Living with Lavan

 

עִם־לָבָן גַּרְתִּי – I lived with Lavan (Bereishit 32:5) 

Yaakov, looking to settle down after 22 years away, sends emissaries out to find out what is going on with Esav. Among the messages and gestures, he instructs the envoys to deliver a message of “I was living with Lavan.” What does this tell Esav? What does this teach us?

One explanation quoted by Rashi put the emphasis on the word “garti,” which has the root of stranger or temporary resident. Yaakov wants Esav to know that, despite all his wealth and success, he has not achieved a sense of permanence and stability. “Don’t be mad that I received blessings. I still have plenty to worry about. I am on the move, a resident of nowhere, and still seeking my final destination.” For us, Yaakov’s declaration is a reminder that nothing is ever “permanent.” As the Mishnah teaches in Pirkei Avot, “This world is a gateway to the next, which is the main event.”

Another explanation (see the Tur Ha-Aroch) understands the declaration as an expression of accomplishment. Yaakov is saying, “Don’t think that my working for Lavan has kept me down. I overcame everything he threw at me, and nothing – not even you, Esav – can stop me!” For us, Yaakov expresses the importance of being proud of what we accomplish. There may always be more to do but stop and smell the roses and appreciate each and every victory no matter how small or large. 

A third view breaks down the word ”garti” into its component letters – ג, ר, י, ת – and notes the gematriya (numerical values) is 613. Yaakov is telling Esav, “I spent years living among the wicked, but I still observed all 613 mitzvot. I have not been spiritually diminished by my time with Lavan. You cannot harm me because God will protect me.” Now, this interpretation opens up a whole can of worms. What mitzvot did Yaakov keep? Was Yaakov even Jewish? Even without fully exploring these issues, this approach conveys to us the value of observance. As Jews, we have responsibilities, and we should never let anything, anyone, or anywhere stop us from doing the best we possibly can.

Each of these explanations is an example of trying to make sure Esav understands that Yaakov is not to be trifled with. No matter how angry Esav is, watch out as Yaakov is ready, fortified by his experience with Lavan.

I think there is another way to look at Yaakov’s declaration. “Im Lavan garti,” I spent time with Lavan. After 22 years living in a strange place, different that what I was used to – and even hostile to my ideals and values, I can live with anyone – even you, Esav. Yaakov is the patriarch of confrontation and synthesis. In Kabbalah, Yaakov is described as Tiferet (splendor) because he represents the ability to take the best from all sides and shine brightly. It’s not “and” or “or;” it’s “with.” Yaakov confronts Lavan, Esav, a complicated family dynamic, exile, and more. He is hobbled by these confrontations, and, at the same time, transformed and elevated to new heights by them. This ability all started by his being able to “live with Lavan.”

We may not live with Lavan, but we all live with other people, ideas, situations, and so much more. Like Yaakov, it is our ability to live with that will strengthen us, persevere, succeed, and shine.

The Voice vs. the Hands

“Hakol kol Yaakov v’hayadaim yedei Esav – The voice is the voice of Jacob but the hands are the hands of Esau.” (Bereishit 27:22)

We all know the story. Yaakov dresses like Esav to receive Yitzchak’s blessing. Yitzchak, however, remains skeptical and feels to confirm that the one before him is Esav. In the end, sounds like Yaakov and feels like Esav, so Yitzchak gives Yaakov the blessing.

But why? If the person sounded like Yaakov, why shouldn’t Yitzchak assume it was Yaakov. Think about that old expression of “quacks like a duck.” Why dismiss the voice and follow the hands?

A number of answers are given. The Beit Halevi writes that sounding like Yaakov was a necessary part of the ruse. Esav suspected all along that Yaakov might take his blessing. He, therefore, told Yitzchak that he should only give the blessing to someone who spoke like Yaakov. Esav figured Yaakov would try to appear and sound like Esav to get the blessing, so he warned Yitzchak NOT to bless anyone who sounded like Esav and to only bless someone who sounded like Yaakov. Accordingly, it was a GOOD thing for Yaakov to sound like Yaakov to accurately present himself as Esav. If he didn’t (and pretended to sound like Esav), he WOULDN’T have received the blessing.

Talk about a conspiracy theory…

The Vilna Gaon highlights another aspect of the voice which Yaakov used, which led Yitzchak to bless based on the feeling of the hands instead of the voice. The verse reads: 

הַקֹּל קוֹל יַעֲקֹב וְהַיָּדַיִם יְדֵי עֵשָׂו׃

Notice how the first “kol” is spelled without the letter vav, while the second “kol” is spelled with a vav. The first one is called a chaseir, it is missing a letter or incomplete, and the second one is maleh, in its full, complete form. The Vilna Gaon explains that the first kol is missing a letter since Yitzchak heard a voice that sounded a lot LIKE Yaakov, but it wasn’t FULLY Yaakov’s voice. Something was missing.

Yitzchak decided the person in front of him must be Esav because he felt EXACTLY like Esav. He didn’t follow the voice because, while it sounded LIKE Yaakov, there was something missing. Rabbi Ephraim Mirvis, Chief Rabbi of Britain, says what was missing was Yaakov’s authentic voice. Had Yaakov spoken wholeheartedly and full-throatedly like himself, Yitzchak would have heeded the voice. Instead, absent the clear and resounding voice of Yaakov, Yitzchak went with the hand.

What is our authentic voice? We should strive to always speak from the heart and mean what we say. We should also try to take our words more seriously. Today, people throw around words without fully considering the repercussions. Whether it be in politics or religion, words like “enemy” or “dog” are used to describe those who hold opposing views. Some of it is the rough and tumble nature of fighting for our opinions, but it can go too far. If we want to speak with an authentic voice, we need to be more careful, honest, and genuine in what we say.

Yesterday, Israeli President Isaac Herzog condemned the incendiary language that has recently dominated politics and said the word “traitor” should be erased from the political discourse. Speaking on the anniversary of the assassination of Yitzchak Rabin, he said:

“I am shocked by the thought that today, November 4 — a date on which we learned where words can lead — I need to stand here and say again: the word ‘traitor’ must be struck out of the political discourse, and everywhere…Coalition and opposition, left and right. Accusations of treason imperil our democracy.”

Sure, there are traitors out there. But is everyone on the opposing side automatically a traitor? I think we live in a world in which, too quickly or flippantly, the answer is yes. It shouldn’t be that way. What Herzog proposed for the word “traitor” has parallels in other realms as well.

If we want to be heard, if we want to be known for our voices, then we need to try and ensure our voices – our kol – be full and authentic.