the seeds of malchus

Yosef was lost somewhere in Mitzrayim, "vayeired Yehudah," Yehudah lost his leadership position for his role in the fiasco, Reuvain was immersed in doing teshuvah for his sins, Ya'akov could not be consoled over the loss of Yosef -- could things get any worse?  Could things look any bleaker?  Yet, the Midrash (85:1), after going through the above list, tells us that while all this was going on Hashem was busy creating the ohr of mashiach.  At the very moment when things look the bleakest, Hashem was crafting redemption.  That's a great lesson about Jewish history and Jewish destiny.

We have the story of Yehudah and Tamar in our parsha.  The gemara (Sotah 7b) darshens that there is a connection between Yehudah's bracha, "V'zos l'Yehdah...," with a connecting vav, in parshas V'Zos haBracha, and Reuvain's bracha that comes right before it.  Yehudah was not allowed to enter gan eden after death because he had pledged his olam ha'ba as collateral in case he did not bring Binyamin home.  Moshe Rabeinu wanted to rectify that.  He asked that Hashem open the gates of heaven for Yehudah in the merit of the special zechus Yehudah had of causing Reuvain to admit his guilt.  When Yehudah publicly admitted that he was the one who had been with Tamar, Reuvain was inspired and admitted his own guilt in being "bilbeil yetzu'ei aviv" with Bilhah.  In that merit, Yehudah earned entrance to gan eden.  

R' Leib Chasman makes a beautiful point.  Why it is that Yehudah's own public admission of guilt, at the cost of great embarrassment, was not enough to earn him olam ha'ba.  Why was it only the fact that he caused Reuvain to confess?  He beautifully answers that it's not only our own tzidkus that ultimately defines who we are, but it's what impact and influence we have on others. 

Be that as it may, I don't understand simple pshat in a Rashi on this sugya.  The gemara says that Yehudah and Reuvain received reward in this world as well as the next.  Rashi (d"h lahem levadam) writes that Yehudah received the reward of malchus; Reuvain received the reward of getting the first portion of land in Eretz Yisrael, in Eiver ha'Yarden.  Putting aside the question of whether Eiver haYarden has a full kedushas ha'aretz, I don't understand why this is a reward.  In Parshas Matos Moshe Rabeinu was highly critical of Reuvain and Gad for asking for that territory.   Taking it was viewed as a negative, and it was only with great reluctance that Moshe agreed that they could settle there.  Why is getting that land a reward?  I don't know.

It takes two to tango, and the reward of malchus given to Yehudah was earned by Tamar as well.   Rashi (38:26) quotes the Midrash that "because Tamar was modest in her in-laws house, therefore I [Hashem] decreed that she should produce kings of Israel." 

The is an amazing Rashi given the context.  Here Tamar says, "haker na," whoever these items belong to is the father of my baby.  She deliberately avoided accusing Yehudah directly, and would have even been willing to give up her life rather than embarrass him in public should he refuse to admit guilt.  Yet, that's not why Tamar earned the reward of malchus!   It's because of her tzeniyus, not her mesirus nefesh, that she was deserving of producing kings.

Were I a Beis Ya'akov teacher, this would be an easy home run derasha for the week.  "Kol kevudah **bas melech** pnimah..." (The 45:14)  The midah of tzeniyus and the midah of malchus go hand in hand.  (Why that should be so is something to explore further.  Friday night is a long night -- plenty of time to think : )

The Midrash writes that Yehudah took no notice of Tamar at first, but a malach caused him to turn aside off the road and go to her.  He was coerced somehow to fall into this situation so that malchus yisrael could arise.  It sounds like a supernatural occurrence, a long shot that you would not bet on.  So what was Tamar thinking?  What was this girl, who was so tzanu'a, hoping for?  Surely she could not have expected Yehudah to notice her or to be with her?  It would be like hoping to win the lottery! 

R' Chaim Shmuelevitz (Sichos Musar 5733 #9) answers that when a person realizes great things are on the line, he/she will grasp at every straw and make every effort, no matter how slight the chance of success, to bring things to fruition.  Tamar realized this was her chance -- a slight chance, but still, a chance -- to perhaps be the mother of malchus, the mother who will bring the lineage of mashiach into the world.  No matter what the odds, no matter what effort she took, it was something she had to shoot for.

Still haven't had a chance to write about Chanukah -- never enough time. 

Dinah in the box

Rashi (32:23) writes that what happened to Dinah was a result of Ya'akov putting her in a box to keep her away from Eisav.  Had Dinah married Eisav, she might have inspired him to do teshuvah, but thanks to Ya'akov, there was never a chance of that happening. 

