Summary by Channie Koplowitz Stein
Names, names, and more names. What’s in a name? Perhaps nothing, at least in secular society where a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. But in Jewish tradition, names carry within them tremendous meaning. So, while we often gloss over those verses in Torah that trace genealogy and seem to be merely lists of names, these verses contain hidden secrets of the Torah that only our highly learned and holy sages are privy to. This is the case with the last passages in Parshat Vayishlach where the Torah lists the princes and kings descended from Esau for eight generations, before a king reined over Israel, along with the cities over which they ruled. These verses contain 300 halachot, Jewish laws that the great Tana Rabbi Yochana Ben Zakai revealed only to his two top disciples, writes Rabbi Dov Yoffo in Leovdecha B’emet.
We are then still left with questions Rabbi Frand raises: Why list these names and what is their relevance, and why also name the cities? We can ask a further question. The Torah states that each king died and was succeeded by the next king, until the eighth king, Hadar, whom the Torah does not list as having died.
The Torah we learn in this world is very limited compared to the Torah we can learn at the time of Moshiach or in Olam Habo. However, writes Rabbi Yoffo, the learning of the future will only be built upon the foundation of our learning in this world. Only through this learning will we be able to understand and appreciate the depth of learning awaiting us in the future. The entire Torah is enigmatic, and we must therefore begin the process of unraveling its mysteries during our lives on this earth.
Why does Hashem choose to embed these hidden treasures in the names of these evil kings, the descendants of Esau, asks Rabbi Chaim Friedlander, the Sifsei Chaim? He quotes the Ramchal who gives an analog. When one wants to transport valuable diamonds, one does not put them in a fancy, beautifully embellished container that will draw attention. One puts them into a plain piece of cloth or a rag to keep their value hidden from prying, unauthorized eyes. So too are valuable secrets of the universe hidden in these seemingly irrelevant verses. Secrets of past and future worlds lie hidden in these verses.
Rabbenu Bachye sees hidden in the names of the nations that ruled Edom allusions to the worlds Hashem created with strict justice, worlds that preceded our world that was created for Bnei Yisroel to accept the Kingship of its Creator through the acceptance of the Torah. Further, says Rabbenu Bachye, all these names refer to the different attributes of Hakodosh Boruch Hu. For example, the name MeTaV-El is an acronym for Midat Tuvo shel El, the attribute of goodness of God. This is but one example of the secret diamonds hidden in the simple text, and while my understanding and appreciation of the beauty of Torah is limited, the sparks of light emanating from the jewels in the Torah are no less bright.
While the greatness of Esau seems to be revealed in these verses, encoded in these names is also the downfall of Amalek, Esau’s grandson and our greatest enemy, writes Rabbi Moshe Wolfson in Emunat Etecha. This seems to be fulfilling the prophecy to Rebecca that only one of the twins she was carrying would be great at any time, and only with his downfall would the other ascend. Each generation of Esau’s descendants produced a great king. Then each died and fell, only to have another rise in his place. But the Torah never tells us that the eighth king, Hadar, died. Had he died, it would have signaled the ascendency of Israel. Since he never died, we must attempt to understand the further meaning of these verses.
If Hadar never died, continues Rav Wolfson, he could never have been born in the first place. According to Rav Wolfson, all the greatness of Esau is then merely illusion, and in the final redemption, all will realize that everything belongs to Yaakov. This is prophesied in Ovadiah, “The saviors will ascend Mount Zion to judge Esau’s mountain, the kingdom will be (vehoeta Lo hamelucha) Hashem’s. Note that the dual translation, vehoyeta which can also be translated as “and was” leaves open the interpretation that God was the King all along, and the wealth and sovereignty of Esau was illusion from the start. Esau’s kingdom was never born and never died.
Of further interest, notes Rav Wolfson, Hadar is the eighth king, a number denoting that which is above the natural order. The beauty, the hadar, of understanding this king lies in that which is above the natural order, as are the miracles associated with the eight days of Chanukah and the festival that celebrates true beauty that lies in the spiritual realm in contrast to the physical beauty that the Greeks idolized.
Rav Chayim Shumelvitz expands on this theme is Sichot Mussar. The world of the yetzer horo represented by Esau is a world of illusion and is the constant battle within ourselves first fought by our patriarch Yaakov. After Yaakov overcomes Esau’s angel in battle, he asks the angel to tell him his name. The angel’s response seems to avoid the question, but Rav Shmulevitz points out that the response is, in fact, the angel/yetzer horo’s name. The angel is telling Yaakov that he is inconspicuous, a no-name, and therein lies his strength. If someone were to examine what is tempting him, he would realize it’s all an illusion. All the beautiful allures of this world, the hadar, are an illusion that never dies but never really existed in the first place.
