Toldot
Genesis 25:19-28:9
Malachi 1:1-2:7
Our parshah this week is bracketed by poignant statements from Rebekah. You may remember that she is the first woman to speak her mind in the Torah. In the last chapter, she has little to say, but it is what you might expect from a young woman in her situation: After fulfilling the prophecy and watering Abraham’s camels, she identifies herself as the daughter of Bethuel, indicates her willingness to leave her father’s house (“And she said, ‘I will,’ ”), and then inquires about Isaac, whom she sees from afar: “Who is that man walking in the field toward us?”
Other than her kindness to the camels and the servant, her rapid descent from the camel upon seeing him, and her forthrightness in her desire to leave immediately, we have few clues as to the powerful shaper of events she is to become as a mother.
Pointedly, the parshah opens with the struggle to fulfill the covenant — Abraham’s “preferred” son must be sure of the succession. We have no idea how long Rebekah and Isaac have been married, but long enough to see that children are not so easily forthcoming; Isaac pleaded with the Lord on behalf of his wife, because she was barren, and the Lord responded to his plea, and his wife Rebekah conceived.
Here come the first of Rebekah’s questions: The children struggle in her womb, and she says, “If so, why do I exist?” We know what happens — she has the twins, favors one, Isaac favors the other, and they are as different as can be (harking back to Cain and Abel). Through Rebekah’s assistance and the relationship between the brothers, Jacob becomes the real progenitor of the Israelites.
Let us pause though at her exclamation — she is in so much trouble with the pregnancy that she feels her life is meaningless. Her marriage was easy — a simple “I will,” and she is taken to a new home and loved. We even know that she and Isaac displayed affection in public, so there was obviously much warmth between them. But it is Isaac who prays for children — does Rebekah not want them? Her family of origin is a little dicey — was she hoping to prevent such an occurrence among her own offspring? Note that these are the only children she and Isaac have — was the strife between Jacob and Esau a warning, or did she return to her barrenness after delivery?
Her next exclamation of despair is seemingly over Esau’s choice of wives — Judith, daughter of Beeri the Hittite, and Basemath, daughter of Elon the Hittite. Rebekah says to Isaac, “I am disgusted with my life because of the Hittite women. If Jacob marries a Hittite woman like these … what good will life be to me?”
The rabbis remind us that Leah was intended for Esau. This may feel to Rebekah like one more betrayal of the way things ought to be, and she breaks down in despair.
I think there may be something deeper going on here for Rebekah. She does not want only to be the vessel — she wants an active role in the formation of this new people. Her despair leads her to action: Following in the wake of Jacob’s “purchase” of Esau’s birthright, she arranges for a radical break and sends Jacob back to her brother’s house.
Her death is not even mentioned in the Torah. Perhaps she realizes her own helplessness in the face of events — both the destiny in her womb and the future of her grandchildren.
For so it is, as we bring our little ones into the world — the soul of the child can be shaped and nurtured, but in the end, they will choose their own lives. I wish I could read Rebekah the wonderful line from Khalil Gibran: “You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.”
I hope she found her peace before she died. Buried in the cave of Machpela with her mother-in-law, who never knew her, may her spirit be blessed in knowing that her children’s children thrive still.
Rabbi Elisheva Salamo is the spiritual leader of Keddem Congregation in Palo Alto.