal – in every aspect of our lives…

Where at other times, we may try to just blend in, on Hanukkah, we publicize the miracle, and proclaim our difference through the light of the lamps. Even the sober and rationalist Maimonides gets excited by Hanukkah – a holiday he describes with unusual emphasis as ‘very beloved.’ Indeed, Jews proclaim their difference, at this time of year, with special enthusiasm, refusing a ‘woke’ form of universalism which does not allow for Jewish distinctiveness – whether through Jewish practice and thought or in support for Israel. Hanukkah is Jewish Pride Week – a time to come out of the closet and be proud.

In Foreign Fields – Parshat Vayeishev

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Rav Kook (Ein Ayah, Gemara Shabbat 49b) – As adapted by Rabbi Chanan Morrison

The Mishnah (Shabbat 7:2) enumerates 39 categories of melachah, activities which are forbidden on the Sabbath, such as planting, cooking, and building. What is the source for these categories of melachah? The Talmud in Shabbat 49b presents two possibilities. The first opinion is that 39 types of work were performed when constructing the Mishkan (Tabernacle) in the desert. The second opinion is that the word melachah appears 39 times in the Torah.

In fact, the word melachah appears 65 times, but the Sages were only counting verses that are connected to the Sabbath or the Tabernacle. As a result, the Sages sometimes disagreed which verses should be included in this count. One of the verses in question, from the reading of VaYeishev, speaks of Joseph’s labor for his Egyptian master, Potiphar: “And he came to the house to do his work (melachto)” (Gen. 39:11). But why should this verse be counted? Surely it has no connection to the Sabbath! To answer this question, we must first analyze the two views presented in the Talmud, connecting the 39 categories of activity either to building the Mishkan or to the word melachah in the Torah.

The Sabbath rest is in complete contrast to the weekdays filled with activity and work. The Sabbath belongs to the final goal of the universe, a time when all activity is finished. Work, by definition, indicates a state of incompleteness. Shabbat, on the other hand, is “mei’ein olam haba,” a taste of the future world, perfected and complete.

We live in an unfinished world of preparations and labor, a time of development and progress. The Tabernacle was a center of holiness within a spatial framework, subject to the limitations of our incomplete world. The Divine command to build the Tabernacle required that all the various categories of human activity be utilized in constructing it. The Jewish people needed to overcome and master the obstacles of mundane activity which hinder elevated life; then they could attain their ultimate objectives, living a life of holiness and closeness to G-d.

The second opinion quoted in the Talmud is based on a loftier perspective. The distinction between kodesh and chol, between the holy and the profane, only exists within our incomplete and divided reality. But when all of the forces and actions in the world are gathered together towards one elevated center, when all of life is directed to fulfill its true purpose, then the distinction between holy and profane disappears, and all aspects of life are bound together in the elevated union of kodesh kodashim, the Holy of Holies.

When we view the world through this higher prospective, adding the dimension of kodesh kodashim, then all activities become connected to the Sabbath ideal. All of life is bound to the sublime aim of absolute rest, without toil and preparations, only lofty joy and eternal truth. The view that sees in every mention of melachah in the Torah as relating to the Sabbath is not satisfied with ascribing meaning and significance only to that which is kodesh, only to those activities utilized to build the Mishkan. This is an inclusive vision that encompasses the holy and the profane, the natural and technological. Bound together, all activities are elevated with the holiness of the Sabbath day and the future realm of complete Sabbath. Not only is the holy center raised up, but also the branches — all forms of activity and melachah as recorded in the Torah.

In short, these two opinions deliberate our original question. The Talmudic discussion of what may be counted as the source for the melachot is, in fact, our question of how much of life truly ‘counts.’ Are only holy activities truly meaningful? Or is there eternal significance even in other aspects of life? According to the second, more inclusive view, the Sabbath encompasses all activities of Israel, both past and future, personal and national. However, the Jewish people in their long history have expended much time and energy in dispersed directions. Many Jews invested their talents to serve alien agendas. This is the essence of the Talmud’s doubt regarding Joseph’s labors in Egypt. Can individual activities performed in foreign lands for foreign goals still be counted as part of the accumulated service of the Jewish people over the millennia? Do they have eternal value?

