פרשת "בא" - התנגשות בין תורות אמונה

 

תודה מיוחדת לרוג'ר פרויקין עבור תרגום המאמר לעברית

פרשת בוא (שמות י', א'-יג', ט"ז) מתארת את את המכות האחרונות אשר הביא ה' על מצרים, את שבירת התנגדותו של פרעה ואת עזיבת בני ישראל.

הפרשה אינה עוסקת רק בחופש משעבוד פוליטי או באמנציפציה. אלא, הפרשה מתעדת עימות תיאולוגי בין שתי תפיסות עולם או חזונות יריבים של המציאות ווביטול תאולוגיה אחת על ידי אחרת. היא מתארת ​​התנגשות בין התאולוגיה המצרית, המושרשת בכוח, בטבע ובסדר נצחי, לבין התאולוגיה הישראלית.יהודית, המבוססת על אחריות בריתית, היסטוריה מוסרית וזמן מקודש.

המצרים הקדמונים ראו את העולם כמערכת סגורה ויציבה הנשלטת על ידי שיווי משקל קוסמי שבו פרעה היה דמות אלוהית וערב לסדר. הטבע היה קדוש, הכוח נצחי והיררכיה בלתי ניתנת לשינוי. במערכת כזו, עבדות לא הייתה עוול אלא מאפיין של המציאות.

כנגד תפיסת עולם כזו עומדת התורה שבה אלוהים נמצא מעל הטבע וההיסטוריה ומתערב בשניהם. בניגוד לחשיבה המצרית,  הישראלית, בני האדם אינם מקובעים בשורות נצחיות אלא מסוגלים להשתנות ועבדים יכולים להפוך לעם ברית.

מדרש שמות רבה מאשר במפורש את ההתנגשות בין שתי התאולוגיות, כאשר הוא קובע: "כשם שגבה עונש מן המצרים, כך גבה עונש מאלוהיהם" (15:22). זה מחזק את התפיסה שהמכות מתפקדות כשיפוטים תיאולוגיים, ולא רק עונשים.

רש"י, באופן דומה, ממסגר את המכות כסימנים תיאולוגיים, לא אסונות טבע. רש"י מסביר כי הכרזתו של ה' "וידעתם כי אני ה'" (שמות י', ב') מציעה שהמכות נועדו ללמד על ה', לא רק למצרים אלא גם לעם ישראל עצמו. באופן בולט ביותר, בפירושו לשמות י"ב, י"ב, רש"י מציע שכאשר ה' מכריז "אני ה'", הוא מתכוון למעשה ל"אני עצמי ולא מלאך; אני עצמי ולא שרף; אני עצמי ולא שליח...".

כאן, רש"י נוגע בהבדל מהותי אחד בין הציוויליזציה המצרית העתיקה לתורה. התורה אינה כוללת מתווכים בעוד שהדת המצרית הייתה תלויה בהם - קסם, כהונה, כוחות קוסמיים. גאולה דורשת מפגש ישיר עם ה' האחד שעומד מעל הטבע וההיררכיה.

רמב"ן, אף הוא,  מלמד שהמכות לא היו פעולות כוח אקראיות אלא פירוק שיטתי של אמונות שווא. לדבריו, מטרת האותות והמופתים הגדולים היא ללמד את האמונה באלוהים, להודיע ​​שהוא ברא את העולם, שהוא מכיר ומפקח על אנשים, ושהוא בעל כוח מוחלט על הכל (רמב"ן על שמות י"ג, ט"ז).

השקפה זו מתבטאת בשלוש המכות האחרונות שתוקפות ישירות את אמונות הליבה של מצרים. המכה השמינית, ארבה, שואפת להראות שהטבע אינו צפוי ונתון לפיקודו של אלוהים. החושך, המכה התשיעית, הוא מתקפה חזיתית על רע, אל השמש. כישלון ושלילת האלוהות המרכזית של מצרים גורמים לקריסת הציוויליזציה שלה. החושך האופף את מצרים, שם "לא יכלו לראות זה את זה", אינו רק פיזי. הוא משמש גם כמטאפורה לחברה שמאבדת את הקוהרנטיות שלה בעקבות קריסה כזו. לבסוף, המכה המובילה למות הבכורים נועדה להפריך את אמונת הליבה של המצרים שפרעה הוא אלוהי ולהוכיח ששושלת האלוהית היא אשליה. מכות אלו מצביעות על כך שזה לא רק עונש. זוהי תיאולוגיה. הפרכה. היא נועדה ללמד אותנו שהמכות אינן פעולות כוח אקראיות אלא פירוק שיטתי של אמונה כוזבת. במכות האחרונות, עימות תיאולוגי זה מגיע לשיאו.

