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Esau Came Out of the Womb Already Wearing Adam's Red Clay

When Esau was born red and hairy, the tradition read his color as Adam's red clay concentrated in one descendant more than in any other.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. What Was Waiting in the Delivery Room
  2. Adam's Name and Esau's Color
  3. The Fifth Day and the Clay Adam Was Formed From
  4. What Esau Did With the Birthright
  5. What Isaac Experienced at the Blessing

What Was Waiting in the Delivery Room

The midwives and family gathered at Rebecca's labor were not prepared for what came first. The child was red. Not the redness of newborn skin, which passes quickly. Deeply, unusually red, as though he had already been somewhere and come back. And covered in hair, not the fine hair of infants, but thick hair like a man's, all over him, as though he had been finished to a stage of life that normal birth does not reach.

Everyone in the room understood, at some level, that this was not ordinary birth. The tradition says the family was frightened. Not concerned in the way parents are concerned about an unusual delivery. Actually frightened.

Adam's Name and Esau's Color

The Hebrew word for Adam connects to two others: adamah, the earth he was taken from, which is reddish clay soil, and adom, red. Adam was red-earthed, formed from the ground's particular color, shaped by the divine hands from material that carried that color through the shaping. When Esau emerged red from Rebecca's womb, the tradition heard an echo that went all the way back to the first moment a human body was assembled from the dust.

Ginzberg's synthesis of rabbinic sources is explicit: Esau was born already formed, already hairy, already with the appearance of someone who had finished a process that normal infants are only beginning. The physical completeness at birth was read as a sign that the earthly dimension of what Adam had been, the clay-and-red dimension, the bodily inheritance that had entered the world with Adam's flesh, had concentrated in Esau in a way it had not concentrated in any of Abraham's or Isaac's previous descendants.

The Fifth Day and the Clay Adam Was Formed From

The Ginzberg account of the fifth day of creation describes God fashioning sea creatures from fire and water. Every creature carried its nature from the moment of its creation, a given nature rather than an acquired one. The leviathan was made for what the leviathan does. The great fish was appointed for the swallowing of Jonah from the fifth day forward, long before Jonah was born.

Adam was made from earth on the sixth day, and the earth he was made from was specific: the dust of the Temple mount, according to some traditions, carried from the holiest point on earth. But the reddish clay was also there, the ground-level material, and Adam was both of those things at once. The soul breathed into the clay had to animate the clay without dissolving it. The resulting human being was always the tension between those two things.

Esau was the resolution of that tension in the direction of the clay. His was the Adamic inheritance that ran through the body rather than through the soul.

What Esau Did With the Birthright

The Book of Jubilees places the sale of the birthright at the Well of the Vision. Jacob had been living there, studying. Esau came in from the field, exhausted, and made the demand that has defined him in every retelling: give me that red stuff, that red stuff there. The word red appears twice in the request. The tradition noted this: a man whose nature was so thoroughly organized around the physical and the present that even his way of asking for food described it by color rather than substance. He was not asking for the lentil stew because he knew what it was. He was asking for the red thing because red was visible and immediate and he wanted it.

He swore away his birthright for a meal. The tradition across multiple texts reads this not as a hasty decision but as the revelation of what had always been true: Esau's nature was not capable of holding the birthright, which was a spiritual inheritance as much as a material one, because his nature organized itself around what could be eaten right now rather than what could be carried across generations.

What Isaac Experienced at the Blessing

When Jacob came into Isaac's tent in Esau's garments and goatskins, Legends of the Jews records that Isaac was troubled by what he could not reconcile: the voice seemed to be Jacob's but the hands seemed to be Esau's. He blessed Jacob. But the tradition notes that Isaac's blessing was not entirely untroubled. He was giving something precious to someone who had come to him through deception, even if the deception served the truth, and he sensed the strangeness of it without being able to name what was strange.

Esau, when he arrived with the real venison and realized what had happened, made a sound that the Torah describes as a great and bitter cry (Genesis 27:34). The loss was genuine. Whatever his birthright had meant to him, however easily he had traded it away for a bowl of lentils, the loss of the blessing that was supposed to confirm it was something his whole being registered as catastrophic. The clay felt it the way clay feels things: completely, immediately, without distance.


