Prince Charming doesn't always find Cinderella, and stories do not always have 'happy' endings, as most of us learn the hard way. Even more challenging, in life, unlike the fairy tales we hear as children, it is not always so easy to tell the difference between Snow White and her evil step-mother, the Queen.

I remember once, after a harried chase, catching a masked Arab who had been heaving rocks and cinderblocks at an IDF position in Hebron. Directed by a 'spotter' up on a rooftop I was running down a narrow alleyway to try & catch him, with my gun cocked and a bullet already in the chamber. Recall that in the Intifada of the late Eighties, these masked terrorists were the assassination squads and suicide bombers, and chances were good that if you didn't take them off the streets they would most probably kill again.

Coming around a corner in an alley and almost face to face with one of these masked gunmen, it was definitely an act of willpower to keep my finger off the trigger in order to at least try and apprehend him, rather than just open fire.

When I finally did catch up with him and he pulled his mask off, you can imagine it was a shock to realize that he was actually a kid, no more than seven or eight. I can still recall the emotions raging inside of me as we took him back to base in our jeep.

On the one hand, how can you really be angry at an eight year old kid, even if he is throwing cinderblocks? Obviously he was educated to hate, right?

On the other hand, every human being, even children, know the difference between right and wrong, because we are born with that ability to distinguish;, so how can one not be enraged at the sight of a child of whatever age who is willing to murder? Do we dare not view such a child as our mortal enemy?

As confusing as that thought process was, it entered a whole new level when we finally got to base. Somehow, the father of the boy had found out that his son was being taken by soldiers to the local IDF base. Now mind you, the IDF does not imprison children of that age, even when they commit serious crimes. However, the parents are made to pay a steep price (in this case approximately $1,000 for throwing rocks, another $1,000 for wearing a terrorist hood, and an additional $1,000 for refusing to obey army orders. One could make a case (though obviously a debatable one) that this policy was a major factor in the eventual quelling of this intifada. $3000, after all, was a huge amount of money for such an Arab family.

I remember struggling with a natural inclination to feel sorry for the boy, who was still sitting in the back of the jeep, with a very frightened expression on his face, and give him some of the gum I had in my pocket, while at the same time realizing that this very boy, given the chance, might well be willing to kill me or my family.

None of this prepared me for what happened, however, when we got out of the jeep. I had naturally assumed that this boy must have been frightened of the Israeli army troops, as his head had probably been filled with stories of evil Israeli soldiers.

His father spotted his son in the back of the jeep, as the reality of the penalties he would have to pay were sinking in, and he strode over to the jeep and gave his son a back-hand that sent him flying into the windshield. I have seen many things in my life, but I had never seen a child being beaten by an adult, much less his father. We had to pull his father off him literally to save his life.

And when everything finally calmed down, I walked away struggling with the question of who the real villain here really was.

We often question why bad things happen to good people, but no less challenging is the question of why basically good people (at least initially, with the assumption that every person is basically born good) do such bad things?

How are we meant to deal with, much less confront, the raw essence of pure evil? How can we battle a population that is willing to teach its children to strap bombs on themselves and blow up mothers and babies in ice-cream shops?

This week's portion, Vayishlach, finds Ya'acov preparing for his date with destiny. Twenty-two years after fleeing his own home in the night, to escape the wrath of his brother Eisav, from whom he had stolen (rightfully appropriated?) the blessings, Ya'acov is now told that this same brother who had vowed to kill him, is coming his way with an army of four- hundred men.

So what goes through your mind in such a moment? How tragic on the one hand, that two brothers, from the same womb, twins no less, are engaged in a conflict that may result in the death of one of them. And yet, Eisav, as portrayed in Jewish tradition, is as close to evil incarnate as one gets.

The progenitor of Amalek, (his grandson, who will come to represent, according to Rav Soleveitchik, any nation that wants to destroy the Jewish people for no reason other than pure hatred) Eisav is described early on as the "Ish Sadeh", the man of the field (Genesis 25:27). His domain is the Sadeh, the same 'field' from whence comes the snake, itself the ultimate depiction of evil and cunning.

One cannot help but wonder, how, from the same womb, two brothers grow to be so different. In fact, this is the essential question when confronting the evil that men do: how could someone, created in the image of G-d, sink to such base evil? How does the son of Yitzchak, and the grandson of Avraham, prepare to kill his own brother?

