Welcome to the alliteratively and delightfully entitled Qontroversial Questions on the Parashah Pesaḥ (it’s still pronounced “Controversial” – I just think I’m being qlever!) Subscribe to continue to receive these and please share with those you think would be interested.
In addition to the Haggadah ideas I’ve been sending out, I wanted to focus on a different aspect of the Seder today.
I gave a shiur last night, Why We Can’t Complain About Kitniyot (though, for QQotP it is probably better entitled Quit Qomplaining About Qitniyot!) – you can listen on YUTorah here or listen via your podcast app here.
I. Esav’s Inheritance
After discussing the fact that we were slaves to Pharaoh in Egypt and some further ideas that spring from that, we shift the theme of our Seder to focusing on our ancestors’ origins as idolators – per the opinion of Rav stated in the gemara (Pes. 116a) – by reading the first few verses of the final chapter of Sefer Yehoshua:
Then Joshua said to all the people, “Thus said the LORD, the God of Israel: In olden times, your forefathers – Terah, father of Abraham and father of Nahor – lived beyond the Euphrates and worshiped other gods. But I took your father Abraham from beyond the Euphrates and led him through the whole land of Canaan and multiplied his offspring. I gave him Isaac, and to Isaac I gave Jacob and Esau. I gave Esau the hill country of Seir as his possession, while Jacob and his children went down to Egypt. (Josh. 24:2–4)
But what has always struck me as odd is that, because of the way that verse 4 is written in Sefer Yehoshua, we end up taking a couple of moments at the Seder to dwell on, not only Esav’s inheritance of Seir, but also a sliding doors moment in the history of the covenantal family: Esav went to Seir while Yaakov – whom Esav had invited to join him at Seir (Gen. 33:12) – ended up in Egypt where his descendants were enslaved.
But Esav isn’t the only person on the covenantal family tree with a connection to Pesaḥ. In Parashat Vayera, when angels stop by Loṭ’s house before destroying Sodom, he invites them to eat – with the Torah telling us u-matzot afah, “he baked matzah” (Gen. 19:3). Commenting on this verse, Rashi quotes a midrash that Loṭ baked matzah that night because it was Pesaḥ.
Fascinatingly, as Rabbi Yoel Bin-Nun has brilliantly observed, as strange as it seems to claim that Loṭ was observing Pesaḥ long before Pesaḥ would ever become a thing, there are a tremendous number of verses in the story of Loṭ here that are echoed in the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim – and R. Bin-Nun’s provides a table of comparisons.
And what this means is that, even though the choice to read a few verses from the final chapter of Sefer Yehoshua makes sense as it’s a wonderfully concise summary of Jewish history, and the verses cannot be rewritten to exclude the reference to Esav, Esav’s inheritance of Seir gets crowbarred into our Seder – along with Loṭ’s (failed) inheritance of Sodom that, while not explicitly mentioned at the Seder, still has an uncanny relevance to the story of Yetziat Mitzrayim we celebrate at the Seder.
And I think that by reflecting on Esav and Loṭ’s roles at the Seder, a greater appreciation of what we are doing at the Seder emerges.
II. Esav’s Rejection
At the end of Parashat Vayishlaḥ, the Torah devotes an entire forty-three verse chapter (!) to Esav’s life and descendants. And I think part of the reason lies in an often-unlooked aspect of how God’s promise to Avraham works.
Because there are two different promises God gives Avraham. The first is Birkat Avraham, the blessings of Avraham – the initial promise made when Avraham leaves everything behind to head to an unknown land: “I will make of you a great nation, and I will bless you; I will make your name great, and you shall be a blessing” (Gen. 12:2). In a nutshell, this promise is simply that Avraham will be the prime ancestor of a great many people.
The second is Berit Avraham, the covenant of Avraham. This is the focus of the Berit Bein ha-Betarim, “the Covenant Between the Pieces” – one of the most perplexing scenes in Sefer Bereishit – which includes two crucial components: the promise that Avraham’s descendants will inherit the Land of Israel forever (Gen. 15:18–21) but only after having endured a four-hundred-year slavery, from which God will redeem them (Gen. 15:13–14).1
And with these dual promises in mind, Sefer Bereishit’s decision to devote an entire chapter to Esav is key. Because not only does it tell us how Esav inherited his own portion of land – to which he possessed an inalienable right (cf. Deut. 2:4–5) – but also how he had twelve sons who were each a tribal chieftain, with the Torah also stressing that Esav’s descendants became kings of Edom “long before any king reigned over the Jewish people” (Gen. 36:31).
There is no subtlety here. The Torah makes it clear that Esav and Yaakov both shared the same future: twelve tribes in their own land (with the Torah sounding like a passive-aggressive mother by pointing out that Yaakov’s descendants didn’t become kings until way after his older brother’s kids did).