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Legends of the Jews, VI. Jacob, The Birth Of Esau And JacobLegends of the Jews

This is a tale you won't soon forget.

In Legends of the Jews, Isaac, son of Abraham, was a chip off the old block. He mirrored his father in every way, beauty, wisdom, strength, wealth, and noble deeds. It was an honor to be Abraham's son, sure, but it was just as great an honor for Abraham to be Isaac's father.

Despite all his amazing qualities, Isaac didn't marry young. Why? Well, Ginzberg tells us that God waited until Isaac proved wrong the taunts of Ishmael, who mocked Isaac for being circumcised at eight days old, while Ishmael chose to do it at thirteen. Isaac had to prove his devotion to God before finding his bashert, his destined one. And even then, after the near-sacrifice on Mount Moriah, his mother died, delaying things even further.

Finally, Isaac married Rebekah, a woman described as "a rose between thorns." Her father, Bethuel the Aramean, and her brother, the infamous Laban, weren't exactly role models, but Rebekah was righteous, just like Isaac.

Yet, their marriage wasn't initially blessed with children. For twenty long years, they were childless. Rebekah urged Isaac to pray for children, like his father Abraham had. But Isaac, stubborn as ever, initially refused. He figured, hey, God promised Abraham a huge family, so if there's a problem, it must be Rebekah's fault! He thought she should be the one praying.

But Rebekah persisted, and eventually, they both went to Mount Moriah to pray together. Isaac's prayer, as recounted in Legends of the Jews, is a powerful plea, reminding God of His promises to Abraham and asking that those promises be fulfilled through him and Rebekah. He specifically asked that any children destined for him be born from this pious wife. And Rebekah made the same request for Isaac.

Their combined prayer was heard. But here's a fascinating detail: according to the legends, it was mainly for Isaac's sake that God granted them children. While Rebekah was pious, the prayer of a righteous man who is the son of a righteous man carries extra weight.

Now, here's where things get really interesting. Rebekah conceived twins, but her pregnancy was anything but easy. After seven months, she was in constant pain. The twins, Esau and Jacob, were fighting inside her womb! Midrash Rabbah describes how if Rebekah walked near a temple of idols, Esau would stir; if she passed a synagogue or Bet ha-Midrash (house of study), Jacob would try to break free.

Their arguments even had a philosophical bent. Esau, according to the legends, believed only in earthly pleasures, while Jacob insisted on the importance of the World to Come. They even debated who would take which "world"!

The Zohar tells us that Samael (the angel of death), often identified as a adversary, was an ally of Esau, trying to kill Jacob in the womb. But the archangel Michael intervened, attempting to burn Samael. It was such a serious situation that a heavenly court was convened to arbitrate the dispute!

The brothers even fought over the birthright before they were born! Each wanted to be the first to enter the world. Jacob only relented when Esau threatened Rebekah's life. Desperate, Rebekah consulted with Shem and Eber, who had a Bet ha-Midrash on Mount Moriah, and even Abraham himself. She wanted to understand the cause of her suffering.

Shem revealed a profound secret: "Two nations are in thy womb… two nations they are, each owning a world of its own, the one the Torah, the other sin." He foresaw their destinies, the rise of Solomon and the Temple from Jacob, and the destruction by Vespasian from Esau. He told her they'd never be at peace, and that eventually, Jacob would rule over all, but only if he remained pure of heart.

The births themselves were just as extraordinary. Esau emerged first, fully formed, hairy, red, and… well, impure. He even had teeth! His ruddy complexion led Isaac to delay his circumcision, fearing poor circulation. But when Esau grew older, he refused to be circumcised at all.

Jacob, on the other hand, was born "clean and sweet of body," and according to the legends, he was even born already circumcised! While Esau had the mark of a serpent on him, Jacob bore the sign of the covenant.

Even their names were significant. Esau was called such because he was ‘Asui, fully developed at birth. Jacob's name, Ya'akov, was given to him by God, hinting at future events in Israel's history. The letters of his name, according to the legends, represent the Ten Commandments, the seventy elders, the Temple's height, and the two tablets of stone.

