Adapted by Channie Koplowitz Stein
The shortest distance between two points is a straight line, unless there are obstacles in the way. That is what happened to Bnei Yisroel as they wanted to enter the Promised Land. The Nation of Edom, descendants of Esau stood in their way. Bnei Yisroel asked to pass through their land, calling him Brother, and finally pleading, “Our forefathers descended to Egypt… and the Egyptians did evil to us… We cried out to Hashem and He heard our voice… Let us pass through your land; we shall not pass through field or vineyard, and we shall not drink [your] well water; on the king’s road shall we travel…” The king of Edom replied, “You shall not pas through me – lest I come against you with the sword.” Even with Bnei Yisroel willing to pay for any water they or their flock would drink, the answer was still no.
One simple albeit tangential lesson for us, before we enter into a deeper, more philosophical discussion, is that when passing through an area as a traveler, or visiting someone’s home, it is appropriate to buy something from the wayside vendors both to support them and to ensure that they will be there to supply the needs of others who may be passing through. Further, we have to be careful that we nor those we are responsible for do any damage to the property of others.
Let us return to our core discussion. We may ask, as Rashi does, why Bnei Yisroel reminded Edom of their servitude in Egypt. This history was well known, and the nations trembled at hearing of the splitting of the Red Sea. Rashi posits that Edom/Esau owed Bnei Yisroel some gratitude. The prophecy to their Grandfather Avraham foretold that some of his children would descend to Egypt and be enslaved, but the prophecy did not specify which descendants. It was Esau’s brother Yaakov and the nation descended from him that suffered, while Edom went comfortably about settling a land of their own. Edom owed Yaakov/Yisroel the permission to pass through their land as Bnei Yisroel wanted to continue their own destiny on a land of their own.
Bnei Yisroel was also reminding Edom of Yitzchak’s blessing, that the power of Bnei Yisroel would be in their voice; they were redeemed from Egypt because they cried out to Hashem. Edom responds with the blessing he himself received from Yitzchak, that he would live by the sword. Perhaps the two blessings would cancel each other out. Therefore Edom was emboldened to threaten Bnei Yisroel with the sword.
The tension between Yaakov and Esau exhibited in the exchanges here is played out both on a global and on an individual level. For Esau represents not only our national antagonists but also the yetzer horo with which each of us must contend.
From a historical perspective, our First Temple was destroyed for our transgressing of the three cardinal sins, each represented by one of the nations that subjugated us, writes Rabbi Feldman in The Juggler and the King. Whether it was the idolatry of Babylon, the sensual pleasures of Persia, or the cultural lure of Greece, we overcame them all. But overcoming the current allure of the Roman exile seems to be beyond us. This is the allure of the ego, of self importance that leads one to feel he needs to disparage and dominate others, the source of the baseless hate that continues to keep us in exile.
Rabbi Feldman continues to analyze these nations by comparing them to the four animals the Torah cites as not being kosher because they exhibit only one of the kosher signs but not both. One of the signs, chewing its cud, occurs inwardly and appears in three of these non kosher animals, the camel, the rabbit and the hare. The other sign, split hooves, appears in only one of these non kosher animals, the pig. A kosher animal is both satisfied with the food Hashem has provided for it from the ground and has no need of claws to tear apart its prey. It is a vegetarian who satisfies itself with rechewing the food it has.
These four animals, however, represent four forms of spiritual impurity. The first three have the internal signs of kashrus. Their inner essence may indeed be spiritual, but their outward behavior prevents the actualization of spirituality. The pig on the other hand, presents itself outwardly as a spiritual and cultured nation, while inwardly it denies God, preaching justice, equality and other moral slogans, but inwardly believing nothing but self worship. [! Hamaskil yavin! CKS]
We are doing and saying all the right things, but we are failing to make spirituality our inner essence. We are still exhibiting the outward signs of the kosher pig, but still worshiping ourselves and believing that we, not God, are in control.
This trait was in the response of Edom to Bnei Yisroel’s request. Edom should have shown gratitude for Bnei Yisroel’s literally shouldering the burden of servitude. Instead, they responded with force, writes Rabbi Ezrachi. Like the pig, they have no inner sense of gratitude. Esau is not interested in hardship or inner work, in anything that would entail spiritual growth. From his ancestor, he wants immediate gratification as his blessing, “Pour that red stuff into me, [I’m so hungry].” Let me just gulp it down, without even chewing, as the pig does not chew its cud.
