The Death of Abraham - Genesis 25:1-25:31

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Welcome to Timeless Wisdom with Dennis Prager. Hear thousands of hours of Dennis's lectures, courses, and classic radio programs. And to purchase Dennis Prager's Rational Bibles, go to DennisPrager.com.

On today's episode of Timeless Wisdom, Abraham breathed his last dying at a good ripe age, old and contented, and he was gathered to his kin. Now, you probably wouldn't have predicted this, but on this verse I have the most to say in today's session.

That's coming up on Timeless Wisdom with Dennis Prager, and it starts right now.

Gentleman asked a sensitive question, gentleman in row 2, seat 17. Last week I noted the origins of the word testimony, which I'll bet if there's nothing else you remember from last week, you perverts, there's no question that that's the one thing you remember. It's unbelievable. So this man's question, he has thought of for 2 weeks, he has not slept. How did women swear? Did they grab men I assume, did they grab a man's testicles? Or what did they do when they swore to a woman? Um, uh, actually, when they did swear to women, it was called badgemony. It's not well known. Uh, oh God, I don't know. The, the The odds are that women didn't take oaths, that oaths were restricted to men. Oh, it's really booming. De-boom it. Thank you. You like that? All right, then keep it like that. Hey, what you like, I like. The customer is always right. By the way, up in the booth, since you have such fun, can this room be made cooler? Yes? Woohoo! Yes, sir. Bless you. Imagine if you could do this your whole life. Talk about— Thanks, thank you. Talk about things that you would like. Talk about power. How would you like to be able to, without ever hurting the person in any way, if somebody were nudniking you, you could just press a button and they ceased to be? They continued to be, but not in your presence. That is the power of a radio talk show host. You just very gently go like this. So long, Jerry. Be well. That's the ultimate. That's the ultimate. But you don't have that when you're not on radio. That's, that's one of the perks of a radio talk show. Okay, my friends, Genesis 25. We're up the creek. No, we're up to 25, my friends. Yes. It's unnamed in the Torah, but everybody thinks it's Eliezer. No, no, it's not technical at all who that messenger who we thought so highly of is. This is not too resounding for you? Yeah, I think it is a little too. Thanks so much. It isn't? It is. No, no, yeah, it just sounds to me almost godlike, and it just drives me crazy. Okay, I'll just stand— I'll stand here anyway. No, it was Eli— it— the tradition holds that it's Eleazar. That's true, but it doesn't say so in the Torah in that chapter, and I am very much a believer in only reading what's in there. That's the way I teach text. Okay, where did it come from? Because Eleazar was his chief servant. That's where it came from. It's very— no, it's a very logical thing to assume. It just doesn't say it. Yes, so it is logical to say Eleazar, but it doesn't say Eleazar. Okay, yes. Uh, he missed the last session and he was dying to know why do we know that Abraham and Sarah split up after— I'm sorry, and he'll buy the tape anyway. Okay, the, uh, I'm curious to see how, how much is remembered. Who could answer his question? Do any of you recall? Please go ahead. That's right, they went to live in separate places, and when she died, it said that he went to where she died to mourn her. Okay, that's— it's Beersheba and Chevron, two very, very distant places. And it's clear— I don't read into the text. That is one of the characteristics of my learning and my teaching. If it ain't there, I say it isn't there, and this is what I would just suppose. This is as clear as you can get without the words, "and they split up," because the text wouldn't speak like that. It's too sensitive an issue to put it that way. It just makes it so clear there's no way around it. And it makes it clear that Isaac went to live with her, that he too didn't live with his father. When it says where he brought Rebecca, to his mother's tent, why wouldn't it be to his mother and father? It was to his mother's tent. And his attachment to her is also very clear. Sarah was already gone. Uh, oh yes, that's right, she was already gone from Abraham. You mean already gone dead though, I assume? Yeah, uh, that's not as clear. Well, it's the last sentence of, uh, of 24. No, it's— so it's not clear. That's my point. He took her. No, those are two chronologically separate things even though they're the same verse. Isaac then brought her into the tent of his mother Sarah, and he took Rebekah as his wife. Isaac loved her and thus found comfort after his mother's death. That's right. It means that once she died, that's how he found comfort. It doesn't mean that he brought it to her mother's death and she was dead. I don't read it that way. I mean, maybe you can, but I don't read it that way. Yes. Oh yeah, well, that's— yes, it was the good question. Was it not prior to this where Abraham mourns her? Okay, one of the things, and this will become very clear today if we get as far as possible, which we may not, but the— well, we will get as far as possible. No matter how far we get, at least I listen to myself. Makes one of us. No, there is a very basic principle in biblical text, especially the Torah, and I remember learning this as a child. In Hebrew, it's 'ain mukdamu mu'charba Torah.' There is no earlier or later in the Torah. Chronology is not followed precisely. We write chronologically, they write literarily. Okay, so that might be— that would be the difference, as you will see perhaps today, depending on how far we get. Okay, now again, because this is verse by verse, certain of the things will hold intrinsically greater interest to you than others. Sometimes Commentary is not necessary. But here is a classic example, by the way, we didn't have to get very far at all. Here is a perfect example of chronology not being followed. The beginning of chapter 25: Abraham took another wife whose name was Keturah. When did he take this wife? Did he take this all the way at the end of his life? After Sarah dies and after Rebecca is brought as a wife for Isaac? Now, the assumption is it's earlier, and we have a proof for that, and that is that she is referred to as a concubine, even though in this it says here as another wife. It's interesting that he himself says, if you look at number 6, I'm going to read all the verses, but look at verse number 6. Abraham willed all that he owned to Isaac, but to Abraham's sons by concubines Abraham gave gifts. In other words, it's referring to this Keturah and Hagar as concubines. You take concubines while your wife is alive. You take wives— you take a wife once your wife is dead. Okay? So it's implying that this Keturah is a concubine, and therefore this would have happened earlier. Yes. Why is it necessary then to have— couldn't he have two wives? He could have, but then, but in his case, they are— the others are referred to as concubines. It's a good question. It was legally possible. Yes, then that's true. You are right. But then who were the concubines that are referred to here? He says he gave everything to the child of Sarah, but to the concubines, he gave. So then, then what happened to the children of the other wife? You see, that's the reason we, we apparently only have here a wife, Sarah, and the rest are concubines. He could have taken other wives, but in the lifetime of Sarah, he apparently did not. Okay, based on that verse 6, it's not conclusive proof, but it strikes me as logical. I always worry when we have questions in the middle that I won't move anywhere. So, do you think they could be held? Is that possible? You won't forget? You're dying, okay. Where did she come from? Kitura? What were her ethnic origins? I don't think it's knowable. Except if you look etymologically at the word Kitura, which he does here, look at the name, but it didn't excite me, so I didn't bother. Didn't bother noting it. All right, yes, last one. Yeah, that's correct, that's right. Which would support my thing, right? Isha means woman and wife in Hebrew. That's right. Okay, uh, anyway, it speaks now of Abraham taking another woman or another wife named Keturah, and she has— the reason for all these names now is in order to apprise you of how various groups developed. This clearly was of far, far greater interest to ancient Israelites than it would be to us. These names would have meant something. It would be as almost as if I were to tell you today about the lineage of a certain president. It would mean a great deal today. 2,000 years from now, readers would not find much in it. The meanings would have been lost. But as it is, verse by verse, I'll do it. Very quickly, and she gave birth to Zimran, Yokshan, Midan, and Midian. Midian is a very important place, of course, Midianites. It is— Moses marries a Midianite woman later on, and he has something to say about Midian, which I will read to you. Excuse me, about all these names and Midian. Anyway, I'll read more of the names. Yishbak and Shuach and Yokshan gave birth to Sheva and Dedan. And the children of Dedan were Ashurim, were the Ashurim, and Littushim and Leumim. Now, it's interesting, Leumim means nations in Hebrew, but I don't know if there's anything to be read into that. The children of Midyan were Epha and Epher and Chanoch. And Avidah and Eldahah. All these were the children of Keturah. Okay, now, there is— the only thing I want to tell you about these names is that Sarna, Nachum Sarna, the one who has done Exodus, the commentary on Exodus for the Jewish Publication Society, and professor of Bible at Brandeis University, Dennis Prager writes the following: The antiquity of some of the traditions that lie behind the lists is apparent from several of their features.

