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Rabbi A. Leib Scheinbaum

Hebrew Academy of Cleveland

PARSHAS TOLDOS

The children agitated within her. (25:22) Rashi relates the source of Rivkah's "agitation." When she walked by a bais hamedrash, Yaakov would run to come out; and when she walked by a house of idol worship, Eisav would fight to leave. She was concerned: What kind of a child am I bearing? If one moment he attempts to go to the bais hamedrash and the next moment he is gravitating to the idols, he must be a confused child. When she was told that she was carrying twins, each with his own unique proclivities -- one to Torah and the other to idol worship -- she was calmed. She could deal with a child that was evil. A child who was mixed up, who attempted to transverse both worlds, was beyond her understanding. She felt that she would not be able to reach him, since he would not be able to realize that he had done anything wrong. There is hope for the undisputedly wicked. There is no hope for he who is spiritually crippled, for he cannot recognize his deficiency. He can, therefore, not repent.

I was always bothered by this exegesis. After all, if one goes to the bais hamedrash, should it not have some effect on him? Do we not see many people of all ages, many of whom have not yet become observant, spending time in the bais hamedrash studying Torah as a prelude to increasing their religious observance? Why does Rivkah presumably "write off" the son that simultaneously leans towards both the bais hamedrash and the house of idol worship?

We can respond simply that one questions the sincerity of an individual who gravitates to both. Does he really care about the Torah study in the bais hamedrash? If he sincerely does, why is he also visiting the idols? He is either insincere and living a life of sham, putting on an act, or he is truly spiritually and emotionally crippled, a truly mixed up individual who cannot get his act together. In both situations, he needs serious help to make up his mind as to which derech, path, he wants to follow. It can only be one. The one who is sincere about his Torah study -- who is searching for the proper path and whose focus is positive -- should be encouraged until he is able to break away completely from his idols.

Alternatively, the Ozrover Rebbe, zl, suggests another approach in understanding the dual gravitation. Rivkah feared that when the child within her turned to the bais hamedrash, it was for his own vested interest. Even his pull to the bais hamedrash was motivated by idol worship. One that turns to the bais hamedrash and to the house of idol worship really never leaves his idols. They control his attitude for the bais hamedrash. One who serves Hashem should do so with sincerity and integrity, for Hashem's "sake," rather than for personal gain, even spiritual gain. Injecting a bit of ourselves into the service detracts and diminishes from the true lofty goal one should struggle to fulfill.

And may G-d give you of the dew of the heavens and of the fatness of the earth. (27:28)

Rashi notes that the pasuk at the onset of the text of the blessings begins with the conjunction vav, which means "and," a word which is not consistent with the commencement of blessings. He cites the Midrash which states that this refers to a continuous repetitive action, as if to say, "May G-d grant you the following blessing over and over again." The question is obvious and well known. When the Torah says, "V'yiten lecha," "and may G-d give you," it already implies constant giving. If so, why do we need Rashi's comment of yachzor v'yiten, "He will then return and give again"? When one is blessed with abundance, it is not necessary to say, "May G-d give you abundance" - and may G-d give you abundance - again, because it is obvious that consistency is part of the blessing.

The Piasczesner Rebbe, zl, gives two answers to this question. First, he explains the meaning of "giving." When a person gives his friend money for the first time, then he is indeed the giver. If, however, the recipient had previously given the money to the giver who is presently giving it back, then the giver is only returning what he had previously received.

We worship Hashem out of devotion to Him - not for reward or personal gain. Nonetheless, when a Jew serves Hashem, he warrants a reward, which he will certainly receive. Hence, the reward Hashem gives him is in return for his devotion to Him. If, however, Hashem were to confer reward upon reward upon one who is not deserving of reward, then He is really the giver.

When Yitzchak blessed Yaakov, he said, "V'yitein lecha," "And may (G-d) give you." This means that first Hashem will give - even if the Jew is not deserving of this reward. Then, "He will return and give you again." At this time, Hashem is giving in return for what the person has already given through his worship. The Rebbe adds that this is only right, since, after all, how can anyone properly worship Hashem amidst pain and suffering, unless Hashem has already given first? It is only when Hashem gives to the "undeserving" Jew that afterwards the giving can be on a level of reciprocity. The point is made especially clear when we note that this homily was being delivered amidst the anguish of the concentration camp, to the broken shards of humanity that still remained.