Why did the chance that Dinah might influence Eisav outweigh the potential danger of him influencing her, or her having a bad marriage?  How does the benefit outweigh the downside risk?  Why was Ya'akov wrong?

To compound the problem, the Midrash gives a completely different reason for what happened to Dina.  In last week's parsha when Ya'akov made his deal with Lavan regarding which sheep Lavan would keep and which sheep would become part of Ya'akov's own flock, he told Lavan, "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar," my righteousness will speak for itself in the coming days.  The Midrash (73:6) is critical of Ya'akov for this statement.  "Al tishallel b'yom machar" -- you Ya'akov said "v'ansa... machar," therefore your daughter Dinah will suffer inuy at the hands of Shchem. 

The first question that begs asking is what is the connection between Ya'akov's confident boast (if you will) to Lavan and what happened to Dinah.  But secondly, which is it -- did Dinah come to harm at Shchem because Ya'akov put her in a box and kept her from Eisav, or because of what he said to Lavan?

Chasam Sofer explains that the two reasons go hand in hand.  "V'ansa bi tidkasi b'yom machar" is a statement of tremendous bitachon.  Ya'akov felt confident that what would happen would ultimately support his claims, his position, his righteousness because G-d had promised that no harm would come to him.  The downside of boasting and being supremely confident based on bitachon is that you better be consistent, or you risk getting hoisted on your own petard (see this post.)  Does someone completely confident that Hashem will protect him from all harm lock his daughter in a box?  Ya'akov's own words to Lavan were the ruler against which his actions were judged, and he came up short. 

I think this Chasam Sofer helps answer the question we started with.  A normal person like me is bothered by the question of how we know Dinah would bring Eisav to teshuvah and not the other way around.  But someone who is a big ba'al bitachon, 100% confident that Hashem will work things out in his favor -- that shouldn't be his concern.  Hashem promised that he would come to no harm -- what's the issue? 

Speaking of risk vs. reward, I saw a Brisker Rav quoted that I don't understand.  Ya'akov said that if Eisav fights against part of the camp, "V'haya ha'machaneh ha'nishar l'pleitah," the other half will escape.  How did he know that they will for sure escape?  Rashi explains that Ya'akov meant that he will fight back and beat off Eisav.  Mashma that Ya'akov knew that if he fights, he is going to win.  So why did Ya'akov bother with the presents, the davening, etc. -- why not just fight and be done with it?  QED, says the Brisker Rav, that you only fight when your back is against the wall and you've exhausted every other means of resolution at your disposal.

I don't understand how this Rashi supports making a blanket rule like that.  Ya'akov may have been confident that he would win, but who says there would not be casualties?  Maybe in the risk/benefit scale, the cost of even a victorious battle would have been greater than the cost of the presents sent to Eisav?  

Last point for the week: the Chofetz Chaim asked why is it that the malach of Eisav, the yetzer ha'ra, came to fight davka against Ya'akov?  Why did a bad malach not come to fight against Avraham or fight against Yitzchak?

The Chofetz Chaim answered that the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing chessed (Avraham), the yetzer ha'ra can tolerate a Jew doing mitzvos and avodah (Yitzchak), but the yetzer ha'ra cannot tolerate Torah.  As long as a Jew is connected to Torah, "ohr she'bah machziro l'mutav" and the yetzer can never win.  Therefore, it's against Ya'akov, the symbol of Torah, the yosheiv ohalim, that the heavy guns are brought out.     

the missed exit

Rashi (28:17) writes that Ya'akov Avinu walked right past the makom mikdash on his journey to Lavan's house.  When he later realized what he had done, he turned around to go back.  Hashem then made a miracle and through kefitzas ha'derech brought Har HaMoriah to Ya'akov to spare him the journey. (see Ramban).

The simple pshat in Rashi -- "ya'hiv da'atei lachzor" -- is that Ya'akov set his mind to go back to the makom hamikdash and daven there.  R' Moshe Scheinerman, however, suggests a different, more creative reading.  Ya'akov set his mind to go back to where he was coming from -- back to the yeshiva of Shem v'Eiver where he had been learning for 14 years.  Ya'akov said to himself, "Here I've been immersed in Torah for 14 straight years, and the second I leave the beis medrash my spiritual antenna become so dulled that I can walk right past the makom mikdash and not feel anything!"  The only solution would be to go back to the beis medrash and improve those spiritual antenna even more.  We have to be so careful when leaving the makom Torah, no matter who we are and no matter how long we have spent there, to keep our spiritual sensitivity intact.