On the one hand, it cannot be that the labors of a Jewish soul will not carry some residual imprint of the Jewish nation. Even if it was ‘planted’ on foreign soil, that which is suitable can be added, after removing the dregs, to the treasury of elevated Sabbath rest that Israel will bequest to itself and all of humanity. On the other hand, labor that was performed under foreign subjugation and enslavement is perhaps so far removed from the spirit of the Jewish people that it cannot be added to the national treasure of Israel.

Joseph, the Midrash states, represents the entire Jewish people (Tanchuma VaYigash 10). Even when laboring in Egypt, even as a slave under Potiphar and a prisoner in Pharaoh’s dungeon, his actions carried the mark of blessing and Divine success: “His master realized that G-d was with him and that G-d granted him success in all that he did…. G-d blessed the Egyptian because of Joseph” (39:3 and 5).

Nonetheless, we should not forget Potiphar’s position: Pharaoh’s chief executioner! The activities that Joseph performed under Potiphar’s direction were certainly alien to the spirit of Israel. Could the inner blessing of Joseph’s labors under such conditions be added to the treasury of activities connected to the perfected realm of Shabbat? This was the unresolved doubt of the Sages, whether to include the verse describing Joseph’s labors in a foreign land.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Yehonasan Gefen (Contemporary, Aish.com): Joseph did not hesitate to attribute all of his talents to G-d. This is a remarkable lesson in how to act in an alien environment, a test that all the generations of Galut (exile) had to face. One could try to hide his Judaism from the non-Jews, in an effort to hide the differences between them. Sadly, history has proven that this approach generally resulted in assimilation. By removing the barriers between Jews and non-Jews, one opens the way for the loss of his Jewish identity. However, Joseph’s confidence in asserting his beliefs proved to be one of the reasons why he and many in the future generations, were also able to withstand assimilation throughout the long Galut….

[Joseph] infused the Jewish people with the ability to follow in his footsteps and reject assimilation throughout the long exile. It is no coincidence that Parshat Mikeitz always falls on Chanukah – the lessons of the Portion relate to Chanukah. In this instance, the connection is clear; the Greek exile was the first in which the disease of assimilation posed a major threat to Jewish continuity. Throughout the previous exiles and suffering, the Jews maintained their sense of identity. However, the Greeks were the first nation to offer a genuinely enticing ideology. Sadly, a significant number of Jews failed to learn from Joseph, and gladly tried to remove all vestiges of their Judaism…However, the Hasmoneans and many Jews with them, resisted the attraction of the Greek way of life, and risked their lives to maintain their Jewish identity. Like Joseph’s strength in Egypt, the spiritual victory over the Greeks and the Egyptians can continue to give us guidance and inspiration to withstand the challenges of exile to this day.

Professor Aaron Koller (Esther in Ancient Jewish Thought, pg. 126): Indeed, perhaps Genesis meant to set up Joseph not as a hero, but as a warning, an example not to be followed. He may be the foil for the true history of the story of Israel in Egypt: Moses, who, although also a child of the system, does not work from within: but breaks free. Joseph left his home behind, naming his son Manasseh, it will be recalled, to thank G-d for helping him forget his ancestry. Moses has no need to leave anything behind in order to be fully Egyptian, and only when he leaves Egypt does he name his son “Gershom,” a reflection of his that he has been “a stranger in a strange land” (Exodus 2:22). While Joseph opted to embrace his new Egyptian identity wholeheartedly, finding rootedness in the culture in which he finds himself, Moses retains his sense of foreignness, never assimilating, but remaining a perennial outsider. Thus Joseph and Moses present two models of Jews in the court of the king of Egypt. A diaspora Jew can go the route of Joseph and rise to great heights within the system, but this may come at a great cost: the individual’s very identity may be lost in the process. Alternatively, he can go the way of Moses and reject the court, leaving the foreign land and taking the people along. Perhaps, the story of Joseph and Moses argues, while Joseph can save people’s lives, only Moses can bring redemption to the world.

Devarim Rabbah (2:8): When Moshe Rabbenu was refused entry the Land of Israel, he complained to G-d… [G-d] replied: “He who proudly admitted that this was his land shall be buried in it, but he who did not admit that this was his land shall not. Yosef didn’t deny his Hebrew origin when Potifar’s wife derided him as a “Hebrew brought here to make sport of us.” He even went further in describing himself to the chief butler as being “stolen from the land of the Hebrews.” As a result he was buried in his land… You, who did not acknowledge your land, cannot be buried there.” For the daughters of Yitro told their father that “an Egyptian man rescued us from the shepherds,” yet Moshe was silent [and made no effort to correct this misimpression and stress his Hebrew origins.]

