Parsha Shemos: A Man, A Prince, and A Judge

This week's parsha begins the narrative of the Exodus. Here we have the birth of Moshe and his journey to leadership, to the point where he could stand before Paraoh and demand him to "Let my people go.'' While the midrash tells us that Moshe was born special, born to be the one to lead Bnei Yisrael, there were many steps on his journey to leadership. Most often we hear about his compassion as a shepherd, his willingness to stand up to the abusive taskmaster, or his reluctance to be placed in power, but if one reads the text carefully one finds other traits, such as the skill of learning from critique. 

The morning after Moshe kills the taskmaster who was beating an Israelite slave, he is confronted by two Israelites who saw his actions. When Moshe steps between a fight they are having with one another,  one of the men turns to him and says belligerently: "Who appointed you a man,  a prince or a judge over us? Are you threatening to kill me as you killed the Egyptian?" (Shemos 2:14). Moshe reacts with fear and flees, but the words of this rash man were actually potent on a different level. He questioned Moshe's right to act as an eesh, meaning a man of leadership, as a sar, a prince, and as a shofet, a judge. Quite a few commentators state that the use of the word eesh implies that Moshe was very young, that he was just barely, if at all, a man. They were exentuating his inexperience. Questioning him as a prince has other implications. It highlights the illogical title for one now suddenly "identifying" with the Israelite slave. It also undermines the authority he believed he grew up with. Finally they question his right to act as a judge, for he quite obviously already saw himself as being guilty of a crime. 

The words of this man are also interesting in the fact that they talk about appointment, about being named over. In the future, when Moshe was the eesh, the man in charge, so to speak, it would be his job to oversee the princes and to appoint the judges. Indeed, he would be the one who would act as a sar and a shofet, even if he did not hold these titles. 

In this moment, however, these words cast a particularly hard punch. Moshe was, after all, at a crossroads in his life. Having been raised in the palace of Paraoh, having grown up believing he was a member of the Royal Egyptian family, he has suddenly become aware of his actual heritage as in Israelite. He now identifies with his brethren, who he sees enlaved all around him. Moshe is at an identity crisis where he must decide who he wants to be and what he wants to do. When this man,  in the text, questions him and asks who appointed him a man and a prince and a judge, Moshe might have been struck deeply by the idea  that he must determine if that is the person that he wishes to become. And this too could have been the fear that drove him to flee, for in Egypt he could never have an opportunity to understand his identity. It was clear that so long as he stayed in Egypt, he would be drawn in both directions 

This is not, of course, to say that Moshe was aware of the impact of these words at that time. But words have power, and their impact can effect a person for years. The words said to Moshe were a threat, and he reacted to them. Those words, however, resonated in his brain. As he found himself forced to determine his future and his identity, those words built the foundation of who he was to become. 

When we speak to others, let us try to be aware of the powerful impact our words can have.

Dedicated Lilui neshama of Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef HaCohen. 

Parshas Vayigash: Guidance to the Promised Land

How do we get to the “Promised Land”? A pat answer might be: “Just get on a plane.” Alas, we all know that the real answer is that this is a question that our people have been asking for generations, because the term “Promised Land” implies far more than just a physical location. It alludes to the an era of residing in a state of universal understanding of our role in the world in relation to our Creator. It refers to what we call the era of Moshiach. And so we contine to strive with the question of how we can get to the “Promised Land.”

If one reads Parshas Vayigash as the simple narrative conclusion of the story of Yoseph bringing his family to Egypt, one might miss an interesting verse that, perhaps, has resounding implications for the Jewish people: “And he sent his brothers, and they went, and he told them, “Do not be agitated on the way” (Bereishis 45:24). In the context of Bereishis, Yoseph has just finished revealing himself to his brothers, they have feasted together, he has loaded their caravan with provision and gifts, and it is time for them to go and get Yaakov. Throughout the perek, Yoseph has assured his brothers that he has forgiven them, that he is not upset with them, and that “God has sent me ahead of you to ensure your survival on earth, and to save your lives in an extraordinary deliverance.  So, it was not you who sent me here, but God” (Bereishis 45:7-8). Why then, is he worried that they will be agitated?