But this is all because Esav, as Avraham’s grandson, still receives his divine inheritance of Birkat Avraham: the original promise of greatness. But what he doesn’t receive is Berit Avraham, a place in the covenant.
And while we might think that Esav’s place in the covenant is lost when Yaakov takes his blessing from him, there is a fascinating midrash that suggests otherwise.
It stems from the Torah’s interesting choice of words in describing why Esav left to Seir. Because the Torah tells us that, after starting his family in the Land of Israel, Esav took everything – his wives, sons, daughters, all his household, his cattle, his livestock, and all his property – va-yēlekh el-eretz, “and went to another land,” mippĕnēi Ya‘akov aḥiv, “because of his brother Yaakov” (Gen. 36:6).
Here the midrash quotes two different understandings as to why the Torah must tell us that Esav left Israel because of Yaakov. While R. Yehoshua ben Levi assumes it was simply because he was ashamed of having been tricked out of the birthright by Yaakov, R. Eliezer suggests a radically different understanding: Esav fled the Land of Israel to escape God’s promise that Avraham’s descendants would be enslaved before inheriting their land (Bereishit Rabbah 82 §13). Esav knew that, for his descendants to be part of the covenant and thus inherit land in Israel, it would come at a price – and he was unwilling to pay it.
But what’s particularly striking about this midrash is that it seems to intentionally ignore the fact that the Torah tells us why Esav left Israel because of Yaakov:
For their possessions were too many for them to dwell together, and the land where they sojourned could not support them because of their livestock. (Gen. 36:7)
And if you’re wondering why this verse sounds familiar, it’s probably because of this verse from much earlier in Sefer Bereishit:
The land could not support them staying together; for their possessions were so great that they could not remain together. (Gen. 13:6)
Once again, the briefest of meditations on Esav has led to Loṭ appearing. And while this is a much larger discussion for another time, Loṭ should be considered as one of Avraham’s sons – as he is the original family member destined to inherit Avraham.
And Loṭ, like Esav, thus also benefits from the blessing of Avraham: not only does he receive the town of Tzo‘ar (Gen. 19:20–23) – after cheekily asking for it amidst Sodom’s destruction! – but he is also the father of great nations, Moab and Ammon (Gen. 19:37–38).
But all of Loṭ’s success is premised on his rejection of Avraham: the story of Avraham and Loṭ parting ways makes it seem pretty clear that Loṭ’s decision to leave is not actually because of a lack of space but an unwillingness to partner with Avraham – to join the covenant.
And that’s why R. Eliezer realized that, despite the Torah telling us that Esav left because of the lack of space, it was actually a conscious decision – because Esav, like Loṭ, about whom the Torah uses the exact same phrasing, chose to leave the covenant in order to escape its challenges.
And this makes Esav and Loṭ fundamentally different to Yishmael and Avraham’s other children, who were all expelled from the covenant by Avraham but still received the blessing of Avraham. Loṭ and Esav, in contrast, are the only two to reject the covenant.
III. Rejecting Esav
It’s no coincidence that the very next thing we say after mentioning Esav at the Seder is the passage of Barukh shomer havṭaḥato lĕ-Yisra’el, barukh hu, “blessed is the One who kept His promise to Israel, blessed is He” – which then goes on to describe the Berit Bein ha-Betarim, explicitly quoting the verses that describe God’s promise that the Jewish people had to first endure slavery before being redeemed by God and inheriting their land.
And one of the most important themes of Pesaḥ – as Lord Sacks stressed in, among other places, his phenomenal interview with Tim Ferriss shortly before his passing – is for us to retell our national story and reinforce our national identity through the Seder.
And while the bulk of that lies in focusing on our experiences of slavery and our redemption, I think our reference to Esav at the Seder adds a dimension to the story we tell. Because the story of the Jewish people is not just one where we became slaves, were redeemed by God, and inherited Israel – even if the word “just” in this sentence is doing a lot of heavy lifting – but it’s also one where others opted out.
Our ancestors, the descendants of Avraham, knew that our national story would involve pain and while other family members fled, they stayed the course.
And I think that this reframes the entire structure of this part of Maggid. Because the reference to our ancestors being idolators affords us an opportunity to dwell on the covenant we inherited – that there were those who fled from it. And that’s why, straight after referencing the Berit Bein ha-Betarim, we sing Ve-Hi She-‘Amdah, which further amplifies the continued challenges of our covenant.
Ultimately, at this point in the Seder, we grapple with our suffering and recognize that it, too, is part of the covenant. And though it may not be a happy idea, we realize we are better for having endured it – we are the Jewish people solely because our identity was forged through pain.
And we reflect on those members of our family tree who fled from that life – but consider ourselves more blessed for having stayed the course.
DRAMATIC FORESHADOWING.