Questions for Discussion

What other biblical characters face challenges similar to Yosef – i.e. rising to a position of prominence of power in a non-Jewish empire, confronting struggles of identity, etc.?
Do you agree or disagree with Rav Kook’s analysis? Why or why not?
The State of Israel is currently home to millions of Jews, but a majority of the Jewish people still live in chutz l’aretz. Is that good, bad, or neutral? How and why?
What has Torah Judaism has accomplished in America that it hasn’t done (or been able to done) in other countries/periods of history during galut?
Rav Kook asks if there is “eternal value” to “individual activities performed in foreign lands for foreign goals.” Do recent anti-Semitic terror attacks in America affect how we should think about this issue? Why or why not?
How do you think Yosef felt about working for Potifar and on behalf of the Egyptian empire?

Might and Right – Parshat Vayishlach

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Rav Kook (Otzrot HaRe’iyah, II:507)

Translation taken from Rav Chanan Morrison’s “Sapphire from the Land of Israel.”

“Therefore, the children of Israel may not eat the displaced tendon, which is on the socket of the hip, until this day, for he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip, in the hip sinew.” (Bereishit 32:33)

What is the significance of this prohibition? Do we refrain from eating the sciatic nerve only to commemorate a mysterious wrestling match that took place thousands of years ago?

At first glance, the prohibition of gid hanasheh appears to be yet another limitation that the Torah places on eating meat. While the Torah permits the consumption of meat, it instituted a number of restrictions, such as which animals may be eaten, how they are to be slaughtered, how their blood should be handled, and so on. These regulations indicate that we may not deal with animals as we wish, without regard for their welfare. On the contrary, we have moral obligations and responsibilities towards animals.

The prohibition of gid hanasheh, however, is meant to project a broader ethical aspiration, beyond the issue of how we should treat animals. According to tradition, the stranger who fought Jacob that night was the guardian angel of Esau. Jacob’s opponent symbolized the lifestyle of the hunter, a man of violence and conquest whose prophetic blessing was that he would live by his sword. This nighttime struggle was not a private experience, a personal event in Jacob’s life. It was a vision for all times. It epitomizes our constant battle against belligerent foes who claim the right to subjugate others by virtue of their physical strength and military prowess.

This struggle appeared to Jacob in its most unadorned fashion, without any pretense of gallantry and shining swords to mask its visceral violence and naked aggression. For the truth is that all wars, no matter how ‘civilized,’ are nothing more than a brutal struggle to subdue and conquer. If there is one area in which the human race is continually advancing, it is the art of war. Methods and tools of combat constantly grow ever more sophisticated. We have progressed from primitive spears and swords to guns and canons, and onwards to modern warfare with armored tanks, fighter jets, and nuclear bombs. And yet the essence of war remains the same: one-on-one combat between two opponents. All warfare boils down to the violent struggle to overcome and subdue, where victory is achieved by felling one’s adversary.

By not eating the gid hanasheh, we demonstrate our revulsion at unprovoked aggression and violence. Just as Jacob fought Esau’s angel that night, we also oppose the cynical belief in “the right of might.” There is no legal or moral right to terrorize and subjugate those who are weaker.

While nationalism provides many benefits, in its extreme form it can descend into imperialism and fascism. Nationalism is a lofty emotion in its natural, pristine state. But if it is not directed towards the highest goal — the aspiration of universal happiness and perfection — it will end up crossing the boundaries of morality.”

We may need a strong army to defend ourselves, and we may need to slaughter animals to provide for our physical needs. But by refraining from eating the gid hanasheh, we demonstrate that our goal is not to subjugate others, whether man or beast. Even as we eat the meat of animals, we avoid the sciatic nerve that allows the body to stand upright. This is a moral sensitivity which should govern every form of interpersonal interaction, enabling all to benefit from a Divine-spirited and harmonious existence.

Food for Thought

Sefer haChinuch (Mitzvah 3): This commandment hints that although Israel will suffer many troubles in the exile by the hands of… the descendants of Esav, they should trust that they will not perish, and that their descendants and name will stand firm forever, and that their redeemer will come and redeem them from their oppressor. And in continually remembering this idea through the commandment that serves as a reminder, they will stand firm in their faith and righteousness forever. And this hint stems from the fact that that the angel who fought with Yaakov our forefather – who according to tradition (Bereshit Rabba) was the guardian angel of Esav – wished to eliminate Yaakov from the world, he and his descendants; but he could not prevail, but pained him by injuring his thigh. Likewise, Esav’s seed anguishes the seed of Yaakov; but in the end, [the latter] will be saved from them.

