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famished: Soloveitchik sees Esau as desperately tired and hungry, not because of the exertion of hunting but because he lacks a sustaining faith to give meaning to his life on bleak days. He is weary of the pointlessness of life and the inevitability of death.
Etz Hayyim Torah Commentary, The Rabbinical Assembly, JPS
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Take one cup of red lentils...
No, this isn't the beginning of a recipe for lentil soup (but see below!). The Torah seldom describes characters eating, and rarely tells us the menu. In this week's parasha, food is central: Isaac makes peace with Avimelech with a feast: "the meal seals the deal" (Gen. 26:30). And food appears in both the scene where Jacob acquires his brother's birthright (b'chorah) and in the final scene where he steals Esau's blessing (brachah). (Note the Hebrew play on words.) Lentils, in turns out, are an important ingredient in this week's parasha. Like a movie that zeroes in on the murder weapon in a series of ever closer snapshots until the object fills the screen, first we hear of Jacob cooking a stew. Then, the lens is brought into closer focus: red stew. Finally, the camera lingers on the critical object: lentils.
Lentils were considered a poor person's food. In Jewish communities where lentil dishes were common, they were usually not served on Shabbat, for example. The Torah wants to stress that Esau traded his birthright (something of great value) for a food that was not even highly regarded. (If you had traded it for foie gras, or truffles, we'd be more understanding.) I thought the Hebrew for lentils (adashim) sounds like the Hebrew word adish, (indifferent), because Esau was indifferent to his birthright. This would have been a great midrash, except the two words are sadly not related: the Hebrew for lentils is written with an 'ayin,' but adish is spelled with an 'aleph.' A modern original midrash connects our lentils to another aspect of the story. The first magnifying glass was called a 'lens' because they were lentil-shaped (the Latin for lentil is in fact lens); in Hebrew too, the word for lentils (adashim) is used for lenses. Because later, Isaac had trouble seeing and thereby Jacob was able to deceive his father to wrangle the blessing, Isaac needed this second kind of seeing 'lens'!
In the ancient world, twins who were not identical, were often seen as complementary, each having what the other lacked. The Torah describes Esau as physical: impulsive and boorish, while Jacob, the father of the 12 tribes, is quiet, clever but underhanded and scheming. For the Rabbis, Esau is the quintessential non-Jew (the outdoors-type, physically skilled). Esau (renamed 'Edom' because of his red, hairy complexion and the red lentils of our story) is the father of the Edom [enemy] nation, but later becomes a symbol for Rome, and then a code word for Christianity. Esau in midrashic literature is routinely referred to as the 'wicked' Esau, and the Rabbis imagine him committing murder and rape before returning from the hunt.
Esau, returning famished from the hunt, 'trades' his birthright for a bowl of lentils. Because in some traditions lentils are served to mourners, Rashi in an uncharacteristically long commentary, suggests that Abraham had died [as if to suggest he couldn't bear to his grandson's wickedness]. (Although we read of Abraham's death in last week's parasha, if we calculate the genealogy of the Patriarchs according to the biblical narrative, Jacob and Esau are fifteen years old at the time of Abraham's death). The Rabbis also pick up on the verb, let me gulp down, 'haliteini' (used only this one time in the Torah) to show how he ate like an animal [the word is used in later rabbinic texts to feed camels, for example]. And the word 'na' which means 'please' is 'mis'-interpreted to mean (its homonym) 'raw'. He couldn't even wait for the lentils to finish cooking! And the very unusual verse with five verbs in a row "he ate, drank, rose, went away and spurned his birthright."convey Esau's disregard for his actions, satisfying his physical needs, and not giving his spiritual life a moment's thought.
Food (and physical sustenance) was more important to Esau than his spiritual heritage. Today, for many Jews, it's not that different. Some Jews seem to say, "I'm not really religious, I just like Jewish food." For such "gastronomic" Jews, Judaism is matzah balls and kreplach, bagels and lox. Jewish tradition certainly has a rich culinary tradition. But what makes food 'Jewish'? When Jews lived in many places around the world, they used the products that were readily available, and often borrowed (and adapted) the recipes from their non-Jewish neighbours. In Morocco they ate couscous, and in the Ukraine they ate borscht. Even the most so-called 'traditional' foods weren't introduced until relatively recently. Potatoes, (that feature prominently in Ashkenazic cuisine in latkes, kugel and knish recipes), weren't widely available in eastern Europe until the 1700s since they come from the New World.
(I should mention here Kolel's amazing gourmet food tour to Israel. Rabbi Elyse Goldstein and Bonnie Stern will be exploring the biblical roots of our food traditions, food traditions from Jews around the world as well as gourmet olive oil, goat cheese, chocolate and Israel's finest chefs and restaurants). Contact the office for this fabulous 'food for thought' tour in February.)
Lessons for Today
Jewish food is not what makes us Jewish. Here in Toronto, we have many 'Jewish' style (but not strictly kosher) restaurants. They serve blintzes and bagels and lox. And we have kosher sushi, kosher Moroccan and kosher Chinese restaurants. Which is the authentic "Jewish" restaurant? Steven Lowenstein in The Jewish Cultural Tapestry describes the ironic scene in a grocery store before a Jewish holiday: a religious Jew's cart is filled with kosher sushi, and kosher risotto while the secular Jew's cart is filled with borscht, gefilte fish and kasha.
In fact, there is almost no such thing as a universal 'Jewish food' or 'Jewish cuisine'. (Even the recipe for "religious foods" like Hallah or Matzah has regional differences). A typical Jewish food from one region could be totally unfamiliar to another region. Such foods would be considered exotic, horrible (or maybe delicious) but definitely unrecognized as Jewish! When in Italy, we were surprised to discover that artichokes are served 'deep fried- a la giudea (Jewish style)' even in regular restaurants! Until modern times, Jews who ate gefilte fish did not eat falafel or malawach (a Yemenite fried pastry).
Recipes and foods, like the other aspects of culture, evolve, and are heavily influenced by our surroundings. Today, the forces that helped develop regional 'Jewish cuisine' (together with other local customs of dress, language, music, and ritual) are no longer in effect. Many of the Jewish communities that lived in geographical isolation from one other for hundreds of years have been destroyed and many of their traditions are lost. Others have been preserved, and with the ingathering of the Exiles to the state of Israel, Jews of all stripes have had the opportunity to learn of each other's customs. Because Israel has become the Jewish melting pot, we now serve 'sufganiyot' (jelly doughnuts) (an east European tradition) along with the Ashkenazic potato latke for Chanukah. There is a whole repertoire of other Chanukah fried sweets (bimuelos from Rhodes); open a good Jewish cookbook from around the world and your eyes will be opened to foods and tastes that will seem quite exotic. Today, it is not unusual to borrow the traditions from other communities. (For the past few years, our family has conducted a mini 'Seder' on Rosh Hashanah based on a Sephardic custom of eating special foods and saying special blessings.)
Not only are we effected by the culture around us, but for the first time, we can even borrow from Jewish communities other than our own to create our own delicious 'Jewish stew.' Food sustains us, but so does Judaism. Most of us are well fed in the waist department (and maybe some of us- too much so). But is our Jewish spirit as well fed? Studying Torah (like with this parasha study) is one essential ingredient for a healthy spiritual diet.
It isn't 'traditional' (yet) to serve lentil soup this week, or make mujeddrah (a typical middle eastern rice and lentil dish, but I'm going to put it on the menu to remember Esau and Jacob. And while I'm eating, I want to think about what makes a food Jewish, what truly sustains me and my Jewish life, and whether I'm Jewish on the inside or the outside.
Betay'avon (bon appetit!).
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