King of the beast

A friend recently commented to me that nowadays, we not only “multi-task,” but we also have “multi-problems.” When simultaneously beset by a number of problems, he continued, it becomes necessary to prioritize those problems and to decide which one is the worst. Then, we can tackle that problem first before we move on to the others.

Personally, I’m not so sure that we are the first generation to be involved in “multi-tasks,” and I’m certain that we are not the first generation to face “multi-problems.” Certainly, we, the Jewish people, have known times in our history when we confronted numerous problems at the same time, and over the course of our history, our problems were innumerable.

In fact, the question has been debated over and over again, “Who was worse? Pharaoh or Haman? Haman or Hitler?”

The Torah portion gives us the opportunity to compare two of our enemies, Lavan and Esav, with each other. Lavan, to say the least, was inhospitable to Yaakov. He was ungrateful and deceitful. Moreover, we are told in the Pesach Haggadah that he sought to completely undo us. Certainly, he was a formidable enemy.

But let’s compare him to Esav. It was because of Esav that Yaakov fled to the house of Lavan in the first place. Rivka herself informed Yaakov of Esav’s murderous intentions against him: “Esav harbored a grudge against Yaakov… And Esav said to himself, ‘Let the mourning period of my father come, and I will kill my brother Yaakov.’”

Despite the statement in the Haggadah, there is no evidence in the Biblical text itself that Lavan wished to kill Yaakov.

As we see in the opening verses of this week’s Torah portion, Parshat Vayishlach (Genesis 32:4-36:43), Yaakov is far more frightened of Esav than of Lavan. From the beginning of their relationship, Yaakov is confident that he can deal with Lavan’s deceitfulness. He has no problem negotiating with Lavan, and much to Lavan’s frustration, eventually succeeds. Lavan may intend to harm Yaakov, but one divine dream dissuades him from doing so. They part company relatively peacefully.

On the other hand, Esav comes to meet Yaakov with four hundred men, prepared for battle. “Yaakov was greatly frightened.” He fears the overwhelming threat of Esav’s attack and prepares for this attack by every means at his disposal: bribery, strategic maneuvers, and prayer. Clearly, then, Esav is the greater enemy of the two.

I recently came across a passage in the Midrash, which I encountered in a weekly sermon delivered by one of today’s Hasidic masters of both traditional Talmudic scholarship and profound spiritual wisdom. I refer to the Tolner Rebbe, Rabbi Yitzchak Menachem Weinberg, may he be well, who currently resides and teaches in Jerusalem.

The passage that Rabbi Weinberg brought to my attention begins with a verse in the writings of the prophet Amos (5:19): “As a man should run from a lion and be attacked by a bear…” The Midrash continues: “The man is Yaakov … The lion is Lavan from whom Yaakov fled. He is called a lion because he pursued Yaakov to take his life. The bear is Esav who attacked him on the road … The lion knows shame, the bear knows no shame.”

I am certainly no expert on wildlife, but I’m sure we will all agree that the lion has a reputation for greater ferocity than the bear. Yet the Midrash considers the bear more dangerous. Why?

Rabbi Weinberg focuses on the essence of Esav’s personality. He reminds us of the verse in last week’s Torah portion: “they called him by the name Esav.” Rashi informs us that “they” — all who knew him — called him “Esav,” which means “completely made, all done, finished.” Esav was a finished product. He was born resembling an adult, physically and behaviorally. And he remained that person throughout his life. He never changed.

There are people who are so confident of themselves, of their motives and actions, that they see no reason to change. They are not open to criticism. They have not a measure of self-doubt. Such people, our Midrash suggests, can never be ashamed. They are bold and brazen and impervious to criticism. That is the nature of the bear. Such a person is truly dangerous. So was Esav.

The lion, on the other hand, is open to opinions. If he errs and is made aware of his errors, he feels ashamed. As a result, he takes his errors to heart and alters his behavior. He develops and grows and changes in the course of his interaction with others. He is willing to consider other people’s perspectives. He can change his mind. Perhaps this is why he, and not the bear, is the king of beasts.

Let us move on from the animal kingdom and reflect upon two very different types of human beings. There are those who, like the bear, insulate themselves from the opinions of others. They shut the door to suggestions and close their ears to constructive criticism.

Not only do such individuals not develop over their lifetime, but they pose a threat to society, especially in positions of leadership.

But there are others who, like lions, not only tolerate criticism but seek it out. They know the 48 qualifications for a Torah scholar: he must “love mankind, love righteousness and justice, and love admonishment” (Avot 6:6). That’s right — love admonishment, love constructive criticism, love rebuke. That’s how one grows to be a lion, a royal personality, a true talmid chacham.

We can now comprehend that when our Sages speak of the eagles and bats and lions and bears, they are not being simplistic. Quite the contrary, they are wisely employing those simple creatures as templates for teaching us profound lessons about personal development.

Hopefully we will take those lessons to heart.