Aish.Com: The thigh represents Jacob’s progeny. But the injury does not represent physical oppression but spiritual sickness. Jacob’s limp alluded to the fact that although Jacob himself was spiritually perfect and incorruptible, some of his descendants would succumb to the wiles of the forces of Esau (see Sforno, Malbim, Ktav Sofer).

In a more literal sense, Jacob was injured in the thigh and made to limp as Divine punishment. He had been making plans to run away from Esau (as implied by 32:8-9) – although G-d had earlier promised to protect him (28:15). (Rashbam to 32:29.)

Zohar with Commentary of the Vilna Gaon: The gid hanasheh is a euphemism for the reproductive organ. This is the place in the body that is most prone to falling to the evil inclination and is where the Satan, the angel of Esav, has the strongest hold. Satan was the angel who wrestled with Yaakov. He found no place in Yaakovs’s body which he could overcome, because all of Yaakov’s limbs and sinews were pure due to his tremendous righteousness and observance of the mitzvot. The only place the angel could touch him was where he had at least a modicum of control. This was the area of the brit milah. In that area Yaakov had some weakness because he had married two sisters

Rabbi Alan Haber (Israel, Contemporary): This explanation [of the Sefer haChinuch] always seemed strange to me. If the mitzva is meant to encourage, then why choose something which reminds us that Jacob’s enemy managed to wound him, rather than a symbol of his eventual triumph? And also, how is a prohibition meant to help us remember something? If the gid hanasheh somehow reminds us of Jacob’s victory, then perhaps the mitzva should not be to abstain from it, but rather to specifically eat it as a reminder, just as we do with matza on Passover.

[Perhaps we can suggest as follows.] At times, just like our forefather Jacob, we will be wounded. But we will survive – not only in spite of the injury but in some sense because of it. The wound is excruciatingly painful, it is crippling, and for a time it seems as though we can barely move ahead…This is when the gid hanasheh comes and reminds us, first of all, that in the perspective of history, these setbacks – however painful they may be – are temporary (in the very next chapter, we read that Jacob’s injury was fully cured; see Rashi on 36:18). And as a mitzvah that is observed passively through the mode of shev v’al ta’aseh (sit and do nothing), it reminds us that this is also how Jacob achieved his victory… Although he fought long and hard, Jacob didn’t manage to defeat his enemy. All he was able to achieve was a stalemate – a bitter night-long struggle that wore both sides down, with no winner. In that situation, he wasn’t able to actually do anything; just to absorb the blows, and persevere. But the gid hanasheh teaches us that sometimes, when there is no action to be taken, shev v’al ta’aseh is enough. Sometimes, the key to victory is just staying where you are and refusing to be knocked down, and to keep on going without paying too much attention to the pain. After the long night of exile, the morning eventually comes. And when it does, the enemy melts away and asks for a release, which he receives only after issuing a blessing. Until then, we have to continue the struggle.

Rabbi Gideon Rothstein: At the end of Hilchot Melachim, he [Rambam] offers a mini-history of how mitzvot came into the world. Yaacov gave us gid hanasheh as well as the night-time prayer. I find it striking that both of Yaacov’s contributions focus on night, the time of uncertainty. Night is, we might note, a time when we have many fewer mitzvot that during the day, almost as if the Torah assumed we would just retreat to our homes for its duration, returning to active life with the next day. Pushing forward through such times of night, including exile, seems a theme that plays a repeat role in Yaacov’s life… Chazal see Yaacov as having worried his whole life as to whether he would be sent to Gehinnom, to post-mortem punishment for his sins; Yaacov spends twenty years struggling with Lavan and fearing Esav, finally is forced to confront his brother and is deathly uncertain as to how that will go; and, in summarizing his life to Paroh sees it as a short and unhappy life. Yaacov, in other words, lives a life where he cannot see whether he is succeeding, and spends his life uncertain as to how it will look at the end.

[This is what we commemorate through gid hanasheh.] The emphasis, though, is not our ultimate survival so much as stressing building the fortitude to follow uncertain paths with the faith and confidence that G-d will make it work out as best possible. The mitzvah of gid hanasheh, to me, then, is about watching our Father Yaacov’s life struggles and learn from them… the road may be long, lonely, and doubt-filled, but as long as we struggle conscientiously, guided by our faith and the dictates it sets out for us, we can know that we will find success and reward from our Father in Heaven.

