Our Torah portion this week, Toldot, is one of the most relatable for me, having taught Hebrew school for years of my life. It has even more meaning now as a parent. Children have the unique ability to push caregivers’ (and teachers’) buttons, especially in that wide age range between 2 and 18. I’ll admit that there were some moments in those early classroom days when I wondered why I ever thought I wanted to be a teacher. And I’m sure fellow parents can identify with the parenting moments that seem like test after test of our patience. It’s in these moments when I’m grateful to have a prayer I use for a reset. 

In Parshat Toldot Rebekah finds herself finally pregnant after wanting a child. It turns out she’s pregnant with twins who, even before they are fully formed human beings, test her nerves. She asks the question, as they quarrel inside her, “If this is so, why do I exist?” The answer is “Because they each have a purpose in our world.”

I take this response deeply to heart. Each human being has a purpose for which they were created. We learned a few chapters earlier in the story of creation that we humans were fashioned in God’s image, which means that each of us has a divine spark and purpose. The words used are “betzelem elohim,” fashioned in God’s image. 

In our morning prayers, we read the blessing “Baruch atah Adonai, Eloheinu Melech haOlam she’asani b’tzalmo.” Blessed are You, Adonai our God, ruler of the universe, who made me in God’s image.

Many read this blessing as gratitude to God for creating us in the first place. I read this as an opportunity to remember that I was created in God’s image, but so was every other human. It is only when we see the humanity in all human beings that we’re able to open our hearts and minds to meaningful relationships. Even with the ones who push our buttons. 

I am a terrible decision-maker. In fact, for my birthday and Mother’s Day every year, the one gift that’s always on my list is making absolutely zero decisions the entire day. My indecisive nature comes partly from not wanting to miss out on something and partly because I’m always worried about making the “wrong” choice. When it comes to big decisions, I can usually feel it in my gut and I trust that space. However, when it comes to daily decision-making, I’d just rather not. Please, don’t ask me what I want for dinner!

There’s one area where I feel simultaneously the most confident and the most indecisive: parenting. Little decisions like what clothes we’ll purchase or when to say yes to dessert aren’t the ones that cause stress. It’s the decisions that shape my children’s lives that give me pause. And as a mother of two children, I make different decisions for each child based on who they are and what they need. That means that while one might be wearing shorts when it is 30 degrees outside, I will insist that the other wears a jacket and gloves. They just need different things. 

Rebekah, the mother of twins Jacob and Esau, teaches us the value of recognizing individual needs and talents in our children and making choices that support them. This week we read Parshat Toldot, in which Isaac and Rebekah become parents. The pregnancy is not easy, and the twins are anything but calm. Jacob and Esau are very different, and each is feisty in his own way. Esau sells his birthright to Jacob for lentil stew, and Jacob tricks his father into getting the blessing his brother deserves. Esau finds out, and his outrage over the incident causes Jacob to flee for his life. The portion ends with Esau growing up and rebelling against the family in his choice of life partner.

At the end of this Torah portion, the text appears to emphasize a fact that we already know – that Rebekah is the mother of both Jacob and Esau. Isn’t this obvious by now? Why would the text repeat this? It’s to reinforce the idea that while Rebekah might address the brothers’ needs in different ways, she loved them both. There are few “easy decisions” for mothers, especially Rebekah. She chose to send Jacob away in order to save his life, but also to save Esau from becoming a murderer. In other words, she may have favored Jacob for the blessing and seen his strength as a leader, but she protected both her sons. 

Sometimes in our lives, the hardest choices are the ones that require a bigger-picture mentality. And when emotion is involved, like the love of a mother, that makes it even harder. Parshat Toldot reminds us that for generations to continue after us, we can’t just consider the future, we must actively make decisions that keep the reality of that future alive.

As the oldest grandchild on one side of my family and the second oldest on the other, there’s a bit of legacy weight I feel I carry. On one side, my sister and I are the last of that lineage, the last to carry that name. On the other, none of us carry that name as our own, but it holds a strong connection to the family business and history. In either case, I strongly feel a certain responsibility. Eldest children tend to bare the burden of past generations to carry their legacy into the future. Perhaps this is because they’ve lived (slightly) longer, and therefore have more experience. 

