NOVEMBER 30 • 2023 | 61

ly selective in the details it 
chooses to relate. Why not 
paint Jacob in more attractive 
colors?
It seems to me that the 
Torah is delivering, here as 
elsewhere, an extraordinary 
message: that if we can truly 
relate to God as God, in 
His full transcendence and 
majesty, then we can relate 
to humans as humans in all 
their fallibility. In every other 
religious literature known to 
me, heroes are idealized until 
they no longer seem human 
at all. They are Divine or 
semi-Divine, perfect and 
infallible. There is no one 
like that in the whole of 
Tanach. Even Noah (righ-
teous, perfect) is seen drunk 
and disheveled. Even Job 
(blameless, upright) eventu-
ally curses his fate. The man 
who, more than any other, 
epitomizes fallibility is Jacob.
And perhaps that is the 
point. Jacob was a Beethoven, 
not a Mozart. His life was a 
series of struggles. Nothing 
came easily to him. He, alone 
of the patriarchs, was a man 
who chose to be chosen. 
Abraham was called by God. 
Isaac was chosen before his 
birth. Moses, Joshua, Samuel, 
David, Isaiah, Jeremiah: these 
were all singled out by God 
for their mission. Not so 
Jacob. It was he who bought 
the birthright and took the 
blessing, he who chose to 
carry Abraham’s destiny into 
the future.
Not until he was running 
away from home did God 
appear to him. Not until 
years later, alone, at night, 
terrified at the prospect of 
meeting Esau, did God or an 
angel wrestle with him. He 
alone was given, by God or 
the angel, a completely new 
name, not an enhancement 
of his old one but a com-

pletely new identity: “Israel.” 
Even more strikingly, despite 
the fact that he was told 
“Your name shall no more be 
called Jacob,” the Torah con-
tinues to call him Jacob, sug-
gesting that his struggle was 
lifelong — as, often, is ours.
Were I to choose a 
soundtrack for the Jacob I 
have come to know, it would 
be Beethoven’s Hammerklav-
ier Sonata or his Grosse 
Fugue, music of such over-
whelming tension that 
it seems on the verge of 
bursting through all form 
and structure. Yet it was 
through these epic struggles 
that Beethoven eventually 
reached his own version of 
serenity, and it was through 
Jacob’s extended wres-
tling-match with destiny that 
he eventually achieved what 
neither Abraham nor Isaac 
accomplished: all his chil-
dren stayed within the faith. 
“According to the pain is the 
reward,” said the Sages. 
That is Jacob.
There are saintly people for 
whom spirituality comes as 
easily as did music to Mozart. 
But God does not reach out 
only to saints. He reaches out 
to all of us. That is why He 
gave us Abraham for those 
who love, Isaac for those 
who fear and Jacob/Israel for 
those who struggle.
Hence this week’s 
life-changing idea: If you 
find yourself struggling with 
faith, you are in the company 
of Jacob-who-became-Israel, 
the father-in-faith of us all. 
 
 

Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks (1948-

2020) was a global religious leader, 

philosopher, the author of more 

than 25 books and moral voice for 

our time. His series of essays on 

the weekly Torah portion, entitled 

“Covenant & Conversation” will 

continue to be shared and distributed 

around the world. 

Commitment 
and Identity
W

hat is Jewish conti-
nuity? How might 
it be attained?
Jewish organizations have 
spent many years and millions 
of dollars in search of 
answers to these ques-
tions. And with good 
reason: How can we 
expect Jewish identity 
to exist in three gener-
ations without Jewish 
continuity now?
An answer can be 
gleaned through an 
examination of the lives 
of Jacob and Esau.
Jacob returns to his 
ancestral home after 20 
years, understandably 
terrified of his brother’s poten-
tial reaction. Informed of the 
impending approach of Esau’s 
army, he divides his household 
into two camps to be prepared 
for the worst.
What happens defies Jacob’s 
expectations. Esau is over-
joyed and thrilled to see him. 
The past is the past: “And 
Esau ran to meet (Yakov) and 
embraced him and fell on his 
neck and kissed him and they 
wept.”
The two sons of Isaac in an 
embrace of peace, love and 
hope. The future of Jewish 
history was set to take a rad-
ical step in a new direction. 
Nevertheless, Jacob prefers a 
cool reconciliation, delicately 
refusing Esau’s offer to travel 
together. Jacob’s reticence to 
respond to Esau’s warmth 
is striking. Why refuse his 
twin brother’s gracious offer? 
Jacob’s decision has important 
implications for our genera-
tion. 
Positive characteristics of 
Esau may be found in Jews 

across the diaspora: assertive, 
self-made people who weep 
when they meet a long-lost 
Jewish brother from Ethiopia 
or Russia, respect their par-
ents and grandparents, 
tend to the physical 
needs and even recite 
the Mourners’ Kaddish. 
Financial support and 
solidarity missions to 
Israel, combined with 
their vocal commitment 
to Jewry and Israel 
reflect a highly devel-
oped sense of (Jewish) 
identity.
When it comes to 
commitment to Jewish 
continuity, many of our 
Jewish siblings are, like Esau, 
sadly found to be wanting. 
Esau’s name means fully made, 
complete. He exists in the 
present. He has no commit-
ment to past or future. He is 
emotional about identity, but 
unwilling to make sacrifices to 
its continuity.
On the other hand, Yakov is 
a future-tense verb. He is con-
stantly planning, anticipating 
what he must do to perpetuate 
the birthright.
Similarly, if we are to attain 
Jewish continuity, we must 
internalize two crucial lessons 
from the example of Jacob 
and Esau: Never sell one’s 
birthright for any price and 
guarantee a Jewish future by 
planning strategically with 
an eye toward the long term, 
sacrificing short-term gains to 
demonstrate a commitment to 
continuing the legacy and life-
style of Abraham and Sarah. 

Shlomo Riskin is chancellor of Ohr 

Torah Stone and chief rabbi of Efrat 

Israel.

SPIRIT
TORAH PORTION

Rabbi 
Shlomo 
Riskin

Parshat 

Vayishlach: 

Genesis 

32:4-36:43; 

Obediah 

1:1-21.