I. Yitzḥak and Esav
THE CORE IDEA
Why did Yitzḥak love Esav? The verse says explicitly, “Yitzḥak, who had a taste for wild game, loved Esav, but Rivka loved Yaakov” (Bereshit 25:28). Whichever way we read this verse, it is confusing. If we read it literally, it suggests that Yitzḥak’s love for Esav came from a taste for a particular kind of food. Surely that is not the way love is earned or given in the Torah.
Rashi, quoting a midrash, suggests that the phrase “who had a taste for wild game” really refers to Esav, and should be read “there was hunting in his mouth,” meaning that he used to trap and deceive his father with his words. This hints that Esav deceived Yitzḥak into thinking that he was more religious and spiritual than in fact he was. Yet, if we look back at the original text in the Torah, it still suggests undeniably that there was a genuine bond of love between Esav and Yitzḥak.
Here is another way to look at their relationship: Perhaps Yitzḥak, who loved Esav, was not tricked about the nature of his elder son. He knew what he was and what he wasn’t. He knew he was a man of the field, a hunter, impulsive in temperament, a man who could easily become violent and angry, and equally quickly, capable of being distracted and forgetting.
He also knew that Esav was not the child to continue the covenant between God and the Jewish people. That is clear in the difference between the blessing Yitzḥak gave Yaakov in Bereshit 27 (believing him to be Esav), and the blessing in Bereshit 28 that he gave Yaakov, knowing him to be Yaakov.
The first blessing, intended for Esav, is about wealth – “May God give you of the dew of heaven and the fat of the earth,” and power – “Let peoples serve you, and nations bow to you.” The second blessing, intended for Yaakov as he was leaving home, is about children – “May God Almighty bless you and make you fruitful and increase your numbers until you become a community of peoples,” and a land – “May He give you and your descendants the blessing given to Avraham, so that you may take possession of…the land God gave to Avraham.” The patriarchal blessings are not about wealth and power; they are about children and the land. So Yitzḥak knew all along that the covenant would be continued by Yaakov; he was not deceived by Esav. What then, was the source of his deep love for Esav?
I believe the answer is that Yitzḥak’s love for Esav was unconditional. He did not ignore who or what his firstborn son was. But he loved him anyway, even if he didn’t love everything he did – because that is how God loves us, unconditionally, even if He does not love everything we do.
QUESTIONS TO PONDER
1. Do all parents love their children unconditionally? Do all children deserve to be loved unconditionally?
2. Did Yitzĥak love Esav and Yaakov differently? Was this good and fair parenting?
It Once Happened…
A water bearer in China had two large pots, each hung on the ends of a pole which he carried across his neck. One of the pots had a crack in it, while the other pot was perfect and always carried its full portion of water from the stream back to the house. But by the end of the long walk from the stream to the house, the cracked pot would only be half full.
For a full two years this went on daily, with the bearer delivering only one and a half pots full of water to the house. Of course, the flawless pot was proud of its accomplishments, perfect for which it was made. But the poor cracked pot was ashamed of its own imperfection, and miserable that it was able to accomplish only half of what it had been made to do.
After two years of what felt to the cracked pot like a bitter failure, it spoke to the water bearer one day by the stream. “Why don’t you throw me out and get a new pot, for the other water pot must be your favourite. I am ashamed of myself, because this crack in my side causes water to leak out all the way back to your house.”
The water bearer smiled and said to the pot, “I have always known about your crack, and I am very fond of it. Did you never notice that there were flowers only on one side of the long path? That’s because I planted flower seeds on your side of the path, and every day while we walk, you’ve watered them. For two years I have been able to pick these beautiful flowers to decorate the table. Without you being just the way you are, there would not be this beauty to grace the house.”
QUESTIONS TO PONDER
1. What is the message of this story and how is it connected to our parasha?
2. Do you think it is difficult for parents to love two very different children, equally and unconditionally?
THINKING MORE DEEPLY
Yitzḥak’s unconditional love for Esav can be better understood once we examine three extraordinary silences in the Torah. The most pointed one questions, What happened to Yitzḥak after the binding? Look at the text in Bereshit 22 and you will see that as soon as the angel has stopped Avraham from sacrificing his son, Yitzḥak disappears from the story completely. The text tells us that Avraham returns to the two servants who accompanied them to Moria, but there is no mention of Yitzḥak being there too.
