Parshat Toldot6 min read

Isaac Stayed in the Land and Changed His Enemies' Minds

Famine opened the road to Egypt. Isaac packed. In the night a voice forbade the Nile and sent him into Philistine ground instead.

Curated by Arthur · Told by Maggid ·
Table of Contents
  1. The Egypt Road Closes
  2. A Hundredfold That Made a King Afraid
  3. Wells Filled With Sand
  4. Abimelech Came Because He Felt It
  5. He Sowed the Yield to the Poor
Isaac Stayed in the Land and Changed His Enemies' Minds Click for full size

The Egypt Road Closes

Isaac had the Egypt road in his mouth when the dream cut it off. Famine had opened that road for his father before him. Pack animals stood ready. Rebecca waited for the nod south. Then God appeared in the night and forbade the Nile.

"Go not down into Egypt. Dwell in the land that I shall tell thee of. Sojourn in this land, and I shall be with thee and bless thee." Gerar, then. The king of the Philistines. Walk into the territory of people who may not want you. Trust that the covenant travels with you.

Isaac obeyed. He settled in Gerar. He introduced Rebecca as his sister, because her face was a danger he could measure and Egypt was a danger he had been barred from. For three months the lie held. Then Abimelech looked out a window and saw Isaac sporting with her, husband and wife in a king's line of sight. The king confronted him. One of my people could have taken her, he said, and you would have brought guilt on us. Isaac said he had feared for his life. Abimelech dressed them in royal garments and paraded them through the city with a cry that this man and this woman were not to be touched.

A Hundredfold That Made a King Afraid

Isaac sowed in that land. The soil was poor. The year was unkind. The yield came back a hundredfold anyway. He grew large enough that Abimelech noticed and asked him to leave, not from a simple quarrel, but from something closer to fear. The man who had been commanded to stay had grown too large for the space he occupied.

Philistines muttered in the gate that they would rather have the dung from Isaac's she-mules than Abimelech's gold and silver. Envy has a joke and a knife in the same sentence. Faces began to turn away from him in the street. He moved.

He did not take the Egypt road even then. Abraham's son stayed in the land he had been told to sojourn in, and everyone else around him seemed to want him gone.

Wells Filled With Sand

He dug wells his father had opened, and new ones besides. The Philistines filled them with sand. He dug more. They claimed those too, calling the water theirs. Isaac named each well for what had happened to it: Esek, contention. Sitnah, enmity. He did not fight for them. He moved on. The water was real. The quarrel was cheaper than blood, and he would not buy it.

A sojourner can win a well and lose the land. Isaac chose the land. He left sand in other men's mouths and walked until the next digging, and the next, until a well finally kept his name without a fist around it.

The Philistines had turned their faces from him. He had turned his back on their sand. Neither gesture was peace. Peace still had to walk toward him from a king who had already asked him to leave.

Abimelech Came Because He Felt It

Then Abimelech came. His officials came with him. Isaac's question was direct.

"Why are you coming to me now, seeing that you hate me?"

"We saw plainly that the Lord was with you." The Shechinah (שכינה), the divine presence, had been visible to them. They had felt it, and they came to make peace with the man who carried it. They wanted the old covenant with Abraham renewed, a promise that Isaac would not harm them, "as we also did not touch thee."

They took credit for restraint. Isaac heard the boast inside the courtesy. A wicked mouth is proud of the harm it did not do. He still swore the peace. They had not come to negotiate from strength. They had come because a presence they could not account for had made the negotiation necessary. Enemies' minds can change without a battle when the thing they fear is not a sword.

He Sowed the Yield to the Poor

After the settlement Abimelech offered him prime fields and vineyards. Isaac accepted and immediately tithed everything, a tenth to the poor of Gerar. He did not wait for a law commanding it. He did not wait for precedent. He acted as if abundance had an obvious first address.

He had been born in the third month, in the middle of the month, on the Festival of First Fruits, the day the year's first yield is brought to God. The promised child arrived on the day devoted to first offerings. He spent his life enacting the logic of that birthday: offering first, receiving afterward. Some said he did not sow corn at all. He sowed his wealth in charity to the needy, and for everything he tithed, the land gave a hundredfold back, even on poor soil, even in a bad year.

Abraham had left Mesopotamia. Jacob would leave, wrestle, and father nations on the road. Isaac stayed. He dug. He gave. He watched a king come to him because a Presence the king could not name had made peace necessary. The son who stayed when everyone else left did not win by battle. He changed his enemies' minds by remaining where he had been told to remain, until even the men who filled his wells with sand had to admit they had felt God in the room.

