Printable PDF available here. Last year’s piece on Toldot is available here.

Rav Kook (Based on Shemonah Kevatzim, 6:195)

And Isaac was forty years old when he took Rebecca the daughter of Bethuel the Aramean of Padan Aram, the sister of Laban the Aramean, to himself for a wife. (Bereishit 25:20)

And Isaac again dug the wells of water which they had dug in the days of his father, Abraham, and the Philistines had stopped them up after Abraham’s death; and he gave them names like the names his father gave them. (Bereishit 26:18)

The great light of Divine chesed is destined to manifest itself over all creations, all beings and all worlds. There may be impediments to this lofty endpoint of history, but all blockages will eventually be removed and negated, eliminated and forcefully abolished. The spiritual power that clears away these blockages is represented by Yitzchak, who represents the force of gevurah – often translated as “strictness,” “judgement” or “restriction.”

However, the forceful nature of Yitzchak’s gevurah is not a contradiction to Avraham’s chesed. In actuality, the inner essence of Yitzchak’s supernal gevurah is chesed itself. Avraham introduced an elevated way of living, a new moral code and vocabulary to a world that spoke only the language of paganism and immorality. He won many followers, but also skeptics, enemies and scorners. Yitzchak is the power that removes these defiling influences so that vigor of his father’s vision can shine forth in all of its splendor.

However, the force of Yitzchak’s gevurah-conviction is too rigid and overwhelming to be implemented outright in practice. It must be joined by another spiritual force, one that is also full of strength and vitality, one that also meets opposition with an iron will and unbreakable resolve, but which has been purified and softened to make it reconcilable with an imperfect reality that does not immediately and always live up to the highest ideals. Yitzchak found this spiritual force in Rivka, an Aramean girl raised in a wicked and idolatrous family who emerged to embody the chesed worthy of a matriarch of Avraham’s household.  Having grown up in such a home, Rivka understood better than Yitzchak the temptations of paganism and immorality. She was thus more suited to navigate the practical challenges of implementing Avraham’s vision. We should also note that despite the ugliness of Betuel and Lavan’s sinful character, the sheer force and energy of their determination to sin represented a powerful force, one that Rivka, by virtue of her teshuva, was able to refine and co-opt to serve the cause of holiness.

Rivka thus represents an alliance between the spiritual potentialities of chesed and gevurah, one which has chesed at its very essence – but in a way that the world can bear. Yitzchak’s uncompromising vision could not be implemented without a Rivka at his side. It is upon such illustrious foundations that the House of Israel was destined to be built, to fulfill its destiny of eliminating every blockage in the way of bringing the Divine light into every nook and cranny of worldly existence. “And the house of Jacob shall be fire and the house of Joseph a flame, and the house of Esau shall become stubble, and they shall ignite them and consume them, and the house of Esau shall have no survivors, for the Lord has spoken… And saviors shall ascend Mt. Zion to judge the mountain of Esau, and the Lord shall have the kingdom.”

Food for Thought

Rabbi Ari Kahn (Echoes of Eden): Perhaps Yitzhak is searching for a reason — any reason — to love his son. This is not at all like the unconditional love Rivkah has for her son Yaakov. Yet Yitzhak is unwilling to give up on Esav, even though he pales in comparison to Yaakov. Yitzhak finds a task Esav is capable of, even well-suited to: Esav is the hunter. When Yitzhak gets older and wishes to bless his son, again he looks for Esav’s positive attributes and asks him to bring him food. Yaakov, dressed as Esav, enters his room. The Torah tells us that at this point Yitzhak was blind. Rashi explains that this was due to the tears of the angels who cried during the akeidah. Yitzhak takes a moment to enjoy the aroma of the meal, of the goats his son has brought him. Rashi questions this particular pleasure, noting that few odors are as unsavory as the stench of goats. What did Yitzhak smell? Rashi’s answer is surprising: it is the aroma of paradise, the scent of Gan Eden.… Two of Yitzhak’s senses, then, were affected by the singular experience of the akeidah. After being raised up on the altar, Yitzhak’s sight is forever altered. But what is the nature of Yitzhak’s perception, and what is the extent of his vision? Is he somehow damaged? Is he naive regarding his son’s shortcomings, seeing less than we do – or does he perhaps see much more?