Questions for Discussion

How is gid hanasheh unique as compared to other mitzvot in the Torah? As compared to other kashrut related mitzvot?
Which of the above explanations for gid hanasheh do you find most compelling? Why?
Aside from gid hanasheh(as explained by Rav Kook), where else in the parshah does the Torah deal with ethical challenges presented by warfare?
Commemorating the Exodus involves positive acts, like eating matzah. If gid hanasheh is meant to help us commemorate something, why is it a prohibition? Shouldn’t G-d have commanded us to eat the gid hanasheh?

The Hidden World of Leah – Parshat Vayeitzei

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Rav Kook (Orot ha’kodesh, Volume 3)

Leah’s eyes were tender, but Rachel had beautiful features and a beautiful complexion. (Bereishit 29:17). Rashi: Leah’s eyes were tender because she expected to fall into Esav’s lot, and she wept, because everyone was saying, “Rebecca has two sons, and Laban has two daughters. The older daughter for the older son, and the younger daughter for the younger son.”

A person’s soulful greatness, which yearns for supernal holiness and great and exalted matters, must also involve itself in rectifying his character traits and deeds. At times, that soulful greatness must descend to the depths of everyday life and burrow into its minutest details in order to them and rectify direct them along the lines of righteousness and justice, as understood by the Torah and halachah. That soulful greatness must penetrate into the depths of his character traits in order to strip them of everything wicked and distorted.

If a person only concerns himself with ascent and not with purification and sanctification on the lowest level, the entire supernal light of ascent may shatter and turn into a scourge. The greatness of this person’s soul may be transformed into a bizarre egotism, and his yearning for knowledge about the essence of heavenly mysteries may turn into a fantasy that takes pride in the array of its colors.

A mighty spirit that elevates the phenomenon of life can also lift up a person’s stormy lusts. His desire for money, honor, and sensory pleasures can break all bounds. And from the mighty heights of a person’s supernal, angelic yearning can come the most terrible fall.

The hidden world is the trait of Leah, whose “eyes were weak.” She sits at the crossroads and prays not to fall into the world of Esav. Due to her greatness and weeping, she attained the foundation of prophecy and royalty [Yehuda is descended from Leah], and the portion of Israel.

Commentary (Mostly from Rav Moshe Weinberger’s Song of Teshuva Vol. 4)

Rachel and Leah were not simply great spiritual personalities. They established and represent different pathways of Divine service. According to the Zohar, Leah is connected to the hidden world (lit. עלמא דאתכסיה), and Rachel is connected to the revealed world (עלמא דאתגליא). This is an esoteric statement, but it is expresses itself on the p’shat level as well. Ya’akov met Rachel first, and intended to marry her. In contrast, the marriage to Leah was part of a secretive Divine plan that was concealed from Ya’akov. He simply did not anticipate that Leah would become part of the future of the Jewish people.

Our Sages teach that “Leah took a portion of praise.” Leah is associated with dynamic spirituality, song, self-expression and giving thanks. A song is composed of high and low notes. Leah had many diverse sides, and therefore she had many children. From one part of her came Reuven, from another part came Shimon, and so on. Various musical notes may be in conflict with each other. And there were many clashing sounds in Leah’s heart. She was drawn to, yet repulsed by the world of Esav. Our Sages teach that she lost the luster of her youth because she was crying and begging Hashem not to end up in Esav’s world. She was asking Hashem not only to save her from being married to Esav but also to save her from becoming a female version of Esav. Leah was the mother of all ba’alei teshuva, of all those who struggle with inner turbulence, whose every step is a struggle.

Had she not rectified her character traits, she could have fallen into the lost regions associated with Esav. She cried out to Hashem to help her do the right thing until she married Yaakov, and from their union came ultimately Moshe, the master of Torah and prophecy, and Dovid, the master of prayer. Everything comes from Leah, who was flying high but never neglected her character traits and deeds. Because she was constantly struggling, she is the mother of all baalei teshuvah, of all warriors. Because she cried and fought to do the right thing, she established the portion of Israel and the ultimate repair of the entire world.