בפירושו לספר בו, הרב לורד ג'ונתן סאקס כותב שמצרים חיפשה אלמותיות באמצעות מונומנטים, חניטה ושושלות, בעוד שהיהדות מחפשת נצח באמצעות זיכרון, חוק ואחריות מוסרית. פרעה מאמין שכוח הוא קבוע; אלוהים מלמד שרק ברית קיימת. וחשוב מכל, סאקס מתעקש שחירות, בפרשת בו, אינה חופש מחויבות אלא חופש לאחריות (ברית ושיחה פרשת בו).

פרשת בוא היא עימות דרמטי ומתמשך בין שתי תיאולוגיות יריבות: מצרית וישראלית (מקראית/יהודית). הנרטיב אינו רק על שחרור מדיכוי אלא אף על מהו חזון מציאות אמיתי. יציאת מצרים אינה רק אירוע. זוהי מהפכה תיאולוגית.

שבת שלום וכל ברכה

Parashat "Bo" - the Clash of Theologies

 

Parashat Bo (Shemot 10:1-13:16) narrates the final plagues, the breaking of Pharaoh’s resistance, and  the departure of Bnei Yisrael.

The Parashah is not merely about freedom from political bondage or emancipation. Rather, the Parashah records a theological confrontation between two rival conceptions or visions of reality and the displacement of one theology by another. It describes a clash between Egyptian theology, rooted in power, nature, and timeless order, and the Yisraelite theology, grounded in covenantal responsibility, moral history, and sanctified time.

The ancient Egyptians viewed the world as a closed, stable system which is governed by cosmic equilibrium where Pharaoh was a divine figure and the guarrantor of order. Nature was sacred, power eternal and heirarchy immutable. In such a system, slavery was not an injustice but a feature of reality.

Against such a worldview stands the Torah in which G-d is above nature and history and intervenes in both. Unlike the Egyptian mindset, in the Yisralite one, human beings are not fixed within eternal ranks but are capable of transformation and slaves can become a covenantal people.

Midrash Shemot Rabbah explicitly affirms the clash between the two theologies where it  when it states, "Just as He exacted punishment from the Egyptians, so, too, did He exact punishment from their gods (15:22). This reinforces the notion  that the plagues function as a theological judgements, not merely punishments.

Rash"i, likewise, frames the plagues as theological signs, not natural disasters. Rash"i explains that G-d's declaration  "and you will know that I am Lord" (Shemot 10:2) proposes that the plagues are intended to teach knowledge of G-d, not only to Egypt but to Yisrael itself. Most strikingly, in his commentary on Shemot 12:12, Rash"i suggests that when G-d declares, "I am the Lord," He actually means "I Myself and not an angel;I Myself and not an seraph;I myself and not a messanger..."

Here, Rash"i touches upon one fundamental difference between ancient Egyptian civilization and Torah. The Torah excludes intermediaries while the Egyptian religion depended upon them—magic, priesthood, cosmic forces. Redemption requires a direct encounter with the one G-d who stands above nature and hierarchy.

Ramba"n (Nachmanadis) also teaches that the plagues were not random acts of force but a systematic dismantling of false beliefs. According to him, the purpose of the great signs and wonders is to teach belief in G-d, to make known that He created the world, that He knows and supervises individuals, and that He has absolute power over all (Ramba"n on Exodus 13:16).

This view is evidenced in the final three plagues which directly attack Egypt's core beliefs. The eight plague, locusts, aims at showing that nature is not predictable and is under G-d's command. Darkness, the nineth plague is a frontal assault on Ra, the sun-god. The failure and negation of Egypt's central deity causes the collapse of its civilizaion. The darkness which cloakes Egypt where "They could not see each other" is not only physical. It also serves as a metaphore for a society that loses its coherence following such a collapse. Finally, the plague leading the death of the first born is aimed at refuting the Egyptians core belief that Pharaoh is divine and prove that divine lineage is an illusion. These plagues indicate that this is not merely punishment. It is a theological refutation. It is intended at teaching us that the plagues are not random acts of force but a systematic dismantling of false belief. In the final plagues, that theological confrontation reaches its climax.