What is Yaacov's reaction?

"Va'yirah Ya'acov me'od, va'yetzer lo va'yachatz et ha'am asher ito', ve'et ha'tzon ve'et ha'bakar, ve'ha'gemalim, le'shenei' machanot."

"And Ya'acov was very afraid, and he was distressed, and he divided up the people that were with him, and the flock, and the cattle, and the camels, into two camps." (ibid. 32:8)

Ya'acov, essentially has three reactions:

1. He is afraid (Va'yirah).
2. He is distressed (va'yetzer lo).
3. He acts, by splitting the camp into two sections, that in the event one is destroyed, the other might survive.

Interestingly, he does not run, even though one could make a case for the fact that by running he might have a better chance of ensuring that no one dies. After all, for twenty- two years in the home of Lavan, Eisav leaves Ya'acov alone, so why not go back there? Clearly, Ya'acov realizes that there is a time to make a stand.

And yet, even stranger, after making a clearly strategic military decision, Ya'acov also does not choose to fight. And while we might have assumed that this is a function of the overwhelmingly disproportionate odds, such odds never seemed to stop the family of Avraham before, nor has it since.

Avraham himself does battle with four kingdoms and prevails despite the odds. If we today had followed the example of Ya'acov here instead of the spirit of Avraham, then there would be probably be no state of Israel today!

Still more confusing, is the fact that when Eisav and Ya'acov actually do meet, especially after Eisav has received the generous gifts sent by Ya'acov (32:14- 18); they simply hug and 'make up'! (33:4) If indeed, Eisav is representative of evil incarnate as it were, how can Ya'acov allow himself to bow down to him in such an obsequious fashion, flattering and even fawning over him to no end? What happened to taking a stand against evil?

Most puzzling of all in this entire story, is the strange episode that occurs in the middle of the night which precedes Yaacov's fateful meeting with Eisav.

"Va'yivater Ya'acov Levado' Va'ye'avek ish imo' ad alot hashachar."
"And Ya'acov remained alone, and a man wrestled with him until the coming of the dawn."

"Va'yar ki' lo' yachol lo', va'yiga' bekaf yereicho', va'teika' kaf yerech Ya'acov be'he'avko' imo."
"And he saw that he could not overcome him, and he touched the hollow of his thigh, and the hollow of Yaacov's thigh collapsed (was put out of joint?) As he wrestled with him."

"Va'yomer shalcheini' ki' alah hashachar, va'yomer lo a'sha'leicha'cha' ki im beirachtani'."
"And he said: 'release me, for the dawn has come' and he said: 'I will not release you unless you bless me'"

"Va'yomer Eilav ma' she'mechah'? 'Va'yomer: Ya'acov."
"And he said to him: 'what is your name?' And he said: "Ya'acov."

"Va'yomer lo' Ya'acov ye'amer od shimchah' ki' im Yisrael, ki' sarita' im elokim ve'im anashim va'tuchal."
"And he said: 'no longer will your name be said as Ya'acov, but as Yisrael, for you have battled with G-d and with men and have prevailed."

"Va'yishal Ya'acov, va'yomer ha'gida' na' she'mechah', va'yomer lamah zeh' tishal li'shmi'?" Va'yevarech oto' sham."
"And Ya'acov asked: say, please, your name, and he said: 'why do you ask my name? And he blessed him there." (Bereishit (Genesis) 32:25- 30)

Who exactly, is Ya'acov struggling with here? And why are they doing battle? The Torah does not seem to explain how this life and death struggle began. It is interesting to note that in many of the verses here it is not immediately apparent just who is speaking and who listening. In fact, the verses seem to give the energy of confusion alluding to the nature of such types of wrestling matches in the dark, where it is not clear exactly who is who, in the fury and the chaos of the struggle.

What exactly is the fascination with Yaacov's name here, and why does Ya'acov allow himself to be named by the enemy he has just defeated? And Ya'acov does much more, actually asking him for a blessing. Of what interest would a blessing that comes from your enemy really be?

There are really two different mainstream opinions regarding this rather strange battle.

The Midrash explains that Ya'acov is doing battle with no less than the Angel (or dark prince) of Eisav, an idea that demands understanding. Rav Soleveitchik points out, based on the verse here "Va'yivater Ya'acov Levado'" ("And Ya'acov remained alone"), that Ya'acov was really struggling with himself.