IsaacPatriarchsFaithCovenantPhilistinesGerarBeershebaFamineMemraBlessingGenesis
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From the tradition

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7 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.

Book of Jubilees 16:19Book of Jubilees

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sefaria Community Translation · CC-BY

The familiar reading treats the stories of the Torah, of the Hebrew Bible, as one continuous flow, but sometimes pausing to consider when things happened adds a whole new layer of meaning.

Take Abraham and Sarah, for example. We know their story: the long wait, the divine promise, and finally, the birth of Isaac. But the Book of Jubilees, a fascinating Jewish text from around the 2nd century BCE, gives us a much more precise timeline.

It tells us that Abraham, after leaving a certain place, settled at the "Well of the Oath" in the middle of the fifth month. Now, which month exactly isn't explicitly stated, but considering the context and the lunar calendar used in ancient times, it's likely referring to the fifth month after Nissan, the month of Passover.

Then, in the middle of the sixth month, something incredible happened: "the Lord visited Sarah and did unto her as He had spoken." Sarah conceived! After years of barrenness, she was finally going to have a child. What a moment!

But the Book of Jubilees doesn't stop there. It goes on to pinpoint the exact time of Isaac's birth. It wasn’t just any day; it was "in the third month, and in the middle of the month." Again, counting from Nissan, this would be the month of Sivan. More specifically, it was "on the festival of the first-fruits of the harvest." Isaac, the child of promise, was born on Shavuot, the very festival celebrating the giving of the Torah, the first fruits of the harvest season. A sign that this birth, this child, was deeply intertwined with God's covenant and the future of the Jewish people. The text explicitly tells us this was "at the time of which the Lord had spoken to Abraham."

And what about the brit milah, the ritual circumcision? The Book of Jubilees makes it clear: Abraham circumcised Isaac on the eighth day, as commanded. And it adds this powerful statement: "he was the first that was circumcised according to the covenant which is ordained for ever." It emphasizes the significance of this act as the beginning of a lasting tradition, a physical manifestation of the covenant between God and Abraham's descendants.

So, what does all this tell us? The Book of Jubilees isn't just giving us dates on a calendar. It's weaving a tradition of meaning, connecting events in time to deepen our understanding of God's plan and the significance of pivotal moments in our history.

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Jasher 28Book of Jasher

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.The Book of Jasher, J. H. Parry edition (1887) · Public Domain

Chapter 28 opens with a famine, a stark reminder of the challenges faced by our ancestors. Just as his father Abraham had done before him, Isaac considers going down to Egypt for relief. But then, God appears to him in a dream, instructing him not to go to Egypt but to go to Gerar, to Abimelech, the king of the Philistines.

So, Isaac obeys and settles in Gerar for a year. But trouble arises! Rebecca, his wife, is strikingly beautiful. The locals notice, and Isaac, fearing for his life, tells them she is his sister. It mirrors a similar story with Abraham and Sarah.

The princes of Abimelech are captivated by Rebecca and praise her to the king, though he initially ignores them. However, he does overhear that Isaac claims Rebecca is his sister, and he keeps this information to himself.

After three months, Abimelech happens to look out the window and sees Isaac “sporting” with Rebecca. The text doesn't spell out what that means, but it's clear enough that Abimelech realizes they are actually husband and wife.

He confronts Isaac, saying, "What is this you have done to us? One of my people could have easily slept with her, and you would have brought guilt upon us!" Isaac, in his defense, says he feared for his life.

Abimelech, realizing the potential danger, orders that Isaac and Rebecca be dressed in royal garments and paraded through the city, with a proclamation: "This is the man and this is his wife; whoever touches this man or his wife shall surely die." Talk about a public service announcement!

The Book of Jasher tells us that God was with Isaac. Abimelech, remembering the covenant between his father and Abraham, treats Isaac well, giving him land and resources until the famine ends. Isaac prospers, sowing the land and reaping a hundredfold harvest – a clear sign of God’s blessing.

When the famine is over, God tells Isaac to return to the land of Canaan, which he does, settling in Hebron.

The narrative then shifts to other events. We learn of the death of Shelach, son of Arpachshad. And importantly, Isaac sends his younger son, Jacob, to the house of Shem and Eber for 32 years to learn the ways of God. Esau, however, refuses to go, remaining in his father's house. The contrast between the brothers is already being drawn.

We’re told Esau is a hunter, “a designing and deceitful man,” skilled at manipulating people. He goes to the land of Seir, where he marries Jehudith, the daughter of a Canaanite man.

The chapter also notes the death of Shem, son of Noah, at the age of 600. After Shem’s death, Jacob returns to his father in Hebron.

