1.
When we return home after a long exile, just as our third forefather did when he fled from his red-haired brother to the house of Laban the Aramean and came home twenty years later, the land awakens our spirit. In exile we were terrified even of the rustle of a windblown leaf, subject to the whims of rulers and mobs. Now we do not retreat before our enemies; we fight back fiercely.
"For we shall not turn back, and there is no other way; no nation ever retreats from the trenches of its life," wrote Natan Alterman in 1938 in "The Song of the Platoons."
2.
"Jacob was left alone" (Genesis 32:25), as has happened to us many times. Our enemies exploited such moments and attacked: "And a man wrestled with him until daybreak" (Genesis 32:25). It was a struggle of life and death, a war over the land and, in truth, over the spiritual inheritance of the House of Abraham.
The old Jacob, a quiet man dwelling in tents, would have fled for his life. But the Jacob who returned home was a new man who had adopted Esau's courage. The struggle is fierce, and Jacob overpowers his opponent, who asks to be released. Yet Jacob replies: "I will not let you go unless you bless me" (Genesis 32:27).
In other words: I did not start this war, and I will not release you until you declare that you relinquish the aims for which you sought to kill me. In other words: acknowledge that the land belongs to me and that I continue the House of Abraham.
Here is something the State of Israel has never done in its wars: we have never forced our enemies to publicly declare their surrender and their recognition of the Jewish right to our historic homeland. Yet this was the very reason they fought to annihilate us from 1948 until October 7. They never fought over partition, but over our destruction.
3.
"And he said to him: What is your name?" (Genesis 32:28). Meaning, who were you until this moment? "And he said: Jacob." One who followed others by the heel (the Hebrew root of Jacob – Ya'akov – is akev, i.e. a heel), who faced reality in exile from a low, vulnerable position, whose survival sometimes depended on trickery and convoluted means.
"And he said: Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have wrestled with God and with men, and prevailed" (Genesis 32:29). Sovereignty is the opposite of being a heel. One who does not flee the battlefield but wrestles with God and with men, and prevails, is worthy of inheriting the land and continuing the House of Abraham.
This is the first time in Scripture that the profoundly meaningful name "Israel" appears, a name that contains the name of God (El).
Nahmanides, also known as the Ramban, the 13th-century sage from Girona in Catalonia, writes: "This entire event was a sign for his descendants, that there would be a generation in which Esau would overpower them to the point of nearly uprooting them entirely. This happened in the time of the Sages of the Mishnah... and there were other generations who suffered the same or worse. And we endured and passed through it, as hinted in the verse: 'And Jacob came safely'" (Genesis 33:18).
It is as though the Ramban speaks of himself and his own generation, of the Church that persecuted him until he fled to the Land of Israel in 1267, where he saw its devastation. He succeeded in renewing Jewish permanent presence in Jerusalem.
The Ramban, who read the Torah systematically as a historical code, describes a generation in which the Jewish people would reach the brink of annihilation. Our own eyes have seen the survivors of that generation.
And from a perspective of more than 3,500 years, this is precisely what happened to us: we wrestled with God and with men, with nations, faced persecution and death, stood against waves of history that wiped out mighty civilizations, and yet we prevailed. With our current enemies too we shall wrestle, and with God's help we shall prevail. Israel.
4.
"To wrestle with God and with men" is not only a struggle but a confrontation with opposing poles, a constant effort to connect heaven and earth. The people of Israel are the ladder joining heaven and earth, spirit and matter, prophecy and kingship. This is our message to the world, and we must continue to convey it today if we wish to win the global battle for consciousness against the antisemitic propaganda of our enemies.
There is a spirit within the individual and the nation that rises above calculations and causal chains, a spirit of eternity that reveals itself not in fleeting individuals but in the people to whom they belong. Israel.
Another dimension of the name "Israel" holds the mystery of our existence. Israel is the nation that dwells with its God. We do not rest in His embrace; we struggle with Him, challenge Him, question and confront, then reconcile, and then struggle again. "God" here is not only the familiar sense of the divine but also a broad symbol of our identity. The struggle with Him reflects our ongoing contention over identity, which has characterized many periods of our history: debates over the place of religious tradition and the place of God in our public life.
To wrestle with God (and with men) is essential to who we are. The symbiosis between the people and their God has accompanied us since our birth. This lies at the heart of the intense debate in Israeli society today over our identity. This is why the heated public discourse should not alarm us; such debate is natural to us, even if at times sharp and painful. Israel.
5.
These reflections complete another perspective on the mystery of our survival. Since our earliest days, we have been engaged in an unending debate about our identity: Who are we?
This perpetual discussion created a flexible, fluid identity that adapted itself to changing conditions. The inner core remained constant, yet the outward form shifted from era to era. Each generation answered this question differently, according to the spiritual and national needs of its time.
The answer given by the Jews of Spain's Golden Age was not the same as that of the exiles from Spain; the Jews of the Second Temple period answered differently from the Jews of Babylonia in the first millennium; the Babylonian exiles in the sixth century BCE responded differently from the generation that returned to Zion; and Jews of the Enlightenment responded differently from the Jews of Arabia.
From these varied answers we constructed an immense textual and intellectual skyscraper, unlike anything any other nation has created for its descendants. The editing of the Mishnah was such an answer, as were the Babylonian and Jerusalem Talmuds. Medieval Jewish philosophy emerged from this process, just as the poetry of medieval Spain grew from a burst of contemplation on identity. So too Jewish mysticism, Hasidism, modern Hebrew thought and literature, all were responses to the question of identity.
6.
This ongoing debate is not a weakness but the secret of our endurance. Through it we confronted immense historical forces that would have erased any other people, and yet we prevailed. Like the waters of the Shiloah that flow gently (see: Isaiah 8:6), living waters that find new paths when old ones are blocked, we managed to keep flowing and to revive weary souls along a long historical journey through the wilderness of nations.
This slow movement is hinted at in Jacob's vague response to Esau, who suggested that they travel together. Jacob declines, since the children are young and the flocks need care, and he does not want to slow down his brother: "Let my lord go ahead of his servant, while I travel slowly" (Genesis 33:14) along the roads of history until we meet again one day.
This is the depth of the blessing given to Jacob in his new name, and through him to us, his descendants: "For you have wrestled with God and with men" (Genesis 32:29). You confronted the challenges that threatened your existence and fought to preserve your identity. Through this constant struggle you survived and even flourished under conditions no other nation could have endured. "And you prevailed" (Genesis 32:29). Indeed.