In an alternative exegesis, the Rebbe once again takes into consideration the pain and deprivation that had regrettably become a way of life for the European Jew. He cites the pasuk in Yeshaya 28:13, "They will come those who are lost in the land of Ashur, and those who are outcast in the land of Egypt." There are people who are really ovdim, lost, and there are those who are simply nidachim, outcast. The nidach, outcast person, has merely been displaced, exiled from his home to another place, but he can still be noticed and recognized. Not so the one who is lost. He is neither visible nor recognizable.

In speaking to his "congregation" of tzibrochoneh Yidden, broken Jews, the Rebbe made reference to their current situation, in which Jewish men had their beards and payos shorn off, becoming externally unrecognizable as Jews. As the terrible persecutions and tortures beyond description persisted, it became apparent that they were losing their inner fortitude. They were now becoming internally unrecognizable as Jews as well. Indeed, in such terrible circumstances, a person may lose himself completely, to the point that he does not even recognize himself at all. The Rebbe's words in Yiddish were, "Ehr farlirt zich a'lien", "He loses himself." No longer can he remember how he felt on Shabbos a year ago, or how he felt during the week when he prayed to Hashem. The emotional and spiritual elation that he experienced when he communed with the Almighty was something far-removed from his current situation. He had been stepped upon and crushed until he no longer held onto any sensitivity regarding his Jewishness. Indeed, he no longer knew if he was a human being or an animal. This is the level of being truly lost and absent.

This form of psychic disintegration was something which many of the ghetto's inhabitants experienced. The Rebbe explains that the term ovdim, lost, refers not to the spatial -- but to the psychological -- dimension. When the Rebbe spoke these words, they conveyed a message of hope. People realized that they were not alone in what they were experiencing. By identifying the syndrome, it became easier to attempt to ameliorate it.

He concluded with a message of hope and faith in Hashem. In the Talmud Kiddushin 2b, Chazal say, "The loser must return in search of his lost article." When something is truly lost, when it cannot be seen or recognized, its owner returns to search for it, to locate it, to bring it to back to him.

Hashem is our owner, and we are His lost articles. He will search for us and find us. He will reinstate us and give us everything that is good. This is the meaning of Yitzchak's blessing. Hashem will give not only when the Jew is visible and recognizable, but also when he is lost, when he is neither discernible not identifiable as a Jew. At such times, Hashem will "return" and give again. The Owner of the aveidah, lost object, will return to search for us and find us. He will shower us with good and bring us close to Him as He redeems us with great compassion.

To the broken and tormented Jew of the Holocaust, Yitzchak's blessing signaled hope. It was a clarion call that reverberated throughout his entire soul. It gave him reason to want to live. He knew that whatever happened, he would be going "home." Perhaps this homily extends far beyond the era of the Holocaust, even to the contemporary Jew who has strayed so far that he is also "lost," the "invisible" Jew who no longer identifies with his people. Can one become more lost than that?

When Eisav was forty years old, he took a wife…and they were a source of spiritual rebellion to Yitzchak and Rivkah. (25:34,35)

Eisav followed in his father's ways by marrying at the age of forty. That is all that he did like his father. The women he married were from a nation whose evil nature and low moral standard equaled that of Eisav. Indeed, with these marriages, Eisav forever broke his ties with Avraham Avinu's mission. The Torah states that these women were a source of spiritual rebellion to Yitzchak and Rivkah. "Why does Yitzchak's name precede Rivkah's?" queries the Midrash. They respond that Yitzchak was much more affected by the spiritual filth of idol worship that Eisav's wives brought into their house than Rivkah was. Yitzchak descended from kedoshim, holy, virtuous parents who left a lasting imprint of holiness and purity on him. Rivkah came from a house that was a center for idolatry, thereby dulling her sensitivity to the impurity of idol worship.

