Esau

The short answer

Esau is the firstborn of Isaac and Rebekah's twin sons, introduced in Genesis 25 with an unforgettable physical description: he comes out "red all over, like a hairy garment." He grows up a hunter, an outdoorsman, his father's favorite—and, famously, the brother who trades his birthright to Jacob for a bowl of stew and later loses his father's blessing to Jacob's deception. He becomes the ancestor of Edom, Israel's neighbor and frequent rival.

The details of Esau's body are doing real work in the story. Genesis keeps setting the twins side by side as opposites: hairy and smooth, field and tent, impulsive and calculating. Esau's hairiness isn't a throwaway detail—it marks him as the wild, earthy founding father of Edom, over against smooth Jacob, who becomes Israel. The brothers' rivalry is also a story about two nations, told through two very different bodies.

But there's a second Esau in Genesis: the one who lives in Jacob's imagination. Twenty years after the stolen blessing, Jacob returns home terrified, sending waves of livestock ahead as a gift to appease the brother he assumes still wants him dead. The sheer size of that gift measures Jacob's dread, not anything Esau has actually said or done. And when the meeting finally comes in Genesis 33, Esau runs to Jacob, embraces him, and weeps.

So the question worth sitting with is this: how much of the Esau we think we know—the dangerous, vengeful brother—is really Esau, and how much is Jacob's guilty conscience projected onto him? Genesis leaves room for both readings, which is part of what makes Esau one of the most quietly surprising characters in the book.

These two scholars approach Esau from opposite directions: Phyllis Trible asks what the pointed hairy-versus-smooth contrast between the twins means, given that one becomes the ancestor of Israel and the other of Edom, while John Goldingay reads the enormous gift Jacob sends ahead at the reunion as a measure of Jacob's own fright.

“In Genesis, another recurring visual contrast involving hair, one that more overtly and purposefully compares hair and the absence of hair, is drawn between the rival twin brothers, Jacob and Esau. An amusing British improv group of the 1960s, “Beyond the Fringe,” produced a skit in which an Anglican pastor, speaking in an exaggerated parody of an upper class Oxbridge accent, delivers a sermon on the day’s reading from Genesis that begins, “My brother Esau is an hairy man and I am an smooth man.” The comedians and their modern audiences no doubt found this verse from sacred Scripture, taken out of context, to be incongruous, silly. What meaning can be derived from such an image? The ancestor hero of Israel, Jacob, father of the twelve tribes, whose name is later changed to Israel, is smooth whereas the founding father of the neighboring, related, Semitic-speaking people, the Edomites, is hairy.”

Phyllis Trible, Faith and Feminism: Ecumenical Essays Westminster John Knox Press. All rights reserved. More from Trible in Rebind →

“The magnitude of the “gift” he sends ahead to Esau is monumental, a reflection of the magnitude of his fright. It is also a magnitude of the prosperity God has indeed given him over those twenty years in Paddan-aram. I guess it would not be a laughing matter to the servants who stood in the front of the firing line that Jacob is anticipating, though it is not clear how much of the dynamics of the situation they know about. When Jacob “says” that he hopes to pacify his brother with this gift, perhaps he speaks only to himself, in which case they might simply be bemused. But they must have recognized there was something odd about this whole proceeding.”

John Goldingay · Senior Professor of Old Testament and David Allan Hubbard Professor Emeritus of Old Testament, Fuller Theological Seminary, Genesis for Everyone: Part 2 Chapters 17–50 Westminster John Knox Press. All rights reserved. More from Goldingay in Rebind →

Esau's story asks us to notice the gap between people as they are and people as our guilt imagines them. Jacob spent twenty years bracing for a vengeance that never came; the enemy he prepared for existed mostly in his own head. Most of us carry a version of someone—an estranged sibling, an old friend, a person we wronged—built out of fear rather than fact. Esau's embrace in Genesis 33 suggests that the people we've hurt are sometimes further along in forgiveness than we are in courage. The invitation is simple and hard: stop managing the imagined confrontation and risk the actual meeting.

Esau's story runs through Genesis 25–36. He and Jacob struggle even in the womb; the birthright sale comes in chapter 25 and the stolen blessing in chapter 27, after which Jacob flees to his uncle Laban. Esau largely disappears from the narrative for twenty years while Jacob marries, prospers, and finally heads home. The brothers' reunion in Genesis 32–33—Jacob's fearful preparations, his night of wrestling, and Esau's unexpected embrace—resolves the rivalry, and Genesis 36 traces Esau's descendants, the Edomites.