This episode of Timeless Wisdom will continue right after this.

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Now back to more of Dennis Prager's Timeless Wisdom.

It is a big question among scholars: how old is the Torah really? I mean, a lot of people hold that it is a much later date. He makes a very good case for how ancient in fact the text is. For example, he continues, the term Arab is not used, nor is there a personality of that name who is regarded as the eponym or name-giving ancestor of the Arabs. The reason is that the designation Arab does not appear in written sources before the 9th century BCE. In other words, we are reading text that, that the internal evidence proves is earlier than the 9th century BCE. For Christians and many Jews who don't know what BCE means, because you're used to BC, before Christ, BCE is a non-Christian, it's a non-denominational way of dating. It means before the Common Era. And instead of AD, Anno Domini, the year of our God, you have CE, Common Era. So you have BCE and CE. So that's what's referred to here. So this is earlier than the 9th century BCE. Then Arab is first used in both royal Assyrian inscriptions and in biblical literature. The omission of the name Arab from our lists would indicate that these derive from before the period when it came into vogue. The inclusion of the Midianites provides further evidence of antiquity. This people was hostile to Israel during the wilderness wanderings. When Israel was wandering out of Egypt, Midian was one of the enemies that was hurting the Israelites. Its fertility cult proved to be a provocative and corrupting influence. It engaged in a bloody clash with Israel, and in the time of the Judges, it exerted hegemony over the Israelites, who fought a war of liberation under Gideon to rid themselves of the yoke of the hated oppressor. This victory was long remembered in Israel. Given such a history of enmity, between these two peoples, it is hardly likely that a narrator would have invented a record of kinship unless it rested on solid fact. Did you follow his point? Given how the Jews hated the Midianites, why would somebody, if they were writing at the time of the Exodus, write that the Midianites were related to the Jews? It would be as if somebody after the Holocaust were to write a history of the Jews And note that the Nazis were cousins to Jews. Now, who would make that up? So clearly, he says, it's obvious this predates all of that era. They would not have included the Midianites, and therefore he says it's on solid fact. Indeed, the story of Moses' flight from Pharaoh to where? Midian. Where he found refuge and intermarried with the priestly family, corroborates the inference of an earlier record of amicable relationships between Israel and Midian. So there is something to even be learned from just these names that are listed. In Numbers 5:25-5, "And Abraham gave everything he had to Isaac." That's an important point. Abraham acknowledged who the heir of his tradition will be. It will be Isaac. He gave Isaac everything. In Hebrew, by the way, in Biblical Hebrew, ve or u, depending on what the next letter is, like in English, a changes to an when the next word is a vowel, means and, but it also means but. And it is very important to know that when you see and, uh, for ex— oh, you see, he puts but. Do Do you— how many of you have 'but' as the beginning of verse 6? How many have 'and'? Well, that's stupid to ask them both. How many have 'but'? How many have 'and'? Oh, so most of you have it correct. You see, 'but' is the word 'and' because it doesn't have 'but' really in Hebrew like that. It does, I mean, 'aval', but it's used with 've'. But to Abraham's sons by concubines Abraham gave gifts. While he was still living, and he sent them away from his son Isaac eastward to the land of the east. So he treated them nicely, the children of concubines. A very nice thing that it added. You would think all it'd have to say is he gave the children— he gave Isaac everything. But it wants to tell you he cared about these children and he gave them gifts. But these were not the ones who count for our story. The ones who count for— the one who counts for our story is Isaac. This was the total span of Abraham's life, 175 years. And Abraham breathed his last, dying at a good ripe age, old and contented, and he was gathered to his kin. Now you probably wouldn't have predicted this, but on this verse I have the most to say in today's session. You would think that it's self-evident what that verse says. Okay, this will interest you, I think, a great deal. Let's first talk about the simple parts of the thing. Abraham breathed his last and he died, and it says at a good ripe age, which it says about others later too. It even says about Ishmael later. Ishmael. But it says B'seva tova, contented. He is the only person in the Bible who dies contented. You've met him, and this is it. Isn't that something? There was one philosopher, I wish I remembered his name, who said, "No man dies with half his wishes fulfilled." And, of course, the classic instance in the Bible of somebody dying who, if anyone deserved to die, with a great feeling of fulfillment was Moses, he dies the most frustrated of all. He can't get into the Promised Land. In that sense, you'd have to say that Moses is more paradigmatic of human beings than Abraham. Most people do not die satisfied with their lives. Most people die with a certain degree of frustration over not having accomplished what it is they wanted. And I don't mean that they didn't invent, discover a cure for cancer. I mean whatever it is, that they didn't make the children they wanted, that they didn't marry the person they wanted, that it could be a thousand things. But he dies happy, which is remarkable given what he has gone through, and given if we are right about the way he and Sarah ended up, it is also very remarkable that it would write that. Be that as it may, He— that's the way he's described, and he is the only one in the Bible. But that is not the part that I wanted to talk to you about. Believe it or not, it's the last few words: "And he was gathered to his kin." What on God's earth does that mean? The man has died. The man dies. And notice the next sentence is: "His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him." So what does it mean, "and he was gathered to his kin"? I will read to you a remarkable paragraph from Sarna. I did not expect to read this from Sarna. Sarna is not Orthodox. That's what makes this paragraph from Sarna so fascinating. This phrase, he was gathered to his kin, peculiar to the Torah, is also used of Yishmael, Isaac, Jacob, Aaron, and Moses. An analysis of the contexts— see, when I— before we go to analysis of the context, I thought when I had originally read it, uh, that it really only meant, well, that he went to— he was buried with his co-religionists, his family, right? That's what you all would have thought, I would assume, right? Okay. But for one thing, it happens before he's buried. The next sentence says he's buried. It says he died and he joined his nation, which is the literal, the literal translation of it. So it's not very clear then what exactly it means. Especially since, wait a minute, in Abraham's case, his nation wasn't buried yet. What nation? Who? His father Terach? He wasn't buried with him. So it can't mean that. The only one who has been, who died thus far is Sarah. And you can't say, and he was buried with his nation or his kin, when the only issue was Sarah. So let's read what he writes. An analysis of the contexts in which this phrase is found, 'He was gathered to his kin,' reveals that it is to be distinguished from death. You hear that? Because the action follows the demise. Are you with me? You getting the hint that so far Sarna's leading to? Let me read that again. An analysis of the context in which it is found reveals that it is to be distinguished from death itself. It doesn't mean he died, because the action, in other words, his joining his kin, follows death. Get it? What follows death? The— for most of us, the assumption is burial. But burial happened afterwards. Unless you consider this phrase synonymous with being buried, which it could be. We'll find out. It is not the same. Next sentence. It is not the same as burial in an ancestral grave, which is what all of us would have thought reading this text, because it is employed of Abraham Aaron and Moses, none of whom was buried with his forefathers. So it can't mean, "And he joined his ancestral grave," which is what you would have thought it meant. You're going to get the chills. It is also not identical with internment in general, because the report of burial follows this phrase. And the difference between the two is especially blatant in the case of Jacob, who was interred quite a while after being gathered to his kin. Get it? He gathered to his kin, joined his kin, if you will, and far later was buried. So it can't be the same thing. It would seem, therefore, that the existence of this idiom as of the corresponding figure to lie down with one's fathers testifies to a belief that, despite his mortality and perishability, man possesses an immortal element that survives the loss of life. Non-Orthodox scholar Nahum Sarna writing: Death is looked upon as a transition to an afterlife, where one is united with one's ancestors. This interpretation contradicts the widespread but apparently erroneous view that such a notion is unknown in Israel until later times. Woo! That's chill-worthy, okay? I get the chills reading it to you again. I have to tell you the delight that I had in coming across this of Sarna. One of the reasons is, it has been one of my ongoing battles in Jewish life to tell Jews that they have been mistakenly presented Judaism in their belief that Judaism doesn't believe in an afterlife. It does! It affirms it with passion. If you look in the secular Encyclopedia Judaica, You will see under afterlife, A-F-T-E-R-life, first sentence: Judaism has always affirmed the belief in an afterlife. Jews, however, have bought into— and this was pointed out to me, I'd say 15 years ago, after a speech in Texas. A woman who had converted to Judaism came over to me after a speech. I don't think I've actually referred to this maybe once ever since. It comes to me now as I speak to you. And she said, "You know, I want to tell you something. When I converted to Judaism, I realized that the only people in the world, the only group that still believed in the Age of Reason, were the Jews." And it was such a powerful insight All other groups, as it were, had still very deeply pre-age-of-reason religious beliefs, or simply rejected rationality as the basic way to approach life, as in very many traditional cultures. But Jews were so empirical-oriented. Give me the evidence, give me the facts, give me the data, and then I'll believe it. If you can't prove it, I'm from Missouri. Jews are from Missouri. Much more than people from Missouri. That's one of life's ironies, is that Jews, who brought all of these things into the world— God, afterlife, at least afterlife is spoken of here, and so on— are the ones who least believe in these things today. I once heard a rabbi, a distinguished conservative rabbi, say at a funeral— and I wrote this in my article on afterlife in my journal years ago— he said, "Ladies and gentlemen," We're here burying so-and-so, but of course we know that life ends with death. We Jews don't believe in an afterlife. We believe you live on through your good deeds and through your children and so on. Well, I never accepted that on many grounds. One of them is it's terribly unfair to those who don't have children. They don't live on? Number 2, it's terribly unfair to those who don't like their children. I'm dead serious. I live on through this— ugh, ugh! That's a frightening thought! I'm very serious about this. Is everybody dying to live on through their kids? And what if their kids don't have kids? And by the way, even if you like your kids, and you do live on through your kids, how long do you live on? What does that even mean? What if 4 generations from now they lose the videos of you? I'm serious. Do you remember your great-great-grandparents? Can you even name them? Can you even name your great-grandparents? Most of you can't even name them, let alone tell me anything about them. How are they living on through you? Genetically? Do you believe that stuff? What does that even mean? You're a gene pool of all of humanity. So, it always struck me as, at least, let's be honest. You don't live on, period. You're here, you're a puff of molecules, you're gone, you're no more molecular. Okay? Let's at least be honest, but don't give me this glib stuff, "You live on through this or that." And the Jews in the Holocaust, for whom all their good deeds didn't live at all, because everyone they touched was also gassed, so they don't live on. Think about it. How could a Jew hold such a thing?

