Yitzchak is the father of the future. Even his name is in the future tense: “he will laugh.” The chachamim point out that the letters of Yitzchak’s name can be arranged to spell keitz-chai. At the end, you live. And this is, indeed, how Yitzchak lived. In the middle of his life he was offered up as a korban. He willingly returned himself to his Source, and in some sense spiritually his ashes remain on that altar (see Zevachim 62a and Rashi to Vayikra 26:42). From that place, he moved forward with his life, viewing the world together with its connection to its Source. With this vision, Yitzchak married and had children. And with this vision, Yitzchak had a relationship with Eisav, a relationship the Torah describes as, “And Yitzchak loved Eisav” (Bereisheit 25:28).

Apparently, Eisav was quite lovable in his youth. The Gemara calls Eisav an apostate of Yisrael (see Kiddushin 18a). This clearly connects Eisav to the name Yisrael, which is the name given to Yaacov when he battled the Archangel of Eisav. What connection does Eisav have to the name Yisrael? Rav Shapiro explains that in Eisav’s youth, he fought the same angel as Yaacov. He fought his own yetzer hara, and he vanquished him for many years. In Eisav’s youth he was Yaacov’s twin, both physically and spiritually.

Eisav had tremendous potential, and Yizchak saw it. The Torah tells us, Yitzchak loved Eisav because “that which he trapped was in his mouth” (Bereisheit 25:28). Rashi explains that in Eisav’s mouth were the questions he would use to entrap his father. For example, he would ask about how to give ma’aser with salt. The Zohar tells us that what Yitzchak saw in Eisav’s mouth was the Oral Torah, which the Arizal explains refers to the souls of the converts, leaders of the holy Torah, like Rabbi Meir. Rav Dessler, taking a slightly different approach, explains that that when Eisav was in the presence of his father, his better side was actualized. He actually was his better self, but that self was stuck in an external place, “in his mouth.” He couldn’t internalize it or maintain it outside of his father’s presence. 

Rav Shapiro takes this idea in a slightly different direction. Yitzchak was the product of the akeidah. Akeidah means binding. What happened at the akeidah is that Yitzchak took the essence of who he was, and he offered it up to Avraham, to be bound. As we know, each of our Fathers is connected to a  specific middah. Avraham is the middah of chesed, and Yitzchak is the middah of din. At the akeidah, Yitzchak took the essence of who he was, the middah of justice, and allowed himself to be bound by Avraham, by chesed. This was a reflection of Hashem’s actions when he created the world, which He originally thought to create with din, but then created with a combination of din and chesed. Yitzchak, in his life after the akeidah, is the middah of din as it exists when it is bound up by chesed. Yitzchak is our model for the middah of submitting ourselves entirely to Hashem’s kindness and Hashem’s plan.

This middah impacted Yitzchak’s relationship with Eisav. Both when he is “on the derech” and when he is “off the derech,” he is always on Hashem’s path. Eisav always has an important role in Hashem’s world. Yitzchak understood that Eisav asked about salt, because Eisav is like salt. He is the salt of the world. The essence of salt is that it has a dual aspect. On the one hand, too much salt negates life (see Devarim 29:22 and Yeshayahu 17:6). On the other hand, the taste and flavor of food is the vitality and the life of the food. And the salt is what gives the flavor. Salt is not food, but it gives flavor to food.

Rav Shapiro explains that the real flavor of anything in this world comes from the lack of it. When we first lack something then we can taste it and enjoy it when we get it. The more we lack it, the more we enjoy it. Nothing is more delicious than cold water at the end of a hike on a really hot day.  It is the lack, the absence, that gives it the flavor. This is why salt, which is the lack of life, has the ability to give life and flavor to our food.

Eisav is that which is lacking in this world. He lives by his sword, by killing, and he draws his life from death. The root of that lack is the ego, the point where we remove ourselves from Hashem, the Source of everything and turn into ourselves. Eisav is the yetzer hara, which is the point of our self-centeredness. Alone, this is the definition of evil. Integrated with our existence, he gives our lives flavor. The only way to tithe salt is for it to be combined with the food. This is what Yitzchak heard when Eisav asked to tithe salt. He saw Eisav in combination with his purpose in the world.

Our ego is important. The beginning of everything is the desire to do for ourselves. The joy and flavor in life is when we taste that we have expanded and done for ourselves. Everything begins with that point of ego, that “I,” which is why Eisav was the first born. However, just as we can not make the salt into the whole food, we can not stay in that constricted point of ego. As we grow, we are expected to expand our concept of “I.” We include our family, friends, culture and society into our concept of self. Ultimately, in the greatest Tzadikkim, the concept of “I” expands to include all of humanity, and the entire world. We never stop doing things for ourselves, we just have a much truer picture of who we are.

In this world, pleasure comes from filling lack. We enjoy eating the meal, but once we are stuffed, we can no longer enjoy its flavor. In the spiritual world, pleasure comes from our connection to Hashem, and from our sense of being. We call this Oneg, and we can experience it on Shabbat. Our physical work during the week is what enables us to experience it, but in itself it is the pleasure of existing in connection to Hashem. Oneg is the end game, the living at the end.

The space Yitzchak bequeathed us in our daily lives is Mincha, as the Torah tells us, “Yitzchak went out to pray in the field toward evening time” (Bereisheit 24:63). Although we may daven the same shmoneh esrei, Mincha is a very different tefillah from Shacharit. In the morning, as the day begins, we pray for expansion, and for the strength to accomplish in the world. We walk into Avraham’s space of newness, and endless possiblity. In the evening, things begin to contract and move back into their rightful spaces. Yitzchak is the father of returning home. He gave us space to step into where we can ground ourselves. Mincha is the recognition that there is more than just expansion in this world, more than just our desires in this world. At Mincha, we pray that things reach their true place. We close the circle. We return ourselves and our energy to Hashem.

Yitzchak lived through being offered as a Korban. He moved forward even though his ashes remained behind. He was the one who was able to uplift Be’er Lechai Roi, the well where Hagar davened for Yishmael, by instituting Mincha after he visited there. At the end of Avraham’s life, he buried his father together with Yishmael. And he was the one who saw the value in Eisav. At the end of the day, as the sun sets, and everything returns home, we pray the prayer of Yitzchak. After our work is done, we stand in the afternoon, and we move forward from the reality of wherever we are. Our tefillah at Mincha is a recognition that everything emerges to do its avodah, and that after it fulfills its mission, it returns home to its source. We can allow this to brings us joy. If we take a moment to center ourselves at Mincha, we can catch a little piece of Oneg. We can feel the joy of being connected, and of always having a spiritual home to return to.