Yaakov’s Ladder: Bridging the Worlds of Rachel and Leah

Dec 05, 2024

Rav Daniel Frisch zt’l , the renowned mekubal and author of the Matok M’Devash on the Zohar, recounted a striking story from the days of the Old Yishuv in Jerusalem.

During this era, secular-minded individuals sought to introduce modern, secular education and culture into the insular, Torah-centered Yishuv. These efforts faced fierce opposition from the community's leaders, prompting the secularists to employ covert tactics to infiltrate this stronghold of religious life.

Among them was a man whom Rav Frisch referred to as one of the Machrivei Karta (destroyers of the city). He disguised himself as a member of the Perushim—followers of the Vilna Gaon who had established the Yishuv. Dressed in a tallis and tefillin, he spent his days sitting in the beis midrash, studying and writing a sefer to establish his credibility. When the time came to publish his work, he sought an endorsement from none other than the Rav of the Yishuv, Rav Yehoshua Leib Diskin. Such an endorsement would ensure his sefer's acceptance and widespread distribution within the community.

Rav Diskin, occupied with communal responsibilities, delegated the review of the manuscript to his trusted assistant, Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld. Rav Yosef Chaim took the manuscript home, but as he read through it, he suddenly sprang to his feet, alarmed, and rushed to Rav Diskin’s home, exclaiming, “Rebbe, this man is a kofer! The mask has been lifted—he is one of the Machrivei Karta, intent on destroying the sanctity of the Yishuv!”

The author was promptly unmasked, disgraced, and expelled from the community.

Later, when Rav Yosef Chaim was asked how he had identified the heresy, given that the author would never dare to write overt kefira, his response was both insightful and emphatic. “It was one line,” he explained. “When discussing marriage, the author described it as nothing more than a contract for shared assets and peaceful cohabitation. But marriage is not a mere contract!” Rav Yosef Chaim thundered. “Marriage is the building of the Beis HaMikdash! Only a heretic could reduce marriage to such a simplistic, mundane definition. Every believing Jew knows that marriage is akin to constructing a home of holiness, a mikdash me’at.”1

This profound insight of Rav Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld highlights the spiritual depth of marriage and its intrinsic connection to building a house of kedushah. But what does it truly mean that marriage is like building the Beis HaMikdash, and how does this concept relate to our parashah?

To begin exploring this, we must delve into some of the key events in this week’s parashah—events that the Jewish people have grappled with for millennia. I have only grasped a fraction of a molecule of a drop in the vast ocean of understanding, but I hope to share a glimpse of what I’ve begun to uncover. While these events are deeply rooted in our history, their impact and lessons resonate eternally.

I'll begin with a brief recap of the parashah's opening to provide context.

Yaakov left Be’er Sheva to head to Charan, where his mother’s family lived. Rivka had sent him away to escape Eisav, who was angry. They told Yitzchak that Yaakov was going to find a wife from Rivka’s family.

When Eisav found out Yaakov had left, he sent his son Elifaz to kill him. But Elifaz, who respected Yitzchak and knew Yaakov was a tzadik, didn’t want to commit murder. He asked Yaakov what to do. Yaakov told him to take all his money, explaining that someone with nothing is considered "dead." (Someone without money is considered "dead" in the sense that they have no independence or ability to act freely.)

Yaakov then studied Torah for 14 years in the yeshiva of Shem and Eiver. Exhausted, he fell asleep on Har Hamoriah, using 12 stones as a pillow. In a miracle, the stones turned into one. He dreamed of a ladder reaching the heavens, with malachim going up and down. At the top, he saw Hashem’s throne, which included images of Avraham, Yitzchak, and himself. When he woke up, Yaakov realized the holiness of the place and his responsibility to become like his forefathers. He set up the stone as a monument and promised to build a mizbeach.

Arriving at a well near Charan, Yaakov met shepherds and asked if they knew Lavan. They pointed out Rachel, Lavan’s daughter, who was approaching with sheep. Seeing her, Yaakov rolled the heavy stone off the well with incredible strength and watered her sheep. He told Rachel he wanted to marry her. Rachel warned him that her father was a cheat, but Yaakov said he could handle it.