But let's get back to the simple pshat in Rashi.  Why did Hashem wait for Ya'akov to realize that he had missed an important exit on the highway and start to turn around before intervening?  Why didn't Hashem stop Ya'akov before he passed Har HaMoriah in the first place? 

I am going to steal a story from R' Eliezer Eisenberg's blog post from last week:

The true story is that Reb Chaim Shmuelevitz used to spend Ellul with his uncle, Reb Avraham Jofen, in Novarodok. He asked him who is the biggest metzuyan in the yeshiva, and Reb Avraham pointed to a certain bachur. Reb Chaim was surprised, and asked, not the Steipler? Reb Avraham answered "You didn't ask who was the biggest lamdan. You asked who is the biggest metzuyan. That bachur is the biggest metzuyan, because he is the biggest mevakesh in the Yeshiva.

The story gives us the perspective to understand a yesod of R' Yerucham Lebovitz (in Da'as Torah on P' Braishis I think).  When Ya'akov walked by the makom mikdash, he wasn't looking for anything, and so Hashem didn't come looking for him.  Hashem does not ordinarily go out of His way to awaken people from their state of oblivion.  However, the second Ya'akov realized his error, he became a "mevakesh" -- he immediately turned around and desired to be at the makom mikdash and to daven.  When you are a "mevakesh" and are looking for Hashem, then Hashem reveals himself in kind.  When you are a  "mevakesh," then Hashem will even move mountains to help you on your quest.

Ya'akov's instituted the tefilah of arvis here.  At first glance you would say that shacharis and mincha are far superior tefilos to arvis.  There is a chiyuv to daven shacharis and mincha; tefilas arvis is a reshus (whatever that technically means).  Yet we know that Ya'akov Avinu is the bechir of the Avos.  How could his tefilah be the lowest rung on the ladder?

Rav Kook explains that it is precisely because arvis is a reshus that it is the greatest tefilah.  When it comes to shacharis and mincha, the chiyuv is like a halachic gun to your head, so to speak.  There is no choice other than to daven.  When it comes to arvis, there is not that type of obligation.  A person has to choose to daven arvis.  A person has to be a mevakesh.   

which was the cause and which was the effect

The Netziv in last week's parsha says something very interesting.  The relationship between Rivka and Yitzchak was quite different than the relationship between Avraham and Sarah or even that of Ya'akov and his wives.  Sarah had no qualms about telling Avraham how she felt about Yishmael and demanding that he kick him out of the house.  Rivka doesn't communicate with Yitzchak.  She knows Ya'akov deserves the brachos, but instead of telling Yitzchak directly, she arranges this whole surreptitious way of making sure he gets them.  The Netziv says all this, but I think many a careful reader could figure it out too.  What makes the Netziv fascinating is that the average careful reader would conclude that it's the lack of communication between Rivka and Yitzchak which is the cause of Ya'akov having to steal the brachos.  The Netziv (24:65) says that it's the exact opposite.  G-d wanted Ya'akov to get the brachos by "stealing" them from Eisav (see Harchev Davar to 27:1 as to why).  To allow for the brachos to be gotten by "theft," Hashem caused there to be a different type of relationship between Yitzchak and Rivka.  You have to know which is the horse and which is the wagon, what's the cause and what's the effect.

This distance between Yitzchak and Rivka is not something which develops over time, but rather, writes the Netziv, is set from the moment the two meet.  When  Rivka first sees Yitzchak, she reacts with fear and trepidation, falling from her camel, while Yitzchak is completely focused on his tefilah, blind to Rivka's presence.  That meeting sets the tone for the rest of their marriage. All this so that 83 years later Ya'akov would be put in a position to use trickery to get the bracha meant for Eisav.  Can you imagine Hashem causing something to happen on your first date with your wife that will set the tone of your relationship in such a way so that 83 years later some other event will work out in your lives or your children's lives? 

Chazal darshen "Va'yar Elokim es kol asher asah v'hinei tov me'od" that "tov ME'OD" is the yetzer ha'ra, the malacha ha'maves.  In other words, it's Eisav.   "Va'yeilech haloch v'gadeil ad ki gadal ME'OD." (26:13)  Yitzchak Avinu was as great as that power of "me'od."  The yetzer ha'ra turns good to bad; Yitzchak thought he could inspire and turn bad to good.  Isn't doing that even greater than being good to begin with?  "B'chol levacha" = with both sides of your heart, so that even the Eisav side cooperates.  When Eisav entered the room as Ya'akov was departing after taking the brachos, and Yitzchak finally realized the truth of who Eisav was, it's not just "va'yecherad charadah gedolah," but it's "va'yecherad charadah gedolah ad ME'OD."  (see here)  His dreams of overcoming "tov ME'OD" = the malach ha'maves, the yetzer ha'ra, the evil of Eisav, had been dashed.  (See Sefas Emes 5631)

a whiff of the future

The Midrash in Parshas Noach comments on the pasuk "Vayarach Hashem es rei'ach ha'nicho'ach" that Hashem was smelling not just the fragrant odor of Noach's korban, but was also smelling Avraham in the furnace of Nimrod, he was smelling Chananya, Mishael, v'Azarya in their oven, he was smelling the sweet scent of all those who sacrifice their lives al kiddush Hashem. 

