Yoseph and Yaakov (Vayechi #3)

 In Jewish tradition, the age of 70 is considered to be “the age of wisdom,” the age at which one deserves to be treated with extra honor for having had so many years to learn and to grow (spiritually). In Jewish tradition there is also a mitzvah to give honor to our elders, to those who have attained the age of wisdom, as it says: “You shall rise before a venerable person and you shall respect the elderly, and you shall fear your God. I am the Lord” (Vayikra 19:32). This is not our parsha this week, but the fulfillment of this mitzvah - along with the mitzvah of Kibbud Av, honoring one’s father - is beautifully displayed by the actions and speech of Yoseph in Parshas Vayichi.

At the beginning of the parsha, the Torah informs us that Yaakov was “147 years old. And the days of Israel’s death drew near…” (47:28) – He was twice 70 and then some, but this was in an era when average lifespans were far longer than in our own epoch. Shortly thereafter, Yoseph is told that his father had grown ill, and Yoseph immediately goes to see him, making certain to bring his two sons along. Remember that at this time Yoseph was still the Viceroy of Egypt. While the harsh famine years that had brought Yaakov and his sons to Mitzrayim were now over, Yoseph was now responsible for administrating the nationalized municipality that he had created by making almost all of Egypt into one vast landholding. Busy as he was, when Yoseph heard that his father was ill, he came immediately.

What follows next is a strange sequence of verses, perhaps meant to be subtly indicative of Yaakov’s age and a wandering mind. Yaakov tells Yoseph about the Divine blessing he received and declares that he wishes Ephraim and Menashe, Yoseph’s sons, to be tribes equal to Reuven and Shimon (48:5). Three verses later, in 48:8, it is written: “And Israel saw the sons of Yoseph, and said ‘Who are these?” It is a strange question since he was just discussing these very people. Most significantly, Yoseph does not react as if his father might have a wandering mind, but replies with a straight and direct answer.

Bereishis 48 on the whole is strikingly human; it is incredibly real in its emotional sub-text. This is especially true of the fascinating verses that describe Yaakov very carefully, very specifically, placing his hands on the boys’ heads and Yoseph’s reaction. “Yoseph saw that his father had his right hand on the head of Ephraim [the younger], and it seemed wrong to him, and he supported his father’s hand to remove it from Ephraim’s head onto Menashe’s head. And Yoseph said to his father, ‘Not so, my father, for this one is the first born, lay your right-hand upon his head. ‘” (48:17-18).

Avi, “my father,” is one small world that completely changes the tone of this verse. It adds compassion. It adds respect. It adds relationship. And so we learn how even as Yoseph corrected his father, he did so with love and with respect. (And is immediately informed by Yaakov that he knows precisely what he is doing.)

In the 21st century, attaining the age of 70 is blessedly common as modern medicine has allowed us to increase our average lifespan. At the same time, we live in an age when we often reside far apart from our families, and our lifestyles are often defined by how busy we are. Here, however, we are powerfully reminded to slow down and treat our beloved seniors with dignity, with patience, and with respect.

What the Bread Means (Vayigash #3)

One would not think that there would be a great deal to say about a simple line like "Yoseph sustained his father and brothers and all his father's household with bread, down to the little ones" (Bereishis 47:12). It comes as the conclusion to the description of the incredible welcome Yaakov and his family received in Mitzrayim. After a personal greeting from Paraoh and the permitted settlement of the choicest land in the country, it should not even be particularly informative that Yoseph provided bread - sustenance - to his family. And yet it was worth noting in the Torah.

Most commentators understand this verse as a description of how - scantily or with largesse - Yoseph supported his family. Some commentators, such as Chizkuni and Sforno, read "down to the little ones" as a statement of economic frugality, of only as much as was needed. Sforno states that this phrase infers that "even though Yoseph was in a position to allocate generous rations to the members of his family, he did not show them any preference and treated them on the basis of need, each family according to the number of souls."

