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Sometimes, I struggle to get out of bed in the morning. I struggle to get out the door on time. I struggle to keep up with my e-mail and never ending To Do lists. But the struggles do not stop there. I struggle to understand how best to parent my children. I struggle to send them to school on those days when the superintendent sends out an alert that the school has received yet another bomb or shooting threat. I struggle to find answers to their fears when they talk about climate change and gun violence. I struggle to comprehend antisemitism. I struggle to understand how white supremacism continues to survive in the 21^st century. I struggle, I struggle, I struggle. And, yes, at times, I struggle with God.

In this week’s parsha, Vayishlach, the Torah presents us with another struggle, the one at the core of our identity: poised to reunite with his twin brother, after years of hostile separation, Jacob sends servants on ahead to shower Esau with gifts, hoping to appease him. That night, he camps alone and finds himself wrestling with a man who seems to be a divine messenger. Neither can get the better of the other, but the messenger dislocates Jacob’s hip joint, leaving him with a permanent limp. In the morning, the man asks Jacob’s name, then announces that henceforth, he will be known as Israel, “for you have struggled with God and with human beings, and you have prevailed” (Genesis 32:29). 

As B’nei Israel, we are children of that struggle. It defines us, can hurt us even, but we also have reassurance that, one way or another, a new day will dawn, and we can continue on our journey.   

Jacob’s struggle keeps him up at night. I get that.

His struggle seems to be with a man, but there may be a greater meaning to it. I get that.

Jacob is forever changed (and not necessarily for the better) by his struggle. I get that.

Jacob gets to catch his breath for a moment, but it’s only a matter of time before the next struggle pops up. I get that.

There is not a soul in the world who does not struggle. Perhaps there is some value in learning not to fear the inevitable difficulties we will encounter? Our struggles transform us, help us to grow, teach us humility and forgiveness, and can even pave the way for reconciliation with loved ones and provide a path forward into the unknown. If we make room for the struggle, allow it a place in our narrative, knowing throughout that our limping means that we are still moving forward, we can be open to the wisdom it offers and the compassion it fosters. The struggle makes us who we are and, one way or another, we can trust that we, like Jacob, have it in us to prevail.  

Shabbat Shalom,

Rebecca Abbate