Let us attempt to digest the words of the Midrash. When Rivkah left her father's home, she was three years old. Even at that young age, she was exemplary in her virtue and piety. Indeed, Chazal refer to her as a rose among thorns. As soon as she arrived in Yitzchak's home, those spiritual amenities that had ceased as a result of Sarah Imeinu's death, returned. At the time of Eisav's marriage, Rivkah had already spent sixty years in Yitzchak's home. She was acutely aware of what Eisav was, the evil that he wrought and the malevolence that he embodied - more aware than Yitzchak. Yet, the Midrash claims that her sensitivity to the filth of idol worship was not as acute as Yitzchak's. Is it that the three years spent by the tzadeikas in her father's home had an everlasting and detrimental effect on her?

Horav Chaim Goldvicht, zl, explains this phenomenon in the following manner. He cites Chazal in the Yerushalmi Chagiga 2:1 who explain the pasuk in Koheles 7:8, "The end of a matter is better than its beginning." When is the "end" better? Only when it is good from the "beginning." A tree that is developed can be moved to another place, and flourish transplanted, even if the conditions are not exactly suitable for it. A young shoot's future growth and strength, on the other hand, is determined by the earth in which it had originally been planted. It can only survive in an area similar to its original planting.

This idea applies similarity to Rivkah. The sensitivities that were ingrained in her as a young child left an indelible impression - one that is not superceded by her righteousness, moral character, and many years of living in the home of Avraham and Yitzchak. The impression was ingrained in her psyche. Growing up, even for three years -- but three years of impressionable youth -- leaves a taint. She did not abhor the idol worship of her daughter-in-law, as much as her husband Yitzchak did.

Rav Goldvicht submits that this is the defining point in understanding the difference between a tzaddik ben tzaddik and a tzaddik ben rashah, a righteous son of righteous lineage and a righteous son who has overcome the evil effect of his evil forbears. Without a doubt, the righteous son who triumphed over his environment and lineage deserves tremendous credit. He is strong; he is resolute, he has achieved what a tzaddik ben tzaddik could not achieve. He withstood trial by fire and prevailed. Yet, the righteous son who grew up in an environment alien to virtue, antithetical of moral rectitude, devoted to idol worship in its many forms, cannot achieve the shleimus taharas hanefesh, perfect purity of soul, as the tzaddik ben tzaddik. His psyche has been desensitized, in a sense, to certain evil, to the point that he will not feel the same negativity and abhorrence as his counterpart.

This makes one's youth, his early years in yeshivah, his teenage years followed by his tenure in bais hamedrash, so much more crucial. It is the defining moment in his life. It is the time that leaves the most indelible imprimatur on him, his character, both spiritual and moral. The way he davens, his approach to studying Torah; his attitude towards mussar, ethical discourse; in fact, the entire time spent in the yeshivah will determine what type of observant adult he will be. "The end of a matter is better than the beginning" - only if the beginning is good.

Eisav harbored hatred toward Yaakov because of the blessing wherewith his father had blessed him. (27:41)

The Ozrover Rebbe, zl, notes the deep-seated hatred that Eisav manifest for Yaakov. The Torah writes that Eisav hated Yaakov because of the blessing that his father had given him. It had nothing to do with Yaakov's taking the blessing away from Eisav. The mere fact that Yaakov was blessed was enough to ignite this inexplicable hatred within Eisav. We now understand Chazal's axiom, "Halachah, it is a halachic maxim that Eisav hates Yaakov." This means that Eisav's hatred has no rationale. A halachah is a rule or statement, which at times defies rationale. It is an absolute which transcends human reason and intellect. Likewise, Eisav's hatred is inscrutable. Evil hates good - Eisav hates Yaakov. There was no reason for Eisav to hate Yaakov. The bechorah, birthright, was sold. Whatever Yaakov received from his father was his by right. So, what was Eisav's problem? It bothered him that Yaakov received a blessing. He could not "fargin" - brook the fact that Yaakov had anything - period - let alone a blessing.

This is the type of hatred we have endured for thousands of years. We must remember, however, that this type of acrimony is endemic only to Eisav - not to Yishmael. While the Arab world may hate us, it is not the hatred of Eisav. The Arabs want land. They are a nation because that is their legacy from Yishmael. At least they have something which they wrongfully claim is "theirs." It is the children of Eisav, the Christian world, who vilify us for no reason and for no practical gain, that should concern us. The world that stands idly by while Jewish blood is spilled; the children of Eisav and Amalek who have slaughtered us simply because we were Jewish - they are the ones about whom we should be concerned. We are the blessed people and that is why they curse us.

