Dvar Torah for Parshat VaYishlach

Based On Likutey MoHaran I, #8

On the occasion of their reunion (after having not seen each other for some 34 years) Yaakov Avinu sent his brother, Esav the Villain, a gift of livestock and jewelry. Esav refused saying, “I have rav (plenty, a rabbi).” He pressed Yaakov Avinu to keep the gift, but Yaakov Avinu declined. “I have everything.”
(Genesis 33:9, 11)

Everybody is lacking something—or thinks s/he is. At the very least, we imagine that the things, or talents, we don’t have are really shortcomings, and that we would be better off having them. So we think of ways to acquire them. Consider Rebbe Nachman’s suggestion:

The groan and sigh (in Yiddish, krekhtz) of a Jew is very precious, because it is the completion of what is lacking. For the world was created with God’s breath (Psalms 33:6) and will be re-created with it: “[God, when] You send Your breath...You renew the face of the earth” (ibid. 104:30).

The Rebbe goes on to explain that your breath is not really your own—you get it as a gift from Hashem (God). He breathes life into your nostrils every moment, as He did to Adam back on that very first erev Shabbat (Sabbath eve; Genesis 2:7). To the extent that one is lacking that breath, one is lacking life. So we give a krekhtz, we extend our breath, trying to draw in more of Hashem’s, in the hope, with the knowledge, that some how the krekhtz has added to our life.

But are we automatically, or always, connected to God’s breath? No. We have felt some lack until now, so that means that we were breathing a breath that was not God’s. What can we do to ensure that we inhale His breath? Although Hashem extends to us the offer of His breath, the breath of life, we still need to seek it. God’s breath is invested in the Torah. But to draw the breath directly from the Torah is not a simple manner for, “If one is worthy [the Torah] is an elixir of life—if not, a potion of death” (Yoma 72b). However, there are tzaddikim who are so bound to the Torah that they become one with it. We who cannot so identify with the Torah must attach ourselves to a tzaddik who has. When we do that, our every krekhtz draws more of God’s breath into us.

What about those times when our resolve for the holy was weak, those instances when we sighed to have ill-gotten gain or for unrequited lust? Did those groans fill any lack? From whom did we get our breath of life? Do such groans strengthen our connection to the Divine? Yes, those groans did help to fill the lack we perceived, but in a most unfortunate manner. They made us, or attached us to, Esav’s rabbi. Now, we know Esav was far from being a saint, so what does it mean to say that he “had a rabbi”?

A rabbi, as we know, is one who is in a position to make decisions for others. Sometimes these decisions relate to straightforward matters of halakha (Jewish law), and sometimes they relate to complex questions of life and death, or to life and afterlife. Each of us is called on to fulfill this role countless times throughout life, most often for ourselves, and sometimes for others. Woe unto us, and woe unto those others, if we assume the mantle of authority which is not rightfully ours by making pronouncements and rendering decisions for which we are unqualified!

If we follow the guidance of such a rabbi, whether “he” is we or someone else, we receive the breath of life from him. That breath of life is powerful and produces results. But only for as long as it blows. When it dissipates, both the body and soul of the recipient are wasted.

The first step in qualifying for this mantle of authority, for ourselves, is the study of halakha. The Torah itself deals with matters of forbidden/permitted, impure/pure, kosher/unkosher. Until one clarifies the law, he himself is a mixture of those same elements. The wisdom to correctly perceive the halakha comes through prayer, which is symbolized by the river that flows from the Temple (Joel 4:18) and from the river that flows from Eden (Genesis 2:10). The latter “separates, becoming four tributaries” (ibid.), the four tzitzit (tassels of the prayer shawl), the four corners of the tallit (prayer shawl). When one can correctly perceive the halakha, when one has made for himself this tallit, he may assume the mantle of authority as is appropriate, for himself and perhaps even for others. Then, from the four tzitzit, “From the four ruach-winds, comes the ruach-breath” of life (Ezekiel 37:9).

This study is not easy. Yaakov Avinu, too, wrestled with Esav’s messenger-angel (Genesis 32:25ff.), Esav’s rabbi. Even though Yaakov Avinu won, he came away limping. Where, indeed, did he get the strength to be victorious? Yaakov Avinu had come to gather his little pakhim (jars). Even those seemingly insignificant items were precious to our forefather because he recognized that they were an expression of Hashem’s love for him. In return, Yaakov Avinu loved Hashem and defeated the angel.

Certainly, each of us has what to be thankful for. Both the tallit and the lighting of the Chanukah menorah remind us that we are, and should be, surrounded by mitzvot. (Ideally, before lighting the menorah one should place it opposite the mezuzah. In addition, in the Geonic era it was a custom to wear the tallit when lighting the menorah.) The pakhim of Yaakov Avinu allude to the pakh of pure olive oil that was found when the Jews re-entered the Temple after defeating the Greek savages. We must take stock of everything we own, of everything we are capable of and thank God. From the smallest of jars can shine the brightest of lights.

agutn Shabbos!
Shabbat Shalom!