Parashat Toldot contains an emotionally complex Torah tale. It’s a story of family tension, yearning, and the mysterious power of blessing. Isaac grows old and blind and wants to give his blessing to his elder son Esau. With Rebecca’s careful planning and Jacob’s deception, however, the blessing goes to the younger son instead. When Esau realises what has happened, his anguished cry reverberates across the generations; “Have you but one blessing, Father? Bless me too, Father!” And Esau wept aloud” (Genesis 27:38). It’s a cry we all recognise, the deep human longing to be seen, to be appreciated, and to be blessed.
It’s long been taught that the episode is about rivalry and deceit. Yet beneath the surface, it asks some profound questions: What is a b’rachah (a blessing)? Can it be stolen? Can it be revoked? And what constitutes the enduring quality of a blessing? In the Torah, blessings are not just words of good fortune, they are creative acts. The world itself came into being through God’s words; “Let there be light” (Genesis 1:3). So too, a blessing, once spoken, can shape reality. When Isaac blesses Jacob, he does more than give his son prosperity; he confirms a destiny.
And yet, the moral tension remains. How can a blessing that was acquired through deception endure? The Torah does not offer a simple answer. Jacob does not immediately live in peace or victory. Instead, his life becomes a long journey of striving to become worthy of what he received. He has to flee from his home, he faces hardship, and he wrestles with a divine being before facing up to his brother again. Only then, renamed Yisra’el (one who struggles with God), does he merit a new blessing, born not of concealment but struggle and growth.
Rabbi Jonathan Sacks z”l wrote, “What Jacob’s story says to us is that we cannot simply take a blessing: we must earn it. Jacob has to turn himself into someone who can merit bearing the weight of the blessing”. The power of blessing lies not in the words themselves but in the life from which those words draw meaning.
Rebecca, too, challenges our assumptions. She acts with determination and boldness. She believes she is fulfilling a divine vision in which the younger son will carry forward the covenantal mission. Her actions blur the lines between right and wrong, reminding us that the pursuit of blessing often unfolds in the grey areas of human life. Faith, love, and family are rarely simple, and the Torah invites us to live honestly within that complexity.
For us, the story holds up a mirror to our yearning for blessing, the wish to be recognised and affirmed, to have our lives matter. Yet, like Jacob and Esau, we sometimes pursue blessings in ways that harm ourselves or others, seeking approval, status, or control. The Torah reminds us that real blessing is not something to be grasped or stolen. It emerges through integrity, relationship, and perseverance.
Each of us has the capacity to give blessings through words of kindness, acts of compassion, or moments of presence. When we bless another, we participate in the creative power that the Torah describes, the power to affirm life, to strengthen hope, to see and to be seen.
The first line of the Birkat Kohanim, the Priestly Blessing, recited in the Amidah, which we also use when blessing our children, as well as on other significant moments reads; “May God bless you and protect you” (Numbers 6:24). These ancient words endure not only for their ritual value but also because they encapsulate a universal, shared desire for safety, love, and peace.
Toldot encourages us to live as seekers and givers of blessing, to know that in each and every encounter there lies the possibility of affirming someone’s worth, and that the truest blessings are not seized or bestowed, but are cultivated through courage, empathy, and care.
Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Sam Zwarenstein