Included in the mystical coding inherent in these passages there is one cryptic sentence that even here seems out of place. Among the sons of Zibeon we have Aiah and Anah, and the Torah continues with, “Anah who discovered the mules in the desert while he was pasturing the donkeys for Zibeon his father.” We can appreciate an agaddah to explain the significance of the sons of Esav discovering the mules. To this our sages then add explanations and interpretations to reveal psychological and spiritual secrets hidden in the text. The agaddah reads in part: Once two mules were saddled for Hormin and stood on two sides of the River Donag. He jumped from one mule to the other while holding two cups of wine in his hands, pouring from one to the other without a drop falling to earth.”
The agaddah raises many questions, and Rabbi Aron Feldman in The Juggler and the King, basing these writings on the work of the Vilna Gaon, elucidates its symbolism. Hormin the rider represents each of us whose physical manifestation encompasses two aspects of his nature. Externally, he is a seeker of physical pleasure while internally he seeks emotional pleasures of ego and prestige. These are the two mules that carry him to his destinations, and upon them he balances his physical life, juggling the pleasures of the two so that when one is filled, he turns to fill the other. But just as the mules appear strong and vital but have no permanence because they are sterile, so are the cups of wine and the joys they bring impermanent. Physical and emotional pleasures are meant to provide another path to spiritual fulfillment, the only reality that has permanence and continuity. On their own, they remain sterile as mules.
Now Rabbi Feldman discusses the symbolism of the Donag River. A river, constantly flowing, is of itself impermanent. Add to that the name of the river, Donag, which means wax. While it may appear to have substance, add a little heat and it immediately begins to melt. Such are the fantasies and illusions of riches and grandeur, here for a moment and then passing into oblivion. If one wants to achieve any permanence along the way, one must reach out and snatch a spiritual element, service to God as one travels along the river of life. Only by sanctifying the material can the ephemeral achieve permanence.
It is up to us, writes Rav Dessler, to distinguish between reality and illusion. When we view our material world with the purpose of serving Hashem, we are satisfied. But if we focus solely on the physical and material, we are never satisfied.
Our Sages say that here are seventy facets to explain each word of Torah, and here too we have many interpretations, each offering additional insight. We will continue to focus on this last king, Hadar who is here interpreted to be the Moshiach. According to the Torah, Hadar never died, but according to Divrei Hayamim, written by Ezra, he did die. How can Hadar then be Moshiach? Rabbi Pincus in Nefesh Shimshon discusses this contradiction. If Moshe and Ezra the Scribe are two doctors, Moshe was the greater, more sensitive doctor. He could still hear the faint heartbeat of the comatose “Hadar” while Ezra, whose senses were not as finely attuned, thought Hadar was dead.
What is the heartbeat of the Jew? It is the beauty, the hadar, he invests in his learning and his mitzvah observance. Nowadays we have much learning, prayer and mitzvah observance, but the beauty and joy is often missing and Judaism appears lifeless. The simple Jew of yesteryear and of generations past lived in joy with his Creator, and Judaism and his relationship with Hakodosh Boruch Hu were central in his life. Today, writes Rabbi Pincus, we live in sadness, focusing on the material lacks in our lives. That is why so many of the youth of our generation go to hangouts and laugh wildly. If their lives are empty and joyless, they need to fill the vacuum with something, however meaningless and momentary. We need to revive the joy in Yiddishkeit and replace the self sacrifice we imagine for ourselves in pursuing learning or preparing for Shabbat. On Shabbat especially we need to revitalize the comatose simcha and hadar of our relationship with our Creator, for He is our intimate Friend in Whose relationship we experience the greatest joy.
Finally, we will turn to a possible reason for including the names of the lands and cities that Esau and his descendants occupied. Rabbi Frand, here citing Rav Hutner, offers a unique explanation as to why our Christian oppressors never focused on acquiring land but only focused on religion, while our Arab enemies are focusing on land. Says Rabbi Frand, Yitzchak made sure that Esau had plenty of territory along with Mount Seir, and therefore, although the enmity continued, his descendants never felt excluded on the issue of land. When Avraham sent Yishmael away, however, he gave him no territories of his own. They dwelt by their open cities and by their strongholds. This perceived slight remains a part of the Arab/Ishmaelite psyche to this day so that, although they have many more times the land that tiny Israel possesses, they never have enough land emotionally.
And so, while listing all these names and places in the Torah seems so irrelevant upon a simple reading, we derive a tremendous amount of information and insight about the world and about ourselves when we go beyond the surface. How many more depths of meaning must still lie even further beyond our study and our reach!