By Shulamis Lifshitz

In parshas vayishlach, the pasuk says: “Vayaratz Eisav Likraso, Vayichabkaihu, and Eisav ran to greet him and he hugged him.”  Yaakov and Eisav were two brothers, so when Eisav heard that Yaakov was coming to see him, he ran to greet him, and as any brother would do after seeing his brother for the first time in twenty years, he hugged him.  A few pesukim later, it says: “Vayomer, nissah vinailcha viailcha linegdecha, Eisav said to Yaakov, lets travel and go, and I’ll walk along side you.”  This is a normal reaction on Eisav’s part; he hadn’t seen his brother in twenty years, never met his sister-in-laws or his nieces and nephews—he wants to spend some quality time with his brother and meet his family.

 Before Yaakov met Eisav, he davened that upon their encounter, everything would go well.  He said, “Hatzileini nah me’achi, me’Eisav, please save me from my brother, from Eisav.”  There’s an obvious question on this pasuk; isn’t it extraneous to say both my brother and Eisav?  Yaakov only had one brother, so whom else would he be referring to if it weren’t Eisav? 

When the parsha tells over the story of Shechem, and how Shimon and levi killed it out, it says: “Vayikchu shnei b’nei Yaakov, Shimon ViLevi, achai Dina, the two sons of Yaakov, Shimon and Levi, the brothers of Dina took…”  The same question is asked on this pasuk.  Why do we need so many descriptions for the same people?  It could have just said Shimon and Levi.  The fact that it says that they were Dina’s brothers comes to show us that they acted like her brothers, they had mesiras nefesh for her; because she was wronged and violated, they took it upon themselves to avenge the city and kill them out. 

The same is true of Aharon Hakohen.  The pasuk refers to him as Miriam’s brother when he asked Moshe to daven on her behalf.  He knew that he too had a part in her Lashon Hara, and yet, he risked getting Moshe angry at him in order to help her out, thus he deserved to be referred to as her brother. 

The Torah uses the same terminology in describing Cozbi.  Her father wanted to cause B’nei Yisroel to sin through z’nus, but he needed a beautiful girl to carry out the mission, so he asked his own daughter.  She could have very easily refused, and rightfully so, as she was a princess, but she did instead, she “helped” her nation, and became their representative.

 The pasuk described Eisav as Yaakov’s brother, showing that he was a good brother, as we see from the fact that he ran to greet him and hugged him and that he wanted to travel with him and his family.  Yet, as Rashi says, he’s not only referred to as Yaakov’s brother, but also as Eisav—sometimes he acts like a brother, but others he acts like who he really is—Eisav Harasha.  The Gemarah tells us: “Halacha biyiduah she’Eisav soneh es Yaakov, It’s a known fact that Eisav hates Yaakov.”  So even if he is being nice and acting like a brother, he is still Eisav and thus he hates Yaakov.  This is obviously the case, for although he ran to greet Yaakov and kissed him, he was with an army of four hundred men.  Additionally, his angel set out to kill or at least harm Yaakov.  Eisav covered up his plans.  When he met Yaakov he put on a face, acting like a brother and pretending that he cared. 

When B’nei Yisroel stood at Har Grizzim and Har Eival and listened to the curses, one curse that was said was: “Arur haIsh asher makeh es rayehu basaiser, cursed is the one who hits his friend in secrecy.”  This is exactly what Eisav did, he tried to trick Yaakov by acting as a brother to him, when in reality, all that he wanted was to kill him.  This pasuk has another meaning.  Rashi says that it refers to one who speaks Loshon Hara. 

Mitzrayim is a prototype for all future galuyot, meaning that history will repeat itself, and whatever happened in Mitzrayim will happen in every other galus from that point onwards.  After Dassan and Aviran told Moshe that they knew about how he killed a Mitzri, and that they were going to report him, his response was, “Achain nodah hadavar, now the matter is know,” and the pasuk goes on to say that he was scared.  Rashi says that in addition to the superficial level of this Pasuk, there’s a deeper meaning.  Upon saying these words, Moshe meant to say that he finally understood the reason that B’nei Yisroel needed to suffer so much in galus.  It was because they were speaking Loshon Hara, and so he got scared, because if that was their sin, he didn’t know if they would ever be worthy of redemption.  If that was the case in Mitzrayim, which is the prototype for all the exiles thereon, then the reason for the all the other exiles must be the same, ours included.

If we know the ramifications of Loshon Hara, we know that it is the cause of all galuyot we have undergone, and continue to undergo, why do we speak it?  Why is the problem of Loshon Hara so prevalent?  We know from the first word in the Torah that the world was created for the Torah—Rashi says that the word “BiReishis” means ”Bishveil reishis, for the beginning,” which is the Torah.  Because the Torah is the purpose of creation, it keeps the world going round.  “Im lo brisi yomam valayal, chukos shamayim va’aretz al tamdi, if not for my Torah being learnt every day and night, the heavens and earth would cease to exist.”  In order to ensure it’s continued existence, Hashem created each person with two inherent desires—the desire to know and the desire to give over that knowledge.  These two gifts were given to us so that we have a constant interest in learning the Torah and passing on its words. 