Other commentators, however, believe that the phrase "down to the little ones" tells quite a different story. The Radak cites Pesachim 10 saying: "It is in the nature of children to break food up into crumbs and to leave them all over the place. There is a well known proverb which states that children are responsible for the decay of food." Siftei Chachamim, elaborating on the same theme, explains that Yoseph "provided more than they really needed."

This would be an easy verse to take lightly and just note how it is an interesting means of understanding Yoseph and the family's situation at the time … if it were not for the stark contrast of 47:12 and 47:13: "Yoseph sustained his father and his brothers and all his father's household with bread, down to the little ones. And there was no bread in all the land, for the famine was very severe." Suddenly, one has to wonder at the juxtaposition. There is no bread in all the land, but Yoseph is feeding every member of his family bread. Not to imply that he should be skipping members of the family, but even if he were economical and giving just enough to comfortably sustain every member of the family, it sounds like that is still more than most people had at the time.

So what? You might ask. Yoseph is the viceroy. It is only natural that he gets to take care of his family a little better. Certainly Paraoh's family wasn't starving. And, indeed, we do not see the people begrudging Yoseph or his family. Indeed, through the rest of the parsha they are praising him as bringing their salvation from the famine even as they turn over everything they own and their rights and freedoms, as well.

The Egyptian people in their time of need do not question or argue with Yoseph. But when they are no longer in dire straits, when their country has recovered so well that they have the luxury to forget what Yoseph did for them… perhaps they did not forget how much easier Yaakov's family had it then the rest of the people - how only they and the priests were not forced to sell their land and to hand themselves over to be as serfs. Perhaps this was why it was so easy for the Egyptian people to let Paraoh enslave Bnei Yisrael.

Sforno concludes his commentary by writing: "Our sages have stated that at a time when the general population suffers shortage even those who have ample are to limit themselves." Control in a time of crisis - it sounds like an exceptionally worthwhile topic in the final days of 2020. We know that Hashem runs the world and that it is up to Him who gets infected (look at the number of households where 1 or 2 people got sick, but others did not). The people around us, however, are frightened. Not all of them, it's true, but many. In a time when everyone is being asked to restrain themselves, should we not be extra careful to show our own constraints? Thus we have a modern lesson from the bread of Yaakov's household.

Some Implications of Seeing (Miketz #2)

 The second section of this week’s parsha begins with a statement and instruction that seems oddly simple and is yet able to inspire an incredible level of reflection and consideration. “And Yaakov saw that there was food in Mitzrayim, and Yaakov said to his sons ‘Why do you so appear?’ And he said “Behold, I hear that there is food in Egypt. Go down to there and procure food for us, and we will live, and we will not die’” (Bereishis 42:1-2).

The first striking question on these two verses is why does the first verse use the word “saw?” Would it not have been more accurate to use the term “hear,” as is used in the second verse? If I were reading a novel I would, perhaps, chalk the difference in words to an attempt to avoid repetitive language but any student of the Torah knows that repeated words are common. We must, therefore, take a closer look.

While most commentaries seem to go to the trouble of explaining that "seeing" is like hearing in that is a way of saying coming into knowledge, perhaps there is a more literal way of understanding “And Yaakov saw.” Yaakov was a known man in the Land of Canaan, a man of renown. He was also, as always, a man of the tents, a man who chose a location and stayed there, so he knew the regular comings and goings of those around him. Yaakov was able to fully understand what his neighbors were suffering. Yaakov “saw” that there was food in Mitzrayim by noting who went empty handed but came back with bushels of grain upon their mules. When he speaks to his sons and says only that “he heard,” he is being considerate of not giving them direct tochacha, but is, nevertheless, indicating that his sons, who are men out and about in the world, should have been aware and taken action.