In his commentary to Bo, Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks writes that Egypt sought immortality through monuments, mummification, and dynasties, whereas Judaism seeks eternity through memory, law, and moral responsibility. Pharaoh believes that power is permanent; G-d teaches that only covenant endures. Most importantly, Sacks insists that freedom, in Bo, is not freedom from obligation but freedom for responsibility (Covenant and Conversation Parashat Bo).

Parashat Bo is a sustained, dramatic confrontation between two rival theologies: Egyptian and Yisraelite (biblical/Jewish). The narrative is not merely about liberation from oppression but also about which vision of reality is true. The Exodus is not just an event. It is a theological revolution.

Shabbat Shalom nand every blessing

The Four Stages of Redemption

 

                                                   

Parashat Va’era, spanning chapters 6:2 through 9:35, in Shemot (Exodus), marks the turning point in the Exodus story. After Moshe’s first failed encounter with Pharaoh, G-d reassures him that redemption will now unfold through divine power. G-d reveals Himself to Moshe by His holy name, emphasizing faithfulness to His promises, and announces the beginning of the plagues that will break Egypt’s hold over Israel.

At the heart of the h stands G-d’s great promise of redemption, expressed in four stages (Shemot 6:6–7):

“I will bring you out” – God will ease the people’s suffering and remove them from the crushing burden of slavery.

“I will rescue you” – God will free Israel from Egyptian domination and bondage.

“I will redeem you”  – God will act as Israel’s Redeemer through miracles and judgment, restoring their dignity as a nation.

“I will take you to be My people” – Redemption reaches its highest point when Israel enters a covenant with God at Sinai.

Classic commentators understand these four expressions of redemption, and at the same time, each adds a different layer to what “redemption” really means.

Rash”i, for instance,  reads the verses very concretely and sequentially. Each act of G-d is a distinct stage: relief from the burden of labor, freedom from servitude,                                                              redemption through miracles and judgments and becoming G-d’s people at Sinai. For Rash"i, redemption moves from physical relief to political freedom to divine intervention to spiritual destiny.

Ramba”n differs in his commentary on the term “redemption.” For him, the Exodus from Egypt is not redemption. True redemption, he believes, happens when Yisrael becomes G-d’s People and G-d becomes their G-d. Whereas the first three stages are historical, he asserts,  the fourth is theological. Freedom without Covenant. is incomplete freedom. (Mikra’ot Gedolot, Shemot 6:6–7).

Sforno, another classical Jewish scholar, sees the four stages as a movement from existence to mission.  The first three stages ensure survival and freedom from oppression and the restoration of dignity. The final stage, “and I will take,” he believes, gives purpose. Am Yisrael is not just saved from something. It was saved for something, to become a moral nation dedicated to G-d’s service. (Sforno on Exodus 6:6-7). 

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch. Rav Hirsch reads these four stages as a pedagogical process. Slaves must learn firstly that suffering is not destiny. Then they have to learn that power does not define truth. Then they must learn that G-d redeems history. Finally, they must learn that Freedom is service to G-d, not independence from all authority. Each step trains them to understand what freedom really means (R. Samson Raphael Hirsch, Commentary on the Torah, Exod. 6:6–7).

Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik interprets the four expressions as the transformation from a people of fate (victims of history) to a People of destiny(G-d’s partners in shaping history. The first three stages remove oppression. The fourth gives Am Yisrael identity and responsibility. Redemption is not merely being freed from Pharaoh; it also means being called to G-d (Reflections of the Rav, Vol. 2, pp. 88–114).