What we often don’t discuss, however, is exactly what should live on. When there’s a family business or a significant piece of real estate involved, it’s easy to identify a tangible transfer from one generation to the next. But what happens when the thing you’re supposed to pass down isn’t quite that concrete? In the Torah this week, we learn that the job of carrying on tradition doesn’t always fall to the person you’d expect.

This week we have a Torah portion that is fully focused on generations moving forward and what we inherit. This week we read Parshat Toldot, in which Isaac and Rebekah become parents. The pregnancy is not easy, and the twins are anything but calm. Jacob and Esau are very different, and each is feisty in his own way. Esau sells his birthright to Jacob for lentil stew, and Jacob tricks his father into getting the blessing his brother deserves. Esau finds out, and his outrage over the incident causes Jacob to flee for his life. The portion ends with Esau growing up and rebelling against the family in his choice of life partner.

Toldot means “the generations,” and as this name suggests, the focus isn’t merely on the current generation, but on future generations to come and who will lead them. Rebekah, a mother of twins, knows her sons more intimately than anyone. She knows which one is a leader and which one is a hunter, which one can follow directions and which is a free spirit. But knowing these truths in her heart doesn’t make transferring the legacy of the previous generation any easier.

In the end, the text seems to hint that God also guides her not to the son who is “older and wiser,” but to the one who is “more apt” to lead a nation. In this moment that breaks the norms we’ve come to know, the Torah suggests that in some cases character might be more important than experience.

I try not to blame my parents for all my problems, but there are some that are totally their fault. Of course I’m talking about the problems that aren’t in their control either, the ones that are determined by genetics. It would be easy to blame them for all my neuroses and other issues too, but the truth is there’s a lot more nature involved than we like to assume. The place where they can’t escape blame (and neither can I for my kids) is my genetic makeup. I am prone to diabetes (I have a family history of it). I also inherited a history of heart disease, OCD, and stomach issues. I’m not trying to overshare personal health history in public; there are just certain things that each of us is genetically predisposed to have, and these are mine. Why couldn’t I have inherited a beach house instead?

And yet, I wouldn’t trade my family for the world. I inherited this (health issues and all) because of the lineage I come from, and that history and those people are incredibly special to me. They’ve always had my back, they hold me and support me through it all, and thanks to modern medicine, I know what’s coming so I can protect myself and work through it before it is an issue. 

This week we have a Torah portion that is fully focused on what we are born with and how generations move forward. This week we read Parshat Toldot, in which Isaac and Rebekah become parents. The pregnancy is not easy, and the twins are anything but calm. Jacob and Esau are very different, and each is feisty in his own way. Esau sells his birthright to Jacob for lentil stew, and Jacob tricks his father into getting the blessing his brother deserves. Esau finds out, and his outrage over the incident causes Jacob to flee for his life. The portion ends with Esau growing up and rebelling against the family in his choice of life partner.

In the moment Isaac and Rebekah know they’re going to be parents, Rebekah questions it all. She says as the next generation is fighting, forcefully, in her womb “If this is so, why do I exist?” Obviously she was uncomfortable. Obviously she didn’t feel like it was worth it to continue growing these humans if they were just going to cause problems. As we know, she did grow them, and they did cause problems.

Jacob and Esau had no conscious thought about fighting in the womb. They were born with the tendency to go against each other, fighting for attention. But that doesn’t mean Rebekah should have simply given up. Plenty of moments in life feel like an uphill battle. Try as I might to outsmart all the autoimmune diseases in my family, the likelihood I’ll have one is pretty high. That doesn’t give me an excuse to give up. At the same time, I recognize the place of privilege I come from to keep pushing forward, even when some struggles seem futile.

Even Rebekah, who is pregnant with the children promised by God, questions it. Why? To show us that it’s ok to be scared. What Parshat Toldot teaches us is to remember that our lives are not determined by what happens to us or what we’re born with, but by how we adapt and learn and use what we’ve been given.