Making Sense of the Sedra: Vayishlach

I have a guilty habit. Every so often I watch home organisation videos, often showcasing new and beautiful ways to store foods in the kitchen. It’s not a particularly healthy habit for many reasons, partly because kitchen envy – like all envy – achieves nothing, while eroding our sense of worth, but also because I’m usually tempted to purchase new canisters and storage containers to make my pantry and fridge picture-perfect. And that leaves my old supermarket Tupperware in the graveyard cupboard under the kitchen sink.

The Torah portion of Vayishlach provides a millennia-old outlook on my situation. As Yaakov journeys to meet his brother Eisav, the Torah relates a curious episode of his return across the river to fetch some old jars that had been left behind. During this recovery mission, Yaakov encounters the angel, with whom he wrestles until morning, sustaining an injury that leaves him limping for the rest of his life. There is much to investigate around this episode, but glaringly for me is Yaakov’s personal quest to reclaim a handful of small household items, while in the throes of moving his entire extended family and estate, and faced with Eisav’s threat of attack. Recalling my own home-move, I am ashamed that I disposed of so much serviceable kitchenware in my desperate cull.

The very next episode in the Torah portion sheds some light on Yaakov’s strange behaviour and paints it as characteristic of his very person. As the two brothers meet and successfully avoid conflict, Eisav enquires as to the generous gifts that Yaakov wishes to bestow on him. Eisav boasts: “I have plenty, let what you have remain yours (33:9).” Yaakov’s response to this is: “Take my gift… I have everything” (33:11).” Bear in mind, this from a man who just hours before retraced his steps in order to fetch a bundle of old jars. It puts me in mind of the wealthy individual who sees no need to purchase new what they already have serviceable at home; who wears clothes until they are worn out rather than constantly purchasing to keep up with seasonal changes in fashion. There is beautiful dignity in such character.

The gulf between the two brothers’ outlook is a timeless social commentary. That of ‘I have plenty’ (but there is always more to have), and ‘I have everything’ (a sense of completion; anything more is a bonus). We are approaching a season often seen as one of excess. This sedra is a timely reminder to reframe giving, receiving and having. Not just out of belt-tightening necessity but as a life lesson, to refine our characters to become sensitive to ‘enough’.

Personally, I am learning to embrace my dated but serviceable Tupperware.