This episode of Timeless Wisdom will continue right after this.

We live in a time where the moment you question the narrative, you're told to stop thinking and start complying. That's why what Angel is doing matters. With eye-opening documentaries like Thank You, Dr. Fauci and RFK: Legacy, Angel is willing to explore the issues others avoid. In a culture shaped by gatekeepers, Angel offers something rare: a platform for truth-seeking storytelling that isn't constrained by fear or conformity. Go to angel.com/prager, join the Angel Guild, and watch these films today.

Now back to more of Dennis Prager's timeless wisdom.

It's, it's always struck me as people don't want to look at the consequences of their own belief. If you deny an afterlife, be honest and say we are purely physical beings. We may have a heart and emotions and so on, but the fact is it is all in, in many ways a subjective experience. Objectively, that's it. We're gone. We are no more immortal than the cow you may have had for dinner, or parts of whom you may have eaten for dinner tonight, if you had a burger or whatever. That's all we are, except cows don't care about living on, we do. That's the only difference. Secondly, it is all very often argued, and this is the point that Sarna makes here, that the belief in an afterlife in Judaism is caused by the Greeks, that the Greeks gave it to the Jews. They believed in the spirit, in the soul, in the immortality of the soul that was not to be found in the Hebrew Bible, and the Jews were influenced by the Greeks, and therefore they picked it up from them. That is why the Talmud, which is almost co-equal with the Torah in Judaism as a body of thought, or certainly as a body of law, the Talmud is filled with references to the hereafter, to the afterlife. By the way, the Talmud, I believe it's at the end of the Tractate Sanhedrin, and I may be wrong, I think it's the 11th chapter, has a great, an unbelievable Mishnah. Mishnah is the earlier part of the Talmud, which is considered the critical basis upon which the whole Talmud is written, and it predates it, and it has a quasi-divine status. The Mishnah says there, "Any Jew who doesn't believe in the afterlife doesn't go there." And, you know, it's very funny. When I first read it as a kid, I thought, "That's disgusting." A poor agnostic, atheist, whatever, is a nice person, doesn't believe in it, it's not fair. If they were nice, they should go. But as I've gotten older, I've realized if it doesn't matter to you enough to believe in it, then it doesn't matter to you, then maybe you just don't go there. So for you it's irrelevant. It's a very interesting statement. I'm not sure it should be taken absolutely literally, but I think there is a great deal of truth to it. And the difference between believing in an afterlife or not is really worthy, it's so worthy of its own lecture, that I'm actually, I really, I think I'll prepare one one time. But very briefly, one thing I think that you have to acknowledge is that it sets this life in a much different context. If you believe that there is an immortal soul in you that does survive the death of your body, you have a very different outlook on life. It would have ramifications in many, many areas. One of them is, I would think, it would make you happier. And that is why I'm convinced that people don't believe in it. We have a— and it is— I will now explain why. It's not ironic. It's actually sad. It used to be that people would wish that things were true, and therefore they would believe them. It's called wishful thinking. We've had a reaction against that. The reaction against that holds. Because I wish something were true, it can't be true. You get the difference? They're both reacting to wishes. One says, because I wish it, it's true. And the other, the sophisticate, says, because I wish it, it can't be true. Truth, however, is independent of whether you wish it or not. Okay? Whether you wish to win the lottery or not, you will or will not win the lottery. It's irrelevant what you wish. Whether or not there is an afterlife is irrelevant to whether or not you wish there be an afterlife. Either there is or there isn't. Okay? So the fact that we may wish that there were an afterlife doesn't mean that if you therefore believe there is one, it's wishful thinking. I admit I wish there is an afterlife. But that doesn't therefore affect my belief in it. I wish a lot of things that I know don't exist. Okay, I wish that God answered everybody's prayers who prayed for good things. Okay, but that I don't believe because the evidence is contrary. We'll talk about prayer today, in fact, because of the prayers that, that Rebecca offers for a child and why they're answered and so on. But, but that's a separate, that's a separate issue. Now, what that is, the answering of prayers. What is not a separate issue is whether or not wishing something makes it untrue. I want there to be an afterlife, but that doesn't mean it isn't there. So you can't say to me, "Well, Prager, you want an afterlife, that's why you believe in it, it's wishful thinking." That's a non sequitur. Yes, I admit I want there to be one, but there may very well be one. Now let's talk about what, what are the arguments for it. The arguments are very overwhelming. If God is not physical, How could God create a world, a reality, whose only reality is physical? Alright, just insofar as— now, in Judaism, and we're talking within Judaism, because that's the question: does Judaism believe in an afterlife? Right? That's the question. Okay? For Mormons it would be a different question, because for them God is physical. So we're going to talk specifically now for Jews. Within Judaism, God is not physical. It is one of the basic beliefs in Judaism. So if God is not physical, didn't God make a non-physical reality? If God is the ultimate non-physical reality, there must be a non-physical reality. Second, how many of you really do believe— I don't mean by a show of hands, it's just a question for you to ponder— how many of you really do believe that you are only a physical reality? That in the final analysis you're really just chemicals? That you're stellar dust, that you're stellar matter, you're molecular, you're a molecular creation, and that's it. There is nothing that transcends it. I don't think that. I think there's a Dennis that is independent of Dennis's body. And I think that you think that of you, that there is a you. I can't define it, you can't define it, I can't put it in a bottle, but if I could put it in a bottle, it would be physical. The argument, therefore, is, I think, a very strong one if there is a God. The obvious other argument, I said to you that it would make you happy, right? Why would it make you happy? Because every one of us understands that this world is a profoundly unjust place. It may not be unjust to you, but it is filled with injustice. It's a dispiriting thought to think for all our labors, for all our concerns, for all our hopes, it all ends in the grave anyway. And then it really does end up with what Ecclesiastes writes, "Everything is vanity." The whole thing is really baseless. Then what is it? Then we're just taking up space for X amount of time in this world. The belief in an afterlife says, "Wait a minute, there is something that works itself out in this world after this world." And that is a helpful thing. A third ramification of it is you won't become a utopian in this world. I am convinced— not convinced, I know this for a fact— that