Yitzhak clearly sees differently: he sees through the prism of his akeidah experience, an experience that took him directly to Gan Eden. Eden is a place deep in the past of our collective conscience. It is also a place in the future. It represents a world perfected, and it represents a perfect world. This is how Yitzhak saw: not through the jaundiced eye that most people use as a spectrum, which diffuses the good and focuses on the bad. Yitzhak saw the world from the perspective of the Garden of Eden. He saw perfection. He saw the culmination of history, the realization of the process of the process of redemption, the return to the perfected state of Eden. He saw the future.

Yitzhak’s entire being is intertwined with this perspective, this type of sight or perception that focuses on the future.” Even his name, which represents the essence of his being, means “will laugh” — in the future. This is the real meaning of the midrashim that tell us that Yitzhak went from the akeidah to Gan Eden: his eyes were “fixed” at the akeidah, his perception altered. Now he had perfect vision. Now he saw a perfect world. He saw the world from the vantage point of Eden.

Gemara Shabbat (89b): What is the meaning of that which is written: “For You are our Father; for Abraham knows us not, and Israel does not acknowledge us; You, Lord, are our Father, our Redeemer, everlasting is Your name” (Isaiah 63:16). In the future that will surely come, the Holy One, Blessed be He, will say to Abraham: Your children have sinned against Me. Abraham will say before Him: Master of the Universe, if so, let them be eradicated to sanctify Your name. G-d said: I will say it to Jacob. Since he experienced the pain of raising children, perhaps he will ask for mercy on their behalf. He said to Jacob: Your children have sinned. Jacob said before Him: Master of the Universe, if so, let them be eradicated to sanctify Your name. The Holy One, Blessed be He, said: There is no reason in elders and no wisdom in youth. Neither Abraham nor Jacob knew how to respond properly. He said to Isaac: Your children have sinned against Me. Isaac said before Him: Master of the Universe, are they my children and not Your children? At Sinai, when they accorded precedence to “We will do” over “We will listen” before You, didn’t You call them, “My son, My firstborn son Israel” (Exodus 4:22)? Now that they have sinned, are they my children and not Your children?

And furthermore, how much did they actually sin? How long is a person’s life? Seventy years. Subtract the first twenty years of his life. One is not punished for sins committed then, as in heavenly matters, a person is only punished from age twenty. Fifty years remain for them. Subtract twenty-five years of nights, and twenty-five years remain for them. Subtract twelve and a half years during which one prays and eats and uses the bathroom, and twelve and a half years remain for them. If You can endure them all and forgive the sins committed during those years, excellent. And if not, half of the sins are upon me to bear and half upon You. And if You say that all of them, the sins of all twelve and a half years that remain, are upon me, I sacrificed my soul before You and You should forgive them due to my merit. The Jewish people began to say to Isaac: You are our father. Only Isaac defended the Jewish people as a father would and displayed compassion toward his children…

Rav Moshe Weinberger (Song of Teshuva, Vol. 2, pg. 266, 267): A person may have had a will for sin so strong that, although he knew that what he was doing was wrong, it overwhelmed him and broke all of the laws of morality and faith. If he wanted something, he would not allow anything to stop him. With the sheer force and energy of his determination to sin, he broke all of the boundaries of ethics and faith. There was not one decent thing that he did not attack. There was not one moral ideal that was not subject to the violence of his will… The initial stages of teshuvah involve remorse, which is very important. That is the world of holiness. At that point, a person cuts everything away. But oftentimes this leaves him cold, lifeless, sterile and empty. He does the right things but not with the delight that he did wrong things. Such a person does not feel like davening, performing mitzvos, learning Torah, talking to his children. Twenty years ago, he was on fire. When he was engaged in sins, he brought his will and desires into actuality in the physical realm. Yet now he lacks the spark of life. Often a baal teshuvah reaches this point after a number of years have passed. When he first came to Yiddishkeit, it was exciting and delightful. But over the years, as he descends into ordinary, everyday life – going every day to shul, getting on line to buy kugel — he no longer has that feeling. He accepted Torah because it gave him a spiritual lift. There was meaning to it and it made him feel good. But now he looks at himself and says, “What happened to me? I’m just like everyone else. Just as my neighbor doesn’t care, I don’t care.” Then he begins to think that he experienced more delight when he was in college or in the Far East. He had more pleasure talking to his girlfriend than he has talking to his wife. He had more pleasure talking to someone in the Himalayas than he has talking to G-d.