Finally, we hear that Laban, Rebecca's brother, who had been childless, is blessed with twin daughters, Leah and Rachel. This news brings great joy to Rebecca.

It's a story of divine protection, the consequences of deception, and the unfolding destinies of Jacob and Esau. It shows us how the blessings of the past, like the covenant between Abraham and Abimelech, can continue to shape the future.

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Legends of the Jews 6:41Legends 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

Our story takes us back to Isaac, the son of Abraham, and a rather awkward encounter with Abimelech, king of the Philistines. Abimelech, was feeling a little… guilty? Anxious? Perhaps a little of both. So, he gathers his posse, including his kingdom's administrator, and heads over to Isaac's place, seeking to mend fences.

"We have convinced ourselves," Abimelech says, "that the Shekinah (the Divine Presence) is with thee." The Shekinah, that divine presence, the palpable sense of God's nearness. They felt it with Isaac. And because of that, they wanted to renew the covenant that Abraham had made with them, a promise of peace, a guarantee that Isaac wouldn't harm them, "as we also did not touch thee."

Isaac agrees, thankfully.

Here's where it gets interesting. Notice that little phrase: "as we also did not touch thee. Like they're expecting a medal for simply not being horrible.

Ginzberg, in his Legends of the Jews, points out that this little statement is incredibly telling about the Philistines' character. They take credit for not harming Isaac. It reveals a hidden desire, a suppressed urge to inflict pain. As (Proverbs 21:10) says, "the soul of the wicked desireth evil."

It's as if they're saying, "Look how good we are! We could have been awful, but we chose not to be!" The implication, of course, is that they wanted to cause harm. They're proud of their restraint. What do they think is virtuous? What do they expect praise for?

What does this tell us? Perhaps that true righteousness isn't just about not doing bad things, but about actively wanting good things for others. It's not enough to simply refrain from causing harm; we should strive to create good, to build bridges, to uplift those around us. Because, as this little story reminds us, sometimes the absence of evil isn't the same as the presence of good. And sometimes, the things we're most proud of not doing reveal more about ourselves than we'd like to admit.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 36:21Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, trans. Rabbi Gerald Friedlander, London (1916) · CC-BY

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer turns to Isaac and the Philistines Battle Over Abraham's Wells.

We find the story in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer (Chapter 36), a fascinating text that retells and expands upon biblical narratives. Isaac is living as a sojourner in Philistine territory, and he notices something unsettling: the locals are pointedly turning their faces away from him. Avoiding eye contact. Giving him the silent treatment.

So, Isaac, being the patriarch he is, decides to leave. To remove himself from the awkwardness. But Abimelech, the Philistine king, and his entourage come chasing after him.

Isaac confronts them. "Why are you coming to me now," he asks, pretty directly, "seeing that you hate me?" (Genesis 26:27). It's a fair question. Their response? "We saw plainly that the Lord was with thee" (Genesis 26:28). In other words, "We see you're blessed, and we're a little nervous about it."

They continue, essentially admitting they know that, eventually, God will give these lands to Isaac's descendants. And here's the kicker: they want a covenant. A deal. They want Isaac to swear that his descendants won't take possession of Philistine land. They're trying to protect their own future.

So, Isaac makes a covenant with them. But how do you seal such an important agreement in those days? With a handshake? A signed document? Think bigger...or, in this case, smaller.

Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer tells us that Isaac took a cubit – roughly the length from your elbow to your fingertips – of the bridle from his donkey and gave it to them. A piece of donkey bridle as a symbol of this binding oath!

Why a piece of bridle? Was it simply what he had on hand? Or was there a deeper symbolic meaning? The text doesn't explicitly say. But we can imagine it as a constant reminder. A tangible representation of the promise made. A small, everyday item carrying the weight of a significant agreement.

What seemingly insignificant objects carry the weight of our promises, our agreements, our history? And what happens when those symbols are broken or forgotten?

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Legends of the Jews 6:37Legends 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

The roots go way back, further than it first appears, to the patriarch Isaac himself.

In Ginzberg's retelling in, Legends of the Jews, after Isaac's interactions with King Abimelech, he was invited to settle in the king's lands. Abimelech offered him prime fields and vineyards. But Isaac wasn't just looking to enrich himself. He understood the importance of sharing his blessings. He took a tenth, a tithe, of everything he earned and gave it to the poor of Gerar.

So, Isaac, the son of Abraham, was actually the first to institute the law of tithing for the poor, just as his father, Abraham, had been the first to separate a portion of his wealth for the priests. These weren't just random acts of kindness; they were establishing principles that would resonate for generations.