Many of the commentators explain that Yoseph was telling his brothers not to be concerned that they would be beset by highwaymen (robbers) or that people they would pass would try to steal from them. While the Rashbam* implies that this fear was the result of their underlying guilt, that those who are burdened with past sin have constant worry for disaster, the general consensus of those who understand the verse this way is that Yoseph was telling his brothers that they need not have this agitation because his name and position would protect them.

But there are other understandings of Yoseph’s statement as well. Rabbeinu Bahya points out that the sages in Gemara Taanis understand it as a warning not to get too involved in halachic discussions that might slow them down. The commentator says: “He did not mean to stop them from discussing such matters; he only did not want them to go into them at depth as this would prove time-consuming” (Sefaria translation).

Agitated, it must be pointed out, is just one translation/association of the word תִּרְגְּז֖וּ tirgzoo. A different understanding of the word tirgzoo is that it means quarrelsome. In this context, as the Radak* explains, Yoseph was worried that the brothers might spend the journey home blaming each other for all that had happened. He could imagine their ride home being full of “Well, if you hadn’t said we should kill him…” “It was your idea to throw him in the pit…” “Who thought deceiving our father was a good idea!”  It is human nature to quarrel in this manner, but Yoseph wanted them to truly understand that everything had been hashgacha pratis, Divine purpose. 

What, you might now be asking, does all of this have to do with the question of “How do we get to the promised land”?  How do we get to the age of Moshiach. Moshiach is a complicated topic, and people throw around the term Messianic Age rather easily. Part of the process of the coming of the Moshianic Age, is that there will be two types of Moshiach - the Moshiach ben David whom most people mean when they use the term, will be the latter, the start of a new Davidic line on the throne of Israel. Prior to Moshiach ben Dovid, however, there will be Moshiach ben Yosef, whose role it will be to herald in the final era and to guide our people along the way. Thus it is interesting that this verse, 45:24, begins “Vayishlach es achiv, and he sent his brothers.” The verses just previous to this are filled with details of how he is provisioning them to leave and even the statement that he sent “she-asses laden with grain, bread, and provisions” to his father. The verse could very well have started with Vayelchoo, and they went. But he sent them. There is purpose to their travel.

How, then, did Yoseph Hatzadik guide the brothers along a way that would help their descendants so many generations later? He warned them not to be agitated or quarrelsome. The journey to the “Promised Land” is our journey through exile. On this journey we must be careful not to quarrel with one another, not to point fingers and cast blame for that which happens because all is part of the Divine plan. On this journey, we must study the Torah, learn our laws, delve into the richness of our heritage, but we must not get so involved in the details that we lose the path. We must remember that Torah encompasses far more than dos and donts, but living in this world and uplifting it. On this journey, we must not be agitated with what others will think of us because we travel under the authority of the Ultimate King. As long as we proceed in the path He has set forth (Torah), His name is our protection. 

May we soon see the end of our journey!

More Than Seven Fat Cows (Parshas Miketz)

 Last week, Stephen Sondheim, a brilliant Broadway writer and composer, passed away. In one of his famous musicals, Into the Woods, there is a line that says “Oh if life were made of moments/Even now and then a bad one/But if life were only moments/Then you’d never know you had one.”

 

The reason the character sings these words is not particularly relevant. What is relevant is the underlying thought that life cannot always be spectacular, because then we would not be able to recognize the moments that were special. This lesson can be found in this week’s parsha as well.

 

Anyone who has studied Parshas Miketz (or watched Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat) knows that Pharaoh’s dream of seven fat cows being eaten by seven thin cows and his dream of seven skinny ears of grain eating seven fat ears grain represent seven years of plenty followed by seven years of devastating famine. But outside of the prophecy that allowed Yosef to prepare Mitzrayim (Egypt) for the famine and thus prepare a refuge for his family, there is a subtle lesson about life that we can learn from seven years.

 

Seven, according to all Jewish thought, represents completion. It is whole matter, as represented by a cube that has six sides and the matter that is within (7). Seven represent everything that is natural in this world. Life has good times and bad times, and this, perhaps, is the “every-man” lesson of Pharaoh’s dreams. To put it in another cheesey old theme song verse: “You take the good/you take the bad/you take them both/and there you have the facts of life.”

