Since I started learning Torah, my friends and teachers have been telling me that the power of Torah is that no matter how many times you read it, you can always find in it something new. At this point, I haven't read the entire Torah enough times to really test that theory, but this week I'm getting the sense that it holds water. Last year I blogged about the episode in this week's parasha, Vayishlach, where Jacob wrestles with the angel. (A quick recap for those unfamiliar with the text: After using deception to claim the birthright that was intended for his older brother, Esau, Jacob fled from his homeland and remained in exile for around 20 years. Finally, he hears that Esau is coming to meet him and Jacob prepares for the reunion with a good amount of fear and anxiety. The night before he is to see his brother, Jacob has a dream in which a mysterious being wrestles with him until the break of dawn.) I really love this story, and as I started reading the parsha for the second time, I felt a little disappointed that I'd already written about that section of text...but then, I found it: something new!
While reading the psukim about Jacob and the angel, I was drawn to the following midrashic commentary at the bottom of the page:
We can imagine Jacob saying to himself, "Until now, I have responded to difficult situations by lying and running. I deceived my father. I ran away from Esau. I left Laban's house stealthily instead of confronting him. I hate myself for being a person who lies and runs. But I'm afraid of facing up to the situation." By not defeating his conscience, Jacob wins. He outgrows his Jacob identity as the trickster and becomes Israel, the one who contends with God and people instead of avoiding or manipulating them. At the end of the struggle, he is physically wounded and emotionally depleted. Nevertheless, the Torah describes him (in 33:18) as shalem, translated "safe" with connotations of "whole," at peace with himself (shalem is related to the word "shalom"), possessing an integrity he never had before (S'fat Emet). --Etz Hayim chumash, page 201.
I often feel that part of the challenge of reading Torah is finding ways to connect with the central figures of the narrative--how can I relate to them and make their experiences applicable to my life? Through this commentary, I discover a whole new way to relate to Jacob. Like Jacob, I went through a period of my life when I was deceptive and untruthful. When confronted with any type of uncomfortable situation, I chose the path of avoidance, which was usually paved with lies. I hated how my eating disorder had turned me into someone sneaky and dishonest, but I was unable to find the strength to face confrontations or challenges head-on. For me, recovery has meant growing into a person who is willing to bear discomfort. It has meant finding a way to be honest even when it might upset someone else, because having a strong sense of integrity has become more important to me than insulating myself from the bumpy parts of real life.
Jacob's battle leaves him injured and exhausted, yet undeniably whole. Recovery is similar, in that probably no one (at least no one I know) escapes it unscathed. I have found it to be physically demanding and often painful, and it has pushed me to the outer limits of my capacity for handling tough emotions. So, why have I put myself through all of that? I've done it because the "me" who has emerged out the other side is a fuller, more authentic self than I ever would have been had I not engaged in the struggle. Although recovery, in the moment, often seemed impossibly challenging, it has ended up being the process that brought me to a clearer, brighter existence. The eating disorder gave me a false sense of protection, but recovery provides me with a path toward genuine wholeness. I hope that each of us is able to internalize the courage and wisdom of Jacob and use this strength to further our own positive transformations--and that we emerge from it all as individuals who truly know the meaning of shalem.
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