In the Old Testament we learn the story of Jacob, who deceives his brother Esau and flees before being called by God to return. Just before encountering Esau, Jacob meets and wrestles with a man who is revealed to be an angel. Jacob breaks his hip in the process, feeling the physical pain of the struggle and remaining forever marked by the experience.
The angel asks Jacob his name and declares he will now be called “Israel” (Genesis 32:28). The name “Israel” is interpreted as “One who wrestles with God” or “One who struggles and perseveres.” While both Abraham and Isaac obeyed God directly, only Jacob is given the name Israel and becomes the father of a people, suggesting the defining relationship between this people and God is not passive obedience, but engaged struggle.
Jacob had initially planned not to reconcile with Esau, but to simply avoid violence and appease him. After his encounter with the Angel, Jacob approaches Esau directly with humility and vulnerability. Esau responds by embracing Jacob and forgiving him.
My name is Jacob and like the Bible’s Jacob, I have been wrestling with difficult challenges and questions, especially around building pluralism and doing good in the world.
What are the limits of empathy? Where do we draw red lines? Who is welcome into the tent of pluralism?
How can we bring our particular identities to pluralism while making space for the particular identities of others? Can I seek to manifest my values in conversation and partnership with others that have seemingly contradictory values?
How do we account for power imbalances in pluralism? How do I recognize my privilege as a white suburban man while using my privilege for good and not being overwhelmed by guilt? What is the line between guilt and responsibility?
I know that joy has many benefits personally and for social change work. Should I bring joy and humor into work that feels — and is — serious, work that has real consequences for real people? If yes, then how?
How can I be a proud Jew and advance the safety, security, prosperity, and justice for Jewish people in Israel and around the world, while also advancing safety, security, prosperity, and justice for Palestinians and other oppressed populations?
If I don’t post every atrocity on Instagram, if I’m not in the street protesting every day, if I don’t actively work every moment toward ending the suffering of people in Darfur and homeless people on the street in New York and my depressed and privileged friends, am I doing enough?
I know that some of my colleagues at Interfaith America (IA) and many others working in pluralism (or not) struggle with similar questions. Maybe some people feel more certainty. I feel confused.
I identify with the story of Jacob. Constantly grappling with Truth, living in the confused middle, seeing multiple perspectives, and holding empathy and space for others, is exhausting and leaves a physical mark.
But I think it is a valuable path. Not the only path, but a valuable one.
Through these struggles we learn about ourselves and each other. We make space for a complex reality and understand what needs to be done to address it. We invite others into the confused space with us, demonstrating a model of engagement that breaks walls rather than builds them, that reduces a feeling of polarization by giving space for multiple truths to exist. We develop humility to know that we don’t hold the only truth. We appreciate direct conversation, even when it is difficult, challenging, and painful.
At the end we do believe in a truth — that our diverse society and democracy require people of many different identities and beliefs to live well together. To live well together we must know each other. And to know each other, we must know ourselves.
The wrestling continues.
I feel blessed for it, and blessed to do it alongside smart, interesting, and diverse people that constantly provide new perspectives, new ideas, and new challenges.
Wrestle on, my friends.
Jake Shapiro is a Program Manager for Democracy Initiatives at Interfaith America.