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks explains that the four expressions of freedom show that Redemption is not just liberation from tyranny, but transformation into a People of covenant and responsibility. Sacks emphasizes that the Torah defines redemption not as liberation alone, but as liberation plus law. Many nations escaped tyranny in history.  Yisrael escaped tyranny and entered a covenant and vowed to fulfill its moral code and its values. Freedom without values leads to chaos. The covenant turns freedom into responsibility. For Sacks, the four expressions trace the journey from slaves→ to citizens→ to a holy nation. (Sacks, Jonathan. Covenant & Conversation: Exodus – The Book of Redemption. Commentary to Exodus 6:6–7 Parashat Va’era).

These four stages of redemption are the basis for the four cups of wine at the Pesach Seder-each cup celebrating one stage of redemption.

However, immediately following the four phases in the parashah comes a fifth one, “I will bring you to the land” (Shemot 6:8). Why is it not counted among the four? 

Rash"i suggests that the promise of the land, as mentioned in the above verse, was not fulfilled for that generation. He bases his assertion on the Torah itself, where it shows that the Exodus generation was redeemed from slavery but not yet ready for life in the land, so the final stage of redemption had to wait for their children — turning the fifth expression into a promise of future completion, not immediate fulfillment. Some scholars explain that this is why we pour the fifth cup, Elijah's cup, at the Seder, - a symbol of the redemption still to come.

                                                              Elijah's Cup (inscribed on it, Shemot 6:8)

 
Ramba”n disagrees with Rash”i. For him, all five expressions form one unified process of redemption. Even if the Exodus generation did not physically enter the land, the promise of “and I shall bring you” was still genuinely part of their redemption. A promise made to Yisrael, according to Ramba”n, can be fulfilled across generations and still be considered the fulfillment of that original redemption.

Parashat Va’era opens at the darkest moment of Israel’s story. The people are crushed by slavery, Moshe is disheartened, and even Pharaoh seems more powerful than before. It is precisely here, in the depth of despair, that G-d introduces one of the Torah’s most enduring promises — the four expressions of redemption. These phrases do more than predict the Exodus; they define what redemption truly means in Jewish thought. Redemption is not a single dramatic escape, but a process — moving from relief from suffering, to freedom from oppression, to national restoration, and finally to covenantal purpose. Parashat Va’era teaches that true freedom is not merely leaving Egypt, but becoming a people who live with meaning, responsibility, and divine mission.

Unbroken Chains

 

 

 

                              I am Yoseph. Is my father still alive? - Bresheet (Genesis) 45:3

It was over three decades ago when I was first introduced to the book “Popes from the Ghetto - A View of Medieval Christendom" by Rabbi Joachim Prinz. The book details the lives and influences of three medieval popes who emerged from Rome’s powerful, Jewish Pierleoni banking family, exploring their rise, conversion and impact on the Church amidst anti- Semitic tensions. 

 One of the Popes that Rabbi Prinz writes about is the legendary figure of the Jewish Pope from Mainz (often referred to as Andreas, Johannes or Elchanan in variants). The most prominent version of this legend features Pope Elchanan as the son of  Rabbi Simeon the Great of Mainz. As a child, Elchanan was kidnapped and brought to Rome by his nursemaid. He was baptized, raised as a Christian and due to his intellect, rose through the Church hierarchy to become pope. Years later, the Pope, either due to a sense of his forgotten origins or due to his father traveling to Rome to intercede against anti-Jewish decrees, summons his father, Rabbi Simeon, for a meeting. During a game of chess they play, the father recognizes a specific, unique move that he had taught only his son which disclosed to  him the identity of the pope and which Elchanan confirms. In most versions, the Pope either secretly returned to his Jewish faith or disappeared to return to Mainz or committed suicide as an act of Kiddush Hashem (sanctification of G-d’s name).

This Jewish folklore story has always captivated me as it reminded me of the encounter between Yoseph and his brothers where he reveals to them his  true identity as recounted in this week’s Parashah, Vayigash.

Yoseph lives under a hidden identity in Egypt. He is an Egyptian viceroy with an Egyptian name (צפנת פענח Tzofnat Pa'aneach), dress, and language. His concealment is necessary for survival and ascent, not deception for its own sake. Like him, the Jewish Pope hides his Jewish origin to survive and rise within the Christian to the highest possible power.

Though  for  Elchanan, concealment is portrayed as divinely guided, in Parashat Vayigash Yoseph’s true identity is known only to G-d (45:8-9) - until the right moment. Their hidden identities is not falsehood and is not perceived as morally corrupt. It is latency. Truth waits for the moment when revelation can heal rather than destroy.  