The second interesting consideration is why the first thing that Yaakov says to his sons is Lama tisraoo, “Why do you so appear?” Shouldn’t his conversation have started out with him telling them that he had heard about rations in Egypt and then wondered why this was something they had not yet acted upon? One common commentary on this verse is that brought by Rashi: “I am of the opinion that the real meaning of Lama tisraoo is: Why should every one gaze at you and wonder at you because you do not search for food before what you have in your possession comes to an end.” In other words, it was not good for the people around them to notice that they still had food when so many around them were struggling through the famine. Yaakov’s family may have had enough to eat, but they couldn’t – they shouldn’t - ignore either how their neighbors were struggling nor how their neighbors might react to their lack of struggle.

This might be an interesting lesson to look at today, in this modern pandemic that we face. Within our own community, there are many who are struggling through this time period – financially, physically, mentally – and we are all excellent at putting on a good face, not showing others when we are in need. We must, therefore, strive to see what is needed around us, seek to have zrizus (haste) in acting to help, and be ready and willing to listen to what a possible remedy for others may be. Beyond our community, however, we need to be aware, constantly, of how our actions appear to others. Even if one does not fear the virus – even if one’s rations are not running low – it is wise to act as if one is taking action.

Let us return to the parsha and perhaps find a completely different understanding. When the Torah tells us that Yaakov saw and then that he questioned what his sons were seeing, perhaps this is a hint at Yaakov’s underlying understanding of the situation in his household. Yaakov saw that there was something significant going on in Egypt and possibly also the reluctance of his sons to jump at the opportunity to provision the family even as there was no end of the famine in sight. Perhaps their lack of action, or even the way they looked at each other when Mitzrayim was mentioned, struck him as odd. This would give reason for the parallel use of the verb roeh, see, in pasuk 42:1. Their very reluctance to go to Egypt was a flag that he should pay more attention to Egypt. The clues that he saw, the hints that there was something more – was a source of great pain. Therefore he said to them “I have heard,” the wording of a rumor, of a more distanced understanding, and left them the space to explain themselves. They did not explain themselves, and so he sent them – without Binyamin - straight to Mitzrayim.

Two verses, two very different ideas…but an excellent reminder that every choice of word in the Torah is an opportunity to delve further into the text.. Hodu L’Shem Ki Tov for the enduring nature of the Torah.

Brotherhood (Vayeshev #2)

This week’s Dvar Torah is about brotherhood. It’s not the typical topic one thinks about for Parshas Vayeshev, since this is the parsha in which ten of the sons of Yaakov sell their younger brother Yosef as a slave and tell their father that his son is dead.

Parshas Vayeshev is, in many ways, one of the easiest parshas to relate to because the emotions are so real. Real people experience jealousy and anger and hate and fear and love, all emotions prominent in this narrative. One can fairly easily relate to the feelings that the eldest ten had toward Yosef. And at the same time, when one reads Yosef’s multiple approaches to his brothers, one can even have that feeling of anxiety like when you read a book and watch the character say all the wrong things and remain oblivious to their impact.

Once could argue, however, that the older brothers are unified. They work together, they travel together, and they share feelings that, for better or worse, can be bonding. The problem is that bonding based on shared negative emotions is, by its very essence, flawed. They may all have resented and disliked Yosef, but they did not all share the same exact motives or levels of hate. And thank goodness that is so, or else they might have gone through with the initial plan to kill him.

This flaw in the brotherhood of Yaakov’s sons is also the reason that it could not hold strong. After lying to their father about Yosef’s death, what happens to the brothers? The fact is that we don’t really know what most of them were doing. However, what happened to Yehudah, who appeared to be the leader of the brothers as they decided Yosef’s fate, is telling. The central section of Parshas Vayeshev begins: “And it was in that time that Yehuda went from his brothers and turned to an Adulamit named Horah” (38:1). The unity of the brothers dissolved. The focus of their negative bonding was gone and was replaced, if not by guilt, then by a discomfort within themselves. The brothers did not come together again until the land of Canaan was suffering under a famine.

