Parshat Toldot5 min read

Esau Sent Messengers With an Argument, Not a Sword

The envoys did not carry spears. They asked why Jacob envied dew when Esau had been given fat earth. They wanted to share the trouble too.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Messengers Spoke of Dew and Fatness
  2. Jacob Would Not Share the Trouble
  3. Israel Lifted Its Eyes to Esau's Mountains
  4. First Out of the Womb, First in the Reckoning

The envoys did not carry spears. They walked into Jacob's camp with a question that had been rehearsed until it was clean.

Esau Sent Messengers With an Argument, Not a Sword Click for full size

"Why do you envy me for the blessing my father gave me?" They spoke for Esau. "Does the sun shine only on my land? Does the dew fall only on my fields? Does the rain stop at my border?"

Jacob heard the argument before he saw his brother's face.

The Messengers Spoke of Dew and Fatness

The case was this. The blessings were different, not empty on one side. When Isaac said to Jacob, "God give thee of the dew of heaven," he said to Esau, "thy dwelling shall be of the fatness of the earth" (Genesis 27:28, 27:39). When he said to one son, "peoples shall serve thee," he said to the other, "by thy sword shalt thou live."

Two destinies. Two kinds of plenty. One son would live by covenant and harvest. The other would live by blade and territory. The sun, said the messengers, shines on both.

A man who had sold his birthright in a hunger-hour, then heard his blessing go to the wrong brother while his father still smelled of the food, had grounds to cry theft. Esau's messengers did not cry theft. They argued proportion. They did not demand the blessing back. They said it was still present, shaped another way. Jacob stood in the dust of his own camp and listened to a case built from their father's mouth.

Jacob Would Not Share the Trouble

Then the offer. "Come now. Let us set up a covenant between us. We will share equally all the vexations that may come."

Not the wealth. The trouble.

Two men with different destinies could at least carry grief alongside each other. Whatever came for Jacob, Esau would bear half. Whatever came for Esau, Jacob would bear half. Brothers who could not occupy the same blessing might at least share the same suffering.

Jacob did not accept. The record does not give his words of refusal. It gives the silence after the proposal, and the absence of the covenant. The messengers waited. No oath was spoken. They turned and left. Esau moved to the hill country of Seir. The distance between them grew into the distance between nations.

Israel Lifted Its Eyes to Esau's Mountains

Centuries piled up. Esau's line became Edom. Edom became the name for every empire that stood against Israel. Soldiers entered Jerusalem with torches. One of them walked into the Temple with a sword and dragged the blade across the stones until blood ran along the floor. He left boasting that he had killed inside the house of God (Lamentations 1:16).

Israel looked toward the mountains. "I lift my eyes to the mountains" (Psalm 121:1) was not a calm prayer. It was a prayer about living under weight. The mountains were the empires rising on every side. Fathers could not protect sons. Brothers could not help brothers. The people turned to their Father in Heaven. "For You are our Father" (Isaiah 63:16).

God's answer was direct. "I cannot forget you" (Isaiah 49:15). The way a mother cannot forget a nursing child. The covenant with Jacob held because it did not depend on Esau's behavior. Esau's line had done what it did. The promise was not canceled by what his descendants destroyed.

First Out of the Womb, First in the Reckoning

Esau came out of the womb first. Red, covered in hair, named for what he looked like. Jacob came second, gripping the heel (Genesis 25:25). That birth order did not stay in the tent. It became the order of restoration.

God will deal with wicked Esau first, the one called "first" from the beginning. Then the Temple rises, "the throne of glory, exalted from the first" (Jeremiah 17:12). Then the king arrives at Zion, "the first to Zion, behold, they are here" (Isaiah 41:27). The brother who was given the sword for an inheritance still stands in the line of what comes after. His accounting comes first because he emerged first.

Under Edom's mountains, Israel waited for that first. The shared trouble Esau had offered was never sworn. The nations carried the vexations alone. The cry Esau had made when the blessing left him (Genesis 27:34) stayed in the record, loud and bitter, while the messengers' clean argument waited without an answer, and the firstborn waited at the end of the line he had opened with his own birth.

