Things don’t always go according to plan. We have dreams and aspirations for ourselves and our children, but life is filled with twists and turns. Children don’t always follow in the footsteps of their parents and often make different choices and create for themselves a distinct life path. With all of this, the job of a parent is to love and appreciate their child for who the child is and not for whom the parents want them to be. And so, the Torah tells us that Yitzchak loved Esav. But why? What was “loveable” about Esav? We must assume that Yitzchak and Rivka each loved both of their children, yet each had a unique relationship with a particular child. Rivka’s connection with Yaakov was understandable. Yaakov was holy and genuine; he was the clear heir to the Abrahamitic legacy. He was a source of wonderful and ongoing nachas. But what was the nature of the connection between Yitzchak and Esav? It would appear they were worlds apart, yet Yitzchak had this incredible love for his first-born son. What does this mean? What is the message? 

Of all our Patriarchs, we know the least about Yitzchak. While we are told of the Akeyda (binding of Yitzchak) and Yitzchak’s willingness to offer himself upon the altar of God, this event is really looked at through the lens of Avraham’s selfless dedication to God. What do we know about Yitzchak? He dug wells. 

And Isaac went away from there, and he encamped in the valley of Gerar and dwelt there. And Isaac again dug the wells of water which they had dug in the days of his father, Abraham, and the Philistines had stopped them up after Abraham’s death; and he gave them names like the names that his father had given them. And Isaac’s servants dug in the valley, and they found there a well of living waters. And the shepherds of Gerar quarreled with Isaac’s shepherds, saying, “The water is ours”; so he named the well Esek, because they had contended with him. And they dug another well, and they quarreled about it also; so he named it Sitnah. And he moved away from there, and he dug another well, and they did not quarrel over it; so he named it Rehoboth, and he said, “For now the Lord has made room for us, and we will be fruitful in the land (Genesis 26:17-22).” 

Why does the Torah need to focus on Yitzchak’s well-digging activities? The Lubavitcher Rebbe provides an incredible insight. To benefit from the beautiful and sustaining, subterranean waters you must be willing to dig. You must take out your shovel, bend your back and take away shovelful of dirt after shovelful of dirt until you find the refreshing, translucent waters. This is a metaphor for the self. We each possess a beautiful wellspring of holiness and spiritual beauty. However, often this holiness is obscured by layers of “dirt.” There is the dirt of bad decisions, there is the dirt of negative life-experiences, there is the dirt of failure and set-backs. All this dirt sits on top of my well and covers my inner waters. We must find the courage to dig, to haul away the earth through changing and adjusting certain behaviors and habits. This was the great strength of Yitzchak, he was the well-digger. He was the one who was able to dig through the layers of dirt and find the beautiful waters of holiness in himself and in others. When the world looked at Esav, they saw one thing – dirt. Yitzchak saw the dirt which covered his son, but he also saw the beautiful waters of holiness which were surging beneath the layer upon layer of thick dirt. He loved his son because he was able to see the waters and not just the dirt.   

We must become well-diggers and utilize this skill in all our life-relationships. We need to love our children for who they are and not for who we want them to be. Even if our children get covered in dirt, we must appreciate that the waters still run deep and are ever-present. We must strive to see the good in others and recognize that even when people hurt us, there is still good within that individual. We must try to focus on the water and not the dirt. We must look for the water within ourselves. We cannot define ourselves by the dirt of our indiscretions or misdeeds. We must remember that no matter how much dirt we have piled on ourselves, the inner waters never dry up. They are always present, waiting to be discovered.    

And he came to his father and said, “My father!” And he said, “Here I am. Who are you, my son?” And Jacob said to his father, “I am Esau your firstborn. I have done as you have spoken to me. Please rise, sit down, and eat of my game, so that your soul will bless me.” And Isaac said to his son, “How is it that you have found [it] so quickly, my son?” And he said, “Because the Lord your God prepared it before me.” And Isaac said to Jacob, “Please come closer, so that I may feel you, my son, whether you are really my son Esau or not (Genesis 27:19-21).”

Yitzchak was suspicious, something did not seem right, and he asked Yaakov to approach.

“So, Jacob drew near to Isaac his father, and he felt him, and he said, “The voice is the voice of Jacob, but the hands are the hands of Esau.” (Genesis 27:22).”

What was the meaning of Yitzchak’s statement, “The voice is the voice of Jacob?”  Rashi comments, “the voice of Jacob: who speaks entreatingly: “Please rise,” but Esau spoke harshly, “Let my father arise!”

Yaakov was almost discovered; the plan was almost ruined because Yaakov did not speak like Esav.  Yaakov spoke softly, Esav crudely. But why wouldn’t Yaakov try to replicate Esav’s speech? After all, Rashi indicates that it was not the pitch of Yaakov’s voice which aroused Yitzchak’s suspicion; it was the Yaakov’s soft word choice. If Yaakov was willing to dress like his brother, impersonate his brother, play the role of his brother – why not speak like him as well?

The Baal Shem Tov explains that Yaakov was willing to adapt in this strange and difficult situation. His mother asked him to do something which caused him profound discomfort. Rivka asked him to masquerade as Esav, to deceive his father, and Yaakov complied. Yaakov understood that life is complicated, and we must often adapt to new realities. We must sometimes change parts of our personality and lifestyle to meet certain life challenges. At times, we must yield to someone else when they ask us to do something necessary, even if it is uncomfortable. But at a certain point, I must draw my line. At a certain point, a person must say, I cannot sacrifice anymore. I cannot continue to make myself into the person you need me to be. I cannot yield any further. Because if I yield, change, sacrifice, or accommodate any more – I will no longer be me. Yaakov said, I will dress like my brother and pretend to be my brother – but I will not talk like Esav. Because the moment I speak like Esav is the moment I lose the last vestige of self. The moment I speak like him – I will no longer be me.