One of the biggest contributing factors of what happened to Yaakov’s sons was Yaakov’s reaction to Yosef’s second dream, the dream that appeared to foresee Yosef’s ultimate kingship. While Yaakov questioned the dream, and its meaning, he did not deny it. “And when he told it to his father and brothers, his father berated him, saying ‘What is this dream you have dreamed? Are we to come, I and your mother and your brothers, and bow low to you to the ground?’ So his brothers were wrought up at him, and his father kept the matter in mind.” The question is left rather open ended. Yaakov neither fully chastised his son for reaching beyond himself nor supported Yosef, which would have given his other sons an affirmation that this was Divine will rather than their little brother’s ambition.

On the holiday of Chanukah, we have a different reason to think about brotherhood. In the story of Chanukah, we can see how the lessons of Yaakov and his sons transmitted through the generations to another band of brothers also lead by a man named Yehuda. The Maccabees obviously had an enemy to unify them, but this was an external enemy rather than one of their own. More significantly, one can see an example of good father-son(s) communication in how Mattisiyahu directed his sons from his deathbed:

“Wherefore, my sons, be valiant and show yourselves men in the behalf of the law; for by it shall you obtain glory. And behold, I know that your brother Simon is a man of counsel, listen to him always: he shall be a father unto you. As for Judas Maccabeus, he has been mighty and strong, even from his youth up: let him be your captain and fight the battle of the people. Take also unto you all those that observe the law and avenge the wrong of your people.”

Neither Simon nor Yehuda were the eldest son of Mattisiyahu. The eldest son was Yochanan. (The younger two were Elazar and Yohonatan.) But Mattisiyahu saw the importance of placing his sons in their necessary and rightful roles. He needed his sons, the leaders of the Jewish rebellion, to avoid fighting among themselves. Simon, about whom it is implied had great wisdom, might have felt that his intelligence merited his assumption of leadership. But his father made it clear that his role was as advisor, while Yehuda was to lead the war effort. This was not a denigration of the other brothers, but rather it was an honest analysis of strengths and the best people to lead in order to benefit Klal Yisrael.

Would it have been better if Yaakov had said something specific at the time Yosef shared his dream with his full family – perhaps something to the effect of a statement that the truth in Yosef’s dream was one that could occur now or in the future as merited and should be a reflection of behavior, or perhaps he should have added to Yosef’s dream a broader explanation of each of their future roles. This we cannot say, for we know that every step that occurred in bringing Yosef to Mitzrayim was necessary for the benefit and formation of Klal Yisrael. We can, of course, hypothesis that this phrase, “and his father kept the matter in mind,” was included in the Torah to be understood and acted upon differently, perhaps, by Mattisiyahu centuries.

What lessons can we in our modern age draw from this reflection on brotherhood? Perhaps it is a lesson for parents, that parents should speak clearly to their children and help them understand how they try to provide what is needed for each of their children and for each of their children’s different needs. Or perhaps we can remember that our best unity comes from a love of Klal Yisrael and not from bonding together against other people’s motives and actions.

How Do You Bow, Why Do You Bow? (Vayishlach #2)

 Like all of the parshiot in Bereshis, a lot happens in Parshas Vayishlach. Indeed, the action moves so fast that it is easy to react to the overview and not stop for the details. For instance, Yaakov’s introduction of his divided camps.

Let’s be honest. By the time you get to Bereishis 33:6, you’ve been disarmed by the text. Chapter 33 begins with the dramatic: “And Yaakov lifted up his eyes and he saw…” Not just a simple coming upon, but a marked recognition of a serious situation. Esau arrives with 400 men, and Yaakov quickly jumps to an earlier thought to divide the camp. He then approached his brother alone, bowing deeply and repeatedly. And Esau appears to embrace him, to welcome him home and rejoice in their reunion. Then, rather than rehash old arguments or resume the path of threatening Yaakov’s life, Esau asks after children.

“Then the maids and their children came forward and bowed, next Leah and her children came forward and bowed low, and last, Yoseph and Rochel came forward and bowed” (33:6-7). It’s a flash of two verses that usually procure the most attention for being seen as a demonstration of the household hierarchy. There is Rochel at the back with her one little child, specially protected. Shouldn’t Leah’s many children be protected more? And what of poor Bilha and Zilpa, whose status as wives appear to be negligible?

