blogs/rabbi-huberman

Everyone reading this e-sermon has heard the word, “Israel.”

The name identifies the only democracy in the Middle East. Each of us is a “Child of Israel.” Israel is embedded in the name of our congregation.

So, as we begin reading this week’s Torah portion—the eighth of 54 in our yearly cycle—we are provided with the answer to the question:

Who was Israel anyway? As the parashah opens, Jacob—Judaism’s third patriarch—approaches his day of reckoning.

Twenty years earlier, Jacob swindled the family birthright from his brother Essav and “stole” goats and sheep from his father-in-law, Lavan, who he felt underpaid him; Jacob always ran away from confronting his problems.

To date, not a big Jacob fan. 

But things are about to change. At the beginning of this week’s Torah portion—we witness Jacob on a collision course with destiny. 

He and his brother, Essav, traveling along the same road, are about to meet after 20 years. This is the same Essav who, two decades earlier, vowed to kill him. 

What will happen when they meet? Will Essav carry out his threat? 

In advance of the meeting, Jacob divides his staff and herd into two camps, thinking, “If Essav comes to one camp and attacks it, the other camp may yet escape. (Genesis 32-9).” 

As he mentally prepares himself for his encounter, at dusk, Jacob leaves his family and crosses the Fiord of Jabbock to reflect. 

What is Jacob thinking about? Is he pondering his past indiscretions? Is he praying for his life to be spared?  

Then, the Torah describes something remarkable: A “man” (ish in Hebrew) suddenly appears to Jacob, and the two wrestle until dawn. 

Anyone who has wrestled in high school or college will share that a person can wrestle only for a few minutes at a time. So, the question remains—who was this man who Jacob struggled with all night? 

The Torah describes this ish as some kind of spiritual being.

When dawn breaks, Jacob is not broken. As a final move, the man dislocates Jacob’s hip, causing him to limp for the rest of his life. 

Jacob asks for a blessing. The stranger asks, “What is your name?” Jacob replies “Jacob.”

But the man has other plans. He renames Jacob, “Yisrael,” meaning—in Hebrew—wrestler or struggler with God. Why?

The stranger answers: “For you have wrestled with beings divine and you have prevailed.” (Genesis 32:29)

And for the rest of his life, the Torah alternates between “Jacob” and “Israel” when it refers to our third patriarch.

It is a significant naming, which also reflects that, throughout Jewish history, for the Children of Israel, there will be few easy answers. We as a people are forever wrestling with destiny and our connection with God.

A story is told about a seminary student living in the “old country” who consistently asks his rabbi, “Why is there so much negativity, suffering and injustice in the world?”

His local rabbi waves off the question, and suggests he return to his studies.

One day, news reaches the village that the Chief Rabbi of Kiev will be visiting. The young man waits all night to be the first to have an audience with the Chief Rabbi.

As the doors to the study hall open, the student runs to the rabbi and asks him the same question he had been posing in the village. “Why is there so much negativity, suffering and injustice in the world?”

The Chief Rabbi lightly slaps him on the side of the head and replies: 

“Dear student. Don’t you know the meaning of the word “Yisrael? 

“Why would you force me to ruin such a perfect question, by requiring me to give you an imperfect answer?” 

And within that reply, the true meaning of the name, “Yisrael” came to light.

Many things in this world are difficult to understand. Sometimes it feels that the forces of dishonesty, materialism and injustice are winning.

Where is God? What is happening to “truth?” Why has the world turned against Israel?

These issues will, in time, be resolved. Ultimately, we cannot dictate or predict the answers.

But perhaps most of all, being wrestlers with God, we are encouraged to ask the questions, challenge the world around us—even God and religion—and actively become part of life’s solutions. 

It is that uncertainty, which Jacob faced on that day 4,000 years ago. In the aftermath of his bout with the “man,” he became one himself. 

If only we lived in a world where all questions were answered by words on a page—or through the rhetoric of both true and false prophets.  

Rather, our tradition teaches that at various times, we must evolve and redefine who we are. Sometimes, like Jacob, we cannot leave our past errors behind. Each of us carries a spiritual limp. But we must carry on. 

In this week’s Torah portion, Jacob experiences his “come to Israel” moment. 

Indeed, Judaism accepts the fact that within this challenging and mysterious world, there are many things we are unable to predict or resolve. 

Unlike other religions, which impose fixed answers, we cherish and explore the questions. And within that journey, our individual truths emerge. 

It is perhaps why many believe that the spirit of Israel runs through our DNA. We are here to challenge, reboot and innovate—again and again.

At the end of the day, we are “Children of Israel.”

We are by name and by soul, “Wrestlers with God.”

Shabbat shalom, v’kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman