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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?