Rav Soloveitchik (Darosh Darash Yosef, pg. 64-65): And Isaac dwelt in Gerar. The Torah envelops Isaac, a cryptic figure, in an aura of mystery. It does not reveal much of his personality except for two episodes: his brief stay in the land of Gerar and his role in the confrontation between Jacob and Esau in their competition for his blessing. The Torah assigned three parshiyos to Abraham and many more to Jacob, but only one to Isaac. Why is this so? The kabbalists provide the answer. Each of the patriarchs personified one of G-d’s own attributes. Abraham epitomized chesed, and Isaac was the quintessence of gevurah. When a person practices chesed, lovingkindness, he lets others share in his actions and in his existence, leading to communication and dialogue. Gevurah on the other hand connotes retreat or withdrawal into ones’ private world. Thus, Isaac is wrapped in a mantle of mystery. Isaac’s nature was to be hidden and to defy description. Such a hidden personality is more difficult to fathom and appreciate. Isaac was a monastic figure, separated from society.

Questions for Discussion

1. Rav Kook claims that Rivka was more capable than Yitzchak at dealing with certain practical realities of the world. Where in the parshah do we see this borne out?
2. What does Rivka have in common with Yitzchak? With Avraham? With Sarah?
3. How does G-d want us to properly manifest gevurah in our own lives?
4. Where do you think Yitzchak got his uncompromising “gevurah-conviction” from? Was he just born that way, or did something happen to him that made him that way? If the latter, what was it?
5. Rav Kook claims that the essence of Yitzchak’s gevurah is Avraham’s chesed. Where in the parshah might this be expressed? (See Rabbi Ari Kahn above in “Food for Thought” for an incredible explanation, and also the gemara in Masesches Shabbos.)
6. Why is Rivka chosen as Yitzchak’s wife?
7. Rav Kook concludes his piece with pasukim about Israel eventually conquering and destroying Esav. How should we understand that in light of Rav Kook’s insights about the purpose of chesed and gevurah?

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Printable PDF available here.

Rav Kook (Midbar Shur)

And the youths grew up, and Esav was a man who understood hunting, a man of the field, while Ya’akov was a wholesome man, dwelling in tents. (Bereishit 25:27)

Yitzchak’s spiritual power related to two areas of Divine service. One was his ability to join with the broader world and advance their welfare. The other was his posture of retreat and holding himself separate, in order to protect his innate sanctity and preserve its potency for the future.

Both of these are essential to the Torah’s ideal conception of spiritual life. And each individual must work diligently at being both engaged with the world and withdrawn from it. However, there is always a question of how to integrate these two tendencies. To a large measure, the balance a person strikes depends on his specific nature. We see this clearly with Yitzchak’s two children, each of whom was drawn to emphasize a different aspect of their father’s spiritual personality.

Esav was a hunter and a “man of the field,” while Ya’akov “dwelled in tents.” This is not simply a description of their hobbies or where they spent their time. It encapsulates the respective essence of Yitzchak’s two sons. Esav was involved in the broader world in a vigorous and active manner. In contrast, Ya’akov kept apart from the broader world and remained in his tent. It was not that Ya’akov did not care about sharing Avraham’s spiritual vision with the rest of humanity. Rather, he hoped that by turning inward and focusing on actualizing his own completeness, the rest of the world would be uplifted.

Esav could have been a part of the spiritual mission of the Avot. Except for his immediate family, the rest of humanity was mired in paganism. Esav had an awesome potential to illuminate this darkness by bringing the light of Avraham to the broader world. However, Esav squandered his potential. He became overly involved with the broader world and unmoored from the values of the “tent” where his brother tarried. As a result, he adopted values and aspirations that were incompatible with those of Yitzchak and Avraham, whose world he became estranged from.[1]

Yitzchak did not realize Esav’s true nature. However, he did know that Esav was powerful and charismatic, engaged with his contemporaries and involved in worldly activity. This is why Yitzchak loved him. After all, Yitzchak’s mission in life was to spread Avraham’s message to the broadest possible audience.[2]Esav’s power to influence his contemporaries in the ‘field’ was tremendous, and Yitzchak assumed that his influence would be a positive one.

Ya’akov, however, did realize this. He saw that Esav had squandered his kedushah, and adopted the values of the ‘field’ instead of transforming the field into a G-dly ‘tent.’ If Esav was not going to further the Divine vision in his interactions with the broader world, Ya’akov would have to assume that responsibility. He could no longer content himself with being a dweller of tents. Now, it would fell upon to advance the spiritual wellbeing of humanity. And so he insisted that Esav sell the bechorah – not because Ya’akov thought it was a good business deal or because he wanted the bechorah, but because the continuity of Avraham’s vision demanded it.

