The episode detailing the manner in which Yaakov Avinu received his rightful b’rachos remains one of the Torah’s profound enigmas. Even after perusing Chazal and the various commentaries, one question keeps gnawing at us: Why? If Yaakov was the Divinely designated heir to the blessings, why did events have to unfold in a manner that is layered with ambiguity? Yitzchak Avinu is presented as elderly and nearly blind, unable to identify which one of his two sons stood before him. Rivkah Imeinu, sensing an opportunity, directs Yaakov to present himself as Eisav in order to receive the b’rachos that were rightfully his. If Yaakov was the rightful recipient, why did Heaven orchestrate events that make it appear to invite misunderstanding? Why could the blessings not have been bestowed openly, without resorting to subterfuge, without leaving future generations with the accusation that Yaakov stole Eisav’s blessing?
Perhaps the answer lies one hundred years earlier, at the Akeidah. Chazal (Bereishis Rabbah 65:10) teach that, as Yitzchak lay bound upon the Mizbayach, Altar, awaiting the fulfillment of Hashem’s command, the ministering angels gazed down from upon high and wept. Their tears fell into Yitzchak’s eyes, eventually causing his vision to fail in his old age. The question is obvious and compelling: Why should tears shed at the Akeidah affect Yitzchak’s eyesight a century later? We must say that Chazal are not relating a medical condition, but conveying an eternal verity. We have all heard the expression, “Going into something with his ‘eyes wide open,’” which means entering a situation fully aware of the risks, difficulties, consequences, without being deceived or surprised. Yitzchak Avinu was acutely aware of what Hashem expected of him. He accepted Hashem’s command without question, thus becoming the model of absolute mesiras nefesh. He understood what his act of sacrifice meant. It embodied every act of mesiras nefesh by a Jew throughout the millennia. Our spiritual DNA of b’chol nafshecha – afilu noteil nafshecha, even if He demands your life, is all the product of Yitzchak’s act of submission to the ratzon Hashem.
The angels, however, saw much more than one righteous man upon an altar. They saw the long corridor of Jewish history. They saw Roman arenas and Crusader mobs, the fires of the Inquisition, the massacres of Tach V’Tat, the gas chambers of Auschwitz, and countless unnamed Jews throughout the generations who would die simply because they were descendants of Avraham, Yitzchak and Yaakov. They wept not for Yitzchak alone, but for every martyr who would ask the question that reverberates throughout history: Why?
The angel’s tears entered Yitzchak’s eyes. Perhaps this symbolized that Yitzchak’s vision would be limited. There are dimensions of Divine Providence that no human being – even the Patriarch Yitzchak – may fully perceive. His physical blindness, caused by the angel’s tears, reflected a powerful spiritual truth. One may see Hashem’s Hand everywhere, yet still not be granted the privilege of understanding His reasons. The Torah, therefore, begins our national history with a mystery. The father cannot see. The son disguises himself. The mother orchestrates the events. The brother cries betrayal. We struggle to reconcile every detail – and that struggle is intentional. It teaches us that Emunah is not believing only after every question has been answered. Emunah is remaining faithful even when some questions will never be answered.
The tension between Yaakov and Eisav would become the template for all history. Eisav’s cry became the clarion call of every anti-Semite. Some were deranged barbarians; others, however, were remarkable, well-thought out and smooth in order to conceal their irrational animus towards us.
We cry out in pain. We ask “why”? Not every why is given an answer. Sometimes the question itself teaches us the limits of human understanding. We believe that Hashem’s plan is just – even if we do not understand it. Perhaps the greatest vision is the knowledge that there are areas which are beyond our ability to see.
The following story is related in Lapid Eish, which details the life and spiritual heroism of the saintly Klausenberger Rebbe, zl. The Rebbe had a practice (which is common fare in every Chassidic court) to relate divrei Torah on Shabbos during the prescribed time for Seudah Shlishis, which is referred to as the z’man of Raavah d’Raavin (an expression found in the Zohar HaKadosh, referring to the most exalted level of Hashem’s Will). Raava is ratzon, will, the inner source from which all other spiritual desires and manifestations flow. The time of Seudah Shlishis is considered a special time of revelation of Divine closeness and mercy. The Rebbe would cover his head with the sleeve of his striped prison uniform or any available rag.
A survivor, who at the time was no longer adhering to Torah and mitzvos (the constant persecution and murder was too much for him), chanced upon the Rebbe as he was saying Torah in honor of Seudah Shlishis. He was focused on Tehillim 98:1, Shir l”Hashem shir Chadash ki niflaos asah, Hoshea Lo yemino u’zerva Kodsho, “Sing to Hashem a new song, Who has worked wonders, Who with (His) right hand and holy arm has won victory.” The Rebbe translated each word verbatim into Yiddish to make sure that everyone understood the meaning and depth of this pasuk. The man heard and just lost control. “How could he (the Rebbe) choose to speak on a pasuk that is counterintuitive to our suffering? Where is His ‘right hand’, His wonders, His holy arm that has secured victory? Is this victory – or is this deprivation at its nadir? It is lunacy to talk about song while surrounded with death and destruction.”
The man ran out as if running from a plague. Years later, he surfaced again. This time, he was fully observant and deeply committed to Yiddishkeit. When asked what generated the transformation in his belief, he replied, “If there is a Jew who, after losing his wife and eleven children, is able to sit in the purgatory of Auschwitz and reach such extraordinary levels of emunah, love of Hashem, trust and acceptance of His decree, then obviously there is no force like that of our Torah. These are indeed the niflaos, wonders of Hashem.”
I conclude with the timeless words of the Shem M’Shmuel, “This shall serve as a lesson for every person: He should not become discouraged by the many obstacles, but rather, accept the decree of Heaven. As a result, he will merit teshuvah, to return, which in and of itself brings about an end to all of the obstacles and Klal Yisrael will be saved by Hashem with an everlasting salvation.”
