Vayishlach 2019
Last December my very close friend passed away suddenly. While not Jewish, she was like a sister to me, so over the last 11 months I have stood and mentioned her name as I said Kaddish for her. This Shabbat is the end of the 11 months, and according to our tradition, one only says daily Kaddish for a loved one for 11 months. Their memory is then honored on the yahrzeit, the anniversary, of their death.
Pat used to marvel at my level of energy. Full-time work at TBT, Shabbat and holiday meals, Weight Watchers, and more filled my day. One day she presented me with a little stuffed animal – an Energizer Bunny. From then on my name became EB, Energizer Bunny. She would confide in me how she loved cookies and although a WW 91-pound loser and having kept off the weight for more than 40 years, she could relent at the fact that she had eaten an entire box of cookies if the mood hit. I renamed her “Cookie” and gifted her a little stuffed blue Cookie Monster. And so our names comically defined part of who we are.
In this week’s parasha, Vayishlach, acob sets out to return to his native land. At the same place where he dreamed of a ladder reaching to heaven, he sends his family across the river and again spends the night alone. Jacob is understandably nervous about the impending reunion with his brother Esau who twenty years earlier vowed to kill him for stealing the birthright.
That night his experience is neither a dream nor an earthly reality. He wrestles with a being that is described as divine and human. Unable to free himself from Jacob’s grasp the being offers Jacob a blessing in exchange for his release. This being declares, “Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human and have prevailed.” (Genesis 32:29) He wrenches Jacob’s hip causing him to limp. (By the way this is why filet mignon is not kosher. According to tradition this cut is not eaten in remembrance of Jacob’s pain.)
If you have ever had the privilege of finding a name for a toy, a pet, or a child, you know what an ominous job that can be. Cabbage Patch dolls were popular back when I was pregnant with my second child. I bought Rachel one of the dolls who of course came with a name and birth certificate. His name was Cedric, but she called him Eric. We wanted a name to honor my mother’s memory and agreed on the name Eric, for Elsbeth. But we technically already had an Eric in the family. So I consulted with almost 4-year old Rachel who agreed that her baby could have the same name. Think about some of the names you have chosen for family members. What qualities were you seeking to preserve by giving that name to someone?
Our ancestor Avram’s name means “father of a multitude of nations” – adding the “hay” when his name was changed sought to include God’s name.
Yitzchak’s name means “laughter” reflecting on the reaction of Sarah when she found out that she would bear a child in her old age.
Yaakov means “heel,” since he was born holding onto the heel of his twin brother Esau.
Yisrael means to wrestle with God. Jacob’s new name becomes the name of the Jewish people. What a remarkable statement about our people and our tradition! We can question God. We can wrestle with God. In fact we should question and wrestle with God. While most people understand that questioning is part and parcel to being Jewish, few appreciate that such questioning extends towards heaven. The rabbis called this notion, chutzpah klappei shamayim, chutzpah towards heaven. It is a beautiful and telling concept.
This week’s Torah portion describes our hero’s journey, from cheating and brokenness to wholeness and peace. The Hasidic master, Sefat Emet, points out that Jacob is not called whole (shalem) until after he limps. He limps only after wrestling with God.
We learn that the greatest name we can call ourselves is that which emerges from struggle—and even pain. It is also in this struggle that our relationship with God is born and the name Yisrael is realized.
May we all find a way to identify ourselves by the work that we do, by the holiness we find in everyday life, and in the relationships we have with each other and with God.
