As Yaakov returns to the land of Israel this week with his family, he sets out to resolve old tensions with his brother Esav. He does many things to achieve this goal: sending out initial messengers to contact Esav, praying, sending out a series of gifts, and separating his family into two camps for protection. All of these actions are important and helpful, but I think there is one thing he does that is the key to what allows the ensuing meeting with Esav to go smoothly, and that one thing is what I call “inner work”; he spends the night before alone, struggling with himself and with God, coming into a new orientation towards himself that allows him to approach his brother differently. He has a transformative night of inner work and that makes all the difference. .
Usually Facing Outward
I want to pause here to note how counter-intuitive this inner orientation is for us sometimes. If we have an issue with another person or situation, an inter-personal conflict or challenge, we generally focus exclusively outwards. We think the problem is “out there,” usually with the other person, or sometimes with the relationship, but either way, our feeling is that something needs fixing in the world outside of us. Vayishlach, the parsha begins, he sent messengers out. To send is to turn outward, to send forth something from yourself towards the outside world. That’s what we do. We reach outward, sending messages and entreaties and gifts and arguments, trying to fix something outside of us, to control it, to make it better. Why won’t that person just act the way I need them to? What can I do to impact them and change them or the situation?
Yaakov does all of that, but then he finds himself on the night before the meeting still restless and anxious, moving people and possessions around, unable to relax and sleep. Maybe sensing that in your body, too, how all of that reaching and sending does not resolve something fundamental inside you, how there is still a sense of basic shakiness and unease that cannot be assuaged by all the external acts in the world. The issue is not just outside – something inside you is asking for attention.
Turning Inward
What do you need in those moments? Vayevater Yaakov levado. Yaakov remained by himself (Genesis 32:25). Levado. On his own. In the quiet of the night, he turned to face his own demons, his own conflict, his own struggle, wrestling with the other part of his own psyche all through that night. Not pretending it was all about Esav, about this person outside of him, but going inside and seeing that he had his own inner conflict that mirrored the external one, and until the inner conflict was faced, the external one would continue to plague him, forever replaying.
Maybe taking a minute to feel into this in yourself, bringing to mind places of difficulty and challenge in your external relationships and considering the possibility that there is not just something out there that needs fixing and healing, but something in here as well, something inside yourself. This is a difficult shift for us sometimes; we are often in the habit of blaming and being the victim. But the thing is that turning inwards is incredibly empowering and hopeful. Because on a deeper level we know that we have very little control over others and the task of changing them is an impossible one, doomed to failure and disappointment, which we experience again and again, like hitting our head against a wall – I keep wanting people to give this to me and I keep getting disappointed. After a while, despair sets in. Indeed, there’s truth to that despair – things out there, in others, often are impossible to change. But we have immense power when we turn inwards, when we acknowledge that It’s partly our own stuff, partly our own wounds that are causing this suffering, that are calling for healing here. And we can do that. We have that power.
The first step is to pause all the external relating for a moment, to move out of the challenging interpersonal dynamic and go to a quiet place like Yaakov did, levad, on our own, to seek solitude. Maybe picturing yourself in such a levad place right now, perhaps a certain place in nature or a particular tree or a quiet nook in your house or even a special chair, secluding yourself there and listening inside.
The Messy Process
Such a turning inward is not always easy or pleasant, and is often quite painful, as it was for Yaakov, whose hip was injured that night in the struggle. And at first it may indeed feel like a struggle, a wrestling match, an internal fight. Even becoming conscious of that inner wrestling is helpful, noticing how we fight against ourselves. And as part of that fight, dust may be thrown up all around us, as it was for Yaakov – vaye’avek, “he wrestled (32:25)” from the word avak, dust, dust kicked up all around (Rashi). And so it is inside us – at first there is aggression and immense confusion, dust and fog everywhere, we can’t see our way forward, totally lost in the dark, no clarity or understanding at all. But if we stick with it through the night, as Yaakov did, really staying with it – staying with ourselves with steadfastness and love – letting it unfold and untangle and show itself, if we do that, blessing comes, and slowly, gradually, like snow in a snow globe slowly settling, the dust settles, and clarity rises, the light of the dawning sun.
Our Wholeness
One of the things we learn when we spend some time levad, alone, is our own divinely granted completeness in and of ourselves. Not long after this incident, the Torah tells us that Yaakov arrives shalem, “whole,” to his next destination (33:18). This is what he was learning that night, his own separate wholeness outside of any other being. As a twin, he came into existence bound up with another person; he was born holding on to his brother’s heel, enmeshed and entangled from the start, as if he was holding on to someone else for dear life, as if we are all doing that, clinging to others as if we cannot fully exist without them. We forget our own completeness, our self sufficiency, in this desperate clinging to others, in the unconscious patterns of our caretaking, our gnawing hunger, our people pleasing, our fear of abandonment. And sometimes, as with Yaakov and Esav, this enmeshment takes the form of rivalry, in its own way a denial of the independent wholeness of each of us, as if our value is only significant in comparison to another instead of being inherently worthy on our own, without reference to any other creature on this earth.
