Dear Dr. M.,

I am hoping you can resolve a longstanding dispute I am having with my husband and children before a complete rebellion happens in our house. Every year for the Shabbos of Parshas Toldos I make red lentil soup for the Friday night meal in honor of the נָזִיד, stew, that Yaakov Avinu cooked. When Eisav saw it he exclaimed, הַלְעִיטֵנִי נָא מִן־הָאָדֹם הָאָדֹם הַזֶּה, “Give me some of that red stuff to gulp down." But when my family sees my brown-ish red lentil soup, all they can say is, "It's not red!" Each year they are disappointed in the brown concoction placed before them. Do you have any culinary suggestions for me?

Name Withheld

Dear Name:

I find it very interesting that someone with the first name Name would end up marrying a guy with the last name Withheld. It must be tough for you professionally, and especially at the TSA counter. I cannot solve that issue in this advice column. But, since you are offering a nickel for my thoughts (as pennies are no longer being minted), I would blame your kids' school for their soup objection, not your recipe book. Our children bring home projects and draw parsha pictures depicting a bright red soup being ladled out by Yaakov for a famished Eisav. Children naturally assume and teachers indulge the fantasy that the נָזִיד was as red as Clifford the Big Red Dog, as if poor Clifford was put out to pasture at the end of his storied career and Emily Elizabeth - an accomplished chef herself - needed to do something with all that meat.  

In fact, "red stuff" is not the proper way to translate הָאָדֹם הָאָדֹם הַזֶּה. The word אָדֹם comes from the word אדמה, earth or soil. It really means earth-toned, perhaps tinged with red: in other words, as brown as your lentil soup. This is also true of the other supposedly red object in the Torah, the פָרָה אֲדֻמָּה, "red" heifer. If you have seen pictures of these calves that are occasionally born to great fanfare, and which fascinated school groups and camps flock to see, you will notice that these animals are decidedly brown with reddish undertones, and pink in their eyes. Certainly ruddier than your average specimen, but nowhere near Clifford in presentation. You can reassure your husband and kids that Mom's נָזִיד is just fine as it is. Or, you can cave to pressure and order a large supply of carcinogenic Red Dye #3 before the FDA ban begins in 2027.

Dr. M.

Dear Dr. M.,

I am struggling to come to grip with my husband's religious direction. When we first got married, Stu was a very consistent shul-goer, and I took comfort in his strong commitment to tefillah. His discipline was an expression of Hashem's centrality in his life. Stu also had a weekly chavrusa with a friend that grounded him and connected him back to his yeshiva days. As the years have passed, though, and as our family has grown, b"h, he has lost this level of commitment. He seems "checked out" and even resistant to davening, Shabbos meals together, and more. I am willing to shoulder childcare responsibilities so Stu can fulfill his obligations, but he is content to stay home and relax. When we have discussed this, all he can say is, "I'm just not feeling it anymore." He is a good husband and father and he works hard all week, so I am hesitant to nag him, and that usually backfires anyway. However, as our children get older, I am concerned that he is not modeling proper religious behavior for them. What can I do to improve this situation?

Mrs. Stu

Dear Mrs. Stu,

It is not uncommon for people to undergo religious change over the course of their years, either towards greater or lesser observance. We are all constantly developing, and we are all influenced by events in our lives and in the world at large. Therefore, our relationships with Hashem are dynamic and ever-evolving. You are now identifying a dramatic shift in behavior, however, that is more than a standard deviation away from the Stu you married. So first, as a professional advice columnist, I would like to validate your concerns and tell you that I understand how painful this can be to witness.

Having said that, your portrayal of Stu as someone for whom God is no longer "central in his life" may not be accurate or fair. There are many people who believe deeply in Hashem and feel a visceral connection to Him, but fall into negative behavior patterns that do not reflect the soul on fire inside. You report that Stu says "I'm just not feeling it anymore," so let us unpack what that could mean.

I would like to call your attention to a remarkable Midrash on this week's parsha that explores Eisav's heretical statements. Yaakov is cooking his stew. A famished Eisav arrives from the field and demands some of this red-tinged נָזִיד (see recipe above). In the course of the conversation, Eisav spurns his birthright along with its spiritual commitments: וַיִּבֶז עֵשָׂו אֶת־הַבְּכֹרָה. What exactly spurred Eisav to turn his back on the legacy of his father Yitzchak and grandfather Avraham? Bereishis Rabba 63:11 elaborates:

וַיָּזֶד יַעֲקֹב נָזִיד (בראשית כה, כט), אָמַר לוֹ, מַה טִּיבוֹ שֶׁל נָזִיד זֶה. אָמַר לוֹ, שֶׁמֵּת אוֹתוֹ זָקֵן. אָמַר, בְּאוֹתוֹ הַזָּקֵן פָּגְעָה מִדַּת הַדִּין, אָמַר לוֹ, הֵן. אָמַר, אִם כֵּן לֹא מַתַּן שָׂכָר וְלֹא תְּחִיַּת הַמֵּתִים. וְרוּחַ הַקֹּדֶשׁ צוֹוַחַת (ירמיה כב, י): אַל תִּבְכּוּ לְמֵת וְאַל תָּנֻדוּ לוֹ, זֶה אַבְרָהָם. (ירמיה כב, יד): בְּכוּ בָכוֹ לַהֹלֵךְ, זֶה עֵשָׂו

“Yaakov cooked a stew, and Eisav came from the field and he was weary” (Genesis 25:29).
“Yaakov cooked a stew” – he [Eisav] said to him: ‘What is the nature of this stew?’ He said to him: ‘It is because that elder [Avraham] died.’ He said: ‘Did the attribute of justice strike that elder?’ He said to him: ‘Yes.’ He said: ‘If so, there is no granting of reward and no revival of the dead.’ The Divine Spirit screams: “Do not weep for the dead, and do not be moved for him” (Jeremiah 22:10) – this is Avraham; “Weep for one who is leaving” (Jeremiah 22:10) – this is Eisav.