Like everything that Hashem created, these two desires need to be channeled in the right direction.  Hashem created them for the upkeep of the Torah, but if they’re not channeled there, they will be used for enquiring and giving over other things, such as Loshon Hara.  Developing the traits that Hashem gave us and using them for the good is such an important concept.

 If so, one may ask why Hashem didn’t make working on one’s midos one of the 613 mitzvoth.  Rav Chaim Vital says that perfecting one’s midos comes before the Torah—it is a fundamental on which the Torah has to be based.  He compares it to the building of a house.  In order to build any type of building, a foundation is necessary, so an architect won’t specify that he’s going to build one.  Because it is so fundamental, there is no need for the specification.  In the same way, midos are the foundation for Torah and living as a Jew.  Before learning the Torah and doing the mitzvoth, one has to perfect his character.  For example, one requires a sense of respect and gratitude before he can properly fulfill the mitzvah of kibud av va’aim. 

When one speaks Loshon Hara, there are 31 mitzvoth that he can transgress, but before studying the laws of shmiras halashon, he has to perfect the midos that will cause his to disparage his neighbor, such as ahavas habriyos, loving all creatures.  If you think about it, a person generally won’t speak badly about the people whom he is close with, such as friends or relatives, rather he will speak ill of those whom he is not so well acquainted with.  But if one trains himself to love all creatures and feel for them in the same way that he cares for those whom he knows, and if not to that extent, to at least develop a sense of respect for them, he will be much more hesitant to speak negatively about them. 

The Gemarah says that when Rabbi Eliezer was dying, his students asked him what they should do in this world to ensure that they will merit Olom Habah.  One of the things that he told them was, “Hizharu bikivod chaverim, be careful with your friend’s honor.”  In parashas devarim, we learn the mitzvah of “Viahavtah Lirayecha Kamochah, love your friend like you love yourself.”  The Rashbam says that the word rayeh, friend, excludes the rasha, wicked one.  But, just because we think that someone is a rasha doesn’t mean that he is.  We may think that someone is wicked, but how are we to judge?  We don’t know about all the other actions that this person does, we only see one isolated actions that will form our opinion of him. 

The parshah tells us that when Yaakov commanded his messengers to send the present of cattle to Eisav, he commanded them, “Virevach tasimu bein eider u’bein eider, you should put a space between the groups.”  What was the purpose of this?  He wanted to make it look pleasing in Eisav’s eyes.  That is our job, if find fault with someone, we have to counterbalance it with a good quality that they contain; we have to make them look pleasing in our own eyes.  Just because we see one fault of a person, does not qualify them as a rasha, because there is plenty good, we just have to figure out a strategy to help them look righteous in our eyes. 

On this same pasuk of ”Viahavtah lirayehcha kamocha,” the Kli Yakar brings down a story about Hillel.  A man once came to him asking to be taught the entire Torah Biregel achas, on one foot.  He was a ger tzedek, a convert who accepts the entire Torah. He was asking very sincerely; he wanted a hint with which he would be able to remember the entire Torah.  This is the pasuk that Hillel taught him.  He said, “Viahvtah lirayecha kamocha, ma’I disani lach lichavercha lo sa’avid, love your friend as you love yourself and what is hateful to you, don’t do to your friend.”  There are two parts to Torah observance.  The first is between man and his friend, which is what Hillel was referring to with the above.  The second is the ending of the pasuk, ”Ani Hashem,” I am Hashem.  This encompasses all the commandments which are between Hashem and a person.  The meaning of this pasuk is that you should only do to a friend what you would want done to you, and eliminate what you would not want done to you.  One should only want good for his friend.      

In twentieth-century Russia, there was a blood libel.  A man named Beilus was accused of killing a gentile baby for the use of its blood for his religious ceremonies.  There was a big court-case scheduled, but it wasn’t just against him, it was symbolically against all Russian Jews.  At the trial, the judge asked a rabbi present about a gemarah, which states that the nations of the world are not called adam, man, it is a termed used solely in the description of the Jewish people.  The rabbi asked the judge if his neighbors would pray for his welfare if he were on a trial like his.  The judge responded in the negative.  The rabbi continued to say that while Beilus was on trial here in Russia, Jews around the world were praying on his behalf.  Adam is a word that only comes in a singular form, thus it only describes the Jewish people who feel as if they are one, no matter where they are located or how great the distance.  The other nations, who act differently, are referred to as ish, which comes in a plural form, for they are each separate beings and don’t’ have the same sense of unity as the Jews have.  The judge accepted.  Beilus was innocent.