In Parashat Toldot, Rivka carries two children who will follow very different paths: Yaakov and Esav. Hashem tells her:
“שְׁנֵי גוֹיִם בְּבִטְנֵךְ” — “Two nations are in your womb.”
Yet Rashi notices something unusual. The word is read גוים, meaning nations, but written גיים, hinting to greatness or distinction. Rashi explains that this points to two distinguished figures who would emerge from these two nations: Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi from Yaakov, and the Roman emperor Antoninus from Esav.
Why, at the beginning of the story of these opposite brothers, are we already being directed toward their distant descendants?
Perhaps there is a message of hope here for Rivka—and for every parent and teacher. Even when we see someone heading in a troubling direction, we cannot see every possibility that the future holds.
The Gemara tells us that Antoninus asked Rabbi whether he could merit Olam Haba, the World to Come. When Antoninus questioned whether his connection to Esav would stand in his way, Rabbi explained that the condemnation of Esav applies to those who continue Esav’s wicked behavior. His ancestry did not close the door to righteousness.
This gives us a beautiful connection to Onkelos.
Onkelos came from the Roman imperial family itself. The Gemara in Gittin identifies him as the nephew of Emperor Titus. Yet Onkelos chose to convert to Judaism and dedicate his life to Hashem and Torah. His family background did not determine his spiritual future.
The Gemara in Avodah Zarah tells us that the Roman emperor sent soldiers to capture Onkelos. But Onkelos shared words of Torah with them, and they converted as well.
When another group came, Onkelos placed his hand on the mezuzah. He explained that a human king sits inside while his servants guard him outside. With Hashem, His servants sit inside, and He watches over them from outside.
Those soldiers also converted. The emperor stopped sending more.
Think about that: a nephew of a Roman emperor chose Torah. Soldiers arrived to take him away, and they themselves chose to join the Jewish people. Even from the Roman world, associated by Chazal with Edom and Esav, people could choose the path of Yaakov.
With this in mind, we can draw a deeper lesson from Rashi’s teaching about גיים: Rivka’s descendants would include possibilities for greatness that could not be measured by the conflict of that moment.
We sometimes label others—and ourselves—too quickly: “He will never change.” “That student is always difficult.” “This is just who I am.”
But a person’s story is still being written.
We do not choose where our story begins. We do choose the next step we take.
This Shabbat, let us give someone room to grow—and remember to give ourselves that same opportunity.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Yair Tanger
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