In these two narratives, identity is disclosed within the family first, before the public or the world. The most sacred truth is shared privately. The revelation is motivated by filial devotion and not theological rebellion or political or personal gain.

What one might find most striking, though, is how influential and domenant the father figure, in the lives of Yoseph and Elchanan, is. Yoseph’s disclosure, “I am Yoseph, is my father still alive?” indicates that his entire concern surrounds his father’s health. The Pope, as the legend shares, reveals his Jewish identity only to his father, often secretly. 

However, what is most important is that the two stories teach us the same valuable lesson. They illustrate to us that the identity of one's essence is inherited and indestructible. It cannot be erased by exile, costume or role.

In the twin accounts, Yaakov and Rabbi Simeon are able to recognize their sons despite the radical transformation that they had undergone. Yoseph is unrecognizable outwardly. He is Egypt's ruler, dresses differently and speaks Egyptian. Yet, according to Jewish sages, Yaakov recognizes him, before he even gets to meet him face to face, or hear his voice. Their claim is that Yaakov did so by “continuity of spirit” which in Judaism is referred to as L’Dor V’Dor (from generation to generation). It means actively passing down Jewish identity, values, learning, and rituals from one generation to the next, ensuring the survival of Jewish Peoplehood.

These  scholars  mainly base their assertion on Bresheet 45:27, where it states, “When they [Yaakov’s sons] told him [Yaakov] all the words of Yoseph that he had spoken to them…..the spirit of Yaakov, their father, revived.”

Rash”i, citing Bresheet Rabbah (94:3) explains the words of Yoseph very specifically. There, the sages claim that Yoseph’s words sent Yaakov a sign, the last Torah topic they had studied together . In other words, the message Yoseph sends is pure Torah, not just any Torah but shared Torah, the one learned together by father and son. Yaakov recognizes Yoseph because the chain of Torah was unbroken.

Like Yoseph, Elchanan, “The Jewish Pope” crossed an unbridgeable cultural and religious divide. Similarly to Yaakov, Rabbi Simeon identifies his son by the move of the chess game, a shared experience that was unique to them. 

The bond between father and son in the two accounts transcends institutional and theological boundaries. 

Ultimately, these two narratives—one biblical and one legendary—converge on the same enduring truth: identity rooted in sacred relationship cannot be erased. Power, exile, and transformation may obscure origins, but they cannot sever the bond forged between father and son, teacher and student, generation and generation. Yoseph is revealed not by royal garments but by shared Torah. Elchanan is unmasked not by papal authority but by a remembered chess move. In both cases, recognition comes through continuity rather than confrontation, through memory rather than spectacle.

Three Dreams, One Destiny

 

“Joseph was the great dreamer of the Torah, and his dreams for the most part came true. But not in a way he or anyone else could have anticipated.” - Rabbi Lord  Jonathan Sacks

Dreams are one of the main themes in recent Parashot. Parashat Vayetze narrates Yaakov's dream at Bet-El. This week’s Parashat Vayeshev, recounts two dreams experienced by Yoseph, Yaakov’s favourite son. Before delving further into the significance of these dreams and the connection between them, it is important to understand them in the context of the time and place in which they occurred.

Dreams, in general, have held a consistent and powerful place in human civilization—from politics and prophecy to psychology and art. Across cultures and eras, they were rarely seen as random inner noise; rather, they were treated as messages, omens, or revelations that could redirect nations and reshape lives.

In the Ancient Near East, the cradle of Jewish civilization, dreams were commonly understood as royal legitimation. Mesopotamian rulers recorded nocturnal visions as proof of divine endorsement, elevating the king to semi-divine status and rendering political authority sacred. Egyptian dream manuals, discovered in the Chester Beatty Papyrus, treated dreams as coded celestial messages decipherable by specialists of the court. Their purpose was not moral formation but statecraft, empire stability, and royal self-preservation. 

Against this backdrop, the dreams of Yaakov and Yoseph invert the entire cultural logic. Unlike Ancient Egypt and Mesopotamia where dreams enthroned power, in the Torah, dreams serve a purpose. While the ancient world used dreams to elevate man to the gods, the Torah uses dreams to anchor man to G-d. (John Walton, Ancient Near Eastern Thought and the Old Testament, 2006).