So, what does this all mean? This interplay of birth, struggle, and prophecy speaks to the complex relationship between these two brothers and the nations they would represent. It's a story of choices, destinies, and the enduring battle between opposing forces. It makes you wonder, doesn’t it, how much of our lives are predetermined, and how much is up to us? And perhaps, even more importantly, what kind of world are we choosing to build, one of Torah or sin, harmony or conflict? It's a question that resonates just as powerfully today as it did when these stories were first told.

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Legends of the Jews, I. The Creation Of The World, The Fifth DayLegends of the Jews

The fifth day of creation was all about bringing forth life into the waters and the skies.

The Legends of the Jews, as retold by Ginzberg, tells us that God took fire and water, seemingly opposing elements, and from them fashioned the fishes of the sea. And get this: the number of water-dwelling animals dwarfs those on land! For nearly every land animal (except maybe the weasel, for some reason!), there's a corresponding creature in the sea, plus a whole host more that exist only in the watery depths.

Who rules this vast underwater kingdom? Why, it's Leviathan! This isn't just any fish; it's the fish. Leviathan, along with all the other sea creatures, was created on the fifth day. The story goes that initially, God created a male and female Leviathan, but fearing that their combined power could obliterate the Earth, He… well, He took care of the female. Let's just say she was "put into brine" to be preserved for a future, very special occasion.

Leviathan is so colossal that to quench his thirst, he needs all the water flowing from the Jordan River into the sea. Imagine that! And when he's hungry, a hot breath blasts from his nostrils, causing the ocean to churn and boil. Even Behemot, another monstrous creature, feels uneasy until he knows Leviathan has had his fill.

Now, you might think nothing could keep such a behemoth in check, but there's one tiny fish, the stickleback, that Leviathan fears. Apparently, this little fish was specifically created to keep the big guy in line. Talk about David and Goliath!

But Leviathan isn't just about size and power. He's also a being of incredible beauty. His fins radiate light so brilliant they can obscure the sun. His eyes shine with such splendor that they light up the sea. It's no wonder the text describes him as God's plaything, a creature in whom He takes delight.

But here’s the kicker: Leviathan has a bit of a… hygiene problem. His foul odor is so potent that if it were to reach Paradise, it would make the place uninhabitable. So, what's the deal with this massive, odorous, yet magnificent creature? Well, according to tradition, Leviathan isn't just swimming around for kicks. He has a destiny.

His ultimate purpose? To be served as a delicacy to the righteous in the world to come! Remember that female Leviathan preserved in brine? She’s part of the meal! The male Leviathan is destined to offer a spectacular sight before being consumed.

When the time comes, God will summon the angels to battle Leviathan. But Leviathan is so formidable that the angels will flee in terror at the mere sight of him. Swords will bounce off his scales like straw, and darts and stones will simply rebound without leaving a mark. Dejected, the angels will give up, and God will command Leviathan and Behemot to fight each other. The battle will end with both monsters dead – Behemot slain by Leviathan's fins, and Leviathan killed by Behemot's tail.

From Leviathan's skin, God will construct tents to shelter the righteous while they feast on his flesh. Each person will receive a portion according to their merits, with no envy or resentment. What remains of Leviathan's skin will be stretched over Jerusalem as a canopy, illuminating the entire world. And the leftover flesh? It will be distributed among the rest of humanity for trade.

But the fifth day wasn't just about sea creatures. It was also the day the birds were created. Fish and birds are seen as closely related. Fish are formed from water, while birds are made from marshy, water-saturated ground. And just as Leviathan reigns over the fishes, the Ziz rules over the birds.

The Ziz gets its name from the variety of flavors its flesh possesses – "it tastes like this (zeh), and like that (zeh)." According to Ginzberg, the Ziz is as enormous as Leviathan, with ankles resting on the earth and its head reaching the sky. There's even a story of travelers who mistook the Ziz standing in shallow water for a safe place to bathe, only to be warned by a heavenly voice of the unimaginable depth!

The Ziz's wings are so massive that they darken the sun when unfurled, protecting the Earth from the destructive storms of the south. One time, a rotten Ziz egg fell to the ground, causing a flood that destroyed sixty cities and crushed three hundred cedars. Yikes!

