Vayishlach: The Battle of Darkness and Dawn

By Rabbi Josh Appel

Winston Churchill often spoke of his personal battles with what he called his “Black Dog,” a metaphor for the depression that followed him through much of his life. For a man celebrated as a beacon of resilience during some of the darkest days of human history, this internal battle was no less tumultuous than the external war he helped to win.

This brings us to Yaakov, who also faced a mysterious and lonely battle in the dead of night:

Jacob was left alone. And a figure wrestled with him until the break of dawn. When he saw that he had not prevailed against him, he wrenched Jacob’s hip at its socket, so that the socket of his hip was strained as he wrestled with him. Then he said, ‘Let me go, for dawn is breaking.’ But he answered, ‘I will not let you go unless you bless me.’ Said he, ‘Your name shall no longer be Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with beings divine and human, and have prevailed…’ So Jacob named the place Peniel, meaning, ‘I have seen a divine being face to face, yet my life has been preserved.’

The encounter is shrouded in mystery. Who is this figure? Why does he leave as morning breaks? Why is he fighting Yaakov? And why does Yaakov emerge wounded and transformed into “Yisrael”?

The commentators offer numerous and greatly varied insights into this episode. I would like to briefly mention a few with the hopes of providing depth to the story.

The Radak, Rabbi David Kimchi, views this story as divine punishment for Yaakov’s lack of faith. God had assured Yaakov repeatedly of His protection, yet Yaakov’s actions toward Esav — the excessive gifts, the deferential bowing — showed an over-reliance on his own strategies. Yaakov, in this view, underestimated the divine plan and resorted to an unseemly level of flattery to pacify Esav. The wrestling match and injury serves as a rebuke, forcing Yaakov to confront his doubts and recalibrate his trust in God.

The Malbim, on the other hand, sees the encounter as a moment of deep introspection. Before Yaakov can face Esav, the embodiment of his past struggles and fears, he must first face himself. In the stillness of the desert night, surrounded by dust and silence, Yaakov wrestles and affirms his own spiritual identity. The confrontation with Esav must be proceeded by a spiritual concretization. This solitary battle allows him to reaffirm his mission, emerging not just as a wanderer or survivor, but as someone with a renewed sense of purpose — Yisrael, the one who strives with God and men and prevails.

A third perspective might suggest that this wrestling represents the two types of battles we face in life. There are the battles of the morning — fought with meticulous preparation, surrounded by allies and loved ones, clear in their objectives. But then there are also the battles of the night — when we are alone, grappling with shadowy, undefined challenges. The battles of the night, fought in solitude, often leave us wounded but what we learn is that they are also chances for growth and sanctification. From the mysterious night emerges a mitzvah — the prohibition against eating the sciatic nerve — and a new identity, a tangible reminder that holiness can be born from struggle.

Yaakov’s story reminds us that the battles fought in the quiet, unseen corners of our lives are often the ones that shape us most profoundly. It is in the wrestling, in the refusal to let go until morning, that we are transformed. And like Churchill’s “Black Dog,” these struggles are not signs of weakness but of the resilience that carries us toward dawn. Alone in the quiet of night, wrestling with his own despair, Churchill demonstrated that strength is not only about facing enemies in the light of day, surrounded by allies, but also about persevering in the darkest hours when no one else can see. Such is the lesson of Yaakov our leader who became Yisrael, the man defined and improved through struggle and conflict.