Granted, the world was not ready for Ya’akov to contend in the ‘field.’ There was much purification that had not yet been completed, and even in our day, much still remains. Like Ya’akov, we must still remain set apart, living with the broader world but not of it. Only in this way can we preserve our spiritual mission and our kedushah, and avoid losing them like Esav did. Ya’akov purchased the bechorah from Esav because he knew the right time would eventually come, and like him, we are still waiting. It has been many generations, but with every generation, we draw closer to the moment when the tent and the field will unite, when Israel and the nations will form one united body to serve G-d in purity and truth.

[1]Yishmael was expelled from Avraham’s house against his will, while Esav left willingly. Perhaps this is why the gemara in Kiddushin refers to Esav as a ישראל מומר, literally an ‘apostate.’

[2]Rav Kook’s characterization of Yitzchak is interesting, and perhaps counterintuitive. It seems like Yitzchak was the most withdrawn of the Avot, the one least interested in spreading Avraham’s message to a broader audience. וצריך עיון.

Food for Thought

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, 5777): On the phrase “knew how to trap”, Rashi comments “He knew how to trap and deceive his father with his mouth. He would ask him, “Father, how should one tithe salt and straw?” Consequently his father believed him to be strict in observing the commands.” Esau knew full well that salt and straw do not require tithes, but he asked so as to give the impression that he was strictly religious. And here it is Rashi’s comment on the phrase that Isaac loved him “because entrapment was in his mouth”: “there was entrapment in the mouth of Esau, who trapped his father and deceived him by his words”… So the classic answer is that Isaac loved Esau because he simply did not know who or what Esau was. But there is another possible answer: that Isaac loved Esau precisely because he did know what Esau was.

In the early twentieth century someone brought to the great Rabbi Avraham Yitzhak Kook… the following dilemma. He had given his son a good Jewish education. He had always kept the commands at home. Now however the son had drifted far from Judaism. He no longer kept the commandments. He did not even identify as a Jew. What should the father do? “Did you love him when he was religious?” asked Rav Kook. “Of course,” replied the father. “Well then,” Rav Kook replied, “Now love him even more.”

Sometimes love can do what rebuke cannot. It may be that the Torah is telling us that Isaac was anything but blind as to his elder son’s true nature. But if you have two children, one well behaved, the other liable to turn out badly, to whom should you devote greater attention? With whom should you spend more time? It may be that Isaac loved Esau not blindly but with open eyes, knowing that there would be times when his elder son would give him grief, but knowing too that the moral responsibility of parenthood demands that we do not despair of, or disown, a wayward son.

Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch (Commentary on the Torah): That Isaac’s sympathies were more inclined towards Esau, Rebecca’s to Jacob, can moreover easily be explained by the attraction of opposites. We see Isaac, risen up again from death on the altar, preferring to withdraw from the bustle of the world and to live quietly in the proximity of the desert, living at the well of Be’er l’Chai Ro’i away from the busy traffic of men. That Esau’s… active nature appealed to him, and that he perhaps saw in him a force which he had lost could be a support to the home, would be quite possible. Rebecca, on the other hand saw in Jacob’s whole being a picture of a life unfolding of which in her father’s house she had never had the remotest idea…

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks (Covenant and Conversation, 5776): [Isaac] knew that Abraham had sent his son Ishmael away. He may have known how much that pained Abraham and injured Ishmael. There is a remarkable series of midrashim that suggest that Abraham visited Ishmael even after he sent him away, and others that say it was Isaac who effected the reconciliation. He was determined not to inflict the same fate on Esau.

Likewise, he knew to the very depths of his being the psychological cost on both his father and himself of the trial of the akeidah. At the beginning of the chapter of Jacob, Esau and the blessing the Torah tells us that Isaac was blind. There is a midrash that suggests that it was tears shed by the angels as they watched Abraham bind his son and lift the knife that fell into Isaac’s eyes, causing him to go blind in his old age. The trial was surely necessary, otherwise God would not have commanded it. But it left wounds, psychological scars, and it left Isaac determined not to have to sacrifice Esau, his own child. In some way, then, Isaac’s unconditional love of Esau was a tikkun for the rupture in the father-son relationship brought about by the akeidah.