 

When life gets difficult, when life isn’t perfect, that’s part of God’s plan for the way the world works. We all have the opportunity to be our own Yosef’s, to think and to plan ahead. Of course, that immediately makes one ask how anyone can foresee the bad that will come their way. They can’t. Life has some shocking turn-arounds in fortune. What we can prepare for is how we handle these turn arounds, how we strengthen our neshamos to remain connected to positivity and simchas hachaim (joy in life) even during tough times. Yosef prepared Mitzrayim for the famine by purchasing everything, truly everything, in the name of the king (pharaoh). Hereto, is a hint of a lesson. If we remember in the good years, in the happy times, to attribute our brachos (blessings) to the King, then we can appreciate and remain grateful for those brachos during the difficult time.

 

Speaking of seven and nature, it must be noted that Parshas Mikeitz often overlaps with Chanukah. Chanukah is a reminder that the world runs on two levels: the natural and the super-natural. Both of these are Divine. Hashem set the world in motion during the seven days of creation, and that is nature. Sometimes, however, He intervenes, and that is super-nature. That is eight.

 

Chanukah is an amazing holiday for its simplicity. People have wonderful and beautiful menorahs that they light… and people have incredibly simple menorahs (hat tip to my friend who made a menorah with a banana this year!). Whatever type of flame one lights, they usually last only a short while before naturally fading out. Nevertheless, in that brief, beautiful time, there is a powerful message, an incredible reminder, that while we live our natural, every day lives, our good times and not so good times, there is always room for miracles.

 

 Dedicated l’ilui neshama Dovid Chaim ben Shmuel Yosef haCohen

Sweet Dreams (Parshas Vayeshev)

What is your dream? This question, put recently to a group of high school students, needed to be clarified. What did the teacher mean by “your dream”? Did the teacher mean what images popped into the students’ heads when they slept, or was the sought-after answer a far more difficult question of what it was that the students hoped to achieve in their lives? What the teacher wanted doesn’t matter now, but it certainly makes one wonder why it is that the word dream can have such disparate meanings.

From a cynical point of view, one could say that the correlation of the dreams we have and our nighttime reveries are because most of either will never come true. Perhaps, however, the truth is that if we had the bigger picture – the G-d’s eye view, one might say – we might be surprised at how much of both actually do come true, just not necessarily in the way we understand it.

 This week’s parsha, parshas Vayeshev, is full of dreams. There are the obvious dreams that come in sleep: Yosef’s dreams of sheaves of wheat bowing to his grand sheave, Yosef’s dream of the sun and moon and stars bowing to his star, and the dreams of Pharaoh’s butler and baker. (If these are unfamiliar to you, they are written out in the parasha.) There are, however, many of the other types as well. Here are a few:

 1) The Midrashim talk about the very first word of the parasha, vayeishev – and he settled, and how it indicates that Yaakov wanted to settle down in one place and just live out the rest of his days uneventfully. It was his dream to have a mundane, boring, and peaceful upper middle age/old age.

 2)      Yosef was a 17 year old youth who lost his mother, whose only brother was eight years younger, and whose father held him on a pedestal because of his dead mother. As much as Yaakov favored him and gave to him, and even though the Midrash tells us that he often told Yaakov misinterpreted understandings of things he saw his half-brothers were doing, one can only imagine that Yosef wanted to be part the fraternal unity of the other sons. Binyamin was only 9, a mere child, but Yosef was not so significantly younger than Naphtali, Asher, and Zevulun. Yosef dreamed of not being different.

 3)      Potifar’s wife, the woman who framed Yosef and sent him to jail, had dreams of her own. According to the Midrash she believed that her descendants were supposed to be part of Yaakov’s family. In truth, the connection was meant to come through her daughter (adopted, depending on the Midrash), Osnat. Potifar’s wife dreamed of being more than the wife of Paroah’s butcher.

 

When parshas Vayeshev ends, however, the only dreams that have come to any fruition are those of Paraoh’s imprisoned butler and baker. The latter was executed and the former was restored to his position at court, where he blissfully forgot all about Yosef.