with the decline of religion in the Western world, utopianism in politics took over. One of the things that religion had always said to its adherents was, This world may be miserable, but know that there is something better for the deserving in the next world. Karl Marx hated that. It was for that reason that Marx called religion the opiate of the masses. He said what, what religion did was stop people from making this world any better for themselves, because they would all defer all their desires to the next world. So who cares if the rich lord over me, and who cares if capitalists take advantage of me? Oh, my priest, my minister, my rabbi told me that things will be okay in the next world. So he saw religion as an opiate. It let people suffer and not try to better their situation. Now, in some cases, that is exactly what happened. People were, were sedated by religion and said, oh, who cares what happens here? It's what happens there that is the only thing that matters. What he did, of course, was, however, go to the opposite extreme, a far more dangerous one. What is that? Because there is no utopia after this world, we have to make utopia in this world. And that is what all of the left, all of it, historically has been, a utopian movement. The further you move left, the further you move generally secularly, and the further you move towards utopianism. Make this world heaven because there is no heaven afterwards. You understand? And that is why— well, that's why, to give you a brief course in Marxism, it's called Marxism. Have you— how many of you— this I am curious by show of hands— how many of you ever heard the term— I won't ask you what it means— just heard the term dialectical materialism? It's amazing, frankly, I did not expect that many hands. Your children won't be able, thank God, but— well, it's not true, if they go to college they'll learn it, because there are people who still believe in it there. Dialectical materialism is based on the notion of— materialism philosophically doesn't mean "I love Porsches and Mercedes." That's the popular use of the term materialism. Philosophically, materialism means I believe only in the reality of matter. Dialectical materialism means that I believe in the dialectics, which are where opposites reconcile themselves, of matter. In his case, in the Marxian case, it was feudalism reacted to by its opposite capitalism, which will ultimately culminate in socialism. So that is dialectical materialism, and for that people spend years and years at university, and you got it in in one minute. Just what a bargain. Materialism took over from religion. Matter is the only reality. There are religions that said the spirit is all that matters. Now back to Judaism. Judaism walked a tightrope. It says the spirit is real and the body is real, and they are both very important. And to the question, if the Torah and/or the Hebrew Bible so believed in an afterlife, why doesn't it say so outright? Believers know that after this life there is an afterlife. There are two reasons. Number one, there is no philosophy in the Torah. None. It is not a philosophical book. Judaism is not philosophical. It is practical. This is how you live life. There are thousands and thousands of pages on how you observe the Sabbath, very few on why. You can write about it, there's nothing in Judaism that prohibits it, but it is not a philosophical religion. The Greeks were philosophical, the Jews were practical. This is how you lead a life. Come up with whatever philosophy you like, more or less. I mean, there are parameters. You can't be an idolater. But even then, it doesn't say why idolatry is bad. It just says, "Don't bow down to idols." It's not a philosophical religion. Okay? Theology was basically invented by Christians, and philosophy was invented by Greeks. Judaism invented neither of those. And it's not— this is not a good or bad statement. It's just a statement of fact. That's one reason the Torah doesn't say a philosophical statement or a belief statement. There are no belief statements. It doesn't even say believe in God. You might as well say, well, the Torah doesn't care if you're an atheist because there's no instruction to believe. There is not a single statement in the Torah to believe in God, including the first of the Ten Commandments. It's not even a commandment, it's a statement. I took you out of Egypt. It doesn't say believe in me. It doesn't even say, "Believe that I save people." It just says, "This is what I did." The Torah doesn't ever instruct belief. And it's not philosophical. Third and most important, Judaism knew that the moment you start preoccupying yourself with an afterlife, you will end up ignoring this life. And Judaism, remember, arose In the world dominated by Egyptian religion, what was Egyptian religion all about? Death. The pyramids are large tombs. Entire civilizations were rooted in death. Thousands of people died building a nice place for the pharaoh's dead body. And those who helped build it were buried with him in their travels to the underworld, to the next world. What is the name of the Bible of the Egyptians? The Book of the Dead. That is why the Torah says in Deuteronomy, "And I have put before you this day life and death, and you will choose life." Judaism rejected preoccupation with death Meaning with what happens after death. That is why what emanated ultimately from Judaism was a massive desire to create. Give you one example from Daniel Borstein, whose latest book was "The Creators." The great historian of the Library of Congress, Daniel Borstein, said that— he asked the question in his book, and I interviewed him on the radio, and he made it— he amplified on it. He said, "Why did the West, why did the Judeo-Christian world, if you will, produce such an immense outpouring of creativity in every area? Technological, scientific, artistic. How come?" Dwarfed everywhere else. And this is not a statement that other ethnicities are vapid or anything like that. There's beautiful Chinese art, there's beautiful Japanese art, etc. That is universally acknowledged. But the sheer volume and magnitude is unparalleled to the West. And he said, because Judaism originally, and Christianity of course adopted, the idea of God the Creator. And both Judaism and Christianity said man should imitate God. As God created, So you should create. You create when you believe that this world matters. If this world doesn't matter much, why bother doing anything with it? The Torah was generally silent on afterlife because it wanted the Jew to be preoccupied with this life. But it took for granted, just as it took for granted God's existence, It took for granted the existence of an afterlife. This is not a later Greek import into Judaism, and that's the point that Sarna is making. That is why this is of such importance, this little thing in Genesis 25:8. And he shows you where else it is stated in the Torah, and the context proves it can't mean Just, he was buried. Now I have a fascinating thing to show you. And this will give you a classic example of the difference in how Jews view these— the issue of afterlife. I just read to you Sarna. Okay. What— there are 3 great Jewish commentaries on the Torah today. Nahum Sarna, the British Empire. That's— many of you who've ever gone to synagogue will have seen the Hertz. I don't have it with me, but you've seen the Hertz Pentateuch Torah. And the Reform commentary is by the eminent Reform rabbi Gunter Plaut. Okay, what did— oh, Um, one second.

