If I want to get my kids annoyed at me, I just have to start criticizing their generation for their addiction to "instant gratification." When they have a doubt, they don't have to go to a library; they can Google it with a device in the palm of their hands. When they want to listen to a song, they don't need to wait for it to be played on the radio; they play it directly on Spotify. When they want to watch a TV show, there is no specified time to do it; they can binge-watch it on the many streaming services available.
Usually, this conversation ends abruptly when my kids point out a painful truth: while all of that is true, I am just as addicted to these mechanisms as they are. I, too, get anxious when a webpage takes three seconds to load.
This tension between waiting and consuming brings us to the famous "Marshmallow Test." In this experiment, children were offered one marshmallow now, or two if they could wait fifteen minutes. For years, the results were used to teach that "successful" people know how to delay gratification.
However, modern critics have pointed out a flaw in this interpretation: the test failed to account for context.[1] For a child from a background of scarcity, eating the marshmallow immediately is not a lack of character. It is a rational survival strategy. You eat what is in front of you because you do not know if it will be there later.
This brings us to this week's parashah, Toldot, and the most famous case of "eating the marshmallow" in our history: Esav.
Esav comes in from the field, famished, and sells his birthright to Yaakov for a bowl of red lentil stew. For centuries, Jewish tradition has vilified Esav, often associating him with the Roman Empire (Edom) to depict him as wicked and godless.
But if we look at the biblical text, we find no evidence that Esav was a "bad person." We simply see a person who is exhausted. The text says Esav came from the field "exhausted" (ayef). He begs Yaakov for food.
Yaakov demands a trade: "Sell me your birthright." Esav's response is heartbreaking: "Look, I am at the point of death, so what use is my birthright to me?" [2]
Esav is not a villain here; he is in a panic. Like the child in the Marshmallow Test who doesn't trust the future, Esav feels his mortality pressing down on him. In this moment, Yaakov has the food and the safety of the tents; Esav has neither. One brother is comfortable; the other is collapsing.
The tragedy is not that Esav ate the stew. The tragedy is that he felt he had to trade his future to survive the present.
And here is where the parashah turns personal. We may not be starving hunters, but we know that pressing urgency that makes the future disappear. We are often like Esav, feeling so pressed by the "now" that we sell the "forever."
Consider the "red stews" we consume daily. We check corporate emails on Shabbat, trading sacred rest for professional relevance. We rely on disposable utensils, trading the long-term health of the planet for the convenience of the moment. We lose ourselves in social networks, trading our privacy and mental space for a quick hit of dopamine. On the surface these seem like simple choices, but they are often driven by deep-seated fears.
Why do we check those emails? Often, because we fear that if we stop, we will fall behind. We are experiencing a scarcity of worth. But a community that celebrates rest reminds us that we are human beings, not human doings.
Why do we reach for single-use plastics? Often, because we are experiencing a scarcity of bandwidth. We feel too overwhelmed to care about the consequences of convenience. But a community that values Tikkun Olam reminds us that the world is a loan from our children.
Why do we doom-scroll? Because we are experiencing a scarcity of connection. But a community that offers real belonging removes the hunger that drives us to the algorithm.
The solution to our modern "soup" is not just better willpower; it is better community.
We need to build a place where people feel secure enough to wait. Where we support each other enough that no one has to choose between their birthright and their survival.
When we feel safe, we can plan for the future. When we are starving (spiritually, emotionally, or physically) we just want the soup. May we be a community that helps each other see past the hunger of the moment to the blessings that are ours to claim.
Shabbat Shalom!
[1] https://bit.ly/4pfH8fq
[2] Genesis 25:32.
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