Questions for Discussion

1. Which other figure in the book of Bereishit seems like they had potential to be an heir of Avraham, but squandered their opportunity?[*]
2. How do we strike being involved with/concerned for the broader non-Jewish world, without losing our distinctiveness and adopting foreign and un-Jewish values?
3. Rav Kook claims that Esav could have participated in the spiritual mission of the Avot, but became too involved in the ‘field’ and כאילו went off the derech. Do you find his explanation convincing? Why or why not? What are some other possible theories for why Esav was excluded?
4. The midrash, quoted by Rashi, says that Ya’akov “dwelling in tents” refers to tents of Torah study. How does this fit with Rav Kook’s explanation that the “tent” represents turning inward and focusing on actualizing one’s own spiritual completeness.
5. See Rav Shimshon Raphael Hirsch’s explanation above in “Food for Thought.” How does it differ from Rav Kook’s explanation? How is it similar?
6. What challenges from the world of Esav and the ‘field’ does the Jewish world have to contend with today? How can we meet them successfully?    

[*]If you need a hint, his name starts with a lammed.

Translation: Me’orot ha’Reiah (Vol. 4, Pg. 187)

The struggle between good and evil traces its origins to the conflict between Ya’akov and Esav, a conflict with cosmic spiritual significance. For this was not merely a squabble between two brothers, but a fundamental disagreement regarding God’s relationship with the world and humankind.

Esav resolved to follow his desires wherever they led him. He repudiated any notion of Divine providence, believing the world to be governed by an immutable and impersonal system of natural laws (lit. tevah). Within this system, it made no difference how a person behaved or conducted himself. There were rare exceptions, of course – an overt Divine miracle or perhaps a subversion of the system on behalf of an extraordinary individual. But the notion that Divine providence could override the world of tevah – that was anathema to Esav.

Ya’akov, who was deeply attached to the service of God, stood against this worldview. He could not countenance that humanity would forget God’s name and deny Divine providence. And so he taught that there is a spiritual reality which supersedes the laws and limitations of tevah.[1] As Ramban writes,[2] the Torah’s promises of collective reward and punishment are rooted in this very premise. As Ya’akov descendants and inheritors of his mission, the Jewish people are subject to special Divine providence. We are not subject to the same laws of nature as other nations.[3]

This helps us understand the symbolism of Ya’akov emerging from the womb grabbing onto Esav’s heel. The heel is the perfect symbol of Esav’s worldview because of the intrinsic connection between motion and the natural world, as is known.

Translator’s Note: Rav Kook does not elaborate on what sources he has in mind here. After some digging, I found that Maharal writes that (i) motion is associated with change, (ii) change is a property of the physical world, and (iii) the physical world changes because it is imperfect and transitory. It follows that motion is inimical to the spiritual world, where everything exists in a state of perfection. See Gur Aryeh (Bereishit 17:5, s.v. שאף יו׳ד של שרה, with sources cited there in the Machon Yerushalayim edition) and the introduction to Derech haChayim. Rav Kook may be referring to sources in medieval Jewish philosophy, but I know even less about that than I know about Rav Kook, so I will defer.

Ya’akov grabbing onto Esav’s heel thus symbolizes his attempt to block the proliferation of Esav’s poisonous ‘heel-philosophy.’

This also clarifies why Ya’akov is referred as an איש תם, lit. “wholesome” or “complete.” [4] Man is a dual being, with a physical body subject to the laws of nature and a soul that operates as part of a higher, Divine order. It follows that a person who lives according to a deterministic worldview (i.e. the worldview of Esav) is a fragmented and fractured personality. His body and soul are in irreconcilable disharmony, quite literally living in different worlds.

Contrast that with Ya’akov, whose soul was rooted in the realm of Torah and prophecy. In the way of life that Ya’akov modeled, one’s worldly conduct is not dictated by the laws of nature, but by the higher realm of Divine will and wisdom.[5] The body operates on the same wavelength as the soul and is guided by it. It becomes a partner to the soul and its spiritual aspirations. This is a life of harmony and integration – of being תם, ‘wholesome’ and ‘complete’, in the truest sense of the word.[6]

Commentary

Rav Kook teaches us that the conflict between Ya’akov and Esav is more than just a historical curiosity or a episode of sibling rivalry. It represents a fundamental conflict between two worldviews. Esav’s world is one of fragmentation and disharmony. The body follows its desires and ignores the spiritual aspirations of the soul. Divine providence is an illusion, and so is our freedom of choice. Like all other components of the physical world, our actions are determined by a blind and immutable system of cause and effect. In contrast, Ya’akov strives to integrates the spiritual and the physical. He teaches that the limitations of tevah are subservient to and supplanted by Divine providence. God’s universe is not indifferent to how we relate to Him or how we treat each other.

