Parshat Toldot: A Universe of Possibilities

When Maayan was a toddler, I bought her first guitar for Hanukkah. As a musician married to a dancer, music, singing, and movement are all highly prized in our home, and skills with which we hope to imbue our children. But will she follow in her father's footsteps and pursue music seriously? Or might she come to resent being pushed toward a passion that is not her own, but rather mine?

To some extent, all parents want their children to be like them. My father, an engineer in Russia and computer programmer in America, certainly hoped I would follow in his path. And now, as a father myself, I am confronted with the complexities faced by parents from time immemorial: the yearning to inculcate one's core values in one's children, while recognizing that the personality of that child may not be inherently disposed to prioritizing those values.

This is the question that confronts Yitzchak and Rivka in this week's parsha, Toldot.

Their twin sons, Yaakov and Esav, are diametrically opposite in nearly every way. Esav is an ish sadeh, a man of the outdoors, while Yaakov is an ish tam, yoshev ohalim, a mild man who dwells in tents. We are told that Yitzchak favored Esav, while Rivka favored Yaakov. But was Esav destined to stray from his family's spiritual path? Or was there a window of opportunity that, for one reason or another, eluded his parents?

Rabbi Shimshon Raphael Hirsch offers a striking interpretation. He argues that Yitzchak and Rivka failed to recognize that their two children required fundamentally different approaches to education. Had they studied Esav's nature and character early enough, he suggests, they might have found a way to channel his strength, energy, agility, and courage toward a higher purpose. Esav's "sword" and Yaakov's "spirit" could have worked hand in hand.

According to Rav Hirsch, they neglected a crucial principle of parenting articulated in Mishlei (Proverbs 22:6): Chanoch l'na'ar al pi darko — educate a child according to their own way.

But this wisdom extends well beyond parenting. In our families, friendships, and communities, how often do we mistake the transmission of our values for the expectation that others will express them exactly as we do?

I don't know whether my daughters will grow up to be musicians, dancers, or even observant Jews. But I have learned that children are not mere "nachas machines" provided to us by God for our own vicarious gratification. Rather, we are blessed to be custodians and stewards of individuals within whom an entire world resides—a universe of possibilities, of intrinsic holiness and necessity.

Perhaps this is our task in building Jewish community, too: not to mold people in our own image, but to help each person discover the unique gifts they bring to our shared spiritual life.

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Artwork by Hillel Smith.