Vayishlach: The Holiness of Simplicity

At the beginning of this week’s parsha, the pasuk tells us ‘vayivater yaakov levado,’ that Yaakov was left alone. It is at this moment, when Yaakov is separated from his large family, that Eisav’s angel comes to wrestle with him. Rashi explains that Yaakov was alone because he crossed back over the Yarden in order to fetch some small jugs which he had left. Although a seemingly minor or mundane detail, this article will explore the significance of those small jugs. 

The Megaleh Amukot writes, somewhat enigmatically, that the small jugs which Yaakov returned to collect resemble the jugs of the Chashmonaim: the oil flasks of the Chanuka story. The Ramban outlines a principle ‘maaseh avot siman l’banim’ which means that the experiences of our ancestors in the Torah are forerunners for our own experiences. What occurred in the days of the Avot and the Imahot is a microcosm for the lives of their descendants. Somehow, Yaakov retrieving those small jugs set the precedent for his children in Greek exile to retrieve the final vial of pure oil. 

In order to better understand the link between the two, we first need to clarify why Yaakov returned for the jugs initially. It seemed a great burden for him: to separate from his family and travel just in order to pick up a few containers. The Gemara in Chullin tells us that the possessions of the righteous are precious to them and therefore we can conclude that the jugs were so important to Yaakov that he felt a need to return for them. At first glance, this sounds completely counterintuitive. We would perhaps assume that true tzaddikim are so immersed in their spirituality that possessions would mean little to them. 

An average person may have reasoned that they could purchase new jugs and that their life will not be affected either way, but for a tzaddik, who has designated meaning to all that they own, their avodat Hashem is deeply linked to every utensil they own. 

We may think that a jug here or there makes no difference to people of such lofty spiritual stature. However, the opposite is true. Tzaddikim are driven by true spiritual meaning and therefore any object which they own takes on great purpose. For a regular person, cutlery may be irrelevant, but for a righteous person, every implement they own is uplifted towards a higher goal. An average person may have reasoned that they could purchase new jugs and that their life will not be affected either way, but for a tzaddik, who has designated meaning to all that they own, their avodat Hashem is deeply linked to every utensil they own. 

Yaakov did not cross the Yarden because he was obsessed with wealth and accumulating possessions. In fact, the opposite is true. Yaakov, as the pasuk describes, was an ‘ish tam, yosheiv ohalim,’ ‘a simple man, a dweller of tents.’ Yaakov’s spiritual perfection was contained in his simplicity and therefore, he returned for the jugs because he treasured them for the spiritual value he assigned to them. 

This is a perfect forerunner for the Chanuka story. While the Greeks represented obsession with beauty and the world of aesthetics, Jews were content with the simple beauty of a Torah lifestyle. The Greeks competed with their bodies, in the Olympics and with their brains, in their universities. They lived with music and culture, sport and academics, while the faithful Jews clung to Torah, Brit Milah, Rosh Chodesh and Shabbat as their oasis. Indeed, it was the little jugs which Yaakov rescued which represent the ultimate victory of the Jews. The focus on the small, pure acts of the pious. Nowadays too, Chanuka falls at a time of year where there is so much glitz and glamor spilling over from the secular world. The sales are eyecatching, the lights are flashy, the festivities are noisy. Adverts plaster the streets, tunes jingle on the radio and trees glow in shop windows. Yet, the Jews close the doors of their homes and light pure flames in their windows. This is what Yaakov restored for us: the beauty and holiness of simplicity. 

As Jewish women, we have the ability to seamlessly integrate this trait of Yaakov into our everyday lives. When we perform the mitzva of hachnasat orchim, hosting guests, we can choose to tap into our inner Yaakov. Instead of placing focus on wowing our guests as the ‘hostess with the mostess,’ neglecting our husband and children to spend extra time on elaborate dishes and desserts, we can opt for the beauty of simplicity. Baking chocolate krispies with our children may be less impressive than a gorgeous three-layer lemon meringue pie, but the small jugs of Yaakov will be shining back at us. 

We can plan our simchos with gratitude to Hashem, our family and friends as the focus instead of obsessing over color schemes, music playlists and the smorgasbord. We can buy our sheitels with purity; instead of thinking ‘which wig is the most gorgeous?’ we could consider ‘what message do I want to send the world with what I wear on my head?’ Our choices of all seemingly mundane tasks; food, clothing, hairstyles and music can all take on an extra layer of holiness if we choose to think like Yaakov –  if we decide to cross back over the Yarden for those little jugs. We should feel empowered, that every task we do brings us a renewed opportunity to adopt this higher mindset and which has the potential to elevate us, our families, our homes and all our decisions. 

It is not coincidental that Parshat Vayishlach will always fall close to the time of Chanuka. As we recite in the bracha ‘she’asa nissim l’avoteinu, bayamim haheim, bazman hazeh.’ Hashem perfromed miracles for our ancestors, in those times and in these times. We are the Chanuka miracles of ‘these times,’ the victory of today. Each time we rise above the Greek voice which points us to glitz and glamour, to externals and aesthetics, to the physical and temporal – we usher in the light of Chanuka. We listen to our inner voice, the simple, pure voice of the children of Yaakov, which tells us that there is great depth found in a little jug, and in all the mundane things we do. May we merit to illuminate our own eyes and the eyes of the Jewish people with the holy oil of those little jugs.