Yaakov does not become king by dreaming, nor does Yoseph become divine by interpretation. Instead, their dreams deepen covenantal obligation. We encounter their dreams which, in the words of Sacks, “came true,” yet “not in a way, the dreamers themselves, or anyone else could have anticipated.” (Covenant and Conversation Studies in Spirituality, Mikketz).

The dream that greets Yaakov at Bet-El and the two dreams that shape Yoseph’s destiny, according to some Jewish scholars, are not isolated mystical events but stages of a single unfolding covenant.

Though scholars such as, Rash"i and Sforno do not explicitly connect the dream narratives of father and son (Yaakov’s ladder in Bresheet 28:12-15) and Yoseph’s dreams of the sheaves bowing, in Bresheet 37:7 and the celestial bodies submitting, in 37:9), in any explicit comment, they create a conceptual bridge, indirectly, through one key motif, movement from revelation of choseness to its realization. Yaakov’s vision of the ladder reveals a cosmos in which heaven descends to earth, affirming divine presence, protection, and promise. The sheaves and the celestial bodies, in Yoseph’s dreams, mark not only his personal ascent but the historical movement of Yisrael into exile and eventual redemption. Yaakov dreams of Divine protection “I am with you, I will protect you wherever you go, and I will bring you back to this land… (Bresheet 28:15).” Yoseph’s dreams set in motion the events that fulfill that protection, physical, economical and spiritual. Yaakov dreams the Covenant, Yoseph dreams its implementation in human history. 

The one place, however, where Rash”i comes close to implicitly linking Yoseph’s dreams to his father’s own ladder experience is found in chapter 37. There (37:11) Yoseph tells his dream to his father. Rash”i notes that Yaakov “guards the matter.” Rash”i  bases his assertion on Midrash Bresheet Rabbah 84:12 which interprets this verse as, “Yaakov waits expectancy to see its fulfillment. In other words, Yaakov who once dreamed of his destiny recognizes a true dream when one is narrated.

Some modern scholars such as Robert Alter (The Art of Biblical Narrative,1981) explicitly connect Yaakov’s dream to Yoseph’s two dreams in our Parashah. He refers to Yaakov’s dream as a vision of space and speaks of a  (spiritual → earthly). Yoseph’s dreams, on the other hand, are a “horizontal axis of human power and family structure” strewn with socio-political symbolism (Yisrael → Nations).

Alter’s terminology is reinforced albeit implicitly, in interpretive trajectory, by Rabbi Sacks. Sacks describes Yaakov’s encounter “vayifga ba’Makom”*(Bresheet 28:11) as a moment of transcendent revelation and covenant renewal, i.e. a “vertical” moment of Divine-human communication.

In his essay, “Three Approaches to Dreams (Miketz” Covenant & Conversation), Sacks notes that in addition to the gift of dreams, the gift of their interpretation, Yoseph was also endowed with the ability to implement them, as we is evident in the next Parashah. There, Sacks sees his dreams as the start of a trajectory of political, economic and social leadership, dreams that lead to action, administration and implementation on earth (Yisrael → nations, horizontal).

The ladder at Bet-El affirms not dominion but a moral and spiritual duty. G-d descends not to enthrone Yaakov but to bind him to mission. Yoseph’s twin dreams of sheaves and stars do not coronate him in the mythic fashion of the Ancient Near East. They conscript him into service—feeding nations, sustaining his family, and ushering Israel into its first experience of exile. 

The three dreams are forged into a single symphony where destiny is spoken, first to the father, and then enacted through the son.

Shabbat Shalom and Channukah Sameach, Am Yisrael and Fellow Jews.

*“He came upon a place,” in Hebrew vayifga ba-makom, also means an unexpected encounter. Later, in rabbinic Hebrew, the word ha-Makom, “the Place,” came to mean “G-d.” Hence in a poetic way the phrase vayifga ba-makom could be read as, “Jacob happened on (had an unexpected encounter with) G-d.”  “How the Light Gets In” (in Covenant & Conversation, Parashat Vayetze)

Angel, Man, or G-d, Who Was Yaakov’s Adversary at Yabbok?