The Ziz is also known as Renanin, the celestial singer. He's also called Sekwi, "the seer," due to his connection to the heavens. And "son of the nest," because his young break free from the shell directly from the nest, without needing to be hatched.

Like Leviathan, the Ziz is destined to be a delicacy served to the righteous at the end of time, a reward for abstaining from unclean fowl. As we find in Midrash Rabbah, everything in creation has a purpose, even the most fantastical creatures.

So, the next time you look up at the sky or out at the ocean, remember the fifth day of creation. Remember Leviathan and the Ziz, these colossal, wondrous beings, and the promise of a time when even they will play a part in the ultimate reward. What does it all mean? Perhaps it reminds us that even in the most bizarre and seemingly impractical aspects of our tradition, there are layers of meaning, hinting at a future beyond our wildest imaginations.

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Book of Jubilees 24:5Book of Jubilees

Book of Jubilees turns to Esau Sells His Birthright for Lentil Soup.

Our story unfolds at the Well of the Vision. According to Jubilees, Jacob spent seven years there, right in the first year of the third week of a jubilee cycle. Jubilees uses a unique calendar system based on these jubilee cycles – periods of 49 years culminating in a 50th year of rest and renewal, similar to the shmita (sabbatical year) concept we find in the Torah.

Peace and prosperity are fleeting. In the first year of the fourth week – a new cycle, a new beginning – famine strikes the land. Not the first famine,. There had already been one in Abraham's time. This one, however, sets the stage for a legendary, and perhaps troubling, transaction.

Jacob, ever the strategist, is cooking a pot of lentil pottage. Now, lentils might seem like a humble food, but in a time of famine, they represent survival. Esau, returning from the field, is famished. Utterly, desperately hungry. He sees the "red pottage" – adom in Hebrew, which is also related to the name Edom, a name that will become associated with Esau’s descendants – and he makes a simple, primal plea: "Give me of this red pottage."

Here’s where things get… complicated. Jacob, smelling opportunity, doesn’t just offer his brother a bowl. Instead, he lays down a condition: "Sell to me thy [primogeniture, this] birthright and I will give thee bread, and also some of this lentil pottage."

The birthright, the b’khorah, was no small thing. It represented inheritance, leadership, a special connection to the covenant. And Jacob, in this moment, demands it in exchange for… soup.

What are we to make of this? Was Jacob being opportunistic, preying on his brother's weakness? Was Esau foolish, selling something sacred for a moment's relief? Or is there something deeper at play here, a foreshadowing of destinies already written?

The rabbis certainly wrestled with these questions. Some saw Esau's willingness to give up his birthright as evidence of his unworthiness. Others saw Jacob's actions as… well, let's just say they offered more nuanced interpretations. Whatever the case, this seemingly simple exchange over lentil soup sets in motion a chain of events that will shape the history of a family, and, the world.

It’s a reminder that even the smallest choices, the hungriest moments, can have profound consequences. And perhaps, it's a call to examine what truly matters to us, what we're willing to trade for a momentary satisfaction, and what inheritance we truly value. What's your lentil soup? And what's your birthright?

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Legends of the Jews, VI. Jacob, Isaac Blesses JacobLegends of the Jews

The story of Isaac blessing Jacob instead of Esau is definitely one of those moments. It’s a story filled with deception, family drama, and a bit of divine intervention, and it's far more complex than it might seem At first.

In Legends of the Jews, Esau’s marriages to Canaanite women were a constant source of grief for both Isaac and Rebekah. But why? Well, these marriages weren't just about differing social circles. They represented a clash of values, a deep-seated conflict between following God's path and embracing idolatrous practices. Rebekah found it distasteful, but Isaac, it seems, was particularly sensitive to it. The text suggests men are not as resilient to disagreeable circumstances as women. Interesting. And that's not the only reason Isaac's sight was failing. The Legends of the Jews (Ginzberg) also tells us about the tears of angels, shed when Isaac was bound on the altar by his father Abraham. These tears, the story goes, weakened his eyes. But there's also a more symbolic reason offered: Isaac's love for Esau, despite his wickedness, blinded him. It's like a "bribe" of filial affection, and as the saying goes, "A gift blinds the eyes of the wise."