In contrast to Leah, our Sages teach that “Rachel took a portion of silence” (Bereishis Rabbah 78:5). Rachel possessed an inner silence, a confidence in who she was. She was not conflicted but in a state of harmony. Rachel’s external beauty expressed a blameless inner complexion. Hers was the world of the tzaddik who is perfect from childhood. A “Rachel” type of person possesses an inner tranquility. He does not experience evil as a temptation that might at any moment overwhelm him. Once he receives proper guidance, he naturally and comfortably proceeds in a straight manner.

This approach does not work for someone with a “Leah” personality. A person who possesses a greatness of soul longs for the highest levels of holiness. He wishes to remove himself from the world, to go into the woods and engage in spontaneous prayer – hisbodedus– to Hashem. In consequence, a separation between his soul and body may develop. He might rise to high places, then all of a sudden descend to the darkest depths.

To prevent that, he must constantly work on improving his good traits, which are deeply connected to his body. They are the bridge over which the physical passes to the spiritual. Additionally, he must work on his actions, and on living in accordance with the Shulchan Aruch… [H]e must dedicate a tremendous amount of attention to rectifying his character traits and actions. Even as he experiences constant yearnings to grow in spirituality, he must descend into the many details of his life, correcting them and directing them in accordance with truth and righteousness.

For instance, he must play with his children and involve himself in the other simple, day-to-day affairs of his family. There is an opposite type of person who has no spiritual yearnings but focuses solely on day-to-day halachos and rectifying his traits. The life of such a person is above reproach but relatively sterile, cold, and unmotivated. A true service of God contains both of these elements: yearning for exalted spirituality together with work on rectifying the smallest details of day-to-day life…

A person who wanders into shul at ten-thirty in the morning – to daven, recite Tehillim, and sing – may think that he is the most spiritual person in the world. If he were really spiritual, however, he would force himself to get up early. Generally, a person of this sort recoils from confronting his physical desires. Thus, he is liable to give into them. That is why people who appear to be spiritual are often up to all kinds of mischief. Such a person lacks the stability and sturdiness of a Jew who is absolutely, unwaveringly attached to the Shulchan Aruch. The latter person drags himself out of bed when the alarm goes off at five -thirty in the morning because his spirit is telling him that he must get up to serve God. He may be incomplete in that he feels no great emotional upheaval or revelation. But because he listens to his spirit, he is spiritual. However, we do not have to choose between these two extremes. We must do our best to be fervent Jews who never abandon the smallest details of halachah…

I myself saw games in the waiting room of a great tzaddik in Yerushalayim. The Rebbe’s gabbai told me that they belong to the Rebbe who plays them with his young children. A tzaddik who is involved in heavenly matters does not feel like sitting down with his children and playing these games. But he understands that they need him to do so. His playing with them is a tremendous kindness – and so it is spiritual.

Food for Thought

Zohar: All that concerned Leah is kept under a veil by the Torah, as she typified the upper world, which is veiled and undisclosed. This is another reason why Leah’s death is not divulged like that of Rachel. It is in accordance, too, with this difference between the upper and the lower worlds that Leah was buried away from sight in the cave of Machpelah; whereas Rachel was buried by the open road.

Rav Ari Kahn: The Torah states that when Jacob came in from the field in the evening he was greeted by Leah, with whom he was intimate that night: “And Jacob came from the field in the evening, and Leah went out to meet him, and said, ‘You must come to me; for I have hired you with my son’s mandrakes.’ And he lay with her that night.” (Genesis 30:16) The Zohar notes that the text does not state that Jacob was intimate with Leah, rather the nameless mysterious “he” (Zohar Vayetze 157b). The Ariz’al stresses that Jacob has two identities: Jacob and Israel. This is an idea with which we are familiar from the biblical text. The Ariz’al explains that Jacob was married to Rachel while “he” who is identified with is Israel was married to Leah. This is not a case of schizophrenia; rather, Jacob embodies two missions which need to come to fruition. These missions are represented by Leah and Rachel

Questions for Discussion

Do you think you are more of a “Rachel” type or a “Leah” type? Why?
What other differences can you identify between the personalities of Rachel and Leah?
What happens when a “Leah” type is forced into the mode of a “Rochel” or vice-versa?
Yehuda is the most prominent descendant of Leah, whereas Yosef is the most prominent descent of Rachel. Do they have similar personality types as their respective mothers?
Rav Moshe Weinberger writes that someone who listens to his spirit is spiritual, even if they don’t feel a sense of inspiration. Do you agree? Why or why not?