Although the narratives of many of the people in Bereishis traverse multiple parshios, Vayeshev is the first parsha that ends on a cliffhanger, meaning that the full narrative arc is not completed. Yaakov’s story until now has been broken into sections – from birth until he leaves his father’s household is one parsha, the following parsha details the next part of his life, when he marries and has children up until he decides to return to the Land of his fathers, and then, again, there is a parsha that covers his return and resettlement into the land. Vayeshev could have been as Yaakov dreamed, a final parsha in which Yaakov grows old and passes on his knowledge and his beliefs to his growing family. Instead, Yaakov moves to the back burner, so to speak, and we begin the story of Yosef…and there are almost no more “neat and tidy” parshios.  Vayeshev and Parshsa Mikeitz that follows are far more intertwined than the parshios that came before them, for it is only in Mikeitz that we understand not only what Yosef’s prophetic sleeping dreams meant (his position to his family in Mitzrayim) but how the heartfelt dreams of people can have a long, and sometimes convoluted, way of coming true. Yaakov’s time in Mitzrayim was a time when he rested, Yosef was included among his brothers eventually, and Yosef married Osnat and they had two sons.

We all dream, both night dreams and “daydreams.” Things happen in our lives, however, that make our hopeful dreams feel impossible. Think how Yosef must have felt when his brothers spoke of killing him, threw him in a pit, and then sold him to passing merchants. Surely he thought there would never be a chance at reconciliation… and he was wrong. It was simply that the path to the dream was a little – a lot - different than expected.

Dreams are important. Dreams keep us moving forward through the world. When stumbling blocks (or even giant mountains) get in the way of our dreams, we just have to do our best to find their essence and give those dreams meaning in our lives. And we have to remember that what we understand of our dreams is not from the G-d’s eye view.

 

Shabbat Shalom.

 

 

 

 

The Era of Eliphaz

 

The dynamic of Yaakov and Eisav is one that echoes throughout time. We frequently speak of the foreboding prophecies given to Rivkah when the twins fought within her womb and the shifting balance of power embedded in the brachos received from Yitzchak. In Jewish tradition, Eisav being Edom means Eisav is the forefather of Rome and thus of the Christian world. From all that has been passed down through the generations, the struggle with Eisav has the perpetual overtone of the wrestling match that took place between Yaakov and the malach in Perek 32, and yet the two nations are capable of living in peace, as many would say has been the experience of the Jewish people in North America for decades.

 

The beginning of Parshas Vayishlach is dedicated to the final confrontation of the opposing brothers. Yaakov enters the region of Eisav’s residence and immediately prepares for trouble. He prays, he prepares, and he thinks each move through. There is tension in their reunion, but at the end of the narrative, when Eisav heads toward his settlements and Yaakov says he will follow, it appears as if they have come to terms with one another. Indeed, the very next pasuk states that Yaakov came in peace to the city of Shechem (Bereishis 33:18). Henceforth the Torah focuses on Yaakov and his children, and Eisav appears to only be mentioned in a listing of his family.

 

Within the genealogical history listed in Bereishis 36, however, we actually learn a bit more about the fate of Eisav. He marries several wives and has a great host of children. He also makes what appears to be a deliberate choice to leave his brother’s presence: “And Eisav took his wives and his sons and his daughters and all the people of his house and his possessions and all his cattle and all the acquisitions he had acquired in the land of Canaan and went into a land away from his brother Yaakov” (Bereishis 36:6). Given his reaction to Yaakov receiving the bracha and his desire to kill Yaakov even, according to the midrashim, at their reunion, the idea that Eisav peacefully relinquished his claim seems surprising. And yet the pasuk narrates that Eisav has a perfectly rational acceptance of his brother’s dominion over the Land of Canaan, so much so that he recognizes that their grazing animals are too numerous to share the space.

 

Could we learn here the secret to surviving the great Gulus Edom (the Diaspora of Rome)? Yes, but it is not a secret of living peacefully, but more a question of being prepared and knowing that the Yaakov/Eisav dynamic is always in play.