At Lavan’s house, Lavan was disappointed that Yaakov had no money but let him stay and work with the sheep. After a month, Lavan asked Yaakov what wages he wanted. Yaakov offered to work seven years to marry Rachel. Suspecting Lavan would trick them, Yaakov and Rachel created secret signs to confirm her identity.2 On the wedding night, Lavan swapped Rachel for Leah. Rachel, not wanting her sister to be embarrassed, gave Leah the signs.

The next day, Yaakov confronted Lavan, who unapologetically said it was their custom to marry the older daughter first. Lavan agreed to let Yaakov marry Rachel too, but only after committing to work another seven years. Yaakov agreed, and he married Rachel right after Leah’s Sheva Brachos.

Let’s dig in.

The first wedding recorded in the Torah is the marriage of Yaakov and Leah. The concept of kiddushin—'acquiring for oneself a wife'—was first introduced with the marriage of Yitzchak and Rivka. Their marriage was formalized when Yitzchak brought Rivka into the ohel of his mother, Sara, where the Shechinah rested. Later, this same ohel became the home of Rachel and Leah. The ohel also symbolizes the Beis HaMikdash. My father notes that this is reflected in the term 'Oheli' mentioned in Kinos, representing the presence of the Shechinah in the Mikdash, just as it resided with our matriarchs. To be in the ohel is to connect with the Shechinah.3

Additionally, this connection is rooted in Avraham Avinu's purchase of the Me’arat HaMachpela, from which we derive that marriage requires a formal act of acquisition. The wedding of Yaakov and Leah was also the first to feature seven days of festivities, known as Sheva Berachos. During this time, Yaakov was unable to work, prompting Lavan to extend his labor for another seven days before he could marry Rachel.4

Let’s rewind for a moment to Yaakov’s dream and his encounter with Rachel.

Explaining the dream of Yaakov, Rav Yitzchak Ginsburg explains that the ladder with malachim ascending and descending, directly correlates to Yaakov and Rachel. The words עלים וירדים ('going up and down') share the same gematria as יעקב רחל, affirming this connection. He elaborates that their complete unification hinges on their ability to continually ascend and descend—bridging the gap between lower metaphors and higher spiritual meanings5. Similarly, the ladder symbolizes the connection and constant flow of spiritual energy between heaven and earth.6

Yaakov’s dream of the ladder bridging heaven and earth sets the stage for understanding the complementary roles of Rachel and Leah, who represent two dimensions of connection: the revealed and the concealed.

This might sound abstract, so let’s step back and explore the roles of Rachel and Leah as well as what they represent.

The mekubalim teach us that Leah represents the world of Atzilut, the realm closest to Hashem. This concealed place is beyond human comprehension, and its spiritual light never fully descends into the lower worlds. Leah’s burial alongside Yaakov signifies that there was never in fact a separation between them. In contrast, Rachel represents the revealed world—the manifestation of the Shechinah in the lower realms. Rachel parallels the Beis HaMikdash, while Leah aligns with the Torah, which, like an ohel, surrounds and envelopes. Leah also corresponds to the Ohel Moed (Mishkan).

Leah’s partially closed eyes reflected her higher, spiritual nature, concealing the full beauty of her soul. Yaakov, who came from the revealed world, was drawn to Rachel’s transparency. Through Rachel’s eyes, Yaakov could see both her inner and outer beauty, a quality that resonated with his desire for clarity and connection in the physical world in order to produce the 12 Shevatim.

Rav Reuven Sasson explains that Rachel represents the process of bringing the Shechinah into Olam Hazeh, the physical realm, while Leah represents the higher, concealed spiritual realm. Leah symbolizes the neshama, while Rachel corresponds to the guf. Yaakov Avinu sought to unite his already elevated neshama with the guf, creating harmony in this world.7 However, when Yaakov woke to find Leah instead of Rachel, he realized a deeper truth: life’s purpose is not merely to connect the neshama and guf but to integrate both into a unified existence.

Avraham Avinu exemplified this synthesis, balancing physicality as a shepherd with the highest levels of spirituality. However, for Am Yisrael, achieving this synthesis remains challenging. Residual elements of the Chet of Adam Harishon create a magnetic repulsion between the guf and the neshama, making their integration inherently difficult.