These words of the Baal Shem Tov resonate with such profound meaning. Life is filled with challenges. It can be challenges with family, professional challenges, or difficult interactions with others. When navigating these challenges, we are often called upon to make changes. I may have to yield to another (even if I am correct) for the sake of keeping the peace. There may be practices which are important to me but cause friction with others that I may have to give up. At times, I may have to develop a certain sternness (even if my natural disposition is to be kind and caring) in order to deal with difficult circumstances. Life changes us in so many ways, and at times, we must change ourselves to meet life’s challenges. But I must draw the line somewhere. I may be willing to change, yield, and give up certain things – but I can’t change, yield, and give up everything.  Because if I change everything about me to accommodate you – then I am no longer. I must identify those pieces of me which must remain intact and immutable. I must establish the areas in which I can yield and accommodate and the areas in which I will always stand my ground. I must be clear as to when I can bend to accommodate you and when I must stand up and continue to be me. Yaakov was willing to be a dutiful son and listen to his mother. He was willing to sacrifice many things, but he could not give up his entire sense of self; something of him had to remain unchanged. May we find the courage to know when to change and to know when to stand strong.

Esav returned from a long day of hunting and found his brother Yaakov preparing lentils. He was overwhelmed by hunger and agreed to sell his birthright for a bowl of “pottage.” This episode is apparently so important and pivotal that it solidified Esav’s identity. “Al keyn kara shemo Edom (he Esav was therefore named Edom)” and therefore, his offspring become known as Edom (red) as well. How are we to understand this? Why is Esav’s identity forged by this episode? What is the significance of these lentils?

The Midrash (Bereishis Rabba 63:13) explains that mourners would customarily consume lentils as part of their meal during the mourning period. Rashi elaborates and explains that the roundness of the lentil represents the cycle of life, of which death is a part. Avraham had passed away. Yaakov was preparing the mourner’s meal of lentils for his father, Yitzchak. The Midrash relates that when Esav came home and saw Yaakov cooking lentils, he asked Yaakov, “’What is the meaning of this food (i.e. why are you cooking this particular item)?’ He (Yaakov) responded, ‘The Elder (Avraham) has died.’ He (Esav) responded, ‘If strict justice has been visited upon the Elder, there is no justice, there is no judge’.” 

It appears from this Midrash that Esav was outraged over Avraham’s death. Esav felt that Avraham’s righteousness and dedication to God should have allowed him to escape this final decree.

The Beis HaLevi (Rav Yosef Dov HaLevi Soloveitchik, 1820-1892) finds this Midrash difficult. Did Esav expect that his grandfather would live forever? Avraham was 175 years old and had led a good, meaningful and full life. How are we to understand Esav’s indignation over Avraham’s death?

The Beis HaLevi explains that Avraham had passed down many important ideas and ideals to his family. He shared with them his vision for spreading monotheism, love of God and respect for the other. He explained that God’s blessing would accompany them throughout life and their small family would blossom into a great and magnificent nation. But it would not be all blessing, bliss and happiness. Avraham shared with them the difficulties and turbulent times that his children and descendants would have to face and endure. He explained that God had told him how his descendants would be “strangers in a strange land and they will be worked and afflicted for four hundred years.” Avraham knew (and shared with his children) that the years ahead would be filled with much grief and challenge. Esav understood that as the first born, he stood to inherit the Abrahamitic mantle. With this mantle would come all the blessings, but he and his descendants would have to shoulder all the challenges as well. Esav did not want this burden, Esav did not want this responsibility, Esav did not want this destiny. But he couldn’t just say, “I’m not interested” as that would look cowardly and show a lack of commitment. Instead, he used Avraham’s death as a pretext to claim that there is no order or justice in this universe and therefore, he wanted no part of this tradition. Esav was willing to part with his birthright for a bowl of lentils, not out of a love for lentils or because he was famished. He was willing to give up his destiny for a bowl of lentils because he was looking for an out; he was looking for some way to escape responsibility. The death of Avraham and the bowl of lentils gave him his excuse to throw off the yoke of destiny and free himself of Abrahamitic responsibility.

Esav is known as Edom, after the redness of the lentils for which he sold his destiny. This was his fundamental flaw – he created a fictional reality that would allow him to escape responsibility.

It is normal to be overwhelmed and sometimes even frightened when taking on new responsibilities. There are times when we know what we want to do, we know what we want to be, but when we see all the work and effort it entails, when we see the potential for failure, we want to run the other way. All too often, we run from our destiny, we avoid taking responsibility and in order to justify these decisions we create alternate realities for ourselves. We tell ourselves that certain accomplishments are beyond reach, because this exempts us from trying. We tell ourselves that we cannot change, because then we feel no pressure to become more. We convince ourselves that the aspirations, goals and dreams we once held so dear aren’t really that beautiful and noble. We give up beautiful life opportunities for mere bowls of lentils. Many of us consume the lentils of life excuses at regular intervals. The lentils may fill your stomach, but they leave your soul empty and wanting.

We have an awesome responsibility as individuals and as a people to accomplish great things. Our futures are a combination of beautiful blessings and incredible challenges. If we retreat because of the challenges, we will never experience the blessing. We must remember that we are the descendants of Yaakov. We embrace the holiness, destiny and opportunities that others so quickly discard.