Vayetze: November 28, 2020/12 Kislev 5781

There is a story told of a man who invited a great rabbi, visiting the man's town, to come share the Friday night meal and welcome the Shabbat with his family. The host wanted to impress his esteemed guest with how perfect every aspect of the meal was, buying the best chicken for soup, making sure the house was clean, there were nice flowers on the table, etc. The rabbi and his host returned from the synagogue on Friday evening, and everyone sat around the table, they sang "Shalom Aleichem," "Eshet Hayyil," blessed the children, and the man picked up the wine glass to say Kiddush. Looking at the table, he realized that his wife had forgotten to put the cover over the challah. Furious, the man scolded his wife, reminding her of the importance of covering the challah, out of respect for its feelings - bread is typically blessed first, but on Erev Shabbat, we bless the wine first, covering the bread so as not to dishonor it. The rabbi interrupted his host to ask, "You are so thoughtful regarding the feelings of a loaf of bread. Can you not be similarly thoughtful regarding the feelings of your human wife?"

In this parashah, Jacob has fled from his brother Esau, who has plans to kill his younger twin as revenge for twice tricking him out of the status befitting the firstborn. Arriving in Padan Aram, Jacob meets the family of his mother. His uncle Lavan has two daughters, Leah and Rachel, the latter of whom Jacob wishes to marry. Lavan agrees to the match, and Jacob agrees to work for Lavan as a shepherd for seven years in return for Rachel's hand. Seven years pass, which to Jacob, feel like a matter of days - that's how much he loves Rachel. Lavan makes a big wedding, and when everything is done, Jacob discovers that he has been tricked. His bride was not Rachel but Leah, which Lavan explains by saying, "In our country it is something that is simply not done, to give a younger daughter in marriage before the firstborn." Jacob agrees to another seven years in return for Rachel, and the three of them go on to start their family.

Now, one might think that with being around each other for seven years, Jacob might have suspected some monkey business from Lavan and taken some steps to ensure that his promised marriage to Rachel was not subject to any sort of trickery. And tradition says that he did. The Talmud describes how, at their first meeting, Rachel told Jacob exactly what sort of deception her father had in store. Jacob then gave Rachel some sort of secret sign or password that would allow for identification under all the veils and gowns that brides wore. When the time came for the wedding, Rachel realized that if her sister were to go out to be married and fail to give the proper signs, she would be publicly humiliated. Not wanting this to happen, Rachel took Leah and taught her the secret identifiers so that she would be able to marry Jacob and not be embarrassed. Rachel does this because she understands the importance of humility, even sacrificing her own happiness on the altar of familial solidarity and saving someone from public shame.

In the Jewish tradition, we have measures in place to prevent or minimize the potential for embarrassment. Our sages compare intentional public embarrassment of another person, what they call "whitening their face," with murder. One of the most famous stories in all of Jewish tradition can fit into this as well - the Talmud in Tractate Shabbat recounts a prospective convert coming to Shammai, one of the greatest rabbis of the day, and asking to be taught the whole Torah while standing on one foot. Shammai, not taking the man seriously, chases him away with a measuring stick (Shammai's day job was as a builder). The man goes next to Hillel, the other great rabbi of the era with the same request. Hillel tells the man, "what is hateful to you do not do to your neighbor, that is the whole of Torah, the rest is commentary. Now go study!" Just as we would not like to be publicly humiliated, it is important for us to not publicly humiliate others. This applies even when doing something good. In his taxonomy of the levels of charity, the Rambam counts as highest tzedakah which is given where neither the giver nor the recipient know the identity of the other. This way, the person receiving the charity does not have to worry about the embarrassment of receiving help. While it's no great shame to be poor, it's no great honor either. Forcing someone to publicly identify as in need of charity may help them get the assistance they need, but it can also lead to great embarrassment, which could even cause the person to not seek out the charity they need, which is even worse. In fact, our sages looked so highly upon human dignity that they wrote in the Talmud "so great is respect for human dignity that it overrides a prohibition that is in the Torah." While the exact scope of this legal principle is subject to interpretation, it is obvious that our sages wanted us to understand just how important respecting the honor of our fellow humans is.

According to a midrash, after the king of Judah erected an idol in the Temple, God decided to destroy Jerusalem. The Patriarchs and Matriarchs came before the Heavenly Throne to plead the case of the Jewish People. God was unmoved by any of the pleas until Rachel spoke up. She said "Master of the Universe, how can it be that a human is more compassionate than You? I brought a rival into my house: Jacob worked seven years for my father only to be able to marry me, but when the time came for the wedding, my sister went to the chuppah instead, and not only did I not protest, I taught her my secret signs. So why can't You likewise not complain, even if Your children brought a rival into Your house." God recognized the compassion of Rachel, and in recognition of her love for her sister promised to return her children to their land from exile.