What’s in a Name?
By Jason Nevarez, Rabbinic
Student
HUC-JIR, Jerusalem
Shavua Tov! In this week’s parshah, Vayishlach, we learn of the encounter between Jacob and Esau near Jabbok. But what makes this meeting so well-known? To begin with,[p1] it’s dramatic, climactic, and mysterious… perhaps a pattern throughout Jacob’s life that proves consistent as we follow him throughout the Tanach? We shall see! But what makes this parshah most well known is the classic story of Jacob’s struggle with “the man,” that occurs before the encounter with Esau. Jacob struggled with “the man” who "wrestled with him until the break of dawn” (Genesis 32:25). This struggle has left sages and others to question the identity [p2]of “the man”. Many have wondered, “Who was the man’?” An angel of God? An image of Esau? Jacob himself, confronting at long last, the demons that are his own lusts and deceptions? Regardless of the answer,[p3] one thing is for sure – there is little doubt that this parashah’s climax is the moment of wrestling. The monumental and metaphoric end-result of this divine encounter will be the changing of Jacob’s name, from Yaakov to Yisrael. Here the wanderer ceases wandering and the story itself starts to move homeward. After all, Jacob's destination was back to the land he had fled years earlier. The image of Jacob's lonely struggle has inspired and informed us, creating a model for the Jew as the "God-wrestler" who strives for meaning and hope in a world, at times, seemingly devoid of both. Nu?
In this week’s torah portion, we find out that Esau encounters Jacob for the first time since they bitterly parted ways years earlier. Forget the World Wrestling Federation, the Royal Rumble, or Summer Slam. The greatest wrestling match in history is about to take place. Jacob, champion of Truth and Good, is taking on Esau’s Angel, the Master of Disaster. The end-result of this divine encounter would be a name change for Jacob, from Yaakov to Yisrael.
Here, we see the Jacob story as a remarkable example of a story of “human growth and learning.” Jacob the deceiver, the crooked one, begins as a kind of smooth operator. He bamboozles his brother with a pot of beans and tricks his father and brother by an act of brazen deception -- stealing the blessing meant for Esau.
Notice how Jacob acts. Nothing is done head on; nothing is at it appears: “Come eat the food I am cooking,” can be interpreted “Sell me your birthright.” When the deception of his father Isaac is complete, Jacob does not confront his brother directly. Instead he flees. Nothing happens, as it were, “face to face” in Jacob’s life. For the lack of “image of face” haunts this tale from its very beginning: the lack of confrontation, Isaac as a blind man, unable to see his son's face. Even late, when Jacob is far from home, the face of the bride hidden from view, so that Leah is given instead of Rachel feeds into this theme – a theme tied into the very meaning of the name: Yaakov.
Loosely translated, Yaakov means “he will
follow”. The name Yaakov originates from his place in the womb, noting
that he will follow Esau. The name also suggests a literal “heel”, referencing
to Jacob grabbing at the heel of Esau in the womb before birth. In
addition, we see that the root of Yaakov is Ayin-Koof-Bet,
translated as “to follow, to trace”. We also notice additional derivations of
the root; for example, Akov-crooked, deceitful, deceptive, polluted.
Even, those of us in Kita Gimel learned last week, e-kev is used only
in negative-context sentences, meaning “….as a consequence of…”. In addition,
we see the derivation reflected when Esau accuses Jacob of deceiving him, o°hº©n…gœ‹p
vÉ®z ¿(he will
deceive me) h°b·c§e‰g³Hœ³u c«½e…gœ³h IÂn§J tΨr¨e
hˆf£v r¤nt«ÇH³u.
As we have seen, Jacob’s very name gives light to the
use of indirection in this parshah. But as the story continues, we notice how
his indirection, his deceitful avoidance ultimately turns to truthful
confrontation, to wrestling, a metaphor that clearly expresses the
concept of being ‘direct’. “The man” whom Jacob confronts will not let him
escape. Perhaps it is that very fact which results in the blessing of a new
name for Jacob. He has refused to run away or evade and for that, as a reward,
he is now Yisrael, and we all know that in the Bible, a name signifies
the essence of the being. Looking at the name Yisrael, we find the word Yashar,
meaning straight, righteous, pleasing – concepts antithetical to the Yaakov derivations
we just studied. Jacob's transformation is complete. This crooked, bamboozling
smooth operator we love to hate [or hate to love], has become a straight-ace,
direct in approach, and ready to face the challenges ahead of him. His very
character has turned from “heel/deceiver” to Yisrael – one who strives
with Gd. Again, we see this play on words in chapter 32, when Gd tells Jacob
that he shall be called Yisrael, kœŠfUT³u oh¼¦J²b£t›oˆg±u
ohÁ¦vO¡t›oˆg ¨,hͦr¨G›hœˆF k·¥t¨r§G°h›o¦t
h¼ˆF, “…for you
will be Israel, for you have striven with divine and human beings, and
have prevailed.”
When the sages (Talmud Tractate Berachot 13a) read the Jacob story, they show us that although the name Yaacov was indeed retained throughout the Torah, the name Yisrael become his primary and dominant name. But maybe there is something more to it.
Throughout the remainder of the Jacob story, the name Yaakov and Yisrael are used interchangeably – by his children, by Pharaoh, even by Gd. Equally important, we see in parshat Vayhi 49:33, “And when Yaakov had made an end of commanding his sons, he gathered up his feet into the bed, and expired, and was gathered to his people.” If the sages regard Yisrael as his primary name, why is it that Yaakov is the name we are left with upon his death? Perhaps Yisrael is not enough for the individual. Perhaps the Yaakov must coincide with the Yisrael, enabling change to occur. But please don’t misunderstand me. Although Jacob is described as a somewhat-negative personality, his character embodies specific traits necessary for the fusion of the Yaakov and Yisrael, such as t following and monitoring, affording Jacob the opportunity to allow for transition into the role of Yisrael. But we must remember, change in action does not necessarily imply change in character. However, most of us are aware that change does come, at times, with struggle. Like Jacob, when left alone, we may feel the struggle more intensely. We often try to turn it off, searching for that person to confide in; turning on the TV, writing e-mail, and so on, anything to avoid the “emptiness” we are feeling, but knowing deep down, we must face our struggle in order to conquer it.
We have all, at one time or another, been made to feel like the heel; suppressed and subdued – in school, at work, or even in our own family structure. And in the world, through pogroms, and even in our current struggle with the holy land, we have all felt the Jacob. However, while others have sought to crush us, we have survived.
Rabbi Naamah Kelman notes that throughout Jewish civilization there are many stories following this incident showing us actions by Jacob that fall short of the ideal. Perhaps this is why Jacob remains the paradigm we look to. His late-night encounter teaches us that we are allowed to confront our fears, and be turned upside down by them. But this doesn’t mean that we have completely changed, or will abandon all of our imperfect habits and ways. At best, we will be more improved, more learned, more aware, and ready to face the challenges ahead of us. The lesson that Jacob teaches us here is that like him, we must strive to face our anxieties, try to calm them, face our imperfections, striving to improve them, and then be ready to move on.
Whether your struggle is at your first pulpit or religious school, a dispute with a family member, or a Midrash you just don’t get, we must not forget that both the Yaakov, the indirect, the follower, and the Yisrael, one who strives, one who’s direct in approach, are needed to find resolution. Jacob’s struggle, and our own, is a continuous process; the blessing to become Yisrael must be reclaimed again and again.
Cain Yhei Ratzon.