The children agitated within Rebecca” (Genesis 25:22). When Rebecca stood near synagogues and houses of study, Jacob would strugggle to come forth; and when she passed by temples of idol worship, Esau would push to come forth (Bereishit Rabbah 63:6).

Rabbi Shimon Ben Gamliel said: “No man ever honored his fathers as I honored my fathers; but I found that Esau honored his father even more than I honored mine” (Devarim Rabbah 1:15).

Just as the Divine Name rested upon Jacob, so should it have rested upon Esau. Esau was worthy of producing kings, and Jacob priests. But all of these gifts were taken away from Esau when he sold his birthright to Jacob (Midrash Shir HaShirim, Ed. Buber 18).

Not a small part of attaining maturity is the recognition that no life, no personality, is completely pure and good. We search for paradigms of goodness and purity - first in our families and later in our religious heritage - and learn, if we are discerning, that even our greatest models of existence are flawed, imperfect. Internalizing this, we may as well be inspired to examine its converse: that is, no life, no personality, is completely impure and evil.

Esau is a figure, not unlike Ishmael, who begs for a gentle touch of a loving hand. From birth he has received the opposite. Attacked pre-natally at the “heel” by his soon to be more favored twin brother, Jacob, he unconsciously develops an “Achilles complex,” striving to win over his family through the physical arts of war and hunting, rather than through the use of his intellect. Perhaps no narrative in Jewish history better defines the Jewish preference of “brain over brawn” than the Jacob-Esau struggle. The younger brother constantly outstrips his older, more athletic sibling, reminding Esau of his physical vulnerability when set against Jacob’s superior mental acuity. The contest for parental favor, for filial and national inheritance, is constantly waged between the two. The Greeks called this competition agon, and for Esau, the final agony is unfortunately immortalized. His descendants include the greatest enemies of the Jewish people: the evil Amalek, Haman, and the Roman Empire.

And yet there are extremely intimate, loving moments in Esau’s life. He is loved by his father, Isaac, for his physical prowess. And he returns that love. The rabbis of the Midrash both see and expound upon it. And deep down, underlying all the fear and anxiety that surround his ultimate meeting with Jacob (where the idea of fratricide is most certainly premeditated), Esau is looking for love, and for a change, not “in all the wrong places.” At their reunion, despite a lifetime of divergent beliefs and practices, “Esau runs toward Jacob, embraces him, falls upon his neck, and kisses him; then the two brothers weep” (Genesis 33:4). Dots over every letter of the Hebrew word Vayyishakehu (“And he kissed him”) point to hidden textual allusions. Although it is an immutable rule that Esau hates Jacob, and that everyone hates Esau, our commentator Rashi suggests that this is a moment of merciful sincerity. Esau has truly embraced Jacob with all his heart. In the process of evaluating, and perhaps, reevaulating, Esau’s inimical legacy, might this not be a good verse with which to begin?