Rav Kook also asserts that Divine providence is not merely an important aspect of the Torah, but its defining feature. The battleline in the struggle between good and evil runs through Divine providence. Anything that strengthens humanity’s belief in Divine providence and the integrated worldview of Ya’akov contributes to good. In contrast, determinism, blindly following one’s desires and belief in Divine indifference magnify the strength of evil.

As an aside, Rav Kook’s understanding of Esav’s worldview is a strikingly accurate encapsulation of Christianity, which many sources understand as the spiritual successor to Esav.[7] Christianity teaches that this world is fallen and irredeemably sinful. Salvation cannot be attained by law/mitzvot, which Jesus abrogated, but only through Divine grace. The natural consequence – borne out by centuries of bloodshed, persecution and pogroms (and contemporary scandals, והמבין יבין) – is that Christianity summons the spirit to soar upwards, but abandons the body to unbridled license, violence and sensuality.[8] The inner world created by Christianity is fragmented and schizophrenic – the opposite of the harmony of integration modeled by Ya’akov.

[1]    Rav Kook is not asserting that tevah is an illusion (like Rav Dessler and other thinkers maintain), only that there is a higher level of Divine providence that supersedes it.

[2]    Shemot 13:16. See here for further discussion of Ramban’s comments.

[3]    If this sounds overly abstract, consider the fact that the Jewish people have survived despite the efforts of the world’s most powerful empires to subjugate or destroy us. Clearly the laws of history that govern other nations do not apply to the Jewish people.

Consider also that:

a) the Hebrew word for habit (lit. הרגל) has the same root as the word for foot (lit. רגל); and

b) the heel is the part of the body that is furthest away from the head and closest to the earth.

[4]    Bereishit 25:27.

[5]    Rav Kook uses this to explain why Ya’akov is described as “dwelling in tents” (lit. יושב אהלים). A tent is a temporary dwelling, and so it embodies the transitory nature of the physical world. In order for there to be a partnership between body and spirit, one must be reminded that the physical is transitory. Ya’akov was naturally drawn to the world of the אוהל.

[6]    In kabbalah (yet another subject I know very little about), Ya’akov is associated with the trait of תפארת, i.e. the harmonious integration of opposing traits and energies. Avraham embodied חסד and Yitzchak embodied גבורה, but Ya’akov was the synthesis of those two opposites.

[7]    How this came about is beyond the scope of this piece, but a brief summary goes like this – (i) Esav/Edom became associated with Rome, (ii) the Roman empire adopted Christianity, and (iii) therefore the Church is considered the heir to Rome.

[8]    See Rav Hirsch on Bereishit 1:27, s.v. ויברא אלוקים את האדם בצלמו.

Questions for Reflection and Discussion

1. How does an ‘איש תם’ (as interpreted by Rav Kook) live differently than someone who lives by Esav’s deterministic mindset? And how is his/her relationship with God different?
2. Does the Torah tell us anything about Ya’akov or Esav that supports Rav Kook’s assertion about different philosophies regarding Divine providence? (I don’t have a good answer to this yet, but see Bereishit 25:32 as a starting point regarding Esav.)
3. What is a time when you experienced Divine providence in your life? How did it affect you?
4. Based on what you read and hear, do you think contemporary science supports the philosophy of Ya’akov? Or has it been co-opted by the philosophy of Esav?
5. What could you do to be more mindful of Divine providence in your life?

About this Piece

Me’orot ha’Reiah is a multi-volume anthology of Rav Kook’s writings on various Jewish holidays. The volumes are published by Machon Rav Tzvi Yehuda ha’Kohen, and began to come out in the late 1990s.

If you are interested in more English sources about Divine providence in Jewish thought, you may like Hashgachah Pratis by Rav Aryeh Leibowitz (available as an e-book that costs less than a macchiatto at Starbucks!) and the audio shiurim of my teacher Rav Netanel Weiderblank on YUTorah.org.