Wrestling with Blessing

I admit it. I watched professional wrestling as a kid.

So when Parshat Vayishlach comes around, I can’t help thinking of the first real “main event” in history — and this one wasn’t choreographed.

The Torah gives us the play-by-play:

“And Yaakov was left alone; and a man wrestled with him until the break of dawn.
When he saw that he could not prevail, he struck the hollow of Yaakov’s thigh…
The man said, ‘Let me go, for the day breaks.’
Yaakov said, ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me.’
The opponent said, ‘What is your name?’
He said, ‘Yaakov.’
The man said, ‘Your name shall no longer be Yaakov but Yisrael, for you have struggled with God and with man - and prevailed.’” (Bereishit 32:25–29)

Most commentators debate the identity of the mysterious opponent. I want to look at something else: the nature of the struggle and the surprising truth that the struggle itself becomes the blessing.

Rabbi Joseph Soloveitchik asks a simple question: Why did Yaakov fight at all? Yaakov was no fighter. He was yosheiv ohalim, the quiet student, the man of the tent. Eisav was the hunter, the warrior. What was Yaakov doing in a wrestling match he seemed destined to lose?

The Rav explains that Yaakov was not displaying koach - physical strength. He was displaying gevurah - spiritual heroism. Gevurah begins where logic ends. It’s what happens when a person believes in something so deeply that retreat is no longer an option. A hero in the Torah is not defined by the battles he wins but by the values he refuses to surrender. Heroism is passion, conviction, purpose - even when the odds are against you. That is why Yaakov fights.

Yaakov’s fight foreshadows three dimensions of the Jewish struggle. The Torah uses the word va’yeiaveik. It comes from three related ideas and together they outline the story of Jewish history.

1. Avak - dust. Like dust in the wind, we have been scattered again and again.
2. Avak - to wrestle. We have endured endless physical battles - threats, attacks, persecutions.
3. Va’yechabeik - to embrace. In modern times, our struggle is not only with enemies but with the seductive embrace of assimilation, the pull of a world that wants us to blend in until there is nothing distinct left to protect.

These are the fights of Yaakov. These are the fights of the Jewish people.

Yaakov wrestles the entire night. He emerges limping, injured, forever marked. So, did he win?

The Torah’s answer is yes because victory is not defined by walking away unscathed. Victory is defined by who you become through the struggle. Yaakov receives his new name, Yisrael - the one who struggles and prevails. His wound becomes part of our identity. We remember it every time we avoid the sciatic nerve. It may limit our access to a cut of kosher filet mignon, but the real reminder is not culinary; it’s spiritual.

Our wounds don’t diminish us. Our struggle doesn’t weaken us. Our struggle is part of our blessing.

Last night, I met Effi Eitam, an IDF brigadier general, former leader of the National Religious Party, and like so many others, a man with an October 7th story. When the attacks began, he put on his uniform, got in his car, and drove toward the danger. He found himself face-to-face with a Hamas terrorist and fought. He spoke with pain about two sons wounded in Gaza. He spoke with pride about his grandson in officer training. He spoke with humor about the young soldier — barely older than his grandson — who informed the 72-year-old general that he, the rookie, was now in command. And he spoke with absolute confidence that Am Yisrael will prevail.

Looking at that man, a Yom Kippur War hero who is still fighting, it is impossible not to think of Yaakov: fighting, unbroken, and blessed.

In 1964, Rabbi Soloveitchik wrote his landmark essay Confrontation. He argued that Jewish sacredness requires boundaries, that identity demands clarity, and that not every embrace is holy. Our uniqueness means we cannot dissolve ourselves into the identities or the theologies of others. Struggle does not endanger who we are. Struggle defines who we are.

Today, we face our own confrontation - enemies on the outside, confusion on the inside, a world that too often misunderstands or misrepresents us. Some shrink back. Some despair. And yet so many have stepped into the ring with courage, with conviction, with faith. We may never have the numbers of our enemies, but we have something far stronger: the truth of our story, the strength of our people, and the God Who promised us that struggle leads to blessing.

If we remain engaged in the struggle, we will prevail. Rabbi Jonathan Sacks wrote, “If we know who we are, we need fear neither the hostility of the nations nor their friendship. For we are strong enough to fight for our safety and for our values.” That is the legacy of Yaakov. That is the name Yisrael. That is the message of our generation. We struggle, and we prevail. We are wounded, and we walk forward anyway. We enter the ring again and again because that is who we are.