In translation, the language of verses 33:6-7 seems dully repetative. In the Hebrew, however, there is a bit more variation in the words, and those variations are fascinating. Let’s look at the word for “come forward.” Verse 6 uses the feminine plural to describe the maid servants and their children stepping forward. This usage makes sense and is similar in its usage as the use of the feminine singular to describe Leah and her children coming forward. In both cases, the verb indicates the action of the women only and does not include their children. To describe the plural would, in both places, require the male plural version since a mixed gender group takes a male attribute in conjugation. However, the end of verse 7 states nigash Yoseph v’Roachel, nigash being a slightly different, more passive, form of the word meaning “come forward.”

Another significant difference is that whereas the male – or mixed gender – group conjugation is used in vayishtaachavu, and they bowed down, for both Leah and Rochel’s group, Verse 6, uses the slightly strange form of vatishtachavenan, the meaning is the same, but why not use the same verb and format as in the next verses?

The third alteration in the format of the verses is in order. In verse 6 it says the maids and their children. Verse 7 continues with the approach of Leah and her children. But the final phrase places Yosef before Rochel.

Several commentaries understand the different gender uses of vayishtaachavu as a means of learning about the behavior of the children and how they saw themselves, particularly the children of the handmaids. The Daas Zkainim notes that in verse 6 “the emphasis in this verse is on the servant maids, to tell us that their children did not prostrate themselves. They considered their respective mothers as socially inferior to themselves. On the other hand, when the children of Leah observed that their mother prostrated herself, they followed their mother’s example and did likewise.”

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch notes on verse 33:2, where the act of separating is first presented, that “It is possible that his feelings and greater affection directed this order, but it is by no means necessary to assume that this was the reason for it.” Rav Hirsch goes on to look at the different forms of the verb for bowing and explains that the haindmaids and their children came first and bowed together because: “Through their whole origin and past they were accustomed to bow before much less feared persons.” Their bowing was a direct correlation to the status of these women, and so the word used is vayishtachavenan and not vayishtaachavu. He continues on: “Then Leah stepped forth, the noble, proud, self-conscious wife, the mother and keeper of the household. A Leah does not bow down before an Esau, the children do it.” Thus the lack of the feminine in the word for bowing. “Then Rachel and her child should have come to the fore, but Yoseph protectingly steps in front of his mother as her knight, and Rachel, afraid that Esau would take offence, quickly bows to disarm him, so that Yoseph should also bow, and so both of them bow.” This not only explains why mixed gender plural is used for bowing, but also the strange use of the niphal for coming forward and the placement of Yoseph before Rachel. Rav Hirsch concludes: “Therein the motive for arranging the order of their approach may also lie. Yaakov let the maidservants go first because he could quietly reckon on their behaving with due humility. Rachel and Yoseph last because he expected the least from them.”

It might also be interesting to reflect that Yaakov might, perhaps, have placed Leah in the middle as a protection for her. He was certainly aware of the hours she had spent crying over her fear of marrying Esau, as noted in the Midrash. Now he was confronting Esau with the woman who he might perhaps have felt he had a right to. Yaakov therefore presented first the maidservants and their children, deflecting any quick reaction as Esau received their greetings, and then he brought forward Leah, so as to downplay her as his wife. He left Rachel for last so that Esau’s final impressions of his family would not be focused on Leah.

We cannot know exactly what thoughts went through the minds of the patriarchs and matriarchs. We can however, realize that life for them or for us, is rarely as simple as choosing whom one likes better.