How was Isaac rewarded for his generosity? Abundantly. The land yielded a hundredfold more than expected, even though the soil was poor and the year was unfavorable. He grew so rich that people quipped they'd rather have "the dung from Isaac's she-mules than Abimelech's gold and silver!" Can you imagine that level of prosperity?

But, as often happens, success breeds envy. The Philistines, seeing Isaac's wealth, became jealous. That human tendency to begrudge others their good fortune. It's "characteristic of the wicked that they begrudge their fellow-men the good, and rejoice when they see evil descend upon them."

Envy, of course, doesn't stay put. It festers and grows into hatred. So, the Philistines, consumed by their enmity, took a terrible step. They stopped up the wells that Abraham's servants had dug long ago. These wells weren't just sources of water; they were symbols of a covenant, a promise. By destroying them, the Philistines broke their agreement with Abraham.

And, as the story continues, this act of faithlessness would eventually lead to their own downfall at the hands of the Israelites. As Legends of the Jews points out, they "have only themselves to blame if they were exterminated later on by the Israelites."

It's not just about wealth and prosperity. It’s about the importance of generosity, the dangers of envy, and the consequences of breaking promises. And it all started with Isaac, tithing his way into legend.

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Book of Jubilees 24:15Book of Jubilees

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Sefaria Community Translation · CC-BY

Isaac, son of Abraham, certainly knew that feeling. Our story picks up with him journeying towards Gerar, a Philistine territory, seeking refuge with King Abimelech. (Jubilees 24).

Why Gerar? Why not Egypt, the land of plenty?

Well, let's just say the Divine had other plans.

As we read in the Book of Jubilees, the Kadosh Baruch Hu, the Holy One Blessed be He, appeared to Isaac with a clear message: "Go not down into Egypt; dwell in the land that I shall tell thee of." A direct line from the Almighty. No room for misinterpretation.

"Sojourn in this land," the voice continued, "and I shall be with thee and bless thee." (Jubilees 24).

Simple. Stay put, and blessings will follow. But here's where it gets even more profound.

God then reiterates the covenant, the sacred agreement, initially made with Abraham. "For to thee and to thy seed shall I give all this land, and I shall establish My oath which I sware unto Abraham thy father." (Jubilees 24).

It’s like a promise being reaffirmed, a legacy being cemented. It’s not just about Isaac; it’s about generations to come.

And what a promise it is! "I shall multiply thy seed as the stars of heaven, and shall give unto thy seed all this land." (Jubilees 24). Can you even imagine? A multitude as vast as the stars, inheriting a land promised by the Divine.

But the blessing doesn't stop there. It extends to the entire world! "And in thy seed will all the nations of the earth be blessed." (Jubilees 24). Through Isaac's descendants, a universal blessing would flow.

So, what are we to make of this encounter? It's more than just a geographical instruction. It's a powerful reminder that sometimes, the greatest blessings come when we stay true to our path, when we heed the Divine guidance, even when the easier, more obvious route beckons. It's a story about faith, inheritance, and the enduring power of a promise that echoes through generations.

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Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer 33:1Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer

Retold in our words. Read the original at the link below.Pirke de Rabbi Eliezer, trans. Rabbi Gerald Friedlander, London (1916) · CC-BY

It all starts with the story of Isaac, and a verse from (Genesis 26:12): "And Isaac sowed in that land."

What did Isaac sow? Grain? Rabbi Eliezer, in Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, stops us right there. "Did Isaac sow the seed of corn? Heaven forbid!" It's a rhetorical question, a way of saying, "There's something much deeper going on here."

In this Midrash (rabbinic interpretive commentary), Isaac didn't just scatter seeds in the ground. Instead, he took his entire wealth and "sowed it in charity to the needy." He invested in tzedakah, in righteous giving. This act of generosity, this radical act of trust, is what truly bore fruit. He gave it all away.

The text then connects this act to a verse from (Hosea 10:12): "Sow to yourselves in righteousness, reap according to love." It’s not just about giving; it's about investing in a system of righteousness, of compassion.

And the result? For everything Isaac tithed, God returned one hundredfold in blessings. "And he found in the same year an hundredfold: and the Lord blessed him" (Gen. 26:12). The blessing wasn't just material; it was manifold, encompassing all kinds of good things.

So, what's the takeaway?

It's a powerful message about the true nature of prosperity. It suggests that wealth isn't just about accumulating possessions. It’s about circulating goodness, about investing in the well-being of others. Isaac's act wasn't just charity; it was a spiritual investment, a recognition that true abundance comes from a source beyond ourselves.

Could it be that our own acts of generosity, no matter how small, are seeds that we are sowing for a future harvest? Perhaps the key to unlocking true abundance lies not in what we hold onto, but in what we are willing to give away.

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