Parashat Toledot Genesis 25:19-28:9
Dear TBE Community,
I have always had a hard time with Esau. Or rather, with the way Esau is mocked by the rabbis and commentators. This need to vilify him in order to assert their own, opposing opinion.
In this week’s Torah portion, Parashat Toledot, Esau comes home from the field, exhausted and hungry. His brother Jacob is cooking a stew of lentils, and Esau asks for some. Jacob offers him the stew in exchange for his birthright. Esau agrees. He eats, drinks, gets up, and walks away: Thus Esau spurned the birthright. (Genesis 25:34).
The rabbis make Esau more depraved than seems warranted by the Torah narrative. Granted, he doesn’t seem to value the birthright: I am at the point of death, so of what use is my birthright to me? (Genesis 25:32) He doesn’t speak kindly or with reverence. But imagine these two as teenage boys, brothers who are very different. There’s the younger brother, who is always doing everything hyper-correctly, maybe a bit nebbish, fussing about details all the time. He’s in the house when the jock comes home, wants some stew, and rolls his eyes when Jacob asks for his birthright. Alright, Esau says, whatever. I want food. Take the birthright, whatever.
Even though I won’t let Jacob off the hook, this year, as I was preparing for our interfaith Thanksgiving service, I found myself thinking about this story in a different way: For the first time, I was more willing to accept a, nuanced, judgment of Esau. Not because he is an evil person — but because he fails to recognize what he had. He didn’t value the abundance, the shefa, that was poured out before him. He thought he could always tap into it at another moment.
For the interfaith service, I had been reflecting on the Hebrew concept of shefa, abundance, and on the relationship between abundance, gratitude, and stewardship. Shefa is not simply having plenty. It is also the recognition that what we have received is not ours to consume or disregard thoughtlessly, but something entrusted to us, something to nurture, protect, share, and enjoy while it is offered.
And Esau traded all of that for something that would satisfy him for only a moment. He didn’t think about the consequences. But that happens to all of us.
Here’s what I think is actually his deeper flaw: He might have been so sure of his birthright that he didn’t really take his own words seriously. He might have thought, Yeah, little brother, I’m just gonna say that you can have it, but it’s my inalienable right, after all, so I can take it back anytime. He is not serious, not mindful of the consequences of his words and actions. He took his birthright for granted, and only when he realized that it was gone did he begin to value it.
How many people have said in their lives at least once: I only realized what I had when it was too late. I wish I had not taken that thing, that gift, that person for granted: That abundance.
How often are we reminded by what sounds a bit trite yet is true: Count your blessings. That means not just taking stock. That means valuing them. Sometimes we are so preoccupied with what we lack, with what we need right now, that we fail to nurture the blessings already in our hands. Or sometimes we take abundance for granted and assume that what is available – natural resources, societal accomplishments, community relationships – will always be there for us, like a never-ceasing well that will continue to bubble without us having to make commitments, without us being part of a greater goal.
The theme of the interfaith service made me realize: Recognizing abundance is only the beginning. The next step is stewardship. Once we understand that we have been entrusted with blessings, we also must ask what we are doing with them. Are we consuming them for immediate satisfaction, or are we preserving and sharing them? Are we thinking only of ourselves, or also of those who will come after us?
The interfaith Thanksgiving service took place on Veterans Day, and Temple Beth El observes Veterans Day tonight at services, including remarks by Dr. Michael Sherman.
From the vantage point of Veterans Day, the question of stewardship takes on another dimension: We remember and honor those who have served, and we recognize that many of the freedoms and opportunities we enjoy have been preserved through the service and sacrifice of others. These, too, are blessings we cannot simply take for granted. Gratitude for those who have served also asks something of us: a commitment to care for our veterans and their families, and to take responsibility for the freedoms and institutions entrusted to us.
I sadly will miss Dr. Sherman’s talk in person, as I am out in the desert as a guest author at a book festival this weekend, but from the wilderness of Twentynine Palms I salute all our veterans: Thank you for your service and your commitment to the greater goal. We can enjoy abundance – including a hearty bowl of lentil stew – thanks to your stewardship.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Julia Knobloch