I originally named my site “Wrestling the Angel” because some Jewish sources explain that Jacob, the patriarch of the Jews, wrestled the angel of Esau, described by the sages as the patriarch of Rome and Western culture. I have spent many years dialoguing with Christians. I have encountered many amazing Souls, but at the same time, it is a struggle and frequently painful. I think that any encounter between Christians and Jews will necessarily be challenging and uncomfortable. I also believe it is the next necessary step towards Redemption.
But in my return to writing fiction, I came to a different understanding of Jacob wrestling the angel. The Torah account of Jacob wrestling the angel is one of the most enigmatic sections of the Bible. Genesis states that Jacob was alone when a man wrestled with him. If he was alone, then who wrestled with him? In the course of the fight, the other man grabbed Jacob’s leg and wrenched it out of the socket, leaving Jacob crippled. Despite this grievous injury to Jacob, the angel could not flee and conceded victory to Jacob, relinquishing a blessing to the man. This nighttime encounter led to an existential transformation of Jacob, giving him a new name that describes him as being at odds with Heaven and Earth.
The stranger is always described as a man, however Jacob named the site of the battle, “Peniel”, I have seen the face of God.” And Jacob’s new name, Yisrael, labels hm as the one who battles men and God and overcomes both.
The Torah is a narrative describing the growing relationship between God and the nation of israel. As a jew, my journey towards God necessarily requires me to see myself as part of the nation, a physical link in the chain that includes all of the Jewish people, connecting the Patriarchs to the Messiah.
At the same time, my Approach to my creator is personal and unique, a solitary journey. Like Jacob, I must set aside all my worldly achievements, go into the desert alone, and meet myself face to face. My Creator requires it of anyone who approaches Him. I have done so throughout my life, and it is an uncomfortable experience. Self-realization leaves a person crippled and unsuited to success in the world of men. I must destroy myself to some degree, and I cannot win. It is profoundly personal and intimate, indeed more personal and intimate than any other encounter I could imagine. I must confront my own psyche and my own physicality. Conquering the enemy is to destroy myself, and there is no victory, only truth and self-realization, in its most uncomfortable form.
In the twilight of my life, at the age of 64, I question whether I have fulfilled all of my higher purposes. When I whisper my question into the void, the angel gives me a response, but not the one I would like. The angel has been whispering stories in my ear since I was young, and I have been unfaithful. I have not written them down. they were not for me or my benefit. This is my final desperate attempt to overcome the angel in the moments before dawn. I have spent the last few years sitting back and gazing upon my blessings. After many years of demeaning and challenging work, a decade ago I was blessed with a wonderful profession that allowed me comfort in my life.
But the time for comfort has ended, and I must now struggle with Heaven and Earth, demeaning myself, groveling, begging people to read the words the angel demanded I record. Unlike Jacob, the angel will not bless me. For that, I need you to read the words he has whispered in my ear.
The enemy comes in the black night of my aloneness. Behind him stands an army of my own making: the would’ves, could’ves, should’ves, wearing the faces of my father, my mother, my 5th-grade teacher, even of myself in my moments of despair. I brace myself for combat, knowing I cannot win, knowing that victory would be defeat. I cannot kill him, for he is me, an ugly mask of failure hiding the best of me, my highest aspirations. He’s my fear of greatness and Glory, a me I refuse to show anyone, especially myself. Against my will, I believe in God. But God is merciless, refusing to let me lose, while preventing me from killing the enemy. While my belief in God is shaky, His belief in me is the bedrock of my reality. I can’t leave the battle because God needs me to be great, and I can’t defeat the enemy because my greatness lies in my unrealized aspirations.
As a young man, I heard a still, small voice whispering that the source of my soul was the written word. But my heart of stone would not listen. In a final leap of desperation, I returned to my ancestors’ land. Painfully, my heart is transformed, and I begin to write.
This is what I present to you: an offering. And, like Jacob, I demand a blessing from you.
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The Master of Return and the Eleventh Light
(Non-Fiction) The Return of the Red Heifers
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