Dvar Torah

As we read the story of Yaakov and his twelve sons, we encounter many individual episodes filled with lessons that speak directly to our modern lives. But when we widen our perspective, not only looking at each event on its own, but rather uncovering the threads that connect them, entirely new pathways of meaning open up. We begin to see how Hashem weaves messages across stories, revealing deeper truths placed directly into our hands.

Yaakov’s life is marked by constant struggle. He works for Lavan for twenty difficult years, flees from Esav after taking the blessing, and later endures the heartbreak of losing his beloved son Yosef. In this week’s parashah, Vayishlach, Yaakov engages in his famous nighttime battle with an angel. After the struggle, the angel gives him a new name—Israel. The root of “Israel” relates to struggling: Yaakov has now wrestled with both humans (Lavan and Esav) and the divine.

The word “struggle” itself is striking. It does not necessarily imply success or failure; it describes a forceful effort to break free from constraint. Struggle is the attempt, the engagement, the refusal to give up.

Later in the parashah, Yaakov faces a different kind of struggle. His daughter Dina goes out alone before being captured and violated by Shechem. When Yaakov hears the news, the Torah tells us he remains silent until his sons return. It is difficult to imagine Yaakov’s anguish in that moment—yet for some reason, he chooses restraint over reaction.

By comparing this moment to Yaakov’s earlier challenges, we can understand his silence. In his struggles with Esav and Lavan, Yaakov acted. He chose to take the blessing; he chose to work for Lavan and eventually marry Rachel despite being deceived. These were active decisions, made in pursuit of what he believed was right or necessary.

But after wrestling with the angel and being renamed Israel, his struggle with Dina is of a different nature. Here, as the Malbim notes, the harm had already occurred—nothing he could do would undo what was done. This was not a moment for action, but for painful acceptance. His silence was not indifference; it was the recognition that not every struggle allows for immediate intervention. Some require endurance, patience, and restraint.

Together, these scenes show us the full spectrum of “struggle” in Yaakov’s life: sometimes active, sometimes passive—but always honest, always human. And perhaps that is part of the message of being called Israel: to engage fully with the challenges Hashem places before us, not only the ones that require bold action, but also the ones that require the difficult strength of silence.