As Rabbi Zaks points out, this dialogue in the Torah is timeless. Now as then, it is fruitless to approach them with logical or moral arguments. How many times in our history have we used arguments for mercy or logic [Disproportionate response because so few Jews died, for example. CKS] to no avail. We just want to live peacefully, but the UN has more decrees against Israel than against all the other inhumane countries combined.] They just want to erase the name of Israel from among the nations of the world; their only response is with the sword. As Rav Hutner points out, we are in Galus Edom/The Roman Exile, for the essence of Esau/Edom/Rome is to poison the world against Israel. The veneer of human rights for Gaza is there, but there is no truth or morality in its core.
From the personal perspective, Esau is our yetzer horo. To Yaakov’s mention of the blessing he received form their father, the power of Yaakov’s voice, Esau responds with the blessing he received, the power of the sword. But if you believe in the blessings Yitzchak bestowed, you should believe in Hashem Who enables those blessings, writes Rabbi Nevenzahl. But I don’t want to believe in God and let Bnei Yisroel pass. Similarly, we pick and choose what we want to believe. When we know something is wrong, we often rationalize to fit our desires. We live a life of contradictions. We know what we’re supposed to do, but we choose to see and accept the excuses as the preferable way to act.
The yetzer horo acts like wine to distort our perception. We see the external situation, but we listen to our inner condition. We start questioning the importance of a particular mitzvah or feel that we will not really be causing any harm. If we can validate our excuse, we no longer have to struggle to make the proper decision. Edom thinks only of the sword, and therefore discounts any other possibilities.
We hear what we want to hear, often an unimportant detail that, out of context, undermines the main point of the interchange. Consider the example Rabbi Gamliel Rabinowitz presents. A Rabbi teaches that learning Gemarrah after your Shabbos meal is like drinking a glass of soda as they both calm you. A student comes back the following week to say he’s taken the Rabbi’s lesson to heart and now drinks a glass of soda every Shabbos after the cholent. [During one of the earlier intifadas, LI Newsday was trying to explain the history of the area and published a map of British Mandate Palestine pre 1948. There was neither a State of Israel nor a State of Palestine on the map, although there may have been a Transjordan. I wrote a letter to the editor saying how informative the map was in pointing out how there was no Palestinian State from which the Jewish State could had been carved. Newsday published only the first sentence that thanked them for the informative map. I called them, almost apoplectic. I even told them I knew they would be recording this conversation. They “apologized,” and had me write a slightly shorter version of the original letter, which they then published with their apology for having missed the point of the original letter. Newsday still picks and chooses what it prints on its pages. CKS] Esau, now as then, hears only one thing, his hatred of Yaakov.
Yitzchak’s blessing to Yaakov was that Hashem will answer us when we cry out to Him in distress. But Rabbi Rabinowitz points out that we must internalize that message and continuously maintain a close relationship with Hashem. Then He will in turn be close to us when we call out to Him in distress.
Lest you think our prayers are wasted if they are not answered when we call out, Rav Pincus points out that every prayer counts. If Hashem does not see fit to respond positively to a particular prayer, He deposits it in His “Tefillah Bank,” to be drawn upon when the prayer may be needed at a later time, perhaps even generations later. [How many stories do we hear of a young man or woman who is inspired to return to a Jewish lifestyle after visiting a particular place. Only later does he learn that his grandfather or great grandfather had lived there or prayed there. CKS] Let us keep praying and keep that account full.
While it is important to daven, continues Rabbi Rabinowitz in Tiv Hatorah, one must approach Hashem in humility, never in arrogance. Edom felt justified in coming against Bnei Yisroel with his sword because Bnei Yisroel flaunted their power of prayer. We tend to call out to Hashem when we are in trouble, but our forefathers prayed all the time, even in calm times, early in the morning, or strolling in the field, writes writes Daas Torah. The fact remains that we are really never secure. Life can change inexplicably in a moment. The ground can literally open underneath us. We need to be in a constant state of prayer, and it is only through prayer that we will be redeemed from our current exile, Galut Edom.
It is this humility that we are meant to feel whenever we daven, most especially during the parts of tefillah our Rabbis mandated to bend our knees and bow. The bowing should not be rote, writes Rabbi Pincus, but should be the result of our understanding that we are nothing and have nothing without Hashem. This internal humility will arouse Hashem’s mercy in our personal lives as well as in our national life, and make Esau’s sword ineffectual so that we can finally bring about our redemption from this terrible Galus Edom.