The opening words of Toldos are “And these are the children of Yitzchak the son of Avraham. Avraham was Yitzchak’s father.”
When talking about the children of Yishmael a few sentences earlier (Bereishis 25:12), the Torah tells us that Yishmael was the son of Avraham, but it does not mention that Avraham was the father of Yishmael.
The difference lies in whether a father is proud to be known as the father of his son.
The father of the great Amorah Shmuel was known as “Abuha De’Shmuel,” the father of Shmuel.
The pride at being related to one another traveled in both directions. Yitzchak was proud to be known as the son of Avraham and Avraham was proud to be known as the father of Yitzchak.
The word Toldos is spelled without a second vav, as if it is in the singular. Similarly, when the Torah informs us that Rivkah gave birth to twins, the word the Torah uses for twins is “tomim,” without a yud, in the singular, not “te’umim” with a yud in the plural.
This is because when Avraham expelled Hagar and her son Yishmael from his household at the behest of Sarah, he was told not to be distressed about it, because his progeny, the twelve tribes, constituting the future people of Israel, would descend from Yitzchak, not from Yishmael and not from Eisav. So, when recording the lineage of the founding fathers of the Jewish people, Eisav is not included, neither in the word toldos nor in the word tomim.
“Vaye’etar Yitzchak laShem” – And Yitzchak pleaded with G-d that the promise of the birth of the Jewish nation would be fulfilled through Rivkah, not through anyone else. But Rivkah, like Sarah before her and Rachel after her, was barren and was not physically capable of conceiving a child. For this to happen, a miracle was required that would change the course of nature and turn a barren woman into a child-bearing woman. And so to simply pray, lehit’palel, for a child would not do the trick. What was needed was a plea to G-d to do something extraordinary. We are told that the word “vaye’etar” is derived from the word “atar,” meaning a pitchfork, which is used to turn things around. What was needed here was an act of G-d that could turn nature on its head and, with the wave of His wand, turn a barren woman into a pregnant woman.
Why is it that three of our foremothers were barren?
From the time of Avraham we are told that the Jewish people are aliens on this planet. We don’t belong here. Our very birth was miraculous and our survival remains a phenomenon. Avram and Saray were not capable of having children, because their fate had destined them to be barren. But the Jews are not bound by fate alone. They can change their fate by changing themselves. By incorporating part of G-d’s essence into themselves, by becoming a different person with a name that includes one of the letters of G-d’s name, they can defy nature. Neither Avram nor Saray could have children, but Avraham and Sarah could. They could defy nature by following the path of Torah and mitzvot. That is our oxygen tank on this alien planet. If we discard that tank we will perish in accordance with the laws of nature. But if we carry it constantly with us, we can rewrite our own destiny. It is no wonder, therefore, that Yitzchak beseeched G-d for a miracle, for miracles are in the DNA of the Jewish people.
So G-d listened and Rivka became pregnant.
But a strange thing happened. Whenever she passed a house of idolatry, her child struggled to get out and join in idol worship. And whenever she passed by a Jewish house of learning, the child also struggled to get out and join in Torah study. What kind of confused child am I giving birth to, she wondered. If it’s a child who is equally drawn to Torah as he is to idolatry. “Lama zeh anochi” – why am I pregnant? Is the child I am carrying the “zeh,” the progenitor of the 12 tribes from whom the Jewish nation will arise? Is this the child who will eventually receive the Ten Commandments at Sinai which begin with the words “Anochi?”
“Vatelech lidrosh es Hashem.” So she went to consult the prophetic sages of the house of learning of Shem and Ever.
There are two ways of understanding the future. One way is to wait patiently in the present, try one’s utmost and hope for the best. This approach is best captured by the words “Tamim tiheyeh im Hashem Elokechah.” The other way is to seek to look into the future with the help of someone with supernatural powers in the category of “doresh el ha’meisim” (Devarim 18:11). Yitzchak took the first approach. He tried his best to educate his son Eisav in the ways of Torah and left the rest to G-d. Rivkah took the second approach. She needed to know what the future would bring so as not to squander futile efforts on the present.
So she was told what the future would behold. There was not one confused child within her. There were two very distinct characters inside her representing two very different ideologies. That would never change. There will always be an eternal power struggle between them. Sometimes the younger brother will have the upper hand and sometimes the older brother will. But always, the older brother will serve the younger one. That will be the case even when the older one has the power to subjugate the younger one, for by doing so, he will cause the younger one to mend his ways and return to observing the Torah and the mitzvot which are the guarantors of his survival.
When the children emerged, it was very clear who was the older one and who was the younger one. Eisav was a mature child at birth with a ruddy complexion and a full head of hair. Yaakov was a regular baby. Nevertheless, Yaakov was restraining Eisav by grasping on to his eikev, his heel.
The symbolism of this is clear. Eisav was the progenitor of the Roman empire which was intent on eradicating Judaism. It legislated edicts that forbade the Jews from practicing their religion at the pain of death. Although under normal circumstances there are only three cardinal sins that one must rather die for than commit, when the agenda of the persecutor is to prohibit the practice of Judaism, there is no distinction between an important and a less important mitzvah. One must defy the persecutor and be prepared to die for anything that is perceived to be Jewish, even the mitvzos that a person, so to speak “dash be’akevov,” treats with less gravitas (See Rashi, Devarim 7:12). Therefore, if donning dark clothes or wearing a beard is perceived by the persecutor to be a symbol of Judaism worth ridiculing, then refusing the order to remove them becomes as important as refusing to commit the three cardinal sins.
Standing up for being Jewish in that uncompromising way is what has preserved the identity of the Jews throughout their long history of persecution. And that is exactly what Yaakov was doing. He was restraining the boot that was trying to stamp out even the less important customs of Judaism, unconcerned that this might lead to his own death, as long as the identity of the Jew lives on.
Yitzchak is not given this window into the future. He is living in the present. He is trying to encourage brotherly love along the lines of Yissachar and Zevulun. If Eisav the hunter and the man of the outdoors is blessed with worldly riches, he will support Yaakov, who dwells in the house of learning. But Rivka has been given a window into the future. Any wealth with which Yitzchak blesses Eisav will only be used against Yaakov. But it would be disrespectful to tell Yitzchak that he has gotten it all wrong. So, he has to be fooled into giving Yaakov the blessings. That way the promise to Avraham of “Ki beYitzchak…” – v’lo kol Yitzchak – “…yikoreh lecha zara,” that the Jewish nation will descend from Yitzchak’s children, but not from all of his children.
So Yaakov approaches Yitzchak dressed in Eisav’s hunting garments, but he speaks with a soft voice. And Yitzchak is confused. “Ha’kol kol Yaakov ve’hayadayim yedei Eisav,” the voice is the gentle voice of Yaakov, but the hands are the rough hands of Eisav. The first time the word “kol” is used in this famous sentence, it is written without a vav, denoting the soft voice. The second time it is written with a vav, denoting the shrill voice. The way to bring one back to Judaism is with a soft voice. Like the Chafetz Chayim who shed quiet tears in the presence of the student who was rumored to have desecrated the Shabbos. It is the soft unassuming voice of love that works as the loudspeaker of Judaism, the kol without the vav. Not the sharp rebuke of the full kol with the vav, or the rough hands of the disciplinarian.