What happens when we take the time away from others to be levad, as Yaakov did? We remember who we are as separate complete beings. It’s as if all these hands have been grabbing at us from outside, and we, too, have been sending out a million hands to reach for things from others, all tangled up in each other, so much noise and interaction, and then we pause and take some quiet time to ourselves, levad. Breathing deeply in that secluded space. We may still feel the urge to be vaysihlach, to send out those feelers, to make sure everyone else is ok, but gradually, as we sit with that urge, not acting on it, but going underneath it, we sense a deeper wound and a deeper possibility for healing – the knowledge of our own divinely granted intrinsic wholeness, our own and that of everyone around us. We are not only Yaakov, holding on to others’ heels, but also Yisrael, a sar, a noble prince of God. We can stand up tall and regal on our own two feet. We are each divinely blessed in and of ourselves. Levad. Each on our own.
Face to Face With God
Yaakov says of his experience that night: ra’iti Elokim panim el panim vatinatzel nafshi. I saw God face to face and my soul was saved (32:31). I saw God face to face. I saw my own divinity mirrored in God’s face. God and I, we sat across from each other, and I remembered that I am like God, a face of God, I remembered how much I matter, just me, face to face with God, a private meeting, a personal affirmation of my own divine importance and essence. Vatinatzel nafshi. And my soul was saved. For the first time in my life, perhaps, my soul was fully returned to me. My own existence, my full mattering, my completeness, my essence, all of that had been lost to me since I was born, all bound up and entangled with those around me, but now, seeing God face to face, my soul is saved. I become whole. I become myself, born again with my own name, not a name that means – I am tied up with my brother, but a name that means – I am wholly regal and divine in myself. I am me. Levad.
I wonder if you can feel your own divine wholeness in this moment. Just you, levad, with God, face to face, a direct personal connection, a cord between you, God smiling upon you, vayizrach lo hashemesh (32:32), the sun shining just for you – a divine spotlight – nourishing and healing you from all the confused beliefs around your insufficiency and co-dependence and need to perform. Each of us is a whole world for God. Let your soul, your divine essence, be saved in this moment, be returned to you, be purified. Your divinity is not a relative comparative thing, but intrinsic, unwavering, essential to you. Bask in God’s light on you alone. And feel the purity of this moment. No one else sees it. It’s not a performance. There’s no self consciousness, no audience, no commentary, no pretense. Just you and God.
Eyn od milvado, we say of God (Deuteronomy 4:35). There is nothing outside of God, using that same word levad, alone. Nothing other than God alone exists. God is everything. We are each a little like that, totally complete like God, carrying that everythingness inside us, each on our own a whole world, a microcosm of it all.
The External Effect of Our Alone Time
To spend time alone like this with ourselves and with God is what Rebbe Nachman called hitbodedut, prayerful seclusion, from that same word, levad. From that alone place, we turn back to face the external world with a different orientation. Whereas before we looked out at each other from a place of neediness and fear, now we interact from a place of inner confidence and sufficiency. Vatukhal, Yaakov learns that night – you are capable (Genesis 32:29). Our aloneness empowers us to go back out with confidence and strength.
And from that place of wholeness, we are also generous. Yaakov begs Esav to take his gifts, saying: yesh li kol, I have everything ( (33:11), I am so content and complete that these gifts naturally pour out of me. There is no scarcity here. Noticing how taking time to be alone and refill your resources creates a natural generosity in you, as if you are so full that there is overflow, warmth radiating out of you in all directions, plenty to go around.
When we move out from this alone place back into the dynamic we were struggling with before, things on the outside also change. Because we have. We don’t try to change the other, but our inner work has an external effect. Esav is still approaching with 400 men, perhaps originally with intent of harm, but seeing Yaakov in his new state of wholeness, no trace of rivalry in his bearing, Esav is inspired to run towards him and embrace him(33:4), a moment of tender connection previously unimaginable. See how things can shift between us, miraculously sometimes, when we turn towards ourselves and our own inner healing.
Maybe taking this last moment to feel into your own separate wholeness again, the full light of God upon you in that levad place, sensing how that solo inner experience has the power to transform you as well as your relationships with others. Vayishlach. Now, after being levad and remembering who you are on your own, now vayishlach, now you can send messengers outward from a different place.
💕