TORAH BRIEFS

The children agitated within her. (25:22)

Rashi relates the source of Rivkah's "agitation." When she walked by a bais hamedrash, Yaakov would run to come out; and when she walked by a house of idol worship, Eisav would fight to leave. She was concerned: What kind of a child am I bearing? If one moment he attempts to go to the bais hamedrash and the next moment he is gravitating to the idols, he must be a confused child. When she was told that she was carrying twins, each with his own unique proclivities -- one to Torah and the other to idol worship -- she was calmed. She could deal with a child that was evil. A child who was mixed up, who attempted to transverse both worlds, was beyond her understanding. She felt that she would not be able to reach him, since he would not be able to realize that he had done anything wrong. There is hope for the undisputedly wicked. There is no hope for he who is spiritually crippled, for he cannot recognize his deficiency. He can, therefore, not repent.

I was always bothered by this exegesis. After all, if one goes to the bais hamedrash, should it not have some effect on him? Do we not see many people of all ages, many of whom have not yet become observant, spending time in the bais hamedrash studying Torah as a prelude to increasing their religious observance? Why does Rivkah presumably "write off" the son that simultaneously leans towards both the bais hamedrash and the house of idol worship?

We can respond simply that one questions the sincerity of an individual who gravitates to both. Does he really care about the Torah study in the bais hamedrash? If he sincerely does, why is he also visiting the idols? He is either insincere and living a life of sham, putting on an act, or he is truly spiritually and emotionally crippled, a truly mixed up individual who cannot get his act together. In both situations, he needs serious help to make up his mind as to which derech, path, he wants to follow. It can only be one. The one who is sincere about his Torah study -- who is searching for the proper path and whose focus is positive -- should be encouraged until he is able to break away completely from his idols.

Alternatively, the Ozrover Rebbe, zl, suggests another approach in understanding the dual gravitation. Rivkah feared that when the child within her turned to the bais hamedrash, it was for his own vested interest. Even his pull to the bais hamedrash was motivated by idol worship. One that turns to the bais hamedrash and to the house of idol worship really never leaves his idols. They control his attitude for the bais hamedrash. One who serves Hashem should do so with sincerity and integrity, for Hashem's "sake," rather than for personal gain, even spiritual gain. Injecting a bit of ourselves into the service detracts and diminishes from the true lofty goal one should struggle to fulfill.

And may G-d give you of the dew of the heavens and of the fatness of the earth. (27:28)

Rashi notes that the pasuk at the onset of the text of the blessings begins with the conjunction vav, which means "and," a word which is not consistent with the commencement of blessings. He cites the Midrash which states that this refers to a continuous repetitive action, as if to say, "May G-d grant you the following blessing over and over again." The question is obvious and well known. When the Torah says, "V'yiten lecha," "and may G-d give you," it already implies constant giving. If so, why do we need Rashi's comment of yachzor v'yiten, "He will then return and give again"? When one is blessed with abundance, it is not necessary to say, "May G-d give you abundance" - and may G-d give you abundance - again, because it is obvious that consistency is part of the blessing.

The Piasczesner Rebbe, zl, gives two answers to this question. First, he explains the meaning of "giving." When a person gives his friend money for the first time, then he is indeed the giver. If, however, the recipient had previously given the money to the giver who is presently giving it back, then the giver is only returning what he had previously received.

We worship Hashem out of devotion to Him - not for reward or personal gain. Nonetheless, when a Jew serves Hashem, he warrants a reward, which he will certainly receive. Hence, the reward Hashem gives him is in return for his devotion to Him. If, however, Hashem were to confer reward upon reward upon one who is not deserving of reward, then He is really the giver.

When Yitzchak blessed Yaakov, he said, "V'yitein lecha," "And may (G-d) give you." This means that first Hashem will give - even if the Jew is not deserving of this reward. Then, "He will return and give you again." At this time, Hashem is giving in return for what the person has already given through his worship. The Rebbe adds that this is only right, since, after all, how can anyone properly worship Hashem amidst pain and suffering, unless Hashem has already given first? It is only when Hashem gives to the "undeserving" Jew that afterwards the giving can be on a level of reciprocity. The point is made especially clear when we note that this homily was being delivered amidst the anguish of the concentration camp, to the broken shards of humanity that still remained.