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Hurts. What does hurts say on, um, 25:8? This is an intimation of immortality. That's what the Orthodox. And what does Plaut say, the Reform commentary on 25:8? This is an idiomatic expression for he died. Is that dramatic or what? Plaut won't, and I know him and he is, he's a beautiful man and a great scholar and a beautiful Jew, But he's a Reform rabbi, and he's a Reform rabbi who has imbibed the liberal notion that you can't accept immortality. Just, it's too traditional. And so what does he write? And it can't be that, an idiomatic expression for he died. It would have meant then, and he died, and he died. That's what the sentence would then say, right? It can't be. But, you know, and of course, it's inconceivable to me that 1% of the Reform readers of the Plaut commentary find any trouble with that. But the second I read Sarna, I said, "I gotta see what Plaut says, and I gotta see what Hertz says." And sure enough, like Pavlov's dogs, and God forbid, I mean no parallel, but just as predictably, the Orthodox said, "This is an intimation of mortality," and the Reform says, "It's just a metaphor." an expression meaning he died. But Sarna says it best, because Sarna proves that it can't mean he died. That it had to mean that it was just assumed by the reader, the Jewish reader of this thousands of years ago, they knew what it meant, that he went to his ancestors. He went to this world where others were. And so I just wanted you to know that, because it is, it is too important an issue And it should help relax you, because a lot of the tension of modern society is everything must be done in this life or I am wasted. And also I am convinced, too, that the secularization of life helps the panics that we have over health, which I think are very much rooted in a fear of dying. It's like there's no acknowledgement— in societies where people believed in an afterlife, which is most of the world including primitive culture, They don't have the same problem with being around the dead, seeing dead bodies, talking about it. We have all euphemisms: "He passed away," you know, or whatever it is. We have all these euphemisms. It's never confronted. And it's partially because we can't handle it. And I understand why. If I thought that's it, this ends it all, I would find it much more difficult to handle, too. And I love life. There's no contradiction between loving life and believing in an afterlife, in wanting to find a cure for cancer or AIDS or whatever in this life and still believing in an afterlife. Judaism very beautifully tread, I think, that middle line. Jews today have crossed over it in their denial of it, and that's why Genesis 25:8 I think is such an important, important verse. I suspect that any of you looking at chapter 25 beforehand would not have thought that Genesis, that verse 8, would have been so pregnant with something of such importance. Okay, let me— please, I saw a hand. Please don't forget what you want to ask. I want to at least finish chapter 25 today. So at least we could have a chapter at a time. Verse 9: His sons Isaac and Ishmael buried him in the cave of Machpelah in the field of Ephron son of Zohar the Hittite. Zohar in Hebrew. Facing Mamre, the field that Abraham had bought from the Hittites. You remember last week how many times it says he bought it? And he paid full amount, and he offered the money, and he wouldn't take a gift. Just in case you missed it. Isn't that amazing? I mean, it's so out of its way, the Torah, to tell you we bought it, we bought it, we bought it. And so again, just to remind you, Abraham bought it, and that's where he was buried. And you will notice that they are listed in, in the two sons who buried him are listed in non-chronological order of birth. How do we know that that is the way it is? Because when Isaac is buried later on— and I, and I try not to move on, uh, with these things, but here it's, it's, it's one of the times it's just necessary— it says that Esau and Jacob buried him because Esau was the, was the older. Why here? Because Ishmael is this child of a concubine. And Isaac is the only child of his wife. That's the reason. Not because of any other reason. That's the reason. Because if the reason were he carried on the tradition, then Jacob should have been listed before Esau when they buried Isaac. All right? They buried him. And it's, by the way, it's a lot of commentators have noted that Isaac and Ishmael probably were getting along all right. That they both went together. It has no intimation of a rift, of a rivalry, or anything, which given siblings in Genesis is an amazing achievement. Verse 11, after the death of Abraham, God blessed his son Isaac, and Isaac settled near Beer-lachai-ro'i. Now we talk about, uh, talk about Isaac for a moment. You will notice that Isaac only has, and I mentioned this in passing last week so I won't develop it too much now, Isaac is really only Abraham's son and Jacob's father. We don't get much about Isaac. However, Sarna does a nice thing and he He gives Isaac about as much due as you can do without perverting the text. So let me read it to you. We're going to come to Isaac, actually we're going to come to Isaac in verse 19. So let me just, let me do 12 to 18. This is the line of Ishmael, the son of Abraham, who was given birth to by Hagar the Egyptian. The, the maiden to Sarah, to Abraham, the maiden of Sarah to Abraham. Again, it just wants to keep reminding you who Yishmael was. Don't forget how he was born to a maiden of Sarah. Okay, and these are the names of the children of Yishmael, sons of Yishmael, by their names according to their generations. The firstborn of Yishmael is Nevayot, and then Kedar, Adbe'el, and Mibsam. I love these names, don't you? It's just— we should really resurrect some of these. I mentioned that to you. My son Adbe'el. Oh, Eddie. And Mishma, and Dumah, and Massa, and Hadad, Tema, Yetur, Nafish, and Kedma. Sounds like names I'd make up. These are the names of the children, the sons of Ishmael, and they are their names, uh, by their villages and their encampments. 12 chieftains of as many tribes. These were the years of the life of Ishmael, 137. Then he breathed his last and died and was gathered to his kin. See, Which also implies that he was probably a decent fellow. Because we don't say that about bad people, that they were gathered to their kin. That same phrase is earlier. So he went to his afterlife, Yishmael. No, the Bible has zero problem with Yishmael. It's important to remember that in retrospect when you think of contemporary rivalries. They dwelt from Havilah by Shur, which is close to Egypt, all the way to Ashur. And they camped alongside all their kinsmen. Now comes the story of Isaac, so let me read to you what Sarna says about Isaac. The second series of patriarchal narratives, that relating to Isaac, now begins, verses 19 to 34. The data about him are exceedingly sparse. Much of what is preserved, his birth and circumcision, the aqedah, the binding, and his marriage is integrated into the biography of Abraham, while other episodes belong to the large collection of traditions regarding Jacob. Nothing is recorded of the first 20 years of Isaac's marriage. You'll figure out— I'll show you how he figures that out. Only a few isolated events in his life are preserved in the literature, where