 

Eisav’s eldest son is actually a fascinating snapshot of historical practicality. Eliphaz, according to the Midrash Tanchuma, grew up with Yitzchak’s influence and was righteous enough to have Divine inspiration. He was one of the three confidants and advisors of the beleaguered Eyov (Job). When his father commanded him to find and kill Yaakov (before the brothers’ reunion), he robbed him instead, relying on a concept that a man with no possessions is as a man who is dead. But Eliphaz’s sons were far more influenced by their own grandfather in their feelings for Bnei Yisrael. In fact, the Midrash in Devarim Rabbah says that “Amalek was raised on Eisav’s lap” (2:20).  The Midrash Yalkut Shimoni expands this idea and notes that Esau spoke to Amalek about how he had failed to kill Yaakov and that his grandson should avenge him (Chukas 764).  More significantly, this Midrash describes how Eliphaz directed his son to help Bnei Yisrael, who are destined to inherit both This World and the World To Come, in order that he will have a share in the World to Come, and this advice greatly angered Amalek, encouraging his descendants to attack Bnei Yisrael (Beshalach 268).

 

Not much is recounted about the other descendants of Eisav, but Jewish tradition implies that they were warlike - by the fact that in the genealogical listing they are not noted as sons but rather as clans, using the military term Aluf before their names. One later Midrash, Yelamdeinu, accounts Eliphaz’s son Zepho as the man who built Rome but who was killed by Tirat king of Elisha (Yelamdeinu, Batei Midrashos 160).

 

The generations born in the late 20^th century were born into an era of tolerance and acceptance, into a culture so seemingly unconcerned about our separate national character that one could almost say we lived in the age of Eliphaz. That Age has come before, and it may come again (though Imerz Hashem Moshiach will be here soon!). When, after the great devastations of just over a century ago, the world seemed to choose to step away from us, to let us rebuild and rise up toward our birthright, Eisav’s whispering to Amalek did not disappear.

 

We have all born witness to the startling rise in anti-Semitism over the last several years. After living in general peace, it was certainly unexpected for many. This does not mean we are imminently in danger. This is not a call of dire alarm. Amalek himself did not attack Yaakov, but his deeply rooted hatred festered over time. Significantly, “his” attack came not when we were at our lowest, in the Divinely ordained slavery of Egypt, but when we were at our highest, our most connected, just after crossing the Yam Suf (Sea of Reeds).

 

Incidents of anti-Semitism rise and fall. Sometimes there seems to be a reason, but most times not. Sometimes there seems to be a pattern, but that is just our human desire to make sense of challenging situations. We are living in gulus. We are scattered by Divine decree until the coming of Moshiach. Let us learn from our forefathers, from the Holy Torah, and from the history of the Jewish people that when Eisav gathers 400 men, it is not always for peace.

 

*Please note that this is not saying that only Israel inherits all of the world, it is a far more complex matter not for this simple Dvar Torah.

Undertones of Character (Parshas Vayetzei)

"Come and learn what Lavan the Aramean sought to do to our father, Yaakov. For Pharaoh issued his edict against only the males, but Lavan sought to uproot us all…” The Pesach Haggadah 

 

Reading through the parshios in which Lavan is mentioned, most specifically Parshas Vayetzei, it is somewhat obscure to see how Lavan is such an evil character as to be referenced as the start of the oppression that occurred in Egypt. In fact, one might ask (and some have) a similar question about both Ishmael and Esau, particularly the latter. In the text, the details of the lives of these reshayim (Heb. wicked ones) are rather mundane. Ishmael is a boy who Sarah accuses of “playing” with her son, which the midrash tells us means a host of misbehaviors. Esau appears as an impulsive youth who is outwitted by his brother into selling his birthright and later as a man cheated of his father’s blessing. Lavan could be seen as a father who went to great effort to protect his daughter Leah from being shamed by her younger sister marrying first and who worked hard at keeping his son-in-law employed and his extended family together. The Midrashim, of course, go into far greater detail about exactly what their real actions and motivations were.

 

On the opposite end of the spectrum, the patriarchs and matriarchs, whom we elevate and admire, are often written about in such a way as to leave questions on their behavior. Why was Sarah so unkind to Hagar? How could Yitzchak have been so oblivious to Esav’s behavior? Why did Rachel steal her father’s teraphim (household idols)?

