The Scapegoat - Yaakov and Esau

Rabbi Steven Dansky

Abarbanel: Yaakov, Esav, and the Two Goats

Abarbanel reads the two goats as a powerful metaphor for Yaakov and Esav. Esav is associated with goats – he is described as an ish sa’ir, “a hairy man,” a word that plays on se’ir, “goat.” Yaakov is likewise connected to goats, when he brings kid goats to his mother Rivka, and their skins are placed on his arms and neck so that he will feel like his brother.

Rashi notes that, in their youth, there was nothing to distinguish the two brothers. Until they matured, it was impossible to see which path each would take. Only over time did their destinies diverge so sharply.

Abarbanel writes that the goat whose lot is “for Hashem” represents Yaakov:

  1. It is brought near to God.
  2. Its innards are offered upon the altar.
  3. Its blood is sprinkled in the Holy of Holies and in the Heichal.

Yaakov’s destiny is to separate himself from the purely physical and move towards holiness and spiritual destiny. He and his descendants merit a portion in the World to Come, symbolised by entering the Holy of Holies.

The goat whose lot is “for Azazel” represents Esav:

  1. Harsh, brazen, defined by physical power and wickedness.
  2. Cast out into a barren wilderness – an image of empty, unredeemed physicality.

The two goats thus dramatise the splitting of the destinies of Yaakov and Esav. One path leads into the innermost sanctuary, the closest possible manifestation of oneness with God. The other leads away, into a desolate, spiritually empty landscape. The lottery highlights that, at first, the two appear identical, just as Yaakov and Esav did. Only the “goral,” the divine casting of lots, separates them into radically different futures.

Abarbanel insists that the scapegoat is not a sacrifice to Satan or Samael. It is never brought on an altar, never offered as a korban. Its purpose is symbolic and educational: to send away from the camp a goat whose representation is abhorrent to Israel. It is as if the people are praying, “May God do this to our enemies, to those who hate us – send them far away so they cannot harm us.”

But Abarbanel goes further. The scapegoat is not merely about what God should do to our enemies; it is a vivid reminder of who we are meant to be. The goat “for Hashem” is us at our best – Israel as Yaakov, drawn near to God. The goat for Azazel is also us – Israel when we live like Esav, pursuing only physical gratification and abandoning our spiritual calling.

When the two goats, identical at the outset, are separated only by the lottery, the people see themselves in that division. It invites an uncomfortable but necessary question:

  1. Over the last year, have I lived more like Yaakov, or more like Esav?
  2. Have my choices brought me closer to God, or have they driven me into a kind of inner wilderness?
  3. Which destiny do I wish to choose for the year ahead?

In Abarbanel’s reading, this is more than a ritual symbol. It is a powerful moral message – a call to repentance that forces us to confront which “goat” we resemble.

Bringing the Two Views Together

We can now see how Nachmanides and Abarbanel can be woven together into a single, compelling picture of the Yom Kippur avodah.

Nachmanides focuses on the heavenly drama. The prosecuting angel is Samael, the angel of Esav. He prosecutes us precisely when we live like Esav – defined by physicality, denying God’s presence, stepping out from under the “yoke of Heaven.” On Yom Kippur, however, the ritual of the two goats, carried out strictly according to God’s command, reverses his stance. Samael himself becomes our advocate, announcing that on this day the Jewish people behave like angels. When even the accuser defends us, there is a profound sanctification of God’s Name.

Abarbanel focuses on the human, inner drama. The two goats are Yaakov and Esav; they are, in fact, two possible versions of ourselves. The lottery teaches that, at first, we are often indistinguishable in our potential. Only our choices, guided by God’s will, determine which path we follow. When we watch one goat drawn close to the Holy of Holies and the other sent into the wilderness, we are forced to ask where we stand and where we are heading.

Put together, the message of Parashat Acharei Mot is powerful for every Yom Kippur – and for the entire year:

  1. In Heaven, the scapegoat ritual disarms the spiritual accusation against us, transforming the prosecutor into a defender when we sincerely align ourselves with God.
  2. On Earth, the same ritual holds a mirror up to our lives, asking whether we have become more like Yaakov or more like Esav, and calling us to choose again.

When we read this section of Acharei Mot, we are not just studying an ancient and mysterious ceremony. We are being invited to stand, as it were, between two goats, and to decide: Am I drawing closer to the Holy of Holies, or drifting further into the wilderness? Which goral – which destiny – will I choose to claim as my own?