 

"And Yaakov was left alone, and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn" Bresheet 32: 25

The identity of the being Yaakov wrestles with, in Bresheet, 32:25-33 Parashat Vayishlach, is one of the most discussed passages in Torah literature. The account is haunted by ambiguity and has engaged the attention of many scholars.

According to Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks,"Yakkov, himself, had no doubt. It was G-d." Sacks bases his assertin on verse 32 where Yaakov says, "'I saw G-d face to face.'" Yaakov truly believes that he has seen G-d and names the place of the encounter Peniel (face of G-d).

A reader unacquainted with Jewish theology might erroneously conclude, from the verse above, that Yaakov has indeed wrestled with G-d. Yet, Judaism affirms that G-d possesses neither body nor form and rejects any notion of a physical struggle with G-d’s essence. Furthermore, Jewish belief poignatly states that no one can see G-d and live. The foundation of this belief can be found in Shemot (Exodus) 33:20 where G-d says to Moshe, "You cannot see My face, for no human can see Me and live." That also explains why Yaakov is grateful that, following what he believes he has just experienced, his "soul was preserved." (verse 32).  

How, then, have Jewish thinkers resolved the vagueness surrounding this episode?

Most classical commentators say Yaakov wrestled with an angelic being (Malach) which in the Jewish theology simply means “a messenger.” The “man,” many assert, is a Malach whose presence is an epiphany of G-d.

Rash”i (Mikraot Gedolot), Midrash Bresheet Rabbah (77:3) and Pirkei d’Rabbi Eliezer 37 say explicitly that it was the guardian angel of Esav (sar shel Esav). The struggle, as they see it, symbolizes Yaakov’s lifelong conflict with Esav and what the latter represents. They treat the fight as a manifestation of the metaphysical conflict between the descendants of Yaakov and Esav. 

Ramba”n (Ramba”n Al HaTorah- Mossad HaRav Kook Edition Volume 1 p. 409-412), like many other commentators, believes that the “man” was a Malach since angles can and do appear in physical, tangible forms. According to him, it was a real event, not a dream or vision. 

Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, unlike other interpreters, focuses on the exhanges between Yaakov and his adversary, outlined in verse 30, where Yaakov asked, "Now tell me your name," and he [the man] said, "Why is it that you ask for my name?" For Hirsch, the unnamed opponent symbolizes every struggle a human faces, their every fear, every uncertainty and every moral confrontation. If the adversary had a name, Hirsch believes, the story would be about that opponent. By withholding a name, the story becomes universal: every Jew is Yaakov and every challenge is a nameless wrestler (Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Pentateuch: Translation and Commentary Bereishit, pp. ~563–567).

Modern commentators such as Nechama Leibowitz and Martin Buber, see the “man” as Yaakov’s inner self struggling with his guilt about Esav, his strife to shift from the position of Yaakov, the supplanter, who ousts his rival, to Yisrael, the one who ”wrestles with G-d and prevails” and his fear of the upcoming encounter with Esav. (Nehama Leibowitz, Studies in Bereshit (Jerusalem: World Zionist Organization / E. Feldheim), Parashat Vayishlaḥ, pp. 345–347, Martin Buber, On the Bible: Eighteen Studies, “Jacob and Esau,” pp. 58–70). These interpretations may support the contention that the Torah deliberately witholds the name of the wrestler. If Yaakov were told the name, the struggle would become external rather than internal and existential.

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks offers an interesting angle to the identity of Yaakov’s adversary. He notes that the ambiguity is by design. Yaakov’s opponent, he believes, may be a “man,” “angel,” “G-d” or a symbolic figure. What matters more than the identity is the meaning of the struggle, asserts Sacks, is what Yaakov becomes through it. Yaakov transforms into Yisrael and emerges as stronger, more confident, triumphant and, above all, one who holds the promise of eternity.

Am Yisrael Chai and the Eternity of Yisrael Shall Never Lie.

Shabbat Shalom

Yaakov’s Dream and the Ethics of Divine Refinement

 

"He had a dream: he beheld a ladder standing firmly on the ground and sloping upward, its top reaching up toward heaven. Angels of G-d were ascending it and descending it. He had a dream: he beheld a ladder standing firmly on the ground. And behold, G-d was standing over him. He said, “I am G-d, G-d of Abraham your forebear, and G-d of Isaac. I will give the land upon which you are lying to you and your descendants" - Bresheet 28:12-13.

