I remarked the other day in services that these stories in Genesis which we are reading now as part of our Torah reading cycle take on new meaning since I have two sons.
The stories of our ancestors in Genesis are steeped in sibling rivalry. From the opening stories of Cain and Abel—an example of sibling rivalry that ended in fratricide—through the tension between Isaac and Ishmael now to the conflict between Jacob and Esau, these stories relate the conflicts that perhaps come natural to siblings. Not to mention the tension between Rachel and Leah, two sisters who are both married to Jacob, and we haven’t even read the story of Joseph and his brothers yet.
Sibling rivalry is an issue that stretches across the generations from the Bible to today. I see it in my own boys as they squabble over toys, attention, or what have you. And I understand why it happens to some extent. Unlike their parents, who choose to live together in one roof, these two kids are forced to live together. It was not their choice, it was ours.
This is something that I see my boys wrestle with. (And this sometimes means not just figurative wrestling but physical wrestling.) As they face their own individual challenges of growing older—changes in physical abilities, or intellectual challenges through school, or identifying and pursuing their own likes and dislikes—they also contend with another doing the same. And here is the challenge, and it is a challenge for growth: How to take this forced living situation and navigate it. It is a way of growing into what it means to live with and be connected to others. We go through life by being in relationship, and the sibling relationship is the relationship in our lives that generally will last the longest.
Wresting plays a role in the story we read this week. Jacob is about to meet his estranged brother Esau after they have been separated for some time. He gathers up his family and holdings, and sends them across the river towards where the meeting will take place. Part of what he brings with him are gifts for his brother. And as everyone else makes their way across the river, Jacob is left alone. There an angel comes down and wrestles with him throughout the night, until Jacob, pinning the angel, demands a blessing. The angel blesses him and gives him a new name, Israel, “one who wrestles with God.”
Jacob was obviously dealing with a lot as he prepared to meet Esau. The years of emotion about his relationship with his brother that he carried with him is represented in the figure of the angel. Jacob “wrestles” with these thoughts and feelings as he prepares to move forward and be reunited with his brother. We can identify with Jacob as we face our own tensions and anxieties, whether with siblings, other people, or ourselves—it oftentimes feels like we are wrestling with the forces surrounding us.
And we do identify with Jacob to this day. For inasmuch as Abraham and Isaac are our forefathers, it is Jacob’s new name that we carry with us. Israel is the name that throughout centuries of Jewish history, liturgy and theology signifies the Jewish people. The use of this name as a communal moniker is ancient, it transcends time and place. We are Israel.
And what a name it is. For it is a name that embodies struggle and tension. It is a name that signifies not finality but process. It is a name which means that we are not content on one side or another but that we will continually live in the grey areas. We wrestle with God, with a sense of the sacred, with what is right, with what path to take, with our identities, with ourselves and with each other. This is what it means to be Israel. But it is not wrestling for the sake of wrestling. It is a challenge, and a commitment, for growth.
Thus I know that for all the bickering that goes on now between my sons, as they grow and mature their relationship will grow and mature as well. They will find through the rivalry that they are all the more closer for it, that this rivalry is an expression of closeness, and it has provided them with the opportunity to become better people.
Well, I hope so, anyway.
