Dvar Torah on Parshat Vayishlach

Here in Israel, we are currently embroiled in an especially troubling situation. A few weeks ago, Israeli soldiers in Gaza shot and killed a young Palestinian girl - I have seen her age given as both 10 and 13. The girl was walking in an extremely dangerous area, where there is almost constant shooting. She was suspected of either carrying a bomb or acting as a decoy for someone who was, and was shot at from a distance. It has subsequently become clear that after she was shot, an Israeli soldier approached her body and, to make sure that she was in fact dead, fired at her a number of times. The other night, an audio tape of him reporting that this is what he had done was played on Israeli TV and radio. In addition, he made clear that in that specific area, because of the many attacks that have been staged against Israeli positions there, orders were to shoot at anything that moved, "even a three-year-old child". The military's legal machinery is now investigating this disturbing incident. In addition, a case from a number of months back, in which, in an attempt to kill Hamas terrorists, a house in Gaza was bombed by the Israeli air force, and a large number of children (I think 16) were killed, has made it to the Supreme Court and is being widely reported, debated, and discussed.

It was hard to see these stories on TV and in the papers and not think of something from this week's parsha, Vayishlach. Yaakov has returned to Israel from a twenty-year exile, imposed upon him by his need to escape his brother Esav. Immediately upon his return he must confront his brother who, as far as Yaakov knows, may still desire to kill him for tricking him out of their father Yitzchak's blessings. Yaakov is very nervous, and tries, at one and the same time, to both appease Esav and prepare to fight him, and his army of 400 men, if necessary. During these preparations for the fateful meeting with his brother, the Torah tells us that "Yaakov was very afraid, and he was distressed". All of the classical commentaries discuss this double language - "very afraid" and "distressed". A well-known explanation, which appears in the Talmudic-era Midrashim and is quoted by the 11th century Rashi, explains that "he was afraid of being killed, and distressed at the prospect of killing others." For centuries, students of this Midrash have pointed out the humanity expressed by this Midrash: even when fighting in self-defense, to save his own life, Yaakov does not fully give himself over to the act of killing. However justified the upcoming battle with Esav may be, Yaakov is uncomfortable with the prospect of taking human life.

A number of commentators  ask, somewhat insensitively, in my opinion, why Yaakov is afraid of being killed and distressed by the possibility of killing. He himself can not be killed, they point out, for God has promised him that he, and not Esav, is the rightful heir of his father, and, as such, will receive divine protection. And as to the prospect of killing others, well, that would be justified, they point out, both in terms of it being in self-defense and also in terms of his special role vis a vis Esav: he is the heir, and not Esav. If only one of them will be left standing, he has been promised by God that it will be him, and he should kill the murderous Esav.

I think these questions miss the point. Yaakov's fear, no matter what God has promised him, is only human, and his distress at the prospect of killing is so humane, sensitive, and enlightening to us, precisely because he is justified in fighting Esav and his men! It is that extra-judicial sensitivity to the 'guilty' Esav and his men, who 'deserve' to die, which is so impressive; it would be no big deal if Yaakov was upset at the prospect of illegally killing innocent people! However, as wrong-headed as these questions may be, the Chizkuni (France, mid-13th century)has some interesting answers to them. Referring to the fear of being killed he says, as do other commentaries, that Yaakov had not forgotten the divine promise of protection; he was simply afraid that perhaps some sin, some inappropriate action on his part, had caused him to no longer deserve God's guarantee of safety. And as to his discomfort with the idea of killing others, that, according to the Chizkuni, was rooted in the possibility that "Esav's intentions were not only for evil", and it was therefore not so obvious that he, or his soldiers, so manifestly deserved to die. With these two remarkable insights, the Chizkuni creates a kind of uncertainty principle for those involved in warfare. We may believe that our cause is just, it may in fact be just, but we also need to worry, as Yaakov does, about what our recent, ongoing behavior may do to the righteousness of our position. Have we perhaps done things which tarnish, or even completely wipe out, the justification for our position and our actions, and which, possibly, even remove us from the status of "the good guys", and turn us into something else? Furthermore, could it be that our hated enemies, those killers, who aim to murder the innocent, may in fact have intentions and motivations which are not completely evil? Who knows, perhaps they may even have intentions which are good? It is these lessons that the Chizkuni teaches us about the way Yaakov approached the impending conflict with Esav that one would hope we have in mind as we do battle with those whom, like Esav, we believe want to kill us.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Shimon Felix