Who has not read or heard of Yaakov’s famous dream which is one of the main themes of this week’s Parashah, “Vayetze,” described in Bresheet 28:10-22?

It is theologically and symbolically one of the most defining moments for Yaakov and Am Yisrael. Up until then, the Covenant belonged to Avraham and Yitzchak. The dream transforms Yaakov’s spiritual identity and establishes him as one of the three patriarchs of Am Yisrael and the Jewish People.  It is not merely a dream. It is a blueprint for Jewish destiny.

Naturally, Yaakov is overwhelmed by the dream. He is aware of his own history. He is running away from Esav after having deceived him and Yitzchak. Whether justified or not, the act created a spiritual tension. Yaakov is alone, in the world and afraid for his life. The ladder in the dream symbolizes connection, the opposite of deception and, as it seems, provokes deep self-reflection in Yaakov. 

The sages believe that Yaakov feels this burden- and fears that he may have lost G-d’s protection. In the midst of moral uncertainties, comes the dream where G-d reassures him, “I am with you….I will guard you.” (28:15). Yaakov realizes that he is now a vessel of Divine purpose and must consider his own responsibility in carrying out G-d’s plan.

What follows is a series of events that are aimed at preparing Yaakov for this very important destiny. In a way, the dream marks a transition from the “manipulative act” to a life of responsibility and suffering where the deceiver becomes the deceived, by Lavan, his uncle and future father in law who circumvents him (by replacing Rachel with Leah, his oldest daughter) and repeatedly cheats him in wages.

Our sages seem to grapple with the tension between Yaakov’s identity as a righteous, straightforward man and the chain of deceptions he undergoes later in the Parashah. Here are some of their commentaries on this pradicament. 

Chaza”l explain the dilemma in terms of middah keneged middah (measure for measure). Bresheet Rabbah (70:19). It teaches that Yaakov’s deception of Yitschak leads to his being deceived by Lavan.  G-d wants to “educate” Yaakov through an experience that mirrored his earlier act. It is not vengeance or punishment. Rather, they assert, it is for the purpose of moral refinement and spiritual growth. Yaakov must confront his own behaviour through Lavan's deceit and grow from it.

Rash"i conveys the same underlying idea. While he does not explicitly claim that Yaakov was punished for deceiving Yitzchak, he hints at it. This is reflected in Lavan’s response when Yaakov protests, “Why have you deceived me?” after discovering that Leah was substituted for Rachel. Lavan’s remark, “In our region,giving a younger daughter in marriage before the older is simply not done” (29:25-26), serves as a pointed allusion to Yaakov’s own earlier deception involving Esav, for the purpose of repairing his own earlier deception.

Siftei Chachamim (A commentary on Rash"i's commentary on the Torah and the Five Scrolls, by Shabtai Bass 1660-1680), likewise suggests that Yaakov needed to experience what deception feels like to grow into the moral stature of “Yisrael.” Again, the purpose is to cleanse, refine and elevate him.

Malbi”m (Meir Leibush ben Yehiel Michel Wisser 1809-1879) echoes a similar message. Yaakov’s earlier successes come through cleverness; Lavan forces him into a situation where only faith, patience and righteousness can succeed. The deception, according to him, teaches Yaakov to let go of manipulation. 

According to Zohar (Vayishlach 21:221), Yaakov’s departure from Eretz Yisrael to the house of Lavan is not simply a physical escape from Esav, but a descent into a spiritually dark place for the purpose of elevating holy sparks.  “Just as gold is refined in fire, so Yaakov is refined in the house of Lavan.”  Lavan’s deception is the fire that purifies truth. 

The story of Yaakov’s years in the house of Lavan confronts us with one of the Torah’s most morally provocative reversals: the deceiver becomes the deceived. Having secured the blessing through disguise and misdirection, Yaakov now meets in Lavan a master of manipulation whose schemes far surpass his own. It invites us to consider whether the Torah is offering a subtle critique, a lesson in divine justice, or a portrait of spiritual growth forged through uncomfortable self-recognition. I believe it is the latter.