The Internal Struggle (Vayetzei #3)

Next week's parsha, Parshas Vayishlach, contains the famous scene of Yaakov wrestling with the angel. Did you know, however, that this week's parsha also contains an inference to wrestling?It is part of the process of naming Naphtali, and perhaps it does not get noticed because it is one verse in the middle of 28 verses related to the birth and naming of Yaakov's first 12 children. Perhaps it is given less attention because this sixth son of Yaakov is the second son of Rochel's handmaid Bilha. Nevertheless, it is an interesting pasuk: "And Rochel said, ’With mighty wrestlings have I wrestled with my sister, and I have prevailed,’ and she called his name Naphtali" (30:8).

The word for wrestling here, naftal, is not the same as the word used for wrestling at the end of the parsha, which is y’avak. There is no need to imagine Rochel and Leah physically attacking each other, as happened to Yaakov. Rochel's struggle was more internal. Indeed, it is quite possible that Leah did not even realize the extent to which her sister saw them as adversaries.

One can only imagine how painful it was for Rochel to watch her sister bear the man that she loved child after child. Her sadness, anger, pain, and resentment must have constantly been at odds with her basic love and loyalty that she felt for her sister; a love proven by the help she provided her sister on the the night that Leah wed Yaakov. Knowing, or assuming to understand, how hard it was for Rochel to share her husband with Leah, one can only imagine Rochel's internal conversations that led her to give Yaakov “Bilha, her handmade, to wife” (30:4). She did this only after she felt strangled by envy (“Give me children or else I die" - 30:2). And so she named Bilha’s firstborn child Dan, saying “God has judged me and has given me a son" (30:6), which shows that she was anxious in her choice of action until Hashem blessed the union. With the birth of her second son through Bilha, Rochel could finally begin to let go of her negative feelings. She could finally begin to feel on par with her sister. And thus she could now admit how difficult her relationship with Leah had been.

The internal nature of her struggle can, perhaps, be recognized by their contrast to Leah’s actions. Leah followed Rochel's lead and gave her handmaid Zilpah to Yaakov. Her choice of action was because of her sister’s successful course, not because of the same desperate desire that inspired Rochel. Zilpah bore two sons in Leah’s stead, and the choice of names, and their reasons, are also clues to how differently Leah saw their relationship. (Although in the naming of Leah's first four sons we do see her struggle to feel loved too, but that angst is directed at Yaakov, not Rochel.) Leah named the first son of Zilpah Gad, saying “What luck!”, and the second son she named Asher after declaring, “What fortune!” Both of these names indicate that Leah took the addition of these sons as a happy, but not necessarily significant, event.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch comments that Rochel's use of the term Noftulee Elokim means sacred wrestling (whereas others translated the term as mighty) and says: "a sacred wrestling competition did I wage with my sister, not a match that struggles for something low or common, of which one would be ashamed, but for a sacred end did I compete against my sister, to do my part, too, for this spiritual building up of our house.”

An internal wrestling match with one's feelings of jealousy and loyalty, resentment and love, is extremely human. It is worth noting here because the important thing is what one does with those emotions. The Tur HaAruch understands Noftulee Elokim Niftalti as Rochel declaring “I have writhed repeatedly in prayer before God,” which, he further explains, is also prophecy of Naphtali's descendant Chirom being in charge of the construction of the Beis Hamikdash (as opposed to Leah’s descendant Betzalel, who constructed the Mishkan).

Rochel's declaration of her feeling of having wrestled with her sister could have been hurtful, but we see no such reaction from Leah. This, too, points to the internal nature of Rochel’s struggle. And, as noted by Rav Hirsch, it is a struggle that has as much to do with the desire to build Klal Yisrael as it is the wanting of children. This struggle, based in something larger than one's personal and immediate gratification, leads to a positive end. The RADAK notes that Rochel's use of the word Noftulee may come from the root of pey sav lamed, Pitel, to twist or be twisted as in “two strands of yarn combined to make a cord, twisted. By pulling the two strands together, the whole stream becomes stronger.”

