We are a nation existing in the shadow of trauma. The events of this past year have shaken us to the core, leaving scars and wounds that may never fully heal. But trauma isn’t new to Israel’s story. It’s woven into our history—and into this week’s parsha.
Yitzchaks household lived in the shadow of trauma. Up on a mountain with his protector, his beloved father, a knife lingering over his neck, Yitzchak never really returns. How does this affect those around him? What does it mean to be a ‘survivor’? for the victim, for his children, for his spouse. The question that haunts the family of Yitzhak is “למה זה אנוכי” – literally translated as “why am I being/existing”? or “what is the purpose of my existence”. This phrase is asked by Rivka and echoed also by Eisav. It is the question that pervades Yitzchak’s narratives and dialogues. In other words, much of what we learn about Yitzchak’s household is a response to an existential crisis- to questions of value and purpose.
Eisav’s response reflects a hedonistic, impulsive worldview, devoid of long-term vision: הנה אנוכי הולך למות ולמה זה לי בכרה?"Behold, I am going to die; what use is this birthright to me?" (Genesis 25:31). As a hunter, Eisav lives in the immediacy of the moment, accustomed to raw, ready, and immediate rewards. The concept of time, process, or delayed gratification is alien to him—an anomaly in a life driven by instant fulfillment.
Yitzchak’s response is saturated with complexity- a survival instinct as well as a stoic disposition that nurtured virtue and self-control. Following his father’s journey, re-digging his father wells, he was faithful to what his father started but he was also conflicted, traumatised and searching for peace.
What of Rivka? She too asks ‘למה זה אנוכי’ (25:22), she too feels the angst allied to existence. Her response I believe is one that has impactful message for us in our current historical moment. She seeks out God who responds with a telling message, that she has within her two boys and that the ‘older will be subservient to the younger’:
שְׁנֵי גֹיִים בְּבִטְנֵךְ, וּשְׁנֵי לְאֻמִּים, מִמֵּעַיִךְ יִפָּרֵדוּ; וּלְאֹם מִלְאֹם יֶאֱמָץ, וְרַב יַעֲבֹד צָעִיר
'Two nations are in your womb, Two peoples from your loins shall issue.
And one people over the other people shall be stronger (or shall prevail)
And the elder shall serve the younger (or the elder, the younger shall serve).'
Grammatically it is unclear which of the two boys will be subservient to whom – the commentaries affirm the elusiveness of the prophecy. The ambiguity is to my mind its essence; Gods message provides Rivka was an answer, but not the answer we expect. In a moment of total existential chaos and uncertainty, Rivka turns to God, searching for order and harmony. Instead God responds not by removing the conflict, but by bestowing on her agency. As an interpreter of her own reality, rather than a passive bystander, she wins back purpose. In other words, she must watch these boys carefully, she must use her own sense of perception and judgment to determine how to act in order for the prophecy to come true. Redemption through Divine fiat can initially be comforting but in the end it stultifies - passivity in the long run, fosters angst and despair. Through His response, God challenges Rivka to move beyond her personal experience, urging her to see a larger, more expansive picture. He shifts her focus from the immediate present to the unfolding future, from individual concerns to a national destiny. While one response to the 'problem of nothingness' - as witnessed in Eisav - can be a desire for immediacy and instant gratification (perhaps a reason Yitzchak identified with Eisav's hunting occupation), God imparts to Rivka a profound lesson in patience and the transformative power of time. Rivka faces her existential crisis by reclaiming agency and purpose. In the words of Friedrich Nietzsche "He who has a why to live can bear almost any how." Part of the Jewish legacy is the notion of covenant – that we work with God to redeem not only the world, but our own small taste of existence. This is what God teaches Rivka this week. It is the Divine response to the question of existence.
Yitzchak, in his own way, being the victim of trauma also has what to teach us. Elie Wiesel asks ‘why was the most tragic of our ancestors names Isaac, a name which evokes and signifies laughter?’ Here is why. As the first survivor. He had to teach us the future survivors of Jewish history, that it is possible to suffer and despair an entire lifetime and still not give up the art of laughter.’
Yitzchak life was no laughing matter. He clearly suffers, he clearly questions his own worth and existence. He flees confrontation, (not wanting to argue with the shepherds of Gerar, he moves from place to place re-digging wells), and lacks resolve. Only once does he take initiative – when he names one of the wells ‘rechovot’ – widening “because now God has widened the space for us and made us fruitful in the land”. Living with trauma means carrying the indelible marks of suffering, where pain can overshadow the ability to see beyond the narrow confines of despair. Yet, the journey to transcend those confines—to perceive divinity, embrace blessing, and rediscover the broader spaces of life and love—is one of profound heroism. Yitzchak's ability to navigate this journey, to create space for gratitude amidst his tribulations, becomes a testament to his resilience. In turn, in the very next verse, God responds to this openness by revealing Himself, reaffirming the covenant, and renewing the promise of fidelity and hope. Rabbi Sacks zt’l expresses it beautifully when he says:
“Perhaps the name – given to him by God Himself before Isaac was born – means what the Psalm means when it says, “Those who sow in tears will reap with joy” (Ps. 126:5). Faith means the courage to persist through all the setbacks, all the grief, never giving up, never accepting defeat. For in the end, despite the opposition, the envy and the hate, lies the broad spaces, Reĥovot, and the laughter Yitzchak: the serenity of the destination after the storms along the way.”
May we all have the courage to follow in the path of Yitzchak and Rivka, today more than ever.
Shabbat shalom
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