EsauJacobBlessingIsaacCovenant
← All myths

From the tradition

Sources

3 sources

The texts behind this telling. Some cards carry a translation of the source; others are our own retelling of it, and each card says which. Every card links out to the original.

Legends of the Jews 6:170Legends of the Jews

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Legends of the Jews by Louis Ginzberg (1909) · Public Domain

Legends of the Jews turns to Esau, Jacob's Transgression.

Jacob has received his father Isaac's blessing, a blessing that seemingly promises prosperity and dominion. And Esau? Well, he's not exactly thrilled. You can imagine the tension simmering between them.

Instead of just trading blows, they… talk. Esau sends messengers to Jacob, and what they say is pretty insightful. They challenge Jacob directly: "Why dost thou envy me in respect to the blessing wherewith my father blessed me? Is it that the sun shineth in my land, and not in thine? Or doth the dew and the rain fall only upon my land, and not upon thine?" for a second. Are the blessings really so unevenly distributed? Are they really in competition for a limited amount of divine favor?

The messengers continue, driving the point home. "If my father blessed me with the dew of heaven, he blessed thee with the fatness of the earth, and if he spoke to me, Peoples will serve thee, he hath said unto thee, By thy sword shalt thou live." In other words, we both got something! My blessing is different, not necessarily better.

And here's the kicker: "How long, then, wilt thou continue to envy me? Come, now, let us set up a covenant between us, that we will share equally all the vexations that may occur." Wow. Let's share the burdens too? That's a pretty mature proposal. A recognition that blessings and challenges often come as a package deal.

The idea of sharing "vexations" is particularly interesting. It suggests that even in times of prosperity, there will inevitably be difficulties. Everyone faces hardships, regardless of their perceived "blessings". Maybe, just maybe, the grass isn't always greener on the other side.

This little exchange between Jacob and Esau, relayed through messengers, is more than just sibling rivalry. It's a reflection on envy, on the nature of blessings, and on the importance of recognizing the value in what we do have, rather than fixating on what we lack.

How often do we fall into the trap of comparing ourselves to others, of envying their perceived advantages, without truly understanding the full picture? And more importantly, how can we shift our focus to appreciating our own unique blessings and, yes, even sharing the burdens with those around us? Perhaps, like Jacob and Esau, we can find a way to coexist, not in competition, but in covenant.

Full source
Midrash Tehillim 121:1Midrash Tehillim

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Rabbi Mike Feuer, Jerusalem Anthology · CC-BY

They wrestled with those feelings in their writings, seeking solace and understanding. to a passage from Midrash Tehillim, a collection of interpretations on the Book of Psalms, specifically Psalm 121. It’s a journey through hope, despair, and the unwavering promise of divine protection.

The Psalm begins, "A Song of Ascents. I lift my eyes to the mountains…" But what mountains are we talking about? Midrash Tehillim sees this as more than just a scenic view. It's about ascending to a spiritual level, one where we're free from the oppression of Esau, a symbolic representation of those who seek to harm Israel. The midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary) connects this ascent with the prophecy in (Obadiah 1:21): "And saviors shall go up to Mount Zion to judge the mountains of Esau."

So, it's a song of liberation, a promise of rising above adversity. But the path isn't easy.

This teaching paints a stark picture. Fathers can't protect sons, brothers can't help brothers. It’s a lonely, terrifying image. In that moment, the people of Israel turn to their Father in Heaven, echoing the words of (Isaiah 63:16): "For You are our Father, for Abraham did not know us…" They recognize that ultimately, their only true refuge is God.

And what does God say in return? A comforting, yet challenging, promise: "Let not your foot slip." It’s not just about physical safety, but spiritual resilience. It means that even when everyone else is falling into Gehenna, the rabbinic concept of hell, you – the righteous – will be secure. As (1 Samuel 2:9) says, "The steps of the righteous are guarded by God."

But here’s the thing: life throws curveballs. We face troubles, we doubt, we even dare to question. Asaph, in (Psalm 44:24), cries out, "Awake, why do You sleep, O Lord?" It's a raw, honest expression of feeling abandoned.

