The text opens with a discussion about "messengers" (malakhim). Were they ordinary people, or something more? Some Rabbis suggest they were actual angels! Think about that for a moment. It blurs the lines between the mundane and the miraculous.
Rabbi Ḥama bar Ḥanina uses the example of Hagar, Sarah's maidservant (Genesis 16:7-12). If she was visited by five angels, imagine the angelic entourage someone truly beloved would receive! He then extends the argument: If Eliezer, Abraham's servant (Genesis 24:7), warranted angelic escorts, how much more so Abraham himself? It's a beautiful application of kal v'chomer – a rabbinic principle of reasoning "from the light to the heavy," arguing that if something applies in a lesser case, it certainly applies in a greater one.
Rabbi Yosei brings Joseph into the mix. Remember the story of Joseph searching for his brothers (Genesis 37:15-17)? A "man" appears and guides him. Rabbi Yosei interprets this unidentified man as an angel! "A man found him," "The man asked him," "The man said to him" - these encounters, according to Rabbi Yosei, were orchestrated by divine messengers. And if Joseph, the youngest of the tribes, received such assistance, wouldn't Jacob, the father of them all, deserve even more?
Then, the passage shifts to Jacob's encounter with Esau. Jacob sends messengers "before him," and the text interprets this "before him" as referring to someone whose time to assume kingship was before his own (Genesis 36:31). Rabbi Yehoshua offers a powerful image: Jacob removing his royal purple garment and casting it before Esau, declaring, "Two starlings cannot sleep on one board." In other words, their kingdoms cannot overlap. It's a stark acknowledgement of power dynamics and the potential for conflict.
Even in addressing Esau, there's a recognition: "To Esau his brother" – even though he is Esau, he is still his brother. This tiny phrase carries the weight of familial connection, despite their differences and history.
The final part of the passage delves into the symbolism of the land of Se’ir, the field of Edom, connecting it to the color red. "He is ruddy," the text declares, referencing Esau's birth (Genesis 25:25). "His cooked food is red," recalling the famous lentil stew incident (Genesis 25:30). "His land is red," linking Edom to the Hebrew word adom, meaning red. Even "his mighty are red," referencing Nahum 2:4 ("mighty ones are colored scarlet").
And the passage doesn't stop there. It foreshadows a "red one" who will exact retribution from Esau in red garments, citing Song of Songs 5:10 ("my beloved is clear and ruddy [adom]") and Isaiah 63:2 ("why is there red on your garments?"). This paints a vivid picture of future conflict and divine justice, all tied to the color red.
So, what does it all mean? This passage from Bereshit Rabbah invites us to consider the unseen forces at play in our lives. Are we surrounded by messengers, both human and angelic, guiding us on our paths? Does the symbolism we ascribe to things – like the color red – hold deeper meaning, connecting us to historical narratives and prophetic visions? It's a reminder that even the most familiar stories can hold layers of hidden wisdom, waiting to be uncovered.