Confronting Your Fears

By Rabbi Ari Kahn

Yaakov’s return to Israel would not be simple; the factors that caused him to flee all those years ago had not changed. His mother Rivka, who said she would send for him when his brother’s murderous anger subsided, had not contacted him. To the best of his knowledge, his brother Esav was lying in wait, plotting deadly revenge. Nonetheless, Yaakov was coming back. What awaited him on the other side of the Jordan River was unknown, unclear; the only certainty was the fear in his heart. The dread and anticipation of catastrophe would have paralyzed a lesser man; sometimes, fear is worse than the catastrophe itself. Yet Yaakov marched on, deliberately but cautiously.

In fact, his fears were not unfounded. He had no illusions about the nature of his adversary: He had begun wrestling with his brother in utero, leaving their mother Rivka distressed and bewildered enough to seek Divine guidance. This was no ordinary morning sickness, nor was their struggle the normal movement experienced in a twin pregnancy: God informed her that she was carrying two distinct nations that would be at odds for millennia.

Apart from the personal history between himself and Esav, Yaakov had another reason for concern: As the sun set, Yaakov was alone, and he was accosted by an unknown assailant. This was certainly not a good omen. In fact, rabbinic tradition identifies this nocturnal opponent as the spiritual power of his brother Esav.

In short, the confrontation he was about to face had been twice foreshadowed, first by the struggle in Rivka’s womb, and again in the dark of the night before the actual encounter. To make matters worse, as the sun rises, Esav approaches with four hundred ruffians. Yaakov’s chances of survival seem dismal.

And then, something strange happens: The ruffians turn out to be no more than a benign prop, part of the scenery; as Esav is overcome with emotion and fraternal goodwill. The two brothers forge an understanding. Twenty years of fear, dread and anger melt away in a brotherly bear hug; friendly chatter takes the place of violence.

As readers, this turn of events is more than unexpected; it seems the plot has taken an unimaginable turn. We have been witnessing the drama unfold for several chapters, watching the characters develop, feeling their animosity build. We have been waiting for the unavoidable collision, for the other shoe to drop. The loaded gun, as it were, was introduced in the first act of this family’s story, and we fully expect that it will be fired in this climactic scene. Is it possible that Yaakov wrestles with Esav as a fetus, and again with his angel, yet when they finally meet on level ground, as two grown men who are prepared for violent confrontation, they settle their differences peacefully? What went wrong – or should we ask, what went right?

We may posit that the strange confrontation in the night changed the course of Yaakov’s confrontation with Esav the following morning: By defeating Esav’s spiritual representative, Yaakov had deflated his flesh-and-blood adversary.

Perhaps there is a more powerful lesson to be learned from the surprise outcome of this story: Even when all the signs point in one direction, history is not predetermined. Spiritual imprints may have been made by our personal or family history; precedents may exist in our relationships. Nonetheless, each of us is capable of changing the course of history, of rewriting the script. Our personal and collective fate is not predetermined; outcomes are neither prearranged nor immutable. Cycles can be broken – cycles of violence, cycles of abuse, cycles of enmity. We can determine our future.

Despite premonitions, precedents, signs and omens, Yaakov uses his prayers and the skills he has acquired from a lifetime of living by his wits to extricate himself from what seemed an impossible situation. The message for all of us is that we must not let our past determine our future. We must not allow dreams or signs dictate how things will work out. We must take control, and truly believe that God has entrusted us with freedom of choice. We may not always succeed, but we must not allow past failures to determine our future. Sometimes, despite all the evidence to the contrary, things do work out. Just ask Yaakov.

Kahn, Ari. "Confronting Your Fears." OU Torah. Orthodox Union. (Viewed on November 16, 2013). http://www.ou.org/torah/article/confronting_your_fears#.UoinWdLp2So

Dvar Tzedek

By Mollie Andron

Parashat Vayishlach contains the harrowing story of the rape of Dina and its equally violent aftermath. Dina “goes out” to see the daughters of the town of Shchem. Instantly Shchem, the son of Chamor, sees her, takes her and defiles her. He then falls in love with her and asks for her hand in marriage. Dina’s father, Yaakov, is unable to offer a response, remaining silent and waiting for his sons to return home from the field. As a form of retaliation, two of Yaakov’s sons, Shimon and Levi, slay all of the men of Shchem and take the women and children as captives.

After this incident, the Torah never speaks of Dina again. All we are left with is her name and her tragically violent story. By trying to reconstruct the character of Dina and fill in the missing gaps in her narrative, we can not only try to make sense of her story but also apply its lessons to the contemporary issue of violence against women and girls.

While the Torah tells us very little about Dina prior to the story in this week’s parashah, a troublingmidrash offers some insight into her character. Earlier in Parashat Vayishlach Yaakov prepares himself and his family for his reunion with his brother Esav. He takes his two wives, his two maidservants and his eleven children, and crosses the fork of the Jabbock River. But where is Dina? She seems to be missing from the narrative. According to the midrash, Yaakov, fearful of his brother Esav, locks her in a chest so that Esav won’t see her and want to marry her.¹ Dina was thus literally constrained by her sexuality and gender, boxed in and invisible.

Shortly after this episode, Dina “goes out” to see the women of Shchem. This movement of hers from being invisible to “going out” suggests that Dina was likely frustrated by the limits placed on her and may have been trying to separate herself from her family and become more visible and more liberated. The verb “vatetze—and she went out,” which describes Dina’s movement, is the same verb that is used for her father, Yaakov, when he escapes the wrath of his brother and, at the start of his journey, encounters God in a dream.² Perhaps similar to her father, Dina was trying to escape her invisibility and was searching for liberating and inspiring encounters. Sadly, however, unlike her father, her experience of “going out” resulted in violence and trauma, driving her into complete and total silence.

Unfortunately, in today’s world, many women and girls, who, like Dina, are already constrained and oppressed because of their gender, become victims of similar gender-based violence. One in three women world-wide will be abused, beaten or raped during her lifetime, most often at the hands of a boyfriend or husband. And for many of these women, the violence against them goes unpunished.

What can we learn from the story of Dina? Unlike her brothers, whose names are explained and connected to particular traits, Dina is simply named, with no interpretation. Despite the lack of explicit explanation, Dina’s name is simple to interpret, as it derives from the Hebrew word “din—judgment.” In Dina’s case, her brothers execute judgment on her behalf by killing the men of Shchem, addressing violence by causing more violence. But this judgment plunges Dina into further silence and invisibility.

In response to the problematic judgment exercised in Dina’s case and the incomplete judgment exercised in contemporary instances of violence against women and girls, we have a moral and political obligation to reclaim Dina and bring about full justice by stepping up and acting with judgment. We need to not only raise our voices against sexual violence but support women and girls around the world who are—with courageous legislators and decision-makers—working to enshrine their rights in law so that violence is not only punished but prevented. Only once we eliminate violence and restore Dina’s din will we have truly internalized the lessons of her story.

Andron, Mollie. "Parashat Vayislach." Dvar Tzedek. American Jewish World Service. (Viewed on Novemver 16, 2013). http://ajws.org/what_we_do/education/publications/dvar_tzedek/5774/vayishlach.html