by Rabbi Avi Billet
Three people in our parsha consider what a future will look like, based on their current situation.
Rivkah struggles in her pregnancy and says אם כן למה זה אנכי – if pregnancy is this insane ordeal, what did I need this for? Hers seems most easily alleviated when she finds out there are two children in her, who are struggling over matters of their own destiny.
She weathers the storm, gives birth to them, and her immediate struggle has obviously run its course.
Eisav returns from the field, exhausted. Asking for the food Yaakov is preparing, the conversation turns to matters of birthright. Contemplating the value of the birthright, Eisav considers his own mortality. “I’m going to die anyway [one day], so of what value is the birthright to me?”
[This opens the door to a larger conversation regarding what the birthright includes – is it a financial thing? A spiritual thing? Is it simply an inheritance? Does it carry with it any kind of responsibility?]
And finally, we see Yitzchak calling Eisav in, to give him an assignment that will allow Eisav to “be blessed before I die.” The verse had just told us that Eisav was 40 when he married. Since Yitzchak was 60 when his sons were born, he is 100 at the time of Eisav’s wedding. His age at the time of the blessing is between 100 and (based on other information in the Torah) 123 (123 is the most popular opinion). The Torah will later record for us that Yitzchak died at 180, which means that for all his concern, he still lived another 57 years. So why was he so worried about death? Rashi says because his mother died at the age of 127, and he was within a few years of that. More likely, we read at the end of Chayei Sarah that Yishmael died at the age of 137. If Yitzchak is 123 now, it is at the same time as his ½ brother Yishmael’s death. And that may significantly get him to think about his own mortality.
Rivkah’s ordeal simply questioned whether the pregnancy was worth it. She wasn’t facing mortality.
Eisav and Yitzchak are each, in their own way, contemplating their deaths, and their actions as a result tell us a lot about them.
Rabbi Lamm put it this way: “For Isaac the imminence of death was an incentive to leave a blessing. For Eisav it was a reason to feast on lentils. For Isaac, death was a signal to reenforce the spiritual worth of a wayward child. For Eisav it was an excuse for forfeiting a birthright. This is how death clearly defines the essence of the personality – by making a man choose between a last blessing and a last fling.”
Rabbi Lamm went on to contrast the one who found God in the foxhole v. the one who lost Him in the hail of frontline fire – one is looking for a blessing, one for a fling.
It’s an important question to consider. What are my true values? Is the goal to get closer to God in this lifetime? Or is the goal to pursue the pleasures of Eisav’s lifestyle? The Talmud (Shabbos 152b) tells us that Talmud scholars, the older they grow, the wiser they become. But amei ha’aretz, ignorant people, the older they grow, the more does their foolishness increase. This doesn’t suggest everyone needs to be a Talmud scholar. But certainly those who don’t want to be lopped into the latter category can pursue pursuits that have great value – even as a volunteer! Volunteering to help yeshivas, to help Israel, to raise funds for important chesed and tzedakah projects, or to participate in those chesed and tzedakah projects.
Rabbi Lamm noted how the Chafetz Chaim compared life to a postcard. There’s a finite amount of space to get a message across. Most people begin writing inane questions or statements (How are you? Wish you were here!), in a larger font, until 3/4 of the postcard is filled and they realize they haven’t actually written anything of substance yet. Then they write in smaller letters, and are very careful about what they write. In life, those getting closer to the end might be more considerate, more careful, far less concerned with the petty and trivial.
When King David contemplated his own demise, he wrote new songs of poetry. He began to sing in praise of the Almighty, revealing his true essence.
I happened to speak to a gentleman from the old Woodmere guard (I knew him as a middle-aged man when I was a child) during the first months of COVID. Even after shuls had reopened he was still staying home (in a different South Florida community), being cautious, and while I encouraged him to return to shul – which had been a staple of his life forever – he told me about his new ‘online’ life “I have so much to live for! I am learning Torah with my grandchildren, in Israel, in the United States. I participate in a Daf Yomi class, and other shiurim. I’ve never been more productive in my retirement.” He has since passed away – but that conversation left me thinking, Here is a man who knows what he is living for!
I’ve shared recently that I finished re-reading “All For the Boss.” The subject of the book, Mr Yaakov Yosef Herman, decided some time in his 40s that he would fast every day (except Shabbos and Yom Tov), breaking his fast every evening on a minimal amount of food. When he was in his 70s, he had a serious health scare when already living in Israel, and when his physician found out he fasted daily, he told him he had to stop, because he wasn’t getting enough nutrition. Mr. Herman was reticent to accept this reality, until the doctor told him a story of a Chassidic Rabbi who, at the age of 70, was told for his own health reasons that he could no longer fast on Yom Kippur. The rabbi’s response was to start dancing! He said, “Ribbono Shel Olam, for 70 years I had the opportunity to serve You by fasting on Yom Kippur! Now I will be serving You by not fasting on Yom Kippur.” After hearing this, Mr. Herman agreed to only fast on Mondays and Thursdays and to eat normally all the other days of the week.
Certainly when it comes to prolonging life, most of us will try very hard to follow the physician’s advice. We’ll try to drop bad eating habits or smoking habits (Rabbi Chazkel Abramsky stopped smoking cold turkey at the age of 63 when he was told by his doctor that it was a terrible thing to do. He also loved chocolate, and would eat a few chocolate bars a day. He dropped this cold turkey as well, a few years after dropping smoking, when advised to do so by a physician). We’ll do more exercises, even if difficult, if we are told the idleness will kill us.
Do we pick the path of Yitzchak when considering how much of the postcard is left to fill? Or do we continue to follow the ways and values of Eisav?
Chazal tell us that Pharaoh was the cause of the greatest Teshuva at his time, because when the verse says ופרעה הקריב, that Pharaoh approached/encroached, וישאו בני ישראל את עיניהם, the Israelites lifted their eyes… and thus turned to God pleading for salvation.
In our day, the same can be said about Hamas, whose atrocities on October 7 paved a pathway of commitment to kosher, to Shabbos, to tefillin and tzitzis, and countless things I don’t know about – aside from the most obvious, a love of our fellow Jew and the chesed that accompanies that love.
It does not have to be that we only make better choices when we consider our mortality, or when the enemy is at the door, threatening our annihilation. That should certainly be a push for great decisions, choices, and action! But wouldn’t it be more powerful and more beautiful if we contemplated such without even considering how much time we may have left?
May we be blessed with Arichas Yamim (lengthened days and years). And may we be blessed to fill those days and years with meaningful activities, an absence of pettiness, and a focus on bettering our relationships with God and with our fellow man as we fill our lives with Torah, Tefillah, Chesed, love for our fellow Jew, and kindness to our fellow man.
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