 

Rachel’s theft is a fairly well-known story. Yaakov is done with working for Lavan. His family is almost complete, as all his children except Binyamin have been born. Hashem has told him that it is time to return to the Holy Land. As he takes his caravan and heads for home, Lavan comes galloping after him demanding to know why he has left with no notice as he would have sent him off with great fanfare. At the end of his great pronouncement of shock and disappointment, Lavan also asks why they have taken his idols (Bereishis 31:23-30). Yaakov, who knows nothing about it, tells him to search the caravan. Rachel sits upon the idols and claims that she cannot rise for the ways of women are upon her. Yaakov vouches his family’s innocence and declares that “anyone with whom you find your gods shall not remain alive!” (Bereishis 31:32). One is so surprised that Rachel would steal her father’s idols and, in the way of the “reader-in-the-know,” is horrified by Yaakov’s declaration that curses Rachel that one does not necessarily recall the beginning of the perek 31, which reveals a great deal about the dynamics of Lavan and his daughters…even as it remains subtle within the text.

 

Reading backward through the perek, one comes to Leah and Rachel’s response to Yaakov’s recommendation that they leave Lavan’s house: “Then Rachel and Leah answered him, saying, ‘Have we still a share and an inheritance of our father’s house? Surely, he regards us as outsiders, now that he has sold us and has used up our purchase price. Truly, all the wealth that God has taken away from our father belongs to us and to our children. Now then, do just as God has told you’” (31:14-16). These verses seem innocuous enough but read them again more carefully. Why did they refer to themselves as having been sold? Because everything about the family dynamic hearkens back to Lavan’s deceitful nature. Lavan keenly remembered that Eliezer had brought fine jewelry for Rivka, and felt he had a precedent for gaining from his daughters’ marriages. In the era of the patriarchs it was the normal way of the world for a man to pay the bridegroom’s family a dowry, a bride-price that paid them for taking over her care and maintenance. When Yaakov came to them and was so obviously enamored of Rachel, Lavan did not enter into the usual bargaining of a shidduch. In fact, not only did Lavan not provide a dowry for either of his daughters, but he also took advantage of Yaakov and contracted him to work seven years – each – for his wives. Lavan’s daughters were keenly aware that their husband did 14 years of labor for them, that their husband paid for them in as much,  and then spent six more years in their father’s employ.

 

Whereas some commentaries postulate that Rachel stole the idols to try to protect her father from himself, there is a sense here that there was a lot of family tension, more even than would be expected after the switching of the bride situation.

 

Another interesting dynamic in this perek is the placement of Yaakov’s family in the larger scheme of Lavan’s household. Up until this point in the parsha, one might have had the impression that Lavan’s sole familial interest was his daughters. Not only is Rachel the one tending the sheep when Yaakov first arrives, but Lavan takes great interest in Yaakov’s business. Who, then, are the kinsmen who are noted for camping with Lavan after tracking Yaakov down (31:25)? This goes back to the beginning of perek 31, where it is noted: “Now he [Yaakov] heard the things that Lavan’s sons were saying: ‘Yaakov has taken all that was our father’s, and from that which was our father’s he has built up all this wealth’” (31:1). Suddenly there are sons… suddenly there are brothers. These brothers, however, seem to place no value on their relationship to Rachel and Leah. They have their father’s character and are aggrieved by Yaakov’s success because they see it as a direct threat to their inheritance.

 

The more you pull apart the text, the more nuanced the details of Lavan and his family. Lavan’s was not a household that fostered love and family closeness. It seems, rather, that this was a household built on greed and selfishness, on a sense of what is owned and what one is entitled to. Rachel and Leah, like their aunt before them, are exceptions to those norms.

 

Why aren’t the falsehoods and deviousness of Lavan more plainly spelled out in the Torah? Perhaps this is a lesson about judging ourselves verses judging others. The Torah is a guidebook for the Jewish people, and Sefer Bereishis is the history of Bnei Yisrael specifically. It doesn’t matter, really, what it was that Lavan or Esav or Ishmael did that cut themselves off from being part of this future nation; it only matters that we know that their lives and the lives of their descendants are on a different track. We do not need to judge others. We do, however, need to judge ourselves, and this is why the Torah describes the lives of the forefather/foremothers with what may be a more honest tone. This is not to say that the Torah is dishonest in its discussion of the reshayim, but that the text follows our conscientious laws of avoiding speaking negatively about others without reason. The patriarchs and matriarch are our ancestors and our role models and so their challenges and mistakes are the situations from which we must learn. We must understand their fallibilities in order to overcome similar faults in our own selves and thus live the full spiritual lives that is our inheritance from them.