The midrash doesn’t shy away from this. It acknowledges the prophets' weeping, their pleas to a seemingly silent God. But even in those moments of doubt, there's a reminder of God's unwavering promise: "I cannot forget you," as (Isaiah 49:15) declares, "Can a woman forget her nursing child?"

The text then weaves in the importance of remembering Jerusalem, a constant thread throughout Jewish prayer and tradition. "If I forget you, O Jerusalem, let my right hand wither!" (Psalm 137:5). This isn't just about geography; it's about memory, about keeping the dream of redemption alive. It's why we mention Jerusalem in our prayers, in the grace after meals, and even at weddings, symbolized by the ashes placed on the heads of the bride and groom.

Then, the midrash takes a darker turn, focusing on the memory of Edom, often associated with Rome, and its role in the destruction of the Temple. Why Edom, when Babylon was the initial destroyer? Because, the midrash explains, it was prophesied that Edom would ultimately prevent the Temple's rebuilding. The text recounts a gruesome act of desecration, a vivid reminder of the pain and humiliation inflicted upon the Jewish people.

But here's where it gets interesting. God responds, not just with vengeance, but with a call to remember our own actions. "Remember what Amalek did to you," God says, referencing (Deuteronomy 25:17). We ask God to remember us, but we must also remember our own history, both the good and the bad.

The midrash uses the analogy of a sick king whose kingdom seems to disappear when he's unwell. Similarly, God's kingship seems diminished in exile. But when we emerge from exile, when we restore God's kingdom, then God's reign will be fully realized. "And saviors shall ascend Mount Zion to judge the mount of Esau, and the kingdom shall be the Lord's" (Obadiah 1:21).

The text concludes with a stark image of retribution: "Fortunate is he who seizes and dashes your children against the rock" (Psalm 137:9). It’s a disturbing verse, one that demands careful consideration. The midrash interprets this as a reflection of the violence inflicted upon the Jewish people, a mirroring of their suffering. It's not a call to action, but a statement of divine justice, a promise that those who inflict pain will ultimately face the consequences of their actions.

Midrash Tehillim 121 is a powerful exploration of faith, memory, and the enduring promise of redemption. We have a history to remember, a future to strive for, and a God who never forgets us. What does it mean for you to keep Jerusalem in your heart, and to strive for a world where justice prevails?

Full source
Vayikra Rabbah 30:16Vayikra Rabbah

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022 · CC-BY

It all hinges on a seemingly simple phrase.

It comes from Vayikra Rabbah 30, a fascinating section of the Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary). Midrash, by the way, is a method of interpreting scripture where rabbis fill in gaps in the biblical narrative and expound on hidden meanings. In this particular passage, Rabbi Berekhya, quoting Rabbi Levi, unpacks the significance of the words "you shall take for you on the first day." Now, what could be so special about that phrase?

Rabbi Berekhya says that because of this commandment, God promises to reveal Himself to you first. But it doesn’t stop there. This "firstness," this primacy, becomes a recurring theme, a golden thread woven through Jewish history and destiny. Who will God exact retribution from first? According to this Midrash, it will be the wicked Esau. Remember Esau? The hairy twin brother of Jacob, described in Genesis as "the first emerged." (Genesis 25:25) Esau, who represents the forces of wickedness and opposition to God's will. By dealing with Esau first, God clears the path for righteousness to flourish.

What will God build for you first? The Temple! "Throne of glory, exalted from the first, the place of our Temple," as we read in Jeremiah (17:12). The Temple, the Beit Hamikdash, the sacred center of Jewish life, the place where heaven and earth meet. It's not just any building; it's a symbol of God's presence dwelling among us, built first.

But wait, there’s more. What will God bring to you first? The Messianic King! The ultimate redeemer, the one who will usher in an era of peace and justice. Isaiah (41:27) proclaims, "The first to Zion, behold, they are here, and to Jerusalem I will provide a herald." The Messiah, arriving first to herald a new dawn.

So, what does it all mean? This passage from Vayikra Rabbah isn't just about being chronologically first. It's about being primordially first, first in God’s consideration, first in the order of redemption. It suggests that by embracing God's commandments, we become partners in bringing about this "firstness" in the world.

And perhaps, just perhaps, our actions today can help bring about that messianic "first" a little bit sooner.

Full source