So what or who exactly is the Angel (or dark prince) of Eisav?

One way of understanding at least on a superficial level, the concept of angels, is that there are many forces and energies in this world, that may be somewhat intangible, but that are nonetheless very real. Gravity, for example, is a very real force in the world, which science has nonetheless not completely come to terms with. And in one sense, gravity is a malach, which means 'angel', but also means 'messenger', because a malach, like gravity, is a force or energy put in the world by G-d, with a simple mission concerning which it has no choice, and no knowledge.

And just as there are such forces and energies in the world, there are also forces and energies that exist inside each of us. And there are also such forces or energies associated with each nation and people in the world.

While it may be difficult to put one's finger on exactly what this energy is, it is nonetheless very real, as any student who has lived in a dormitory setting with French and English students will attest. There is something very different about the French and the English; they have different energies, and even different goals. This energy, perhaps, is the malach or 'prince' (energy?) of the nation.

All of which means that Ya'acov, for some reason, has to struggle with this energy, the force of Eisav, particularly on this night, before their appointed meeting, according to the Midrash.

On the other hand, as Rav Soleveitchik suggests, Ya'acov may be struggling with himself. After twenty- two years in the house of Lavan, he has gone from dreaming of ladders and angels, to dreaming of sheep. (31:10)

Perhaps Ya'acov isn't really sure exactly who he is anymore. First he was the dweller of tents, exploring the world of mono-theism as bequeathed to him by his grandfather Avraham. And then he had to 'wear' the hands of Eisav and apply the cunning ways of the sadeh, in order to acquire the blessings. And now after twenty-two years in the field of Lavan, he may be wondering whether he has already become Eisav, having lost 'Ya'acov' a long time ago.

This inner struggle is critical, because before Ya'acov can confront Eisav, he must determine who Ya'acov really is. And maybe, just maybe, these are not really two separate opinions, but one; maybe Yaacov's struggle with the world (and malach or angel) of Eisav, is part of his own struggle within himself.

How, indeed, are we meant to contend with the evil world of Eisav?

There is perhaps no better resource with which to explore this question, than the Aish Kodesh, (Rav Klonimus Kalman Shapira) one of the last Rabbis in the Warsaw Ghetto, who struggled with this topic in the face of perhaps the darkest and most evil regime the world has ever known.

Broadly speaking, in Jewish tradition there are essentially two approaches to the problem of evil in this world. One approach suggests that evil is its own force, which will one day be conquered and vanquished. This of course, presents a very obvious problem: how could G-d create evil? There must be some good in this evil, if it comes from G-d?

Chassidic thought, however, had a very different approach to this idea:

Evil is rather a perverse manifestation of something good gone terribly awry, and ultimately, this evil may yet (through the process of teshuva) revert to its initial goodness.

This is true not only in terms of the nature of the evil itself, but as well, in terms of how it affects us. And it applies to any situation or source of 'evil'. For example, the Maggid of Mezritch, in his Tza'avat Ha'Rivash, suggests that when encountering the enemy with the sword, one must first ask why G-d sent this enemy to me, and am I capable of seeing the good, even in such an enemy, since in the end everything comes from G-d.

In other words, evil can be raised up to its former goodness, and thus, even in the midst of my struggle with it, can be sweetened to actually become good again.

And this is precisely what the Aish Kodesh suggests here. Why, indeed, does Ya'acov want his enemy to bless him? Why will he not let Eisav's 'angel' (or the Eisav within himself, or both...) go until Eisav blesses him? Because there will come a time when the very evil we do battle with will revert to the good from whence it originally came.

I remember once taking a large group up on Isralight's rooftop to look out over the Mount of Olives, and the skyline of Jerusalem's Old City. We got into a fascinating discussion, overlooking the Temple Mount, about the Dome of the Rock and the Six- Day War, when one of the students, clearly struggling with Isralight's open-minded atmosphere asked me point blank whether I prayed three times a day, to which I responded in the affirmative.

"And you pray three times a day for the re-building of the Temple, right?" he continued.

"Well, its much more than a building I am dreaming of, representing as it does a place where all people could come together, but yes, I do pray for that every day."

"Well then, that means that every day you are praying for the destruction of that golden dome over there, a holy place of another religion", he responded. "Don't you think that's terrible?" he finished, as his hand pointed towards the Golden Dome of the Rock, North of the El Aksa mosque, also on the Temple Mount.

