An Unhappy Family
Toldot, 5784
Have you heard of the Russian playwright Chekhov? Most famous for his eponymous gun, that is too say, a background element in Act 1 should be used in Act 4, he liked to write what he described as “comedies.” Most of these comedies center around people, or family, who simply cannot communicate with each other. Every word they say to each other is layered in subtext, and they cannot simply come out and speak to each other plainly. An example: at the end of Chekhov’s play The Cherry Orchard, the wealthy Lopakhin is encouraged by Madame Lyubov to propose to her adopted daughter Varya, since they both obviously love each other. The two meet alone in a room, talk about the weather, and then leave. They never interact with each other again privately in the play, and do not get engaged. It is painful to watch today. Why can these people not talk to each other? Why does everything have to be layered in double-meaning and deceit? Well, Chekhov would say, because they are human.
In parsha Toldot, we deal with one of the most human families of the Torah: Yitzchak and Rivkah, and their twin sons Esav and Yaakov. From the start, there are problems. Yitzchak loves Rivkah deeply—we are told as much in the previous parsha—but is frustrated that Rivkah appears infertile, and so prays to God לְנֹכַח אִשְׁתּוֹ, on behalf of his wife, that she get pregnant. God answers Yitzchak’s prayer, and Rivkah does conceive, but the pregnancy is unbearable, and she calls out “אִם־כֵּן לָמָּה זֶּה אָנֹכִי” literally, “If so, why am I?” Rashi, drawing on a midrash, understands this line as meaning “If pregnancy is so painful, why did I pray for it?” But Ramban says plainly ואיננו נכון, this is not correct. Rather he understands the verse as meaning “If this pregnancy is so painful, why do I exist in the world?” Or more simply “Why am I alive?” Rivkah, according to Ramban’s interpretation, never prayed for a pregnancy. We don’t know, in contrast to Sarah, if this is something she wanted. And then her husband prayers “on her behalf,” and now she is in such pain that she wishes she was not alive. Not a great start.
The twins are born, and both parents clearly favor a different child: Yitzchak because Esav brings him food, and Rivkah simply loves Yaakov. Yaakov is described as an אִישׁ תָּם, a mild or simple man, but that does not stop him from taking advantage of his brother’s hunger and lack of foresight to pressure Esav into selling his birthright to him for a bowl of stew. Clearly, there is no great love between these twins. And yet when Yitzchak is near the end of his years, and decides to give his blessing to Esav, it is Rivkah who decides, having eavesdropped on the conversation, to push Yaakov into tricking his father and stealing the blessing. Yaakov tries to find an excuse not to trick his father, but Rivkah pushes him into it. The ruse is successful, and Esav, bitter and angry, plots to kill Yaakov. When Rivkah finds out, she sends Yaakov away, but does she speak plainly to her husband about the reason why? No, instead she complains to Yitzchak about Esav’s Hittite wives and says “אִם־לֹקֵחַ יַעֲקֹב אִשָּׁה מִבְּנוֹת־חֵת כָּאֵלֶּה מִבְּנוֹת הָאָרֶץ לָמָּה לִּי חַיִּים” “If Yaakov takes a wife from these Hittite women, these local women, why am I alive?” It is hard not to hear the echo of her previously complaint to Yitzchak about her pregnancy. But this time, it is a partial truth, a half-life: since Rivkah really wants to send Yaakov away since she is worried about Esav, and as Rashbam notes, ולא גילתה לו שבשביל שטימת אחיו עשתה כן, “She did not tell him it was because of his [Yaakov’s] brother’s hatred she was doing this.” So Yaakov leaves under half-false pretenses, with his father’s blessing. And the last, almost comedic lines of the parsha, is that only then did Esav realize that his parents disliked his wives, and took another wife from the line of Yishmael, in order to appease them.
Why can this family simply not talk to one another, openly? Why does Yitzchak assume that Rivkah must want kids, like he does? Why does Yaakov take advantage of his brother? Why can’t Rivkah talk things through with Yitzchak, about both the blessing and Yaakov’s reason for leaving? Everything is couched in assumptions and half-truths and deceit. Ironically, it is only Esav who is straight-forward. He wants lentil soup, he gets lentil soup. He wants the blessing, he cries on the floor until he gets a blessing. He wants to kill Yaakov, he announces publicly that he wants to kill Yaakov. He realizes his family dislikes his choice of wife, he takes another wife. Everything about Esav is to the point. Which is perhaps why he doesn’t fit in with his family of schemers.
This family, sadly, does not have a happy ending. We never from Yitzchak again, just a simple line later in the Torah that he died and was buried by his sons. Rivkah’s death is never even mentioned. And as for twins, Esav and Yaakov, Yaakov remains frightened of Esav for the rest of his life, and cannot bring himself to fully reconcile with him. The family breaks apart.
This all makes, it must be said, for a good story. There is a reason Chekhov’s plays are still performed: this sort of dysfunction is fascinating to watch. But it is also deeply sad. Chekhov called his plays comedies because they were filled with miscommunication. But tragedy is comedy’s twin, and very few people see Chekov’s plays today as funny. Likewise, watching the breakdown of Yitzchak and Rivkah’s family is tragic. It is moving. It is upsetting. Why record this story? How could this have been the lives of our ancestors?
Like every story in the Torah, there is a point. We learn just as much, if not more, from mistakes. And there are so many mistakes made in this story. My challenge, no, the Torah’s challenge for us, is to avoid repeating those mistakes. That takes introspection. That takes a commitment to really focusing on our close relationships and treating them all as sacred. It means being willing to ask ourselves hard questions: are we doing the right thing? Lying or half-truths may be easier in the short term, but will they help us in the long run? We may find ourselves having hard conversations with our loved ones that we wish we were not having. But I promise you, better to have those conversations now than to assume, lie, and double-talk. Even if we are confident that we are doing it for the best of reasons. Yitzchak and Rivkah’s relationship started in love, but their family tore itself apart. May we learn from their mistakes, so that we can keep our families, our loved ones, together.
