Where ‘Love’ First Appears

Over the summer, I took my kids to the shore with my friend Mia and her children. At a beachside cafĂ©, I explained to my 5-year-old son, Jeremy, what was on the children’s menu.

“You can have macaroni and cheese,” I said.

“Yay!” he said, jumping up and down.

“Or you could have a grilled cheese sandwich…”

“Wow! I love grilled cheese!”

“Or you could have pancakes…”

Again, Jeremy raised his hands and exclaimed, “Yay, pancakes!” as if he were cheering for the home team at a football game. My friend Mia noticed how excited Jeremy was about each of the options. After lunch, we walked to the beach, and Jeremy and the other kids ran and leapt with delight at seeing the ocean. As Mia and I trailed behind, she nicknamed Jeremy, “Mr. Exuberance.”

This week’s Torah portion tells the story of someone who exhibited such exuberance: Jacob. The parsha is called Va-yeze — and he went out — because it recounts Jacob’s journey to his uncle Laban’s home where he falls in love with Rachel. This is the second love story in the Bible; the first was that between Isaac and Rebecca. Prior to this, Genesis retold the story of many couples: Adam and Eve, Noah and his wife, and Sarah and Abraham. But the story of Isaac and Rebecca is the first time the word “love” is used in the bible to describe the relationship between spouses. This word shows that Isaac and Rebecca shared something special, something beyond what their parents and grandparents experienced.

When Rebecca saw Isaac for the first time, she had a dramatic reaction. She was riding to meet Isaac. When she saw him, she literally “fell off her camel.”

In this week’s parshah, the word “love” is also used for the relationship between Jacob and Rachel. In that story, Jacob also has an intense reaction to seeing his beloved for the first time. The bible recounts that when Jacob saw Rachel, he kissed her and wept.

The actions of these biblical characters are intense by modern standards. Try to imagine any man today who would cry over a first kiss. Or a woman who would be moved by this response, rather than alarmed, or even scared off.


Children are known for extreme reactions — leaping with glee or sobbing uncontrollably. However, as adults we’re taught to dull our emotions. We try not to cry too much, even when we’re grieving. We rarely jump for joy. (The photographer at my wedding staged a picture of my husband and I jumping for joy, but I can’t remember the last time I spontaneously leapt with delight.) When my husband comes home from work at night, my children sprint to the door and jump into his arms, whereas I tend to stay seated and calmly say hello. Having blunted our responses, we then wonder why we seem to have lost our lust for life.

This week’s parsha reminds us of the inextricable link between emotion and passion. Genesis teaches that to experience love, we have to be open to overwhelming feelings, even when they embarrass us or throw us off balance. In this way, we too can become exuberant.

In a Sentence

A friend of mine from college recently found me on Facebook. We hadn’t spoken to each other since graduation, but I was happy to hear from him. Since we were out of touch for so long, he began by summarizing the last 15 years of his life. In a few bullet-pointed sentences, he concisely explained how he had started a Ph.D. program, left to work in the corporate world, married and had a child. I was surprised how such a long period of time could be encapsulated so succinctly, and I did my best to describe my adulthood in a few brief sentences as well.

On reflection, I realized that the past six years of my life could be summarized in just one sentence – a verse from this week’s Torah portion, Genesis 25:22. This verse describes Rebecca’s experience of being pregnant. And the children struggled together inside her; and she said, ―If so, why this me? And she went to inquire of God.”

This week’s parsha Toldot (Generations) tells the story of Rebecca and Isaac becoming parents. The parsha explains that Rebecca and Isaac had struggled with infertility and long dreamt of becoming pregnant. However, Rebecca soon found that pregnancy was much harder than she anticipated. She was in a great deal of pain and called out to God. Her fragmented question: “if, so, why this me?” indicated the depth of her anguish. Her question was an existential one; she longed to understand her place in the world.

Rebecca sought God – who then responded to her in turn. Until this point in the Torah, God had spoken to other people, but Rebecca was the first person to take the initiative to address God directly and prompt God to answer.

God told Rebecca that she was pregnant with twins, and that these children would each lead a future nation. In responding, God didn’t remove Rebecca’s pain but helped her see the bigger picture by imparting significance to her suffering. God reminded her that her life – and her current pain – was a part of something larger, and this purpose gave her strength to endure.

Rebecca went lidrosh “to inquire” or seek God. This verb is the root of the later word midrash (which means the interpretation of Torah). Rebecca’s quest serves as a paradigm for the process of Torah study which seeks to gain an understanding from God of our life’s purpose.

Like Rebecca, I too found child-rearing more difficult than anticipated. I felt ill throughout my pregnancy, had complications in labor, and then struggled with sleep deprivation for the first few years of each of my children’s lives. This experience led me to question who I was in the world and reassess my priorities. Through the vehicle of Torah, I turned to God for answers and discovered new meaning in life. This insight didn’t make raising children easier but imparted a sense of fulfillment. Rebecca’s verse captures the spiritual journey of parenting.

The verse also encapsulates the spiritual quest of the Jewish people since Rebecca’s time. Throughout the generations, the Jewish people have found life far more challenging than we anticipated. In crises, we turned to God and asked repeatedly, “If so, why this me?” Through Torah, we sought and seek our purpose. In turn, God doesn’t remove our suffering but reminds us that our actions have ultimate significance. This understanding has given our people the strength to endure through the ages.

As it turns out, summarizing a decade or five millennia is easier than it seems. Only one sentence is needed: “The children struggled within her, and she said, ‘if so, why this me’ and went to inquire of God…” The rest is history.