In this week’s Torah portion, Toldot, we learn about how Esau sells his birthright as Isaac’s oldest child to his brother, Jacob. The conversation between the two is fraught with uncertainty and lack of clarity. In fact, the conversation makes no sense on both sides.
Esau returns from his hunting, and he’s famished. Jacob is cooking some red lentil stew. Esau says, “Give me some of that red stuff, because I’m faint.”
Esau really doesn’t ask for some of the food. He demands. The conversation seems to have started badly.
Jacob replies, “First sell me your birthright.”
This is really strange. If your sibling came to you and said he or she was so hungry that he or she was faint, wouldn’t you give him or her some food? Even if you didn’t like your sibling, who is that inhumane to say no If anyone you knew approached you and said he or she was that hungry, and you had food in front of you, what would possibly motivate you to say no? Who does that? Apparently, Jacob does.
And the price Jacob demand is Esau’s birthright. I have no doubt that Jacob was an excellent cook, but that’s an incredibly high price for a bowl of vegetable stew. It’s unconscionably high. It’s “a million bucks for a hotdog” high. But, that’s what Jacob does. And when you throw in how hungry Esau claims to be, it looks like Jacob is taking far too much advantage of this situation.
But Esau acts just as strangely. He doesn’t say Jacob is being mean and unreasonable. He doesn’t bargain. He doesn’t go into the house for something else to eat. Instead, he says, “Behold, I am about to die. So how will my birthright help me?”
There are two significant problems with this statement. Esau basically says he’s starving. If this literally were true, it’s doubtful he would have the strength to have this conversation. But, if this were not true, it doesn’t make sense that he would sell his birthright for a bowl of stew. And this raises the second problem. Esau says that because he is dying, his birthright is worthless to him. But Esau knows that the birthright is worth something to Jacob. Knowing this, would Esau practically give it away for a simple bowl of stew? Many of the Sages say that this merely demonstrates how little Esau valued the birthright. But bargaining only partly involves how you value something. It is just as much about the value the other party places on the item being haggled over, and anyone who has done any sort of negotiating knows this.
I think the resolution to these problems lies in understanding the conversation in a different way. This discussion really isn’t about Esau’s hunger or the value of a bowl of stew. It’s about the roles Esau and Jacob foresee for their lives, and what they each want for their future. Esau doesn’t want to take the mantle of leadership and carry the weight of the Jewish people upon his shoulders. He sees a different destiny for himself. Jacob craves that role, so much so that he later will deceive his beloved father to get it. Esau has something he doesn’t want, but Jacob desires with all his heart.
But Esau and Jacob can’t simply speak openly and honestly about this dilemma. Perhaps their respective pride is in the way. Perhaps they cannot go against their father’s wishes, or they don’t want to disappoint him. Perhaps society’s rules won’t allow them to come to an overt agreement to simply give the birthright to Jacob. Instead, they contrive this blatantly flawed and nonsensical deal, listening closely to each other and hearing what the other is saying, even if each cannot say it overtly.
The exchange might really be something like this:
Esau: I have been given this role I don’t want because I was born first. It’s making me crazy.
Jacob: I want the role you have been given. I will gladly take the burden.
Esau: Take it. If I were forced to take this role, it would kill me by trapping me in a future I don’t want.
In this light, Jacob and Esau are not adversaries in the traditional sense. They have listened to each other, and have found a way to make themselves and each other happy. In a way, they are partners. The rest of the events in the next chapter where Esau mourns the loss of his birthright and threatens to kill Jacob become a mere playing out of the expected roles that Isaac and society expects.
When we have conversations with each other, how much do we really listen and try to understand what the other desires. Do we try to ascertain the subtext of that is being said? Do we ask questions to gather information, or do we merely make assumptions about what the other is thinking and feeling. Perhaps Jacob and Esau, and the Torah as a whole, are teaching us to listen to each other a little harder, refrain from drawing unwarranted and unproven conclusions about what the other really wants, and strive even further to see the truth and find ways to live in peace.