There is a theme of stones which runs through this week’s parsha. Rav Shapiro points out that we begin with the stones that Yaacov places under his head, which then become a monument. Afterward, Yaacov rolls a very large stone off the well so that Rachel can water her sheep. Finally, the parsha ends with the stones that Yaacov uses to make his pact with Lavan. Rashi tells us that the Hebrew word for stone, even, is a contraction of av and ben, father and son (on Bereisheit 49:24). Stones are used to build continuation and permanence. In this week’s parsha Yaacov is putting together the stones that build the structure of Am Yisrael.

Maaseh avot siman l’bamim, the actions of the fathers are a sign for the children, is a big part of this. The Vilna Gaon, in his notes to the Tikunei Zohar Chadash (25a) tells us that the events of this week’s parsha, which include the birth of Yaacov’s family in Lavan’s home, and the subsequent escape from Lavan, are the events that paved the way the birth of the Jewish nation in Egypt, and our redemption from slavery.  This is the deeper reason why the Haggadah, quoting the text of the declaration of the bikkurim, begins the story of our slavery in Egypt with the words, “An Aramean (Lavan) tried to destroy my father, and he went down to Egypt.”

We can see striking similarities in the text of the Torah between the escape from Lavan and the escape from Egypt. Yaacov flees (barach) from Lavan, just at the Jews flee (barach) from Egypt. Lavan decides to pursue Yaacov, and catches up to him on the seventh day, just as the Egyptians pursue Bnei Yisrael and catch up to them on the seventh day. After the confrontation, Yaacov creates a treaty proclaiming that he will never see Lavan again, and the Torah tells us that we, as a nation will never see Egypt again (see Bereisheit 31:22-23 and 52-53 and Shemot 14:5, 9, and 13).

We can understand the connection between Yaacov’s encounter with Lavan and our exile in Mitzrayim more deeply when we take a moment to understand the nature of Lavan. Lavan’s name, quite simply, means white. Rav Shapiro tells us that his whiteness took the form of a perpetually blank slate, a white paper. White is the perfect background on which to write. The contrast of the black and white brings clarity and focus to whatever is written. Until it is written on, the white parchment is the expression of infinite possibilities.  We can write on it whatever we want, and it can be the expression of any message in the world.

It is the writing, the black, that brings limitations. The black writing limits the parchment to being the expression of just one message, whatever is already written on it. Unless you are Lavan. Lavan refused to allow any limitations. His slate remained always white. The essence of Lavan Ha’arami, Lavan the trickster, is that whatever he said left no permanent mark. “What? I signed? No matter. That was before. Now, the paper is white again. We can start again, as if it never happened.” Lavan had no problem promising one daughter in marriage, and then switching for another at the last moment. He had no problem changing Yaacov’s wages ten times. As soon as he writes on the blank slate of his life, for him, it is as if it immediately becomes blank again.

This quality, of refusing to be limited by any truth, any form, was a quality that Lavan shared with Egypt. It is the quality of chomer, unformed matter. Yechezkel (23:30) tells us that the flesh of Mitzrayim is the flesh of the chamor, the donkey. The donkey is an animal which expresses the nature of chomer because it’s versatile nature can be used for almost anything. This was an essential aspect of our slavery in Egypt. The Torah tells us (Shemot 1:13-14) that the Egyptians enslaved us with chomer and levanim, which means bricks and mortar, but which are also the words for unformed matter and whiteness.  

Rav Shapiro tells us that the birth of the Jewish people took place twice. First, we were born in our original form as the family of Yaacov, which emerged from the womb of Lavan’s home. Second, we were born 600,000 strong, as we emerged from the womb of Egypt. The nature of the womb is that it is the opposite environment to what is needed after birth. None of the conditions of life that we need after we are born are present in the womb. So too, the complete Israel was born from an environment that was very different from what we would need once we were born. Being faced with the opposite of what we stand for can give us the opportunity to crystalize who we are.

Yaacov emerged from Lavan’s home with the middah of Emet, absolute truth. Truth gives form to the world, and it is limiting. Once we know what something is, it cannot be something else. If we know that water consists of hydrogen and oxygen, we can not say that it is really nitrogen and potassium. Truth negates falsehood, and  real truth is not one option among many. Rav Shapiro tells us, there is no ‘maybe true’, ‘possibly true’ or ‘seemingly true’. As long as truth is perceived as one option among many, it has no value (p.169).”

What Yaacov built for us, what emerged from the womb of Lavan’s home, was a connection to absolute truth. When the Hagaddah tells us, an Aramean tried to destroy my father, it is speaking about the end of this week’s parsha, when Lavan chases after Yaacov. Lavan tells him, you can’t leave, everything you have is connected to me. You built your family in my home. You can be one truth, one vision, among my many truths. But Yaacov, along with Rachel and Leah, reject this completely. Truth is truth absolutely, and the parsha ends with complete separation from Lavan.

The real power of unformed matter is that it yearns for form. White is the power to yearn for and to accept true form. This is what we took with us out of the crucible of Mitzrayim, and it was the power which gave us the ability to receive the Torah only 51 days after leaving Mitzrayim.

Instead of the white of Lavan, we have a different white. Our white, the white we carry with us, is the white of the Torah scroll. Every Torah scroll must be written in black letters on white parchment. The halacha is that no two letters can be touching. The letters are only kosher when they are surrounded by white. This is because the white is integral to the essence of the Torah. The black letters of the Torah define truth, and they are limiting, because they negate all other options which are not truth. However, the words of Torah, even after they are written, remain connected to the realm of the infinite, the limitless. Every letter of Torah is connected to endless, infinite depth. It is true that halacha gives structure to and defines our life. As Jews, we trade in the world of endless, meaningless possibilities for a world of infinite, limitless depth.