he is eclipsed by the towering figure of his father Abraham and overshadowed by the dynamic, forceful personality of his son Jacob. As I told you, right? Those are the two really. He's just like a conduit. Yet Isaac is more than a mere transition between Abraham and Jacob, and the biblical account does contain unmistakable elements of individuality. And I credit Sarna for digging this up. Isaac's name, uniquely bestowed by God, is not changed. Abraham's is, from Abram to Abraham. Jacob's is, from Jacob to Israel. Isaac's is never changed because it was uniquely bestowed from the beginning by God, remember? Uh, his pastoral wanderings are restricted to a narrow range and largely center around Beer Sheva. Unlike Abraham, he does not live at Hebron, Kiriat Arba, but settles there only in his old age. He alone remains monogamous. There's a credit to Isaac. He is the only patriarch to engage in agriculture, and the only one never to leave the Promised Land. That's interesting. Finally, the unique divine name, Pachad Yitzchak, suggests some episode not recorded in which this particular name would have been meaningful. References in Amos to the shrines of Isaac and to the house of Isaac as an epithet for Israel seem to indicate that a more extensive account of his life once existed. The story of Isaac interrupted by the genealogies of chapter 25, which we just were doing, now resumes with the main emphasis on the birth of Esau and Jacob and the rivalry between them. These narratives present an ancient belief that the bitter hostility that marked the later relationships between the peoples of Israel and Edom had its origins in the prenatal experience of their founding fathers, who were twins. Edom is the land that is located what would be now in southwest Jordan. Across from the Negev. If you look across, if you've ever been there, across, that's Jordan. That's what, that's the land of Edom, in case you were wondering. Okay, uh, verse 19. This is the story of Isaac, son of Abraham. Abraham begot Isaac, just in case you forgot. Uh, of course, remember that there was the worry There are a lot of commentators who say don't think any of those kings who visited with Sarah, remember, uh, it's not— he's not any of their children, any of their child. He is, he is Abraham's child. There was a— there might have been that worry, maybe, maybe not. Isaac was 40 years old when he took to wife Rebekah. One moment. Isaac was 40 years old when he took to wife Rebekah, the daughter of Bethuel the Aramean of Padan-aram, the sister of, of Laban the Aramean, for a wife. Isaac pleaded with the Lord on behalf of his wife because she was barren. Sound somewhat, uh, well, what is the word I'm looking for? Somewhat familiar. That's the word. It's a tough word, familiar. I don't know why I forgot it. Uh, there is a reason for this. There is a reason for Sarah's barrenness and Rebecca's barrenness, which, uh, I would be curious if you could, you could figure out. Anybody want to guess why it's important that they both were barren? Yes, exact same words, exact same words, both correct. It makes their birth a divine act, the births that they gave, divine acts. Exactly. So they prayed. So Isaac prayed to God about his wife because she was barren. And God responded to him, and Rivka, Rebecca, gave birth— Rebecca, his— excuse me, Rebecca, his wife, became pregnant. Not gave birth, but became pregnant. Now, I want to talk to you about this. A lot of times when I have talked about petitionary prayer and the difficulty that it presents, People have— religious people have pointed out, what are you talking about? Look at how Abraham prays. Look at how Isaac prays. And look at how they get results. What are you talking about? They, they make petitionary prayer. Petition— there are many types of prayer, and I won't— I don't want to develop this. This too is its own speech. But very briefly, one form of prayer So is literally correct. Imkein. Lama zanochi. Why is this? I am. That is the literal from the Hebrew. Sometimes I do that for you so you'll understand. She doesn't actually say, why am I alive? But why am I? It's almost like, why am I? Or why is this? Why is this for me this way? What is, what is all of this about? And then she went to seek, to seek God. What, what are you— what? Yeah, he has inquire. Yes, inquire is a good, is a good, is a good thing. Now, some points here. Sarna makes a brilliant point. What happens when Abraham and Sarah don't have a kid? What is their solution to their problem? Take a concubine. He gives credit here, the only defender of Isaac I ever met, Not that Isaac is ever bad, but he's never regarded as particularly much. But here it's a very interesting juxtaposition. The same exact problem, the same exact burden, but they pray to God and they don't go and get a concubine. Now, of course, my dear friends, you can argue who did the more correct thing. It's a very interesting question. If things go wrong, do— what do you do? Do you try to work it out, or do you pray? It's almost like the old Marxian problem I raised earlier. So I want you to know, while I think it's very important to note the difference, I'm not sure one was a superior answer to the other. He was a prayerful type. Isaac. That's true. Abraham was more of an activist, and Sarah was the ultimate activist. Hey, hey, you need progeny, man, otherwise this thing dies with you. Get a woman. It was her idea, you recall. Very, very interesting difference in personalities here. Why didn't Rebecca say the same thing? It's not working with me, Isaac, go get a concubine. Not at all. They went to pray and it worked. Just wanted to show you the difference. How interesting. Now also, she went to— and it uses Jehovah, God's personal name. Remember I told you there's Adonai and Elohim? And when it uses God's proper name, it means the personal God. Elohim is the God of nature, of God of creation. That's why it says, in the beginning, God Elohim created the heavens and the earth. Not Jehovah. Okay, so she went to, uh, petition God, proper name God. There's another thing important here that commentators have noted, and that is she goes to seek this particular God, not the gods, not the God of nature, but this particular God, the God who the Jews or the Hebrews or just her family have understood to be God, which is a credit to her as well. She didn't go to some soothsayer among the pagans. She went to God directly. She didn't go to any other person, but went to God. So you see how interesting it is what can be read into the words here. And God said to her, and the answer is almost a poem. In Hebrew, it is a poetic type thing. "Two nations are in your womb, two separate peoples shall issue from your body. One people shall be mightier than the other, and the older shall serve the younger." To which I'm sure she was thrilled to just hear all this news. Can you imagine that? The poor woman, she's having this awful pregnancy, and this is the answer God gives her. Not, it'll be all right, but on the contrary, it's awful. You don't know how bad it is. One will be the mightier, two whole nations shall come, and the older shall serve the younger. Now, I have never seen this point noted, but it's hard to believe there are any truly new points, but I haven't seen it noted. When you get to the dilemma later of how it is that Jacob gets the birthright and not