In an alternative exegesis, the Rebbe once again takes into consideration the pain and deprivation that had regrettably become a way of life for the European Jew. He cites the pasuk in Yeshaya 28:13, "They will come those who are lost in the land of Ashur, and those who are outcast in the land of Egypt." There are people who are really ovdim, lost, and there are those who are simply nidachim, outcast. The nidach, outcast person, has merely been displaced, exiled from his home to another place, but he can still be noticed and recognized. Not so the one who is lost. He is neither visible nor recognizable.

In speaking to his "congregation" of tzibrochoneh Yidden, broken Jews, the Rebbe made reference to their current situation, in which Jewish men had their beards and payos shorn off, becoming externally unrecognizable as Jews. As the terrible persecutions and tortures beyond description persisted, it became apparent that they were losing their inner fortitude. They were now becoming internally unrecognizable as Jews as well. Indeed, in such terrible circumstances, a person may lose himself completely, to the point that he does not even recognize himself at all. The Rebbe's words in Yiddish were, "Ehr farlirt zich a'lien", "He loses himself." No longer can he remember how he felt on Shabbos a year ago, or how he felt during the week when he prayed to Hashem. The emotional and spiritual elation that he experienced when he communed with the Almighty was something far-removed from his current situation. He had been stepped upon and crushed until he no longer held onto any sensitivity regarding his Jewishness. Indeed, he no longer knew if he was a human being or an animal. This is the level of being truly lost and absent.

This form of psychic disintegration was something which many of the ghetto's inhabitants experienced. The Rebbe explains that the term ovdim, lost, refers not to the spatial -- but to the psychological -- dimension. When the Rebbe spoke these words, they conveyed a message of hope. People realized that they were not alone in what they were experiencing. By identifying the syndrome, it became easier to attempt to ameliorate it.

He concluded with a message of hope and faith in Hashem. In the Talmud Kiddushin 2b, Chazal say, "The loser must return in search of his lost article." When something is truly lost, when it cannot be seen or recognized, its owner returns to search for it, to locate it, to bring it to back to him.

Hashem is our owner, and we are His lost articles. He will search for us and find us. He will reinstate us and give us everything that is good. This is the meaning of Yitzchak's blessing. Hashem will give not only when the Jew is visible and recognizable, but also when he is lost, when he is neither discernible not identifiable as a Jew. At such times, Hashem will "return" and give again. The Owner of the aveidah, lost object, will return to search for us and find us. He will shower us with good and bring us close to Him as He redeems us with great compassion.

To the broken and tormented Jew of the Holocaust, Yitzchak's blessing signaled hope. It was a clarion call that reverberated throughout his entire soul. It gave him reason to want to live. He knew that whatever happened, he would be going "home." Perhaps this homily extends far beyond the era of the Holocaust, even to the contemporary Jew who has strayed so far that he is also "lost," the "invisible" Jew who no longer identifies with his people. Can one become more lost than that?

When Eisav was forty years old, he took a wife…and they were a source of spiritual rebellion to Yitzchak and Rivkah. (25:34,35)

Eisav followed in his father's ways by marrying at the age of forty. That is all that he did like his father. The women he married were from a nation whose evil nature and low moral standard equaled that of Eisav. Indeed, with these marriages, Eisav forever broke his ties with Avraham Avinu's mission. The Torah states that these women were a source of spiritual rebellion to Yitzchak and Rivkah. "Why does Yitzchak's name precede Rivkah's?" queries the Midrash. They respond that Yitzchak was much more affected by the spiritual filth of idol worship that Eisav's wives brought into their house than Rivkah was. Yitzchak descended from kedoshim, holy, virtuous parents who left a lasting imprint of holiness and purity on him. Rivkah came from a house that was a center for idolatry, thereby dulling her sensitivity to the impurity of idol worship.

Let us attempt to digest the words of the Midrash. When Rivkah left her father's home, she was three years old. Even at that young age, she was exemplary in her virtue and piety. Indeed, Chazal refer to her as a rose among thorns. As soon as she arrived in Yitzchak's home, those spiritual amenities that had ceased as a result of Sarah Imeinu's death, returned. At the time of Eisav's marriage, Rivkah had already spent sixty years in Yitzchak's home. She was acutely aware of what Eisav was, the evil that he wrought and the malevolence that he embodied - more aware than Yitzchak. Yet, the Midrash claims that her sensitivity to the filth of idol worship was not as acute as Yitzchak's. Is it that the three years spent by the tzadeikas in her father's home had an everlasting and detrimental effect on her?