This is a glaring mystery, tantalising the commentators. Some go so far as to say that Yitzḥak actually died at the binding and was brought back to life.
The second silence follows the death of Sara. We read that Avraham came to mourn for Sara and weep for her. But the primary mourner in Judaism is the child. It should have been Yitzḥak leading the mourning. But he is not mentioned at all in chapter 23 when we read of Sara’s death and its consequences.
The third missing conversation is in the narrative in which Avraham instructed his servant to find a wife for his son. There is no record in the text that Avraham consulted with Yitzḥak, or even informed him. Avraham knew that a wife was being sought for Yitzḥak; Avraham’s servant knew, but we have no idea as to whether Yitzḥak knew and whether he had any thoughts on the subject. Did he want to get married? Did he have any particular preference as to what his wife should be like? The text is silent. Only when the servant returns with his wife-to-be, Rivka, does Yitzḥak enter the narrative at all.
Another detail at this point in the text is significant: “Yitzḥak had come from Be’er Laḥai Ro’i.” What was this place? We have encountered it only once before. It is where the angel appeared to Hagar when, pregnant, she fled from Sara who was treating her harshly (Bereshit 16:14). An ingenious midrash says that when Yitzḥak heard that Avraham had sent his servant to find a wife for him, he said to himself, “Can I live with a wife while my father lives alone? I will go and return Hagar to him.” A later text tells us that “after Avraham’s death, God blessed his son Yitzḥak, who then lived near Be’er Laḥai Ro’i” (Bereshit 25:11). On this, the midrash says that even after his father’s death, Yitzḥak lived near Hagar and treated her with respect.
What does all this mean? We can only speculate. But if the silences mean something, they suggest that even an aborted sacrifice still has a victim. Yitzḥak may not have died physically, but the text seems to make him disappear, literarily, through three scenes in which his presence should have been central. He should have been there to meet with the two servants on his safe return from Mount Moria. He should have been there to mourn his departed mother Sara. He should have been there to at least discuss, with his father and his father’s servant, his future wife. Yitzḥak did not die on the mountain, but it seems as if something in him did perish, only to be revived when he married. The text tells us that Rivka “became his wife, and he loved her; and Yitzḥak was comforted after his mother’s death.”
That seems to be the message of the silences. The meaning of Be’er Laḥai Ro’i seems to be that Yitzḥak never forgot how Hagar and her son – his half-brother – Yishmael had been sent away. The midrash says that Yitzḥak reunited Hagar with Avraham after Sara’s death. The biblical text tells us that Yitzḥak and Yishmael stood together at Avraham’s grave (Bereshit 25:9). Somehow the divided family was reunited, seemingly at the instigation of Yitzḥak.
If this is so, then Yitzḥak’s love for Esav is easily explained. It is as if Yitzḥak had said to himself: I know what Esav is. He is strong, wild, unpredictable, possibly violent. It is impossible that he should be the person entrusted with the covenant and its spiritual demands. But this is my child. I refuse to sacrifice him, as my father almost sacrificed me. I refuse to send him away, as my parents sent Hagar and Yishmael away. My love for my son is unconditional. I do not ignore who or what he is. But I will love him anyway, even if I do not love everything he does – because that is how God loves us, unconditionally, even if He does not love everything we do. I will bless him. I will hold him close. And I believe that one day that love may make him a better person than he might otherwise have been.
In this one act of loving Esav, Yitzḥak redeemed the pain of two of the most difficult moments in his father Avraham’s life: the sending away of Hagar and Yishmael and the binding of Yitzḥak.
I believe that love helps heal both the lover and the loved.
QUESTION TO PONDER
How did love heal and redeem Yitzḥak?
FROM THE THOUGHT OF RABBI SACKS
Love is the energy God has planted in the human heart, redeeming us from narcissism and solipsism, making the human or Divine Other no less real to me than I am to myself, thus grounding our being in that-which-is-not-me. One cannot love God without loving all that is good in the human situation.
