Rivkah Imeinu was informed of the reality: she was carrying twins. It was not one mixed-up child that she was carrying; it was two children: one righteous and one evil. Her unborn infants represented two powerful nations, each with his own individual, conflicting ideology. The turmoil within her womb was not the result of a single child who was lost and indecisive concerning his religious future. Should he gravitate to the bais ha’medrash, or should he follow his inclination which was pulling him to the house of idol worship? No, it was much simpler. Her two sons were mighty enemies from before their births, their natural tendency of each controlling his destiny. Eisav gravitated to idol worship, because that was where he felt most comfortable. Yaakov, however, found solace only in the bais ha’medrash.
Chazal teach that the two will never be mighty simultaneously. When Eisav reigns, Yaakov is his subject. When Yaakov prevails, Eisav is the underdog. They each represent a theology and a moral posture which is incongruous with that of the other. Morality, justice and ethics cannot coexist with licentiousness, vulgarity and faithlessness. They are opposites and, thus, totally incompatible.
Horav Gamliel Rabinowitz, Shlita, comments that these two opposing values – the holiness dimension versus the dimension of impurity – have a similar frictional relationship within each and every one of us. This is the meaning of, u’l’ome mi’l’ome ye’ematz, “the mighty shall pass from one regime to the other.” A person can ascribe to only one dimension. He cannot have it both ways. It is either kedushah, sanctity, or tumah, impurity. Just as fire and water cannot coexist within a single entity, neither can kedushah and tumah. One cannot have his mind on Olam HaBa, the World to Come, if his body is submerged in the lusts of This World.
Rivkah Imeinu confronted this challenge via her two sons. Her choice was much easier than ours. She understood that Yaakov was a tzadik, righteous person, and Eisav was a rasha, evil person. It was clear – cut and dry. We, however, hear two voices; we are compelled by two gravitational pulls: To which one do we listen? Which one do we ignore? Perhaps, the mere fact that we understand that we cannot have it both ways, helps in our decision-making process. Once we ascribe to kedushah, the lusts and desires which would pull us down are quieted. If we give in to our base desires, however, there is no place for kedushah in our lives.
We each have a little bit of Yaakov and a little bit of Eisav in our lives. To which one do we want to give ascendancy? If we would realize how daunting the question is, we would be able to acknowledge the simplicity of the answer.
