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December 10, 2011 | 14 Kislev 5772 | Genesis 32:4-36:43

No matter how many years I spend in the rabbinate and the number of times I sit with people during times of crises, I always feel inadequate when conversation turns theological. “Why did God do this, Rabbi? He didn’t deserve it. I don’t deserve it. Why didn’t God do something?” Like many of my colleagues, in a manner probably best framed many years ago by Rabbi Harold Kushner, I don’t really think these statements are questions of why. Rather, I believe they are cries of woe. After all, amidst crises or a time of profound and unexpected sadness, explanations for what has occurred, if they are accurate, don’t provide help or healing. Those who suffer seek connection and support.
When one suffers a loss or trauma of any sort the primary task and challenge is to establish a new equilibrium over the course of time. “I no longer have that person present in my life in a physical sense”. “I have lost that ability”. “I no longer have that position that was so integral to my life and seemed to define a good bit of my identity.” “What do I do now?” In all of these cases and in those moments when one questions God’s role in what has occurred, the individual has to establish a way of integrating the loss into his/her life and moving forward with a dear memory of that which is no longer present. That memory may influence him/her in significant ways in the future. But it can never impede him/her as he/she moves into that future.
Our parasha offers us an example of what this process may have looked like in the life of our patriarch, Jacob. It may help us to see how he came through his crisis intact, if not whole. I’m sure that Jacob’s healing occurred over the course of some time. But the Torah captures it as though it occurred over the span of a single night. Recall the confrontation Jacob has with a being, human or divine, at the Yabbok River the night before he will confront (supposedly in a hostile manner) his brother who he has not seen since he wronged him many years earlier. Jacob receives a new name, “Israel,” “…for you have striven with beings divine and human, and have prevailed.” (Gn. 32:29). Toward the end of that encounter with the human/divine being, Jacob names the site of their confrontation “Peniel…”
…for I have seen a divine being face to face, yet my life has been preserved (more literally – my soul has been saved). (Gn. 32:31)
Has Jacob suffered a profound loss as this confrontation begins? Perhaps so. On a superficial level, he has lost the comfort and certainty of life with his father-in-law, Laban, in Haran, undesirable as it may have become. On a deeper level, Jacob may have lost a part of himself, of his nature, and is struggling to come to terms with who he really is. Conversely, does Jacob perhaps anticipate a life-changing loss as the confrontation with his brother is about to take place? Undoubtedly so! He believes that Esau and his entourage are approaching him to do him and his family harm. If Jacob makes it out of this confrontation alive, he will not leave it unscathed. Surely, profound loss is coming.
How does Jacob deal with his losses or anticipated losses? He confronts God. He struggles with God. He asks God to provide him with blessing. Ultimately, as a result of the confrontation and the blessing he perceives he has received through his new name, Jacob emerges alive, with a sense of his soul’s renewal and with a new equilibrium as he moves forward (symbolically captured by the limp with which he now walks).
Similarly, I believe, our recovery from a time of crisis and profound loss may entail a struggle with God, a struggle that helps us to confront what we really believe about God’s role in tragedy and recovery. That struggle will, I hope, leave us focused not on “Why did God cause this loss or not prevent it?” but rather on, “Now that this loss has occurred, how can I recognize God’s presence and support?”
When our struggle leads us to focus on the right questions, “our souls will be saved,” and healing will be possible.
Shabbat Shalom.
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