San Jose, Costa Rica
Before the certainty of death, how should we act?
This week’s parashah brings us three famous stories related with the life of the brothers Jacob and Esau, sons of Isaac and grandsons of Abraham. It first tells us that they were already fighting while in the womb. Then comes the famous story of the “sale of the birthright” and, finally, the no less famous text that describes how Jacob and his mother, Rebeccah, deceive Isaac the patriarch, so he would give the blessing that should have been Esau’s to Jacob. This time, I would like to focus on the second of these stories.
According to the Torah, Jacob was cooking a tasty lentil stew when his older brother barged into the house, after an exhausting hunting day. Esau impetuously asks Jacob for some food, to which Jacob answers by asking him to sell him his birthright. Esau accepts his younger brother’s proposal, to which Jacob demands Esau’s swearing. Esau swears before Jacob and sells him his birthright, after which Jacob gives him bread and lentil stew. The Torah adds, “Thus did Esau spurn his birthright” (Gen. 25:34).
Before we continue, it is worthwhile to mention that traditional exegesis is divided regarding the scope of the meaning of the lentil dish, in relation to the selling of the birthright: whereas some believe that Esau exchanged his birthright for a stew, others think that he really exchanged it for money, and that the food was just the symbol of the festivity or confirmation of the sale, as is described in other agreements reached throughout the Tanach. This last explanation seems to be more reasonable.
Now then, it is interesting that when Jacob asks Esau for the birthright, Esau answers somehow cryptically. He says, "I am at the point of death, so of what use is my birthright to me?" (25:32). So we ask ourselves: why does Esau answer in that way? What did he mean by that? Let’s see the different interpretations.
Ibn Ezra (and others) believes that the meaning of Esau’s words lie on the fact that he was a hunter. Every time he went out to hunt a wild animal, he put his life at risk, so he often came face to face with death. Esau thought he was likely to die at any moment, possibly before the death of his father Isaac. Why, then, should he worry about his birthright, which would only benefit him in the event of his father’s death? Perhaps he would never witness that day.
Other midrashim (see Rashi’s quotes, for instance) associate Esau’s answer with the fact that in the future, Levi’s tribe would replace the firstborns as the leaders of worship of the people of Israel. Why, then, should he try to preserve a privilege that would be removed further on from his descendants? There is also an opinion that maintains that Esau was unwilling to accept the high responsibilities entailed by religious leadership, taking into account that some of the leaders’ transgressions could be punished with the death sentence. According to this opinion, Esau knew he was unequal to the task he had been destined for.
What all these interpretations have in common is to see Esau as a man who spurns the future, either because he sees it as something uncertain and doubtful, or because he knows that the big things are not really meant for him.
The Chofetz Chaim (Yisrael Meir Ha’Kohen Kagan, 1838-1933), quoted by the Chumash Etz Chaim (page 148), brings us a more modern and insightful interpretation. According to the Chofetz Chaim, some people, when faced with their own mortality, strive to live their lives with dignity, devoting their best efforts in the things that are really important. Other people, as is the case of Esau, think, “Why should I worry about morality and religion, if I’m going to die anyway?”
According to this wonderful interpretation, Esau is the prototype of the people who, when faced with the certainty of future death, devote all their energies to enjoy the present, sacrificing the highest yearnings for a hedonism devoid of values. The Torah condemns Esau’s attitude (“spurn his birthright”), for it expects people to struggle to live a life in accordance with the highest values, and to hand their children a better future, based on a more righteous society. The person who was supposed to follow in Abraham’s steps would have to aspire to something much greater than temporary pleasure.
Death perhaps is the only certainty we have concerning our future. Before the inevitability of death, we have two main options: the first one is the one chosen by Esau, who spurns the future and the most sacred ethical aspirations, seeing that he is destined to die (“I am at the point of death”). The second option is diametrically opposite: it is precisely because we know that our time here is finite, that we should strive and take advantage of every opportunity we have, so as to give the best of ourselves, to pass on a peace message, to follow the rules of the Torah that tells us, “Do what is right and good in the sight of the Lord…” (Deut. 6:18).
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Rami Pavolotzky
B´nei Israel Congregation
San Jose, Costa Rica
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