In the Company of Angels
Parashat Vayishlach, Genesis 32:4–36:43
Ben Volman, Kehillat Eytz Chaim, Toronto
Why are there always angels around Ya’akov? And why, at the climax of his spiritual journey, is “the angel” not an angel?
Few of us have ever been aware of encountering the malakhim—those divine servants and agents of God who surround his throne and do his bidding. But others, believers like Ya’akov (Jacob), seem to experience them everywhere. From the day he leaves the tents of his father to his last days, laying hands of blessing on the sons of Yosef, he can testify: “the God who has been my own shepherd all my life long to this day, the angel who has rescued me from all harm, bless these boys” (Gen 48:15–16 CJB).
Even when he draws near to Kena’an (Canaan) after twenty years of absence, Ya’akov is greeted by angels—and this is after “the angel of God” guided him to success while overseeing his uncle’s flocks and herds (Gen 31:11f.). Despite their help, Ya’akov always saw his life as a painful journey—as he would later tell Pharaoh, his years had been “few and hard” (47:9).
In his youth, Ya’akov’s quieter nature cast him in the shadow of an older twin, ‘Esav, the brawny hunter who was his father’s favorite. After years of being the second-rate son, Ya’akov had finally bested ‘Esav—deceiving his father to take his brother’s blessing. Then, while ‘Esav plotted his murder, Ya’akov fled to Haran, only to find himself laboring for a covetous uncle. Finally, he was compelled to answer God’s call and return home (Gen 31:3, 11–13).
This new life must begin by facing his brother. The Chinese people have a saying: “When you bow, bow low.” Ya’akov’s message to ‘Esav struck that humble note: “Your servant Ya‘akov says, ‘I have been living with Lavan and have stayed until now. I have cattle, donkeys, and flocks, and male and female servants. I am sending to tell this news to my lord, in order to win your favor” (Gen 32:4–6). In other words, “I’ve been a hired worker and have returned with what I earned as a sojourner in a distant land.” There’s no mention of his extensive family.
Ya’akov’s message could be seen as a deception, minimizing his success. But in another way it reveals Ya’akov’s inner doubts—how will ‘Esav measure him now? What does he have that’s worthy of his promised legacy or the stolen blessing? He’s little more than “a wandering Aramean” (Deut 26:5).
‘Esav’s answer arrives, and it’s chilling: “he is coming to meet you; with him are four hundred men” (Gen 32:7). From that moment, Ya’akov’s fear and anxiety drive his actions, including the division of his family into “two camps” so that even if the worst happens, some may flee to safety. He adds a final beseeching prayer, throwing himself on God’s mercy: “Adonai, . . . I’m not worthy of all the love and faithfulness you have shown your servant, since I crossed the Yarden with only my staff. . . . Please! Rescue me from my brother ‘Esav! I’m afraid of him, afraid he’ll come and attack me, without regard for mothers or children. You said, ‘I will certainly do you good’” (Gen 32:10–13 CJB).
As Ya’akov prepares to meet his brother, we sense his mixed feelings about himself, his life, and even his uncertain relationship with God. It is all rushing toward this compelling climax as he prepares to cross at the fords of the Yabok. Then, after sending over everyone else, his path is blocked by a stranger—simply described once, with a single word, “ish.” In the CJB it’s translated as “some man,” though for Ya’akov, this stranger is anything but “a man.” This divine being is, however, like no “angel” he has ever met before.
The angels in his past had comforted, guided, advised and inspired him. They had nurtured the chosen son of Yitzhak and Rivkah, when he was cast into the world from the only world he’d ever really known, and had barely any reason to believe in his own worth. The blessing he held might have been taken in deceit, but the legacy of God’s blessing to Avraham now rested on him. The angels understood his significance in the larger story even if he could not. But this is no such angel.
This one dares to stand in his way and must be fought. Ya’akov is strong from his work in the fields, but the stranger can’t be thrown. We’re reminded of the twin boys fighting in Rivkah’s womb. Ya’akov and the stranger battle all night to a draw, until the challenger wrenches Ya’akov’s hip at the socket—inflicting terrible pain. Still, Ya’akov refuses to release his grip.
When I was younger, I saw the stranger as an adversary, but I no longer see him this way. There is an aspect of rebirth here. Ya’akov is facing neither his nemesis nor an enemy. He’s wrestling for his life, but this opponent will not destroy him; he’s come to force Ya’akov to confront himself—he cannot go any further without believing that he’s worthy of his birthright. And so Ya’akov demands from him what he’s never authentically received from his father: “I won’t let you go unless you bless me” (32:27).
Hearing Ya’akov’s name, the man tells him that he is no longer Ya’akov (“supplanter”). He is now “Israel; because you have shown your strength to both God and men and have prevailed” (32:29). The stranger refuses to tell his own name, but gives the blessing as demanded. Because this “man” enigmatically refuses to tell his name and yet Ya’akov believes that he has wrestled “face to face” with God, “yet my life is spared”, and because he calls the place P’ni-El (“face of God”; 32:31), there are many who believe that this man is Yeshua.
At last, though, Ya’akov can finally lay claim to his own unique spiritual identity worthy of his legacy. Rabbinic tradition has identified the supernatural figure in various ways, including ‘Esav’s guardian angel, with Ya’akov’s success against him as a warning against the attacks of future enemies on Israel and his descendants (Gen Rab 77.3). But this is a very different victory; the triumph is in Ya’akov’s heart.
In his remarkable book on maturing into the second half of life, Falling Upward, Fr. Richard Rohr points to a unifying event in all truly heroic journeys: “There is always a wounding: and the great epiphany is that the wound becomes the secret key, even ‘sacred,’ a wound that changes them dramatically” (18–19).
In the chapter’s final scene, we have one of the great images in all literature: Ya’akov limping past P’ni-El, broken but blessed under the waking dawn. The blessing and his brokenness will both free and empower him. Rabbi Zalman Schachter-Shalomi and R.S. Miller explain in their book, From Age-ing to Sage-ing, that each of us, having come into new potential in the second half of life, will find greater meaning—as a mentor, a teacher, a spiritual leader, and a bridge-builder to the future (69 ff).
As he enters the land of promise, Israel’s higher purpose will not be attached to what he acquires—though God has blessings yet to fulfill. But as the bearer of an authentic blessing, he can now freely give as he’s received. Indeed, through him the legacy of the patriarchal blessings, nurtured by God through angels and a “man” who came to wrestle with Israel by night, will go on.