Esau, because Esau is the firstborn. You have a problem with Jacob, which I wanted to get to today. We might or might not, but the afterlife might have stopped us. Um, but it's worth it. I mean, if you, if any of you were actually relieved to know that this is a Jewish belief, it was worth every minute of it. But I, on one of the questions that's been raised is, how could Rebecca be party to this cheating, quote unquote, because we'll find out if he was cheated. We may not find out, but we'll certainly ask about it. The cheating of Esau of the birthright. How could Rebecca be a party to this? Here is, I think, the answer. God told her. I only realized this on the most recent reading of it now. Not— I, I've never heard this before. God told her the, the older will serve the younger. Well, if God tells you that, you know you have a pretty clear thing about your kids, about the twins that are going to come out. So I think it's very important to understand where Rebecca is coming from. It's also, by the way, very interesting. Again, I didn't see anything, uh, any commentary on this. It just hits me now. That God directly responds to Rebecca. I would like to see how often in Genesis or anywhere in the Torah God talks to women. I'm curious if any of you know, because if you recall, I think in the case of Sarah, it was always to Abraham. In fact, remember Sarah was back in the tent listening, overhearing whether she'd be pregnant and so on. This is very interesting, this direct divine talk to a woman. And in this case, who it is, is Rebecca, who, if you recall from last session, is mighty impressive. And turns out to be, with all, truly all respect, and no jocularity intended with regard to Isaac, is more impressive than Isaac. And by the way, you recall that in some ways Sarah was more impressive than Abraham. And none of this is reading into it. All of it is just, it's what's read into it later is the celebration of the patriarchs, and somewhat of the lesser status of the matriarchs, and folks, I don't come to this as some charter member of the National Organization for Women. I come to it as an honest reader of the text. An honest reader of the text, it says the women are at least as impressive, at least as important, at least as decisive, and arguably more so. And so it's no wonder God talks to Rebecca here. Uh, he has somebody to really talk to, uh, about this. And he knows which one of them is going to do the key work with regard to making sure that she chose the right kid. You see, the point here with Yishmael and, and Isaac, the point here with Esau and Jacob is who is going to inherit Abraham's monotheism. It's a very big deal, my friends. It's almost, you know, to put it in modern scientific terms, if you had a cure for cancer that you wanted to carry on generations beyond you, you'd need to know which of your children can do it. It's a very important decision. It doesn't, this is not, these are not just family matters. These are matters of human history that are being resolved here. 24. When her time to give birth was at hand, there were twins in her womb. Which we knew already. I find the sentence redundant, but I don't know why. Maybe just it continued. I don't know. It showed that when she was ready. Anyway, maybe it just shows that what God said will happen did happen. I guess that's what it is. Okay, God said this will happen, and sure enough it happens. And the first one emerged red, like a hairy mantle all over his body. So they named him Esau. Of course, that makes a great deal of sense to the English reader. I know it's always— I always— it always cracks me up. And they named him Moses because they drew him out from the water. Oh, I see. This is one of the reasons it's good to know the Hebrew. Asaph means hairy. Okay? So they named him hairy. Now you like it, you see? All of a sudden you're reacting. Right? It's right. All right. So, Esau was a hairy man, as I noted once in an advanced seminar at Columbia University on communist affairs. I was so bored in class, I mumbled over to the only other kid who had gone to yeshiva at the desk with the former ambassador of India to the UN, and I whispered to him out of nowhere—I had lost my mind from boredom—I go, "Shimel, Esau was a hairy man." And the professor stopped the entire seminar on international negotiation And he answered, "Mr. Prager, Esau was a hairy man." It was one of my great moments in graduate school. Anyway, Esau gets his name. And what does it mean that he was all filled with this redness? It's not fully clear. It could be admiringly, as he points out, Hebrew admoni, which means reddish, is also used admiringly of David in 1 Samuel. So it could mean a lot of things. It could mean a ruddy complexion, and it could simply mean that he is related to Edom, the people of, the father of the people of Edom, or one of the, or member of it. We don't know exactly. Anyway, assume that he was a reddish hairy guy and was born that way, which not many kids are born that way. They usually may be on their head, but not more. And then came out his brother. His brother came out and his hand was grabbing the heel of Esau, or Esav in Hebrew. Now, and his name, which will also make great sense to all of you who don't know Hebrew, was Jacob. Now, it could mean Jacob is Yaakov, heel is Akev. So one— so it's really hairy and heel, the two kids. Okay, in those days they had very graphic names for their kids. Imagine if you could name your kid on the ways they look. This is placenta and this is Frankenstein. No wonder God changed his name to Israel. It's just not as great as the sons of heel. And Isaac was 60 years old when they were born. Okay, so now you know how— that's how you know that they waited 20 years, as I pointed out earlier. Okay, and, uh, the, the lads grew up, and Esau, or Esau, was a man who knew, who knew hunting. He was a man of the field, of the, of outdoors. I'm reading, I'm translating literally. He knew hunting. He was a man of the outdoors. And Jacob was a simple or mild man who sat in tents. This is powerfully, powerfully a statement of what the Torah preferred in people. It may be an objective statement, but it's clear which one Genesis likes more. Judaism is not into hunters. It's into students. Too much so in some ways. And by the way, the Zionists who founded Israel wanted to undo that. Hey, wait a minute, we're too much. Simple people who sit in tents, because simple people who sit in tents get killed easily. Maybe we need a little of our brother Esau in us. And so they made a rather remarkable army. So it's an interesting thing, but clearly there is a preference to being a person of tents, and of simplicity, and of mildness, than to being a rough, hairy guy who goes out and hunts. Sarna on hunting. Hunting as a way of life was held in low esteem in Israel. The only hunter other than Esau mentioned by name in the Bible is Nimrod, or Nimrod, in 10:9, Genesis 10:9. Near Eastern art often portrays kings and nobles in pursuit of game, but no Israelite or Judean king or hero is ever mentioned as indulging in the sport. The story is told, incidentally, in this regard, of a rather assimilated Jew, Henry Kissinger. Jews often told the story that the one thing he couldn't get himself to do was to go with Brezhnev hunting. Because Brezhnev was a big hunter, and that he just would decline, it was just not his thing. Now, I