Because of this repulsion, Yaakov could not rely on Rachel alone, who represents the guf and the physical world. Leah, representing spirituality and the neshama, was also essential. The ladder in Yaakov’s dream symbolizes the critical connection needed between these two realms. It serves as a bridge to bring elements of the neshama into the guf and vice versa, creating a necessary balance between the spiritual and the physical in this world.8

Rav Sasson explains further9 that Leah parallels the Ohel Moed, the Mishkan, as the word אהל shares the same letters as לאה. The ohel symbolizes a conduit of shefa flowing from the higher worlds to the lower. The Beis HaMikdash, by contrast, corresponds to Rachel, as its kedusha is inherent in the physical land itself rather than being dependent solely on what it receives from above.10

Rav Sasson also notes that the First Beis HaMikdash, with its overt miracles and powerful presence of the Shechinah, was on the level of Leah. The Second Beis HaMikdash, where the Shechinah was less palpable, reflected the level of Rachel. The Third Beis HaMikdash will unite both aspects, embodying the completeness of Leah and Rachel together.

Leah’s path is associated with an unfelt connection to Hashem—continuing forward even without emotional clarity—while Rachel’s path represents the felt connection, where one experiences the joy and closeness of the Shechinah. To achieve a proper tikkun, one must embody the middah of Yaakov, Tiferes, which harmonizes the upper world (Leah) with the lower world (Rachel). It is insufficient to identify solely as a "Leah personality" or a "Rachel personality." True balance requires the constant interplay of these two dimensions.11

Leah’s entry into her relationship with Yaakov mirrored her spiritual nature—it occurred in a concealed manner. Rav Moshe Dovid Vali, quoting the Arizal, explains that on the first night, when Yaakov thought he was with Rachel, Leah temporarily embodied Rachel’s middah, while Rachel assumed Leah’s. When Yaakov awoke and saw Leah, he realized that the concealed always contains an element of revelation, just as revelation holds an aspect of concealment. This interwoven dynamic enabled Yaakov to achieve balance between the two.

Leah and Rachel, as archetypes, represent two facets of every individual. Leah embodies the hidden, unspoken depths, while Rachel represents the visible, external qualities. In marriage, one often initially believes they are marrying only the “Rachel”—the known and apparent side of their spouse. Over time, however, they awaken to the “Leah,” the deeper, concealed layers that were not immediately apparent. True love and connection in marriage emerge when both these aspects—the revealed and the hidden—are embraced and cherished.

Life frequently presents us with the unexpected, and accepting these moments can be challenging. Yet, these experiences—whether positive or negative—happen for a reason. They are part of a divine plan, shaping and guiding us in ways we may not immediately understand. By reflecting on the unexpected, we can become conscious participants in the trajectory of our lives. Yaakov experienced this profoundly. He went to sleep expecting to marry Rachel, only to awaken to Leah. This was an unparalleled shock, yet it is through Leah that the foundation of the ultimate geula was laid. From Leah came Yehuda, the progenitor of Malchus, leading to Dovid HaMelech and ultimately Mashiach.

Marriage, like the Beis HaMikdash, creates a revealed space for the Shechinah. Rachel represents this aspect of marriage—a physical, visible dwelling for kedusha. However, this is only one layer. Marriage also parallels the Me’arat HaMachpela, representing Leah and the concealed, eternal bond that exists beyond the surface. One of my Rabbanim, Rav Jeff Wohlgelernter,12 connects this concept to Dovid HaMelech’s reign, which began in Chevron before moving to Yerushalayim. He explains that Chevron, aligned with Leah, represents the inner avodah, which is hidden and eternal. Yerushalayim, associated with Rachel, reflects the outer avodah, which is revealed and tangible.

To deepen our understanding of this duality, Rav Wohlgelernter sheds light on why Dovid HaMelech’s reign began in Chevron before moving to Yerushalayim. Chevron, with its rugged terrain and the double cave of the Me’arat HaMachpela, is a place of concealment and depth. The name “Chevron” itself comes from the root chibur, meaning connection or attachment. This connection signifies the eternal bond that remains intact even amid destruction. Interestingly, chibur shares its letters with charuv (destruction), highlighting that even when the external structure is stripped away, the internal bond remains unbroken. This duality of connection and concealment defines the essence of Chevron.

Just as Chevron and Yerushalayim symbolize the interplay of hidden and revealed holiness, Rachel and Leah embody these same dimensions within the context of marriage and spiritual connection.

The Me’arat HaMachpela serves as the cornerstone for understanding the eternal bond of marriage. From this place, we derive the laws of kinyan in marriage—a framework that creates not just an external partnership but an internal union of two neshamos. This eternal bond is referred to as a binyan adei ad—a structure meant to endure forever, transcending even the physical world. Just as the Me’arat HaMachpela reflects the eternal connection between Klal Yisrael and Hashem, so too does marriage represent the eternal unity of neshamos.

