“So he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.”

— Genesis 32:27

I confess to you; I don’t like Jacob. I don’t think he’s a good character, certainly not a hero. He is everything his name says he is: a grabby, selfish, conniving jerk-faced scoundrel. Ok, maybe that’s a bit harsh. But I don’t love when people make him a hero. He isn’t. Even in this story, you could interpret that he just sent his entire family, including his wives and children ahead of him, as buffers between him and his brother, whom he fears. It’s a cowardly act. In the pericope where he dreams of angels ascending and descending, he agrees to follow God, only if God will do all things promised. Like, for real guy? You’ll follow God if God is faithful? Jacob is rarely faithful. He steals his brothers birthright and his blessing. He is a grabby little smegel. So this verse, when the wrestler forces Jacob to give his name, means so much. Here on the banks of the Jabbok, Jacob is forced to see himself. He’s forced to acknowledge who he has been and what he has done. In my sacred imagination, I picture him, whispering his name, head down, weighed with shame. He knows who he is. He knows what he’s done. And now, he has to say it out loud. But wrestler doesn’t leave Jacob there, broken hip, and sad-faced. No, you’re name is Israel. Israel, btw, is not much better. One who wrestles with God. It leads me to ask, why would nation of Isael, ancient, not modern, chose to be called israel? They could have from a multitude of names: descendants of Abraham. Moses’ followers, isaac’s kids. But no they’re called one who wrestles with God. Perhaps there’s some deep honesty in the name. When confronted with who we really, when we are stripped of all our protections and it’s just us and God, naked and vulnerable, broken and exhausted, we can try to fight it, but god sees all, knows all, and still won’t let us go. God still won’t let us go. Whatever we say about ourselves in our internal monologue, whatever stories others tell about us as villains in their stories, God never lets us go, won’t let us go. And maybe the struggle, our fight with God is more about God’s unending love for us and and less about our grabby, filled-with negative self-talk selves. Maybe it is in our wrestling that we hear God’s new name for us and maybe we can believe that a new life is possible. Maybe we too can strive with God and live anew.