Yisrael’s Greatest Danger

By Rabbi Moshe Krieger, Yeshivas Bircas HaTorah

At the beginning of Parshas Vayishlach, Yaakov Avinu knows he will have to meet up with Esav, and he fears this confrontation. Among his preparations, he prays to Hashem: “Save me from the hand of my brother, from the hand of Esav” (Bereishis 32:12).

The Beis Halevi asks: Why did Yaakov ask the same thing twice? He asked Hashem to save him from his brother and from Esav, but they are one and the same. Why not simply ask: Save me from my brother, Esav?

The Beis Halevi answers that Yaakov in fact prayed two different prayers: First, save me from “my brother” — even if he acts as a brother toward me, I do not want to be close to him, lest his sinful ways rub off on me. And, if he acts like “Esav” — meaning my enemy — please save me from him.

Still, why did Yaakov mention “my brother” first? This was his prayer to be spared from a sinful brother who acted kindly toward him. Since Esav was at this point advancing toward him with 400 armed men, it would make sense for Yaakov’s chief concern to be surviving a confrontation with “Esav,” his enemy, and not his “brother?”

Rather, even at this point, Yaakov recognized that camaraderie with Esav would be even more dangerous than war with him. Living side-by-side with Esav would force both sides to alter their lifestyle. Yaakov would have to compromise in ruchniyus, and that was the greatest danger.

The Beis Halevi notes that both of Yaakov’s prayers were answered. He was spared from an out-and-out war with Esav, and while Esav invited Yaakov to join him, Yaakov refused, and on that same day, the two went their separate ways (Bereishis 33:16).

Throughout the exile, we have faced similar confrontations. Sometimes, the nations are hostile to us. Other times, they try to befriend us, which benefits them but harms us, as their camaraderie invariably takes us away, at least in part, from our devotion to Torah and mitzvos.

So long as we are an elevated nation, adhering to our high moral principles, the gentiles in our midst will admire us, but if we try to become like them, we lose our importance. Even Bilaam understood this, referring to Am Yisrael as “a nation that dwells alone, and is not reckoned among the nations” (Bamidbar 23:9). While other peoples can immigrate to new countries and become one with the local population, we as Jews must remain separate. If we instead adopt the ways of the gentiles, Bilaam and all gentiles remind us that “we will not be reckoned among them.” Our only value, to ourselves and to them, is when we are a unique people, loyal to our Torah. If we take on their ways instead, we lose our essence and will be despised by them (see Ha’amek Davar, ibid.).

Being separate from the gentiles demands actions on our part. We have to be attentive as to what brings us close to them and avoid these things. The Ohr Hachaim (Bamidbar 25:1) notes that the cause for the sins of idolatry and immorality with the daughters of Midian was when a group of Jews decided to take a walk in a gentile marketplace. They weren’t thinking about sinning; they wanted only to take a casual stroll through the marketplace. Nevertheless, their innocent stroll brought them into close contact with the gentiles. This was enough to provoke a nation-wide calamity.

There are times when we are together with our gentile co-workers, neighbors, etc. At these times, we must make sure to demonstrate exemplary behavior, but we must also be careful not to cultivate close relationships with them.

Many of us who live in Eretz Yisrael, and some in America, too, live for the most part not in the company of gentiles. Still, even we should realize that gentile society dominates our world and much of the way we think and act. It goes without saying that unbridled use of the internet plunges us into the world of Esav, but we should take the time to identify the more discreet ways in which our lives are based on gentile attitudes or influenced by them.

Do we devote significant amounts of time and/or money to hobbies, trips, parties, shopping, sports, etc.? Are we looking for ways to get a bigger and more luxurious home, or a fancier car? Or, even if we just make ends meet, are we upset because we lack items that are unnecessary? If so, let’s ask: Are these Torah attitudes, or did they come to us via gentile society?

Rav Nosson Wachtfogel says that this was the strategy of the Hellenizers in the story of Chanuka. Initially, they did not ban Torah study, but they tried to prevail upon us to introduce elements of Greek culture into our lives. “Learn Torah,” they said, “but don’t just learn. Come to us and we’ll show you other things.”

This is the message of Chanuka, that the Torah, and not foreign culture, is what determines our lifestyle. This is symbolized by our placing the menorah outside, at the entrance to our house. It shows: We have Hashem’s light, which we shine to the world, but we will not allow your so-called “light” to enter our homes and darken them.

During the 1950s, as the reality of the Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union set in, Rav Nosson Wachftogel realized that there were people in the Lakewood community who lived in fear of a nuclear attack, which at times seemed imminent. He would tell people: “Look in Rashi on the verse (Vayikra 20:26), ‘I [Hashem] will separate you from the nations, to be Mine.’ Rashi (ibid.) explains: ‘If you are separate from the nations, you will belong to Me, and if you are not separate from the nations, you will belong to Nebuchadnezzar and his cohorts.’ Meaning, just like in the times of the plagues in Egypt, if we keep separate from gentile culture, Hashem will protect us.

“You don’t have to worry about a nuclear war, but you do have to worry about keeping separate from the gentiles and their way of life!” said Rav Wachftogel.

May we thrive as a separate nation!