In contrast, Yerushalayim represents revealed holiness. It is a bustling metropolis where kedusha is tangible and accessible. While Chevron reflects the eternal and concealed roots of our connection, Yerushalayim manifests these roots in a visible, outward way. Dovid HaMelech began his reign in Chevron, establishing the eternal foundation of his kingdom—a foundation that echoes the eternal truth of David Melech Yisrael chai v’kayam. Once these internal roots were firmly established, Dovid moved to Yerushalayim, a city that reflects Rachel’s external holiness.

A true binyan adei ad weaves together the concealed depth of Leah with the visible sanctity of Rachel, creating a space for the Shechinah. It mirrors the Beis HaMikdash, which unites the internal connection with outward holiness, and echoes the eternal connection reflected in the Me’arat HaMachpela.

This progression mirrors the dynamic between Rachel and Leah: the revealed builds upon the concealed, and the external complements the internal.

Rachel and Leah were originally each meant to have separate husbands, as they had two distinct roles to play. One of them needed Yaakov and one of them needed Esav. This way they could complement their husbands on this task of developing the eternal and developing the external. Things changed when Esav abdicated the throne by saying that he didn’t want a part of it. Then Yaakov Avinu had to marry both sisters and take on that dual role as Yaakov and Yisrael, that dual role of external and internal.

This further manifested itself in their children Yosef and Yehuda, one of them responsible for the outer avodah and one of them responsible for the inner avodah. This is why in the future there's going to be two Mashiach’s. There's going to be Mashiach ben Yosef and there's going to be Mashiach ben David. One of them is going to pave the way for an eternal, internal connection to Hashem and one for the external connection to Hashem.

When Yaakov met Rachel, he cried. Rashi explains based on the Midrash that he cried because he foresaw they would not be buried together. The Tanya13 expands on this moment, explaining that Rachel represents Knesset Yisrael—the collective Jewish soul. Yaakov, symbolizing compassion, felt an overwhelming responsibility toward Rachel and all the souls she represents. His tears were not simply an expression of sadness but a profound act of drawing down Rachamei Shamayim. This compassion lifted Rachel and all Jewish souls spiritually, even amid exile. The Torah’s description of Yaakov kissing Rachel highlights a deep spiritual connection, likened to two spirits meeting and becoming one. Yaakov’s actions exemplify how to care for others deeply while connecting them to something higher.

Reflecting on this dynamic, the Gemara14 offers a poignant insight into the depth of the marital bond, teaching us that when a Jewish couple divorces, tears gather at the Mizbeach.

I would like to suggest15 that the tears that gather at the Mizbeach when a marriage dissolves are the same tears Yaakov shed when he kissed Rachel. These tears capture the tension between what is revealed and what remains concealed. In Yaakov’s dream, the ladder connected heaven and earth, bridging worlds that often seem distant. Yet, in life, the connection between the revealed and the concealed can feel obscured, making it hard to see the ladder that unites them.

Not every marriage endures. Not every marriage becomes a dwelling for the Shechina. Not every marriage bridges the worlds of Rachel and Leah—the revealed and the concealed. When that connection falters, tears form at the Mizbeach. It is the place where Yaakov realized that he would not be buried with Rachel, yet their bond would remain. His resting place would be with the concealed, reminding us of the ladder’s promise: the potential to link what seems separate, even when the connection feels lost.

When this balance between the revealed and the concealed is achieved, marriage becomes a Beis HaMikdash. It reflects the joy of Gan Eden, symbolized by Leah, a joy that transcends the physical and reaches into the eternal.

Ultimately, the interplay of Rachel and Leah, the revealed and the concealed, teaches us that true connection lies in uniting both dimensions. This is the essence of marriage and the foundation of our bond with Hashem.

May we merit to emulate our forefathers and foremothers, bringing the Shechinah into our lives with kedusha, taharah, and peace.

P.S. I apologize if this includes any redundancies or feels disjointed—I clearly need a good editor to bring it all together.

Help me hire an editor

Yaakov’s Ladder: Bridging the Worlds of Rachel and Leah

P.S. I apologize if this includes any redundancies or feels disjointed—I clearly need a good editor to bring it all together.

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