Ceremony & Celebration, Pesaḥ, 225
AROUND THE SHABBAT TABLE
Do you think Yitzḥak and Rivka were good parents?
What was the source of Yitzḥak’s pain? How did love help to heal him?
Do you think Yitzḥak was being critical of his father by parenting differently?
EDUCATIONAL COMPANION TO THE QUESTIONS
IN A NUTSHELL
This is a tricky one! Clearly, this is a case of choosing between competing values, and they believed they were doing what was in the best interest of the (future) Jewish people. There does not seem to be any suggestion that this was for personal gain. Judaism believes in the values of truth and honesty and when it comes to relationships, honesty is always the best policy. Furthermore, according to the way Rabbi Sacks reads the story, Yitzḥak had more awareness of the situation than Rivka and Yaakov gave him credit for. In the end, both Yaakov and Esav received the appropriate blessings for them, and Yaakov ultimately became the next of the forefathers of the Jewish people. According to Rabbi Sacks, that was Yitzḥak’s plan all along.
THE CORE IDEA
While we would like to believe there is an inherent human inclination to be a good and loving parent, some parents struggle with this. All humans are fallible, and all parents make mistakes. The norm in all societies (as well as the animal world) is that parents find it natural to love and care for their children. Of course, every single child deserves (and needs) to be unconditionally loved, and where this is not the case, the state will often intervene in order to provide a nurturing and loving environment from somewhere else.
Sometimes this story is interpreted in a way that suggests that Yitzḥak loved Esav more than Yaakov, and Rivka loved Yaakov more than Esav. Rabbi Sacks is suggesting a significantly different approach. Yitzḥak’s love for both his sons may well have been the same, but his parenting of them was different. And this is the ideal approach to parenting. Every child is different and has different needs, and a good parent will understand that and work hard to parent each of their children in a unique way for them, to meet their individual needs.
IT ONCE HAPPENED…
This beautiful story illustrates an example of a difference being appreciated not as a flaw but a value. If we see this story as an allegory for a parent with two children, it shows how a parent can love differently but equally, something the child will probably not be able to fully understand until they themselves become a parent. Unconditional parental love is at the centre of the way Rabbi Sacks understands the story in our parasha.
While good parenting takes hard work and effort, parental love is a force of nature, and the norm in human (and animal) society is that love governs parent-child relationships in a natural and powerful way. The difficulty may be in remembering to observe the children as they grow and change, and adapt to their different needs, appreciating that each child is on a different journey, and their gifts may need to be nurtured in individual ways.
THINKING MORE DEEPLY
The silences identified in the Torah text suggest that Yitzḥak was broken from his experience of the Akeida (the Binding of Yitzḥak). It was only through ensuring that he showed unconditional love to his own son that he felt vindicated and redeemed from his own pain. He expressed this in his unconditional love for Esav.
AROUND THE SHABBAT TABLE
It is important not to judge others when we are not in a position to understand their reality. However, we do hold up our forefathers and foremothers as role models, despite their flaws (which the Torah does not shy away from highlighting). Rabbi Sacks’s approach to the story here highlights Yitzḥak’s good parenting approach – taking a tailored, unique parenting approach to each child, based on unconditional love.
We cannot be sure, but it seems implied that Yitzḥak’s brokenness, expressed in his disappearance from the text until he re-enters the story with his marriage to Rivka, was due to the experience of almost being sacrificed. Perhaps the knowledge that his father Avraham was willing to sacrifice him, and prioritise his love for God over his duty as a parent and love for his son, caused his silence and absence from the story. Yitzḥak’s pain was only redeemed when he himself had the chance to be a parent, and prioritise his love for his sons above everything else. This was a cathartic closure for him.
Implied in the approach we are taking here to the story is an implicit critique of Avraham’s parenting. Perhaps Avraham did not show unconditional love for his son, and Yitzḥak believed that the basis of parenting must be unconditional love. It is a common phenomenon that children choose to parent differently from their own parents, even while showing compassion and understanding for their parents’ “mistakes.”