When you walk through the front door of your home on Friday afternoon, you know what is cooking and your mouth begins to water even before you see the food on the stove, hear the clanging of pots and silverware, or even get to the kitchen.  The aroma and smell of Shabbos food beckons and causes us to anticipate the meal ahead, the Shabbos ahead.  Similarly, even though Avraham hadn't come on the scene yet, Chananya, Mishael and Azarya were in the distant future, as was the sacrifice of so many others, Hashem already "smelled" and anticipated what was coming.  That whiff the future proved that there was hope for mankind.

Rosh Chodesh too is a holiday of smell, of anticipation.  The Shem m'Shmuel (Noach 5675) writes that the letters of the word for moon, "yareiach" = yud, reish, cheis, are the same letters as "rei'ach"=reish, yud, cheis.  Rosh Chodesh comes when the moon is just a sliver, but we look forward to the day when we sill see "ohr ha'levanah k'ohr hachamah."  We say in Kiddush hachodesh, "David melech yisrael chai v'kayam," in anticipation of the restoration of malchus beis David.  We're not there yet, but we celebrate because we "smell" what is coming.

The gemara (Eiruvin 21) interprets Yirmiyahu's vision (ch 24) of two pots of figs, one of good figs, one of bad ones, as symbolic of tzadikim and evildoers.  Perhaps, says the gemara, these rotten figs are have no value and should be tossed in the trash?  The gemara responds by quoting the pasuk, "Hadudaim nasnu rei'ach," (Shir haShirim 7)interpreting "dudaim" not as mandrakes, but as the dud, the pot, of rotting figs.  That pot too will give off a sweet smell.  That pot may not look like much now, but Hashem smells, Hashem anticipates, and he detects a brighter future. 

When I saw this Shem m'Shmuel back in Parshas Noach I put it in the back of my mind to post now because I can't understand why he didn't tie it into our parsha.  Yitzchak smells the odor of Eisav's garments, "Va'yarach es rei'ach begadav."  Chazal read it not as "begadav," Eisav's clothes, but "bogdav," those who rebel against Hashem.  "Re'ei rei'ach b'ni k'rei'ach sadeh asher beiracho Hashem" -- Yitzchak remarks that he smells a field blessed by G-d.  Yitzchak doesn't see rebellion; he smells bracha.  Perhaps his loss of sight allowed Yitzchak to focus on and anticipate the future instead of dwelling only on the here and now before him, to smell instead of just seeing, and as a result, those "bogdav," rebels, he knew would turn out to be blessed as well. 

water from the well

1. Eliezer begins his prayer to Hashem to bring him the right girl for Yitzchak with the words, "Hinei anochi nitzav al ha'ayin," (24:13) I am standing next to the well.  Aside from the fact that the Torah already told us (24:11) that he had tied up his camels next to the well, the information seems entirely unnecessary in context. 

Abarbanel explains that these words are key.  If you are sitting in your home in the living room or some other room and ask one of your kids to bring you a drink, a good kid will (sooner or later) bring you the drink.  But if you are standing in the kitchen next to the refrigerator and ask your kid to pour you a drink, it would be very hard for any modern kid to not at least be thinking, if not to say openly, "Why can't you get it yourself since you are standing right there?"  That's just the reality of the way things are, and they probably were not that different back in Avraham's time.  "Hinei anochi nitzav al ha'ayin," says Eliezer -- I'm next to the refrigerator.  I'm not just looking for a good girl who will bring me water when I'm a bit far away from the well.  I'm looking for the girl who won't think twice about drawing the water for me even when I'm standing right there and could do it myself.  That's a real special girl.

2. Yitzchak brought Rivka "ha'ohela Sarah imo," into his mother Sarah's tent.  (24:67)  "Ha'ohela" is a strange construction. In Hebrew there is usually not a hey ha'yediah in front of a possessive, e.g. you would say "beis chaveircha" if you were talking about a friend's house, but not "ha'beis chaveircha."  See Ibn Ezra.  Also, the final hey in ha'ohela seems completely out of place.  HaKsav v'haKabbalah, as he always does, has an interesting linguistic insight that sheds new light (you will get the pun soon) on a pasuk we read in pesukei d'zimra every Shabbos. 

