• Table For Five

How can two children raised in the same household end up so different?

Table for Five: Toldot

In partnership with the Jewish Journal of Los Angeles

Edited by Nina Litvak & Salvador Litvak, the Accidental Talmudist

And the youths grew up, and Esau was a man who understood hunting, a man of the field, whereas Jacob was an innocent man, dwelling in tents. – Genesis 25:27

Rabbi Tony Klein Greenwald
Teacher, Journalist, Biblical Theater Director (www.RaiseYourSpirits.org)

How could two children raised in the same household end up so different?

I struggled with this question while writing the show “REBECCA! Mother of Two Dynasties” with Tamar Kamins, performed by Raise Your Spirits Theatre in 2021. It resulted in me writing the lyrics to “Two Children” (with a melody by Tamar and an arrangement by Mitch Clyman). It sounds like a lullaby, sung by Rebecca as she tucks in her two little boys for the night, but in fact it is a song that she is singing to herself.

We nurture them and teach them

Our words to each the same

But do they hear them differently?

How else can you explain

Why one boy is so gentle 

The other is so rough

I know that we must love each one

But is our love enough?

Rebecca struggles with the question of how to help them flourish and grow and know what is right, yet she admires the qualities of each of them:

One is strong and brave

I’m amazed at what he’ll dare

The other one is thoughtful

O God please hear my prayer

She fears “a future conflict,” and eventually concludes by addressing them directly, though they are already fast asleep:

Sleep my sons and dream

Of a lifetime free from sorrow

For though the night is dark 

The sun will rise tomorrow.

Is this not what every parent prays for? That our children will know joy and see a brighter tomorrow. May it be so.

David Porush
Student, Teacher, Writer

Leibel Fein told this joke:  Little Mendel has had too much to drink at the Volozhin inn.  Suddenly he jumps on the table and yells, “We Jews are tougher than you Russians.” 

“Why’s that?” yells Ivan, amused at this pipsqueak’s audacity. 

“We Jews don’t hunt!” 

“Hunt?” roars Ivan, laughing. “You Jews don’t even own guns! We don’t allow it!”

Who is tougher, Mendel or Ivan, Jacob or Esau? 

Esau is “a man who knew hunting, a man of the field.” Jacob is ish tam: not a simpleton but a spiritually whole man. Esau hunts in the field, obeying no limits on his bloody appetite. He eventually trades his birthright for lunch. Jacob dwells – literally and metaphorically – within the tent/mishkan. He preserves Abraham’s Covenant with God and submits to the restraints of faith.

Tam is the same word God uses for Job — “perfect and upright.” Moshe in Deuteronomy exhorts all Israel to be tamim.

Israel’s tent is now well-guarded by well-armed Jews. They own guns aplenty.  The reservist pushes her baby carriage at the SuperSol with a Glock on her hip. The kid in Gaza with the kippah dons tefillin, a Tavor rifle on his shoulder. Even in the face of Oct 7’s barbarity and Israelis’ understandable appetite for revenge, though they must hunt those who continue to murder them, the IDF still aspires to and encodes boundaries on appetite and morality. Call it not gun control but self-control. Mendel was right.

Dr. Judy Freier
Author “Talking Torah For Today,” Educator

As we read the Torah’s description of Jacob and Esau, what assumptions do we bring to the text?  We encounter a familiar family reality: two brothers raised in the same household, yet strikingly different.  However, the significance we attach to those differences deserves closer examination.

Jacob is described as “an innocent man,” while Esau is “a man who understood hunting.” Are these judgments of character or simply observations?  One describes a personal trait; the other, a skill. These descriptions certainly create a contrast, but do they necessarily establish a moral hierarchy in which Jacob is often portrayed as the virtuous brother while Esau is viewed less favorably?

Jacob’s innocence might suggest goodness and integrity, or naivete and inexperience.  Esau’s hunting abilities might suggest aggression and a desire to dominate, or perhaps courage and resourcefulness.  The verse describes their differences; we bring our own assumptions to interpreting them. This distinction between observation and judgment has profound implications for our everyday lives.  We encounter people whose interests, temperaments, and abilities differ from our own.  Yet how readily do we allow our expectations to shape our perceptions?  Once we assign labels, we may overlook individual strengths, misinterpret intentions, or deny opportunities to those who don’t fit our preconceived notions. Perhaps the lesson extends beyond recognizing differences.  It challenges us to consider how our perceptions shape how we treat others.  Are we seeing people for who they are, or only for how well they fit our expectations?

Aliza Lipkin
Writer and Educator, Ma’aleh Adumim, Israel

“And the boys grew” does not explicitly name the twins, Yaakov and Eisav, hinting that they spent their early childhood growing up together as one unit. Their differences were always present, but as young boys, they lived without apparent conflict. The Torah marks the shift when it defines Eisav as a hunter of the field and Yaakov as a wholesome man dwelling in tents.

The text then notes that Yitzchak loved Eisav because of the game he brought him, while Rivkah loved Yaakov. This discrepancy in parental affection solidified the divide between them. Rather than allowing their unique traits to complement each other, parental preference turned their differences into rivalry.

One cannot help but wonder how events might have unfolded had equal affection been shown to both sons. Perhaps Yaakov would not have felt driven to buy the birthright or take the blessing, and Eisav would not have been consumed by a desire for revenge.

Their separation only deepened the rift. As Yaakov fled home, years apart fueled his fear of confrontation while feeding Eisav’s growing resentment and suspicion. We still see this pattern repeat across generations when we build divides between brothers. Differences hold immense potential for growth when approached with unity, but when allowed to breed fear and suspicion, they become destructive.

Kylie Ora Lobell
KOL Digital Marketing President

Jacob and Esau represent the two dimensions of the human soul: the spiritual and the animal. Every day as human beings we must contend with both. The animal side wants to eat, to reproduce, to experience pleasure, and to survive. The spiritual side wants to become closer to Hashem. We cannot be completely spiritual, and we cannot be complete animals either. We must find the balance and incorporate both into our lives in a healthy way. When we go to work, we still stop in the middle of the day to pray. Before we eat – even if we are starving – we say a blessing. And we say one after we eat, even if we are tired. We fall in love and have children, but it should be in the context of marriage. As Jews, we cannot let our animal instincts take over like Esau did, or else we risk throwing everything we have away – just like him. Instead, we must strive to be like our forefather Jacob (Israel) and always seek to strengthen our connection to Hashem – just like him.

With thanks to Rabbi Toby Klein Greenwald, David Porush, Dr. Judy Freier, Aliza Lipkin, and Kylie Ora Lobell.

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