Ohr HaChaim Yomi: Yitzhak Levi’s weekly question and answer on Parashat Toledot, drawing on the Ohr HaChaim HaKadosh, Rabbi Chaim ibn Attar.
Question: In this week’s parasha, we read one of the most heartbreaking exchanges in the Torah. Esav, who had previously sold his birthright to Yaakov, is now preparing to receive a blessing from his father, Yitzchak. Yitzchak asks him to go hunting and prepare his favorite meal. Esav happily obliges. But while he’s away, Yaakov enters disguised as Esav and receives the blessing instead.
Now imagine the scene. Esav returns from hunting. He prepares the meal. He walks into his father’s room, excited to receive his blessing.
And Yitzchak asks: “ה ָּתָא־יִמ” — “Who are you?” Esav responds, “I’m your son, Esav, your firstborn!” And suddenly, everything falls apart. Yitzchak realizes that he has already blessed Yaakov. The Torah tells us: “ד ֹאְמ־דַע הָרָמּו הָלֹדְּג הָקָעְצ קַעְצִּיַו” “He cried out with an exceedingly great and bitter cry.” (Bereisheet 27:34) And then Esav pleads: ” יִב ָא יִנָא־םַג יִנֵכְרָּב” “Bless me too, Father!” How can you read those words and not feel something?
The Answer: Even Esav Had a Heart
We grow up learning about Yaakov and Esav. Yaakov, the righteous son who devoted himself to Torah. Esav, the hunter who sold his birthright for a bowl of lentils.
And rightfully so, the Torah and Chazal teach us to recognize the enormous differences between these brothers. But in this moment, something extraordinary happens.
We see Esav not just as the person who made terrible choices, but as a son desperately seeking his father’s blessing.
And it’s heartbreaking. Yitzchak explains that he has already made Yaakov master over his brothers and blessed him with grain and wine. What more can he offer Esav? But Esav refuses to give up.” יִב ָא mְל־אוִה תַחַא הָכָרְבַה” “Have you only one blessing, Father?” And once again: ” יִב ָא יִנָא־םַג יִנֵכְרָּב” “Bless me too, Father!”
Then the Torah tells us: “ְּך ְב ֵּיַו ֹולֹק וָׂשֵע אָּׂשִּיַו” “And Esav raised his voice and wept.” (Bereisheet 27:38)
Reality Check
Let’s be honest. Esav wasn’t exactly the perfect son. He made some questionable decisions. Selling your birthright for a bowl of lentils? Even your Jewish grandmother would tell you that’s a terrible deal. At least ask for some challah on the side! But here’s the thing. Someone can make terrible decisions and still experience genuine pain. And recognizing that pain doesn’t mean we approve of their decisions. It means we haven’t forgotten how to have compassion.
The Deeper Lesson: A Father’s Blessing
There’s something else that stood out to me. Esav wasn’t asking Yitzchak for another bowl of food. He wasn’t asking for money. He wasn’t asking for a better inheritance.
He was begging for a blessing. From his father, perhaps that’s what makes this scene so emotional. Because beneath all his mistakes, Esav still desperately wanted something from Yitzchak.His father’s blessing. His father’s hope for his future.
And Yitzchak, despite everything that had happened, ultimately responds. He gives Esav a blessing concerning his dwelling place, livelihood, and future. It isn’t the same blessing Yaakov received. But Esav doesn’t leave entirely without one.
Modern Application: Don’t Underestimate the Power of a Blessing
Sometimes we forget how much our words mean to the people closest to us.
A parent telling a child, “I’m proud of you.” A teacher telling a struggling student, “I believe in you.” A friend reminding someone going through a difficult time, “You still have a future.”
These aren’t just nice things to say. They can change how someone sees themselves.
And sometimes, the person who needs those words most is the one who has made the biggest mistakes. That doesn’t mean ignoring wrongdoing or removing consequences But it does mean recognizing that a person’s mistakes don’t erase their need for love, encouragement, and hope.
Final Thought
Esav sold his birthright. He made decisions that would follow him for the rest of his life. And later in the parasha, his anger toward Yaakov would lead him to contemplate something terrible. We shouldn’t overlook any of that. But for one brief moment, the Torah allows us to hear his tears.
A grown man standing before his father, pleading: “Bless me too, Father!” And Yitzchak blesses him.
Perhaps the lesson of Toldot is that we can recognize someone’s failures without becoming indifferent to their suffering. We can hold people accountable while still wishing them well.
And we can remember that sometimes the greatest gift we can offer another person isn’t money, success, or opportunity. It’s the reassurance that their future still matters. Because even when someone has lost so much through their own mistakes, they may still be desperately waiting to hear one thing: “There’s still a blessing left for you.”