It is well known that the lives of the matriarchs and patriarchs had challenges. Some commentaries like to whitewash them, but the truth is that what makes them great is how they handled those challenges, how they overcame their internal battles, and how they strived to build for the future. These are exactly what makes them so important. Divrei Torah focus on Yaakov’s wrestling match with the angel because it is a powerful turning point that shapes the future nation. What is often overlooked, however, is the significance of Rochel’s wrestling match, of her coming to terms with her feelings, which, perhaps, eventually was critical in her being able to bring forth Yosef and Binyamin. But for all time, one cannot diminish the importance of understanding Rochel's feelings of an internal struggle against her sister as a means also of demonstrating the normalcy of emotions and the challenge of overcoming them. 

Inherent Nature (Toldos #2)

In the 1980s, it was popular to speak of people in terms of Type A personalities and Type B personalities. In the 90s, people were all about Myers Briggs and other personality assessments. Today, the terms neurotypical and neurodivergent are popular. All of this is to say that much money and a great deal of time has been, and continues to be, spent on understanding inherent personality. But really, this is a topic that is natural to Jewish scholarship since the very beginning… and the subtleties of Parshas Toldos, which is very nuanced, are an excellent study of nature, nurture, and self-determination.

It is rather interesting to note how even the subtleties of translation can affect how we understand our Biblical ancestors. On a simple, read-through level, the Torah present Eisav and Yaakov as two equal but different youths. וַיִּגְדְּלוּ֙ הַנְּעָרִ֔ים וַיְהִ֣י עֵשָׂ֗ו אִ֛ישׁ יֹדֵ֥עַ צַ֖יִד אִ֣ישׁ שָׂדֶ֑ה וְיַֽעֲקֹב֙ אִ֣ישׁ תָּ֔ם ישֵׁ֖ב אֹֽהָלִֽים

(25:27) – “And when the boys grew up, Eisav became a skillful hunter, a man of the field, and Yaakov was a mild man who dwelled in tents." Most translations I have seen translate va’Yaakov as “but Yaakov,” an expressive statement that implies comparison; whereas, at its most simple, va’Yaakov means “and Yaakov” - a description.

A similar issue happens in the next pasuk, that says: “Yitzchak favored Eisav because he had a taste for game, va’Rivka, and/but Rivka favored Yaakov” (25:28). What is interesting here is the seeming conditional attached to Yitzchak’s love that is glaringly missing in Rivka's relationship with Yaakov. If you think Eisav didn’t pick up on that difference, you are blessed with children who have zero sibling rivalry. Loving Eisav was not natural and easy. For the family that came from Avraham's tents, Eisav was a wild card. He was different. If Eisav had been an only child, he might have come to understand the teachings of his father and grandfather. He might have chosen a path of chesed and devotion. But because that life was more natural and easy for Yaakov, Eisav quite likely struggled with why he had to bother to put so much energy into belonging to his own family.

This sounds like a rousing case for a sympathetic portrayal of Eisav, for a dvar Torah that excuses his later actions. This is not so. It is, rather, a means of looking closer in order to understand humanity and our own selves – and, perhaps most importantly, our children.

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch offered the commentary that part of the problem was that Yitzchak and Rivka raised the boys the same and ignored their differences. This is, of course, an important lesson to take from Parshas Toldos. Another important lesson in a day and age when we label people neurotypical or neurodivergent (which, let's be honest, doesn't hide the subtle message of who is considered normal - although if normal means most common, I know far more neurodivergent people than neurotypical) is that the only thing that makes us good or bad are our actions.

Eisav is not a "bad character" because he was born inherently evil, as might be implied by the arts and crafts. His natural personality might have made it harder to fit into a specific mold or expectation, but along the journey of life he made choices. Most significantly, he chose to sell his brother his birthright for a hot meal. It was a rash decision made in a moment when he was, perhaps, in a bad place. But it was his decision, and that, too, might be, a valuable lesson from this parsha – that often times we make decisions in a moment that impact the rest of our lives.

With time and generations, the world has become ever more diverse. We must remember, constantly, that how we think of others can impact how we treat them, and how we treat them can impact how they perceive themselves and that can, and will, affect the choices that they make.