Good question, right? Unless of course you really stop to think; You see, for the Jewish people to go up on the Temple Mount and rebuild the Temple mount would be impressive, but not so incredible; after all, we certainly could have done that in 1967, though obviously we weren't ready, and perhaps we also weren't worthy.

But you know what would really be a miracle? If a billion Muslims woke up tomorrow and they decided, all on their own, to move the Dome of the Rock so we could build our temple, now that would be impressive! (I mean, if you're going to pray for a miracle, you might as well think big)!

Ultimately, we are cousins from the same source, all created in the image of G-d, and what the Aish Kodesh was suggesting, from within one of the darkest places in human history, is that no matter how dark, and how evil something or someone may be, it still has the possibility of becoming a source of light in the future. And that possibility, however far away, changes everything.

What is challenging perhaps for Ya'acov, is the fact that as much as Eisav is evil, he is still of the same flesh and blood. Indeed, Ya'acov has been struggling with the evil of Eisav since he was born. That is what the name Ya'acov means: Ya'acov from the root Akev, or heel, because Ya'acov was born hanging onto Eisav's heel, struggling to be born first. Ya'acov struggles with the evil of Eisav in the womb, and for his entire life, he struggles to get out from under the heel of Eisav and overcome.

But now, he is given the promise of a new level of salvation. Because there will come a day when there is no longer a struggle. Then, Eisav will no longer see us as Ya'acov, but as Yisrael, the people that have struggled with themselves, and know exactly who they are. One day the struggles we had with Eisav will end up being our greatest blessings. And Eisav, and the evil he represents, will be elevated, even transformed, to be a part of the greater good, even though right now we cannot see it that way.

But the Aish Kodesh goes a step further.

The Talmud shares a fascinating insight from Rav Shimon ben Gamliel:

"The serpent is asked: What pleasure do you derive out of biting (humans)? After all, the lion attacks and eats its prey, as does the wolf. But you- what benefit do you derive from biting? And the snake answered: Were it not that a heavenly command tells me to bite, I would indeed not do so." (Yerushalmi Pe'ah 1:1)

The Aish Kodesh explains that when a beast attacks and gains pleasure from its attack, then heavenly justice is invested in the natural order. But when retribution comes via the serpent (which does not eat its prey, and gains no pleasure from the attack), then Din (and G-d are revealed in its pure form, without being cloaked in the illusion of the natural order.

Up until the Holocaust, suggests Rav Shapira, we were attacked by beasts, and we saw why they did it, and what they gained (loot etc.) But now, it is the serpent that attacks, against all logic, and that reveals as it were, the hidden hand of G-d.

This is a challenging thought process to say the least, even coming as it does from a source who was experiencing this evil first hand. Perhaps his hope came from the fact that if our enemies were trying to destroy us even against all logic, then it all could only, somehow, be coming from G-d. And even though we may not be able to even begin to comprehend why this would need to be, it would also mean that one day even the source of all this evil would yet be sweet, just as Ya'acov and Eisav eventually hug before they go their separate ways.

We live today in a challenging world, where children are taught to hate, and whole families who wanted nothing more than a shared pizza on a beautiful afternoon, lie instead buried in the earth of Jerusalem. And the war they are waging against us makes no sense, and hurts them even more than it does us. It would be so easy to despair, when considering how easy it would be to live together in peace, if only....

But in truth, it may well be precisely when we see the absurdity of it all, that we have that rarest of opportunities to choose to also see that there must be a hidden hand, and a deeper purpose to it all. And maybe the very struggle itself will one day become the source of our greatest blessings.

And as for us, we children of Yitzchak and Ishmael come from the same family. And just as Ya'acov did battle in the night, we have a war to win. Nonetheless, we must take care not to become that against which we struggle, and we would do well to remember that when the dawn comes, it is the angel of Eisav who ultimately names us as the children of Israel. We need to see that sometimes our enemies do not hate us for logical reasons, and when that is true, it becomes dangerous to attempt to use logic in response.

Nonetheless, it is precisely that illogic that reminds us that one day we will see the dawn, and we will be blessed, precisely because of that same struggle with the blessings even from our greatest enemies.

May we be blessed with that time, soon.

Shabbat Shalom,

R. Binny Freedman