Here's a twist: Isaac's blindness, despite being a hardship, actually turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It kept him at home, shielding him from the shame of being known as the father of the wicked Esau. And, crucially, it paved the way for Jacob to receive the blessing. It’s as if God was arranging events, guiding them toward a specific outcome. Like a physician tricking a sick man into drinking water he thinks is wine to make him feel better.

As Isaac approached the age his mother had reached when she passed away - one hundred and twenty-three - he began to think about his own mortality. According to Jewish tradition, it’s proper to prepare for death when you approach the age at which your parents passed. He decided it was time to bestow his blessing upon his elder son, Esau. He called for Esau, but the Holy Spirit intervened. The text says that even though Esau disguised his voice to sound sweet, Isaac shouldn't trust him, because there were seven abominations in his heart. Isaac, however, remained spiritually blind to Esau's true nature.

On the eve of Passover, Isaac instructed Esau to prepare a special meal, saying, "Tonight the whole world will sing the Hallel unto God." The Hallel (הלל) are Psalms of praise and thanksgiving recited on Jewish holidays. Isaac wanted to bless Esau before he died. But again, the Holy Spirit interjected, "Eat not the bread of him that hath an evil eye."

Why the fuss over food? Well, the text suggests that Isaac's blindness made him crave especially flavorful dishes. But there's also a deeper meaning here. Food, in this context, becomes a symbol of blessing and connection. And the Holy Spirit is warning against accepting blessings from someone with impure intentions.

Meanwhile, Rebekah, through divine inspiration, knew what Isaac was planning. But it wasn't simply love for Jacob that motivated her; it was a desire to prevent Isaac from making a terrible mistake. She instructed Jacob to deceive his father, to present himself as Esau and receive the blessing.

Jacob, understandably, hesitated. He feared incurring his father's curse. But Rebekah reassured him, saying she would bear any curse that might fall upon him. She even invoked her marriage contract, claiming it entitled her to two kids daily, one for the Passover sacrifice and one for the festival sacrifice and they would bring good unto him.

To complete the deception, Rebekah dressed Jacob in Esau's clothes, special garments that had been passed down through generations, even from Adam himself! These garments were priestly raiment, befitting the firstborn. And since Jacob had bought the birthright from Esau, Rebekah believed he was entitled to them. The text describes Esau as always wearing them in front of his father because he saw Isaac as a king.

When Jacob entered Isaac's chamber, he spoke hesitantly, trying to avoid a direct lie. But Isaac grew suspicious. He questioned Jacob's speed and decided to feel him. It's a moment of intense tension, fraught with the potential for discovery and disaster.

As Isaac touched Jacob, God intervened, sending angels to support him. Isaac noticed the hairy hands and declared, "The voice is Jacob's voice, but the hands are the hands of Esau." These words, contain a prophecy: as long as the voice of Jacob is heard in houses of prayer and learning, the hands of Esau will not prevail against him. Isaac, still hesitant, was shown that even the sinners in Israel would turn penitent, and then he was ready to bless Jacob.

Isaac then smelled the fragrance of Paradise clinging to Jacob. The archangel Michael fetched wine from Paradise. Filled with the Holy Spirit, Isaac bestowed upon Jacob a tenfold blessing, a blessing that echoed God's own blessings. Dew from heaven, fatness of the earth, plenty of corn and wine – all symbols of abundance, prosperity, and divine favor. And with each blessing from Isaac, a corresponding blessing was bestowed by God himself. Even Rebekah joined in, adding her own blessings.

As Jacob left his father's presence, he was transformed, bathed in celestial dew and filled with strength. He was also unknowingly saved from a deadly encounter with Esau, thanks to a revolving door that concealed him at the last moment.

So, what are we to make of this story? It's a complex and morally ambiguous tale. Deception is involved, but so is divine intervention. It raises questions about fate, free will, and the nature of blessing. Was Jacob destined to receive the blessing all along? Did Rebekah's actions undermine Isaac's authority? Or was she simply acting as God's agent, ensuring that the divine plan unfolded as it should? It's a story that continues to resonate with us today, prompting us to confront these timeless questions.

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