Parshas Vayishlach 5784
In a game that has become baseball lore, Curt Schilling pitched seven innings of spectacular baseball as blood oozed from his right ankle, visibly soaking his sock. It was a do-or-die moment, and his Red Sox went on to win the game, ultimately defeating the Yankees in the American League Championship Series. It was the first and only time in baseball that a team has recovered from a 3-0 deficit to go on to win a best-of-seven series. A week later, the Red Sox went on to win the 2004 World Series.
How would Schilling’s performance be remembered if the Red Sox didn’t win the game or the series? And what if it was just an exhibition game? The glory of the effort in the face of debilitating pain is dulled when the objective isn’t achieved. Or when there wasn’t much of an objective in the first place.
Yaakov Avinu’s famous altercation with the angel leaves him battered and bruised, emerging from the scuffle with an injured leg. The battle is a critical one, and so is the injury. The Torah commands us to refrain from eating the gid hanashe, the portion of the animal that parallel’s Yaakov’s own wound as a means of commemorating the fight. It is this battle that results in Yaakov’s name being changed to Yisrael, derived from the Hebrew declaration that Yaakov had “struggled with beings both divine and human and have prevailed.”
The battle is a big deal. But Rav Soloveitchik posed the simple question, “Why?” What was it that Yaakov Avinu achieved in that battle? Did he become wealthier? More powerful? More respected? The Torah is clear to point out that this altercation occurs while Yaakov is “l’vado,” all alone, disconnected from his family. The stands were completely empty, no spectators to cheer Yaakov on or behold his wrestling prowess. Yaakov leaves the battlefield no more famous or prosperous than he’d been before. Yaakov clearly struggled, but what did he achieve?
Rav Soloveitchik explained that what Yaakov achieved was the struggle itself. Struggles cleanse, clarify, and uplift. Yaakov’s injury is forever preserved in halacha and memory because it is the physical embodiment of spiritual pursuit, in which overcoming tension and difficulty is in of itself a victory worth celebrating.
The mere struggle to maintain one’s fidelity to Torah and mitzvos and the values they embody helps entrench those values deeper within one’s consciousness, makes them more valued and beloved. It is impossible in the spiritual realm to have struggled and come away with nothing, for the struggle is itself a victory in hand. As Rebbe Yitzchak said, “אם יאמר לך אדם יגעתי ולא מצאתי, אל תאמין—If one tells you, ‘I have struggled but have not found success, do not believe him. (Megilah 6b)”
The War in Gaza is not without its goals. Rendering Hamas impotent, rescuing hostages, and creating a safer Gaza are all critical objectives. But what has remarkably emerged from the war is something not initially identified as one of its aims, though it’s proven already to be one of its most important achievements. The Jewish People, particularly the Jews of Eretz Yisrael have come together, uniting in a state of unprecedented achdus. Videos of secular and religious Jews embracing, visiting, and assisting one another have overwhelmed everyone’s social media feeds. And conversations with friends on the ground in Eretz Yisrael insist that it’s not just selective curation; these vignettes are very much illustrative of the overall mood sweeping through Israeli society.
How did this happen? Where did this come from? From our very name. “Yisrael,” “Israel,” enshrines for all time the enormous, though subtle, achievements of struggle. When you struggle with an enemy, you remember who your enemies are and who they are not. You remember to harp on what you have in common with your own brothers and sisters, rather than what you don’t. You remember the fragile nature of life and how you want to spend it and how you don’t. Issues are clarified in the crucible of struggle in a way that they cannot otherwise be.
To say that it is unfortunate that such an immense, tragic struggle needed to emerge in order to achieve these feats is a massive understatement. If only we could have arrived at this state of unity through some other means. Why it had to be this way is impossible to answer; Hashem runs the world and has His calculations.
But we can use the moment to remind ourselves to reframe struggles—even far lesser ones—when they arrive. We are born to struggle and built to struggle. From the series of red lights that challenges our patience, to the busy day ahead that makes it difficult to focus in davening, to the daily stresses that strain our shalom bayis. Without the struggles, we would more easily achieve these goals. But without the struggles, would they mean nearly as much? If we didn’t have to fight for them, would we be the same people?
We are referred to as B’nai Yisrael, a name that derives from Yaakov’s fateful struggle. A struggle in which the gains could not be quantified, yet changed him forever, as well as the nation he spawned. If we could hit the delete button on our problems, our challenges, our struggles, we may be tempted to do just that. But what a mistake it would be. The struggle is not the impediment to all we wish to achieve, it is the very road that will take us there.