 

 

 

 

Why Didn't She Tell Him? (Parshas Toldos)

Have you ever wondered what would have happened if Rivkah had just sat down with her husband, Yitzchak, and told him that their son, Esav, was behaving contrary to all the values their family held dear? Or perhaps one might ask why it seems that Yaakov did not tell his father that he and Esav had made a legitimate agreement that made Yaakov the bachor (firstborn rights)? Indeed, one might read Parshas Toldos and see in it that the second family of the Jewish forefathers suffered from what appears to be an extreme lack of communication, and inherent in that assumption is a lesson that resonates no matter the era.

It starts, one might say, from the very beginning. The Midrash notes that when the Torah states that Yitzchak davened for his wife to have children that they davened in opposite corners (Bereishis Rabbah 63:5, as cited by Rashi). This does not indicate strife, lest one think that, but it does start to paint a picture of their marriage. In fact, Rashi also cites the Gemara about how their prayers were different that perhaps sheds even further light on their relationship: “of him and not of her, because there is no comparison between the prayer of a righteous person who is the son of a righteous person and the prayer of a righteous person the child of a wicked-person — therefore God allowed himself to be entreated of him and not of her” (Yevamot 64a). Although not the purpose of the Gemara, we are here reminded that Yitzchak and Rivkah came from very different homes, that their ways of being and existing were very different.

The lack of communication continues. It appears from the text that Rivkah never told Yitzchak that she had sought out advice on her preganancy troubles and had been given a prophecy of two struggling nations, that she had known from before they were born that they would oppose each other. Playing the what-if game is only helpful in teaching a lesson, but what-if Rivkah had shared this information with Yizchak from the very beginning...What if they together had chosen to work differently with each of their sons in order to build them as individuals. Instead, “Yitzchak loved Esav he had a taste for game; but Rivkah loved Yaakov” (Beresihis 25:28). (Separately, one might even wonder if Rivkah’s ability to love Esav was tainted by the prophecy she received.)

The ultimate lack of communication, of course, is at the end of Yitzchak’s life. When Rivkah sees that Yitzchak wishes to bless Esav with a final, grand blessing, she tries to salvage the situation by instructing a reluctant Yaakov to deceive his father. Could neither of them have gone in and explained their concerns to Yitzchak? It is an easy question to ask, an easy assumption to make, but their patterns have been firmly rooted into their lives. In all these years of watching Esav hunt when he should have been studying, partake in the violent behaviors describe in the midrashim and the commentaries, and use his cunning to trick his father into believing he was pious, Rivkah had never spoken up, and she did not know how to speak up.

The lack of communication between Rivkah and Yitzchak had dire consequences on their family, and from the perspective of Jewish history, on even their modern day descendants since we still suffer with the never ending struggle between Esav and Yaakov (Edom and Yisrael). This does not mean, one should remember, that Rivkah and Yitzchak had a bad relationship. The fact that even after the boys are grown into young men and they travel to the court of Avimelech to escape a famine, Yitzchak and Rivkah are noted as being playful with one another is important. There was love between them...Indeed, it might even be considered that Rivkah did not tell Yitzchak about his beloved son because she could not think of causing him such pain...but their relationship bore the weight of their lack of open communication.

Why was their communication lacking? Of course this is a question we can never answer, but one might even surmise that it did have a great deal to do with their backgrounds. Rivkah came from a home of deceivers. Besuel her father and Laven her brother were both men of bad faith. Rivkah, even as a child, did not fit in to the character of her childhood home, and perhaps therefore she learned to restrain herself, to hold back her thoughts and comments. Yitzchak came from a home where his mother was a force unto herself, where his mother was strong enough in herself to come and tell his father that he must send Hagar away. Yitzchak, perhaps, expected that if there was a problem his wife would come and tell him.

All that occurs is the will of Hashem. Yaakov and Esav needed to struggle so that Yaakov could transform into the man that he became, into the forefather of our nation. It is easy to judge the dynamics of their relationship from the safety of generations gone; it is far more difficult to see the problems that need to be changed when they are part of your own life. But we are blessed with the Torah as a guidebook, and so we look at Bereishis and bring its lessons into our own life. From Parshas Toldos we learn the importance of communication, of warning others of a path they just might not see, and of the necessity of communication in working together to build the future that you desire.