According to this account, the immediate cause for Eisav's heresy was the passing of his grandfather Avraham. This is why Yaakov was preparing a traditional mourning meal and this is what led Eisav to exclaim: Zeidy died? There is no justice in the world! I don't believe in reward and punishment and I don't believe in the World to Come. It's all nonsense!

One could argue that this is an overreaction on Eisav's part. As sad as Avraham's death was, it could hardly be characterized as tragic. The pasuk (Bereishis 25:8) reports that Avraham died בְּשֵׂיבָה טוֹבָה זָקֵן וְשָׂבֵעַ, at a good ripe age, old and contented. Avraham passed away at the respectable age of 175, and was interred with great honor by his sons Yitzchak and Yishmael together in his chosen burial plot, the Cave of Machpelah. Why did Eisav react so violently to this? There are two possibilities.

Perhaps Avraham's death really did rock Eisav's world profoundly. Avraham was the only grandfather that Eisav knew. His grandmother Sarah died before he and Yaakov were born, as did their maternal grandfather Besuel. Avraham was Eisav's only grandparent, and the trauma of losing him sent Eisav into a very dark place. He genuinely perceived the world as unjust and maligned God's role in it.

On the other hand, it is possible that Eisav's heresy was a false front, and his grief was manufactured. Eisav, as the firstborn and heir of Avraham and Yitzchak's legacies, did not wish to inherit the responsibilities of being this vital link in the chain. Eisav saw a life of divine service as a burden that would prevent him from indulging his animal passions. As a free man of the field, he did not want to be suffocated by religious requirements. And so, he used the death of his grandfather as an opportunity to express outrage at God for this so-called injustice. But subconsciously, the real purpose of his anger was to lift the yoke of mitzvos from himself.

 This could be the real meaning of  Chazal's perspective  on the Ben HaRasha at the  Pesach Seder. Why does this son seemingly exclude  himself from divine service by saying מָה הָעֲבוֹדָה הַזּאֹת לָכֶם. לָכֶם – וְלֹא לוֹ, “What is this service to you?” Which we interpret as “to you,” not to him. As the Haggadah testifies:

וּלְפִי שֶׁהוֹצִיא אֶת עַצְמוֹ מִן הַכְּלָל כָּפַר בְּעִקָּר

The traditional way to translate this phrase is: Because he set himself apart from the community, he denies the core of our beliefs. But the phrase can also be read: Because he sought to exclude himself from communal responsibilities, he chose to deny our core beliefs. In other words, the Rasha's heresy is not a primary motivation; he simply finds an easy way to check out of mitzvos through his outlandish statement.

Let us bring this back to your husband, Stu. Why has his mitzvah observance lapsed? Since I do not know him it is impossible for me to determine, but there are several possibilities. One is like the first interpretation of the Midrash, that Eisav was genuinely grief-stricken. Perhaps there is some unresolved trauma in Stu's past that is manifesting itself in his lax behavior. Shul avoidance, for example, could be a symptom of some deep-seated resentment caused by a parent or a teacher or anyone else. Stu's self-diagnosis of being "checked out," could be the honest results of some inner, emotional struggle. If that is the case, only by seeking professional help can this situation improve.

Another possibility is that Stu's claims of indifference to religion are not genuine; that this is just a matter of behavior, not a crisis of faith. In order to evade religious responsibilities, or perhaps to assuage guilt, he seeks out points of contention. Always having a bone to pick arms him with a ready excuse for not doing X, Y, or Z. He is not really כופר בְּעִקָּר; he just wants to be מוֹצִיא אֶת עַצְמוֹ מִן הַכְּלָל. Perhaps he is just exhausted, overwhelmed, and stressed. Observance requires lots of discipline and we have to acknowledge that a life of mitzvos is not always easy or convenient, even though it is well worth all the sacrifice. If this sounds more like what Stu is going through, highlighting to him the great opportunity he has to mentor and inspire his children may provide him with more motivation. He already feels love for Hashem and appreciation for all the gifts bestowed upon him. You can constantly remind him of those brachos in his life.

Your desire for him to regain his spiritual mojo is wonderful. Husbands and wives that love each other should be genuinely concerned with each other's religious growth, and both should be willing to make sacrifices so the other can connect to Hashem. Just make sure that you are approaching this out of sincere and selfless care for him, and not to fulfill your personal wishes to be the wife of someone who does X, Y, or Z. He will pick up on that right away and the conversation will go nowhere. 

Wishing you much success in your efforts,

Dr. M.

Dear Dr. M,

I have a sneaking suspicion that you and your fellow advice columnists are writing melodramatic letters to yourselves in order to answer them. How can you reassure me that the questions you are responding to are real, and that this is not just a cheap way to make a point? Also, what qualifications do you have exactly to provide guidance to these supposedly random strangers who reach out to you? You have shattered my faith in humanity. This is a grave injustice!

Sincerely,

Irate

Dear Irate,

I would really like to answer your questions but I can't do that right now because I have a red lentil stew on the stove that needs my attention. I am willing to exchange it for your birthright, though. Thanks for writing!

Dr. M.