In Tehillim ch 19 we read that Hashem created the heavens and sky, "b'kol ha'aretz yaztah kavam u'bi'k'tzey teivel mileihem, la'shemesh sam ohel ba'hem."  The first half of the pasuk means the sky is spread over the earth, causing people to speak of its wonder (Rashi), or it's as if it declares G-d's wonders (Metzudah).  The way the Rishonim explain the second half is that G-d made the sky like a tent, an ohel, which contains the sun.  That's the translation you will find in your Artscroll siddur.  However, that's not how the Targum renders it.  Targum translates as follows: "l'shimsha shavei mishrivei ziharah be'hon" -- the sun casts its bright rays on them.  Ohel can mean light.

The word uses the word ha'ohela in our pasuk, explains HaKsav v'haKabbalah, to suggest the secondary meaning of asher ohela, which gave light. The tent of Sarah, the tent of Rivka, was a place of light whose rays emanated out to the world (see Tagrum Yonasan as well).

a mother can always carry her child

1. A fancy answer to why the malach sent to save Lot visited Avraham first (see last post)is as follows: Lot was saved because he would give rise to Moav, leading to Rus, leading to David haMelech and the lineage of Moshiach.  Even in David's lifetime, there was those who thought he should not even be accepted and allowed to marry into Klal Yisrael.  After all, the Torah says with respect to an Amoni and Moavi, "lo yavo b'kahal Hashem."  The counterview, which prevailed l'halacha, darshened the pasuk as applying to a Moavi -- but not a Moavis, which meant Rus was kosher.  What is that derasha based on?  The reason the Moavim were excluded is because, "asher lo kidmu eschem b'lechem..." that they did not come out and offer food and drink to Bnei Yisrael when they passed their territory.  It is the job of the men, not the women, to go out and greet others, says the gemara, and so only the males are excluded from Klal Yisrael.  The proof that this is correct comes from our parsha.  When the angels come to Avraham tent, they ask, "Ayei Sarah ishtecha?"  where is Sarah.  Avraham was the one who greeted and served the guests; Sarah remained behind the scenes, demonstrating her tzeniyus.  The malach sent to Sdom had to see this behavior to ratify the derasha that excluded Moavi women, allowing for the future hechsher of Rus and David, which justified Lot's being saved.

Last's posts answer was easier to explain : )

2. Rashi writes that Yishmael was arguing with Yitzchak over the right of inheritance, and therefore he and Hagar were expelled from Avraham's home.  How old was Yishmael at this time?  Remember, Yishmael was already 13 when Yitzchak was born, and if the events of the parsha are recorded in order, Yitzchak was already more than 2 years old, as they already had a party to celebrate his being weaned.  Realistically, he must have been a few years older to understand yerushah.  So was Yismael around 20?  (The Midrash says he was 17).  How can Rashi be correct, asks Ramban, when we read in the parsha that Hagar hoisted the sick Yishmael (called a 'yeled') on her shoulders?  Could Hagar carry a 20 year old boy plus the provisions she had?

R' Shteinman answers that no matter how big Yishmael was, a mother always has the strength to bear the burden of carrying her child.

I don't know if it's a pshat answer (see Gur Aryeh and the meforshei Rashi who discuss the issue), but it's an answer that's true anyway.

3. Speaking of bearing burdens, there is a Tzeidah la'Derech that has a beautiful comment on the repetition of "vayeilchu sh'neihem yachdav" 22:6 and again in 22:8 in the akeidah.  Since the Torah makes the point of saying it a second time, it means that the first time didn't work, that the were not walking in sync yet until the second time.

An elderly person and a young person usually do not walk at the same pace.  Avraham was an old man; he would have walked more slowly than the younger Yitzchak.  In 22:6 the Torah tells us that Avraham gave Yitzchak the burden of carrying the wood to slow him up so that they would walk together, the first "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav." 

Apparently even with the wood on his back, Yiztchak was walking faster.  The Torah then tells us that Yitzchak asked Avraham where the sheep for the korban is -- they have the wood, the knife, etc., but no animal?  Avraham (22:8) cryptically answered that G-d will show them then sheep.  Yitzchak at that moment understood exactly what was going to transpire, that he was the korban.  Now, "vayeilchi sh'neihem yachdav."  The burden of the wood was something he could carry and still outpace the gait of Avraham, but the psychological burden of the impending akeidah was enough to slow Yitzchak's gait to match that of his father.