Horav Chaim Goldvicht, zl, explains this phenomenon in the following manner. He cites Chazal in the Yerushalmi Chagiga 2:1 who explain the pasuk in Koheles 7:8, "The end of a matter is better than its beginning." When is the "end" better? Only when it is good from the "beginning." A tree that is developed can be moved to another place, and flourish transplanted, even if the conditions are not exactly suitable for it. A young shoot's future growth and strength, on the other hand, is determined by the earth in which it had originally been planted. It can only survive in an area similar to its original planting.

This idea applies similarity to Rivkah. The sensitivities that were ingrained in her as a young child left an indelible impression - one that is not superceded by her righteousness, moral character, and many years of living in the home of Avraham and Yitzchak. The impression was ingrained in her psyche. Growing up, even for three years -- but three years of impressionable youth -- leaves a taint. She did not abhor the idol worship of her daughter-in-law, as much as her husband Yitzchak did.

Rav Goldvicht submits that this is the defining point in understanding the difference between a tzaddik ben tzaddik and a tzaddik ben rashah, a righteous son of righteous lineage and a righteous son who has overcome the evil effect of his evil forbears. Without a doubt, the righteous son who triumphed over his environment and lineage deserves tremendous credit. He is strong; he is resolute, he has achieved what a tzaddik ben tzaddik could not achieve. He withstood trial by fire and prevailed. Yet, the righteous son who grew up in an environment alien to virtue, antithetical of moral rectitude, devoted to idol worship in its many forms, cannot achieve the shleimus taharas hanefesh, perfect purity of soul, as the tzaddik ben tzaddik. His psyche has been desensitized, in a sense, to certain evil, to the point that he will not feel the same negativity and abhorrence as his counterpart.

This makes one's youth, his early years in yeshivah, his teenage years followed by his tenure in bais hamedrash, so much more crucial. It is the defining moment in his life. It is the time that leaves the most indelible imprimatur on him, his character, both spiritual and moral. The way he davens, his approach to studying Torah; his attitude towards mussar, ethical discourse; in fact, the entire time spent in the yeshivah will determine what type of observant adult he will be. "The end of a matter is better than the beginning" - only if the beginning is good.

Eisav harbored hatred toward Yaakov because of the blessing wherewith his father had blessed him. (27:41)

The Ozrover Rebbe, zl, notes the deep-seated hatred that Eisav manifest for Yaakov. The Torah writes that Eisav hated Yaakov because of the blessing that his father had given him. It had nothing to do with Yaakov's taking the blessing away from Eisav. The mere fact that Yaakov was blessed was enough to ignite this inexplicable hatred within Eisav. We now understand Chazal's axiom, "Halachah, it is a halachic maxim that Eisav hates Yaakov." This means that Eisav's hatred has no rationale. A halachah is a rule or statement, which at times defies rationale. It is an absolute which transcends human reason and intellect. Likewise, Eisav's hatred is inscrutable. Evil hates good - Eisav hates Yaakov. There was no reason for Eisav to hate Yaakov. The bechorah, birthright, was sold. Whatever Yaakov received from his father was his by right. So, what was Eisav's problem? It bothered him that Yaakov received a blessing. He could not "fargin" - brook the fact that Yaakov had anything - period - let alone a blessing.

This is the type of hatred we have endured for thousands of years. We must remember, however, that this type of acrimony is endemic only to Eisav - not to Yishmael. While the Arab world may hate us, it is not the hatred of Eisav. The Arabs want land. They are a nation because that is their legacy from Yishmael. At least they have something which they wrongfully claim is "theirs." It is the children of Eisav, the Christian world, who vilify us for no reason and for no practical gain, that should concern us. The world that stands idly by while Jewish blood is spilled; the children of Eisav and Amalek who have slaughtered us simply because we were Jewish - they are the ones about whom we should be concerned. We are the blessed people and that is why they curse us.

Hebrew Academy of Cleveland
Rabbi L. Scheinbaum

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