think you could go overboard with this, some very beautiful people have hunted, there's no question. It does not immediately make you into a gruff person, by any means. And there are people who don't hunt and treat animals beautifully who are despicable. However, all things being equal, the Torah clearly prefers the Hebrew Bible people who don't, the non-hunting type, especially in, well, especially in almost any civilization. So, that, you already get a very clear sense, though, of difference. By the way, for those of you into genetics, into the power of genes. The Torah story is so clearly anti-genetic. I mean, look who came out. Twins! Who could be more opposite? The simple, mild-mannered Clark Kent, who comes out, right? And this hairy ape who likes to go around and hunt. I mean, you can't get more different, and they come from the same womb and same genes and same everything. So, you know, it's an interesting thing to remember, even though clearly we all acknowledge the power of genes. Verse 28, very dramatic statement, and it certainly tells you who the Torah thinks had more class. And Isaac loved Esau. It's so funny, it's, it's almost sad it's so funny. The Torah goes overboard to tell you who it likes, and in the next verse It tells you who Isaac likes. And who did he like? The wrong one. Poor Isaac. It really is something. And who has the class to figure out who's better? The woman. Rebecca. No wonder God talked to Rebecca. It might have been worthless to talk to Isaac. God knew who he'd like. It's just an interesting thing. Or you might argue the other way, that she got talked to by God and knew which one to like. Okay, that's also possible. Okay, we don't know. But the, the odds are that, God or no God, a parent's reaction to a child is very emotional. And therefore, given that the word is love, I think that it was a natural response and not God said to Rebecca. She simply loved Isaac. It also tells you that in families While parents should try their darndest to love equally, it's a pretty knowledgeable book, Genesis, and says it doesn't quite work out that way. They're all unique loves, but in some cases, some kids just are more beloved than others might be. The bad thing is when it is in fact felt. That's the bad thing. I will never forget when I did a special Mother's Day show Dennis Prager, a couple of years back, and I told people to send me in letters on why I should announce their mother's name on the radio. Write in why you really love your mother and why I should honor her with describing her and mentioning her and wishing her on the radio a Happy Mother's Day. I got a lot of letters, and my wife and I really actually, we cried reading some of them. They were quite overwhelming. The one that overwhelmed me the most, and I actually, I had to fight tears reading it again on the air, it was a good thing I had read them beforehand, was a woman wrote in, and I can't do any justice to the way she wrote it, I'm just paraphrasing. There were about 5 kids, I think, in her family, and when their mother died, it came out in conversation that each was absolutely certain that they were the most loved. That's a very effective parent. I just thought that that was very— that touched me very deeply when I, when I read that. Uh, this was, uh, and by the way, for all we know, uh, Esau felt loved. We don't know. But the odds are that this is not just telling you internal feelings, but probably as well the way it was expressed. But that might be reading into it. Verse 29. Once when— no, no, verse 28, excuse me. Well, oh yeah, that did that right. Oh yeah, so verse 29. Once when Jacob was cooking a stew, which is interesting in and of itself, he was, you know, he was a homebody. He also cooked. Once when Jacob was cooking the stew, Esau came in from the open and I have famished, but the Hebrew is tired. Yeah, it's funny that they write famished here. The Hebrew is not that. It's tired. That's all it is, is tired. And it's very important. I'm very unhappy they have famished, because famished would make it more difficult to understand the story as it unfolds. Anyway, Esau came in from the open, tired. That's all he was. You must You have to understand that to understand the story. The Hebrew word "ayef" is not super tired. It's in modern Hebrew too. If you say, "Ani ayef, ani dotzei lishon," "I'm tired, I want to go to bed." Fine. It's not famished. It's not, you know, wrecked, distraught, or anything like that. Verse 30. And Esau said to Jacob, Give me some of that red stuff to gulp down. Do any of you have the word please? Who does? What translation is it? Hirsch. Sorry, hello? Samson Raphael Hirsch. Yes. Could you please read the exact words he uses? Okay, I think please is correct. It has na in Hebrew, which means please in the Bible. So on behalf of Esau, I just want to just— I think he used please. Not pretty please. Not with all respect, my darling brother, may I have. But it seems that let me go, almost like Oh, come on, let me gulp, let me gulp down some of this red of red. That's the— that, that would be the, the literal. Because— and it's funny, it's again because I'm tired. What do you have? Anybody have faint? Faint might be better even in some way because that implies weak from hunger too. I'm tired and hungry is really what it means. Okay, all right. And therefore his name was Edom. Clear as a bell to all of you. Again, Edom is the place, and Edom means red. Adom means red. Edom is the place. Adom means red. Give me some of the red. There's a lot of play on Edom, obviously, because he comes out with red hair and he wants from the red stuff. Now, what does it mean he wants from the red stuff? Well, he doesn't know the— no, the implication is he knew that it was liquid, not meat. The odds are that he thought that there was blood in it. That is the implication that scholars read into it, and I think it's valid. This ruffian, this hunter guy, actually liked stuff with blood in it. So, "Give me some of that really red stuff." And the Torah will then show you what a joke it is that he said that in 2 sentences. The story is mind-blowing. I'm going to analyze with you next time. Oh God, I have to tell you, don't go, sir, one minute. March 25th, not 3rd. It's changed. If I didn't remember, I would become red stuff. It's going to be Thursday, not Tuesday of that week. It's 2 days later. Okay? Okay, just got to tell you. Wait, don't go. Don't go. He says, give me from the red stuff because I am— okay, I told you that. Then Jacob says, first sell me your birthright. We'll analyze next time, we'll finish this and analyze, did he cheat Esau? I want you, if you want to think about an issue before next time, First of all, next time, any questions on the afterlife issue I raised, or the prayer issue? But I'd like you to think, and please note it's March 25th, okay? But I'd like you to answer the question: Did Esau— was Esau cheated by Jacob? It's pretty important because Jacob is Israel, and it is, it is a very sensitive issue. Did Israel get to be Israel by cheating Esau? Thank you. See you then.

Tomorrow on Timeless Wisdom with Dennis Prager.

So if you say there's only one race, the human race, University of California's lists of microaggressions says that's racist. There's only one race is racist. It's the opposite of racism.

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