Two Sons, One Blind Spot
When my kids were young, acting out Parshat Toldot was one of our favorites: Yitzhak is old and blind, Esav is supposed to be blessed, Yakov dresses up as Esav and tricks his father into receiving the blessing, and right as he steals away, Esav enters, leaving his father to discover the depths of deceit. The drama was palpable, the lesson – unforgettable, and the moral shone through: Yakov was supposed to get a blessing, and he received it, despite all indicators to the contrary.
As an adult, I often wondered about Esav: did he deserve to be tricked? Was he so wicked that he did not merit being told to his face that the blessing is not his to possess? And what about Yitzhak: was he so blind that he could not distinguish one of his beloved and long-awaited children from another? The seemingly straightforward and slapstick deceit took on sinister undertones of a family dynamic unraveling before my eyes.
According to R. Hirsh (25:24), Yakov and Esav were identical twins. While he is not using the exact phrase, R. Hirsh hints that their distinct appearance (well-developed and red vs. small and smooth) was most likely due to twin-to-twin transfusion syndrome (TTTS). This topic has been explored both from the parshanut point of view here and from the medical point of view here and here. What I wonder about is what is gained by having these identical twins appear to be so different, both in external characteristics and in their internal worlds. Esav is described as a man of physicality and nature, while Yakov is a simple (simplistic?) tent dweller. Esav is hairy: he is born hairy, and his hairy appearance continues throughout his life, up to the point when Yitzhak feels up his arms as a means of identifying him. Yakov is smooth, and there is no world in which he can take the place of his older, bigger, and hairier brother.
However, I would like to examine the birth and life of the twins from the perspective of the formation and development of a family and nation, a process that started with Avraham quite a few chapters back. Avraham and his life can be described as shedding, parting and distancing himself from others. He leaves his birthplace of Ur Kasdim, he leaves his father Terach in Aram Naharaim, he sheds the souls that originally followed him and Sarah from Charan. Avraham parts ways with Lot, and with Hagar, his concubine, twice. Avraham even casts out his own son Ishmael. He is truly אברהם העברי, Avraham the Crosser, a person who walks away. His final act of “crossing over” is the עקדת יצחק, the binding of Yitzhak, where Avraham demonstrates his devotion to G-d. But he and Yitzhak never engage in a conversation again, presumably as a result of the profound effects of this experience.
This is the household where Yitzhak grows up. When it is his time to father a son, and the long-awaited child ends up being twins, it is clear to Yitzhak that, just like his father Avraham, he needs to choose one and walk away from another. Yet there is a wrinkle in the plan: the twins that are born are identical. Depending on Yitzhak’s perspective, he can see his boys either as two distinct individuals, equally deserving of parental love, affection, support and blessing, or as two diametrically opposite forces. From the text (25:28), it is clear that Yitzhak favors the second approach: he chooses Esav. In contrast to Esav, Yakov is everything that Esav is not: where Esav is strong, Yakov is weak, where Esav is fully formed, Yakov is still developing, where Esav is worldly, Yakov is a timid individual, sheltered by the parental tent.
Into this world enters Rivkah, the mother of twins. She intuits that she is now part of the family where complexity is not allowed, and everything is dealt with in absolutes. In light of Yitzhak’s preference for Esav, Rivkah has no choice but to favor Yakov.
In light of these interactions, the chapter describing the dramatic switch by the brothers in order to get parental blessing takes on new meaning. It is hard to ignore that Yitzhak’s blindness is not simply a physical condition, but also reflects his inability to perceive his own two identical children as equally deserving. Yitzhak’s desire to bless Esav can be seen as the ultimate sealing of his fate as the heir apparent. Yet Rivkah does not concede. Her dialogue with Yakov revolves around imitating Esav: dressing like him, making food like him, using the same speech and intonations. However, once we realize that the twins were identical, all that Rivkah asks of Yakov is to play the simplest and most obvious game that all identical twins play: to approach Yitzhak as his brother, get treated in the same way as Esav would be treated, and open Yitzhak’s eyes to the fact that the differences between both of his sons are miniscule.
In a way, Rivkah’s ploy backfires spectacularly: Yitzhak does not recognize his own son, even when he is actively exaggerating and imitating his brother’s mannerisms. The blessing is bestowed upon a bewildered Yakov, who is now forever distinguished from Esav. In the next scene, as Esav enters his father’s presence, Yitzhak is unable to change course and admit that this one, too, should be blessed equally. The choice has been made, only one son can be a favorite, and only that one child can carry on parental legacy.
Based on the model of Avraham, Esav should be cast out from the parental house. Yet Rivkah once again intervenes. Under the ruse of needing to get Yakov married, she suggests sending him far away to Charan. Yitzhak readily agrees, because this allows him to save face, and continue living in blindness next to Esav, thinking that this is the most distinct and extraordinary of his children.
Twins are known to share a special bond, and are closer than an average pair of siblings. When Yakov goes to Charan, the bond is broken forever. I wonder whether the Torah’s insistence of Yitzhak having twins was the original attempt at nation-building. Perhaps this was Yitzhak’s test, and he did not pass it.
