Welcome and Shabbat Shalom. Thank you all for coming to share this special day with me.
My parashah is Vayishlach. You could say Vayishlach is basically the original WWE episode of the Torah.
Jacob — or Yaakov — is on his way home, stressed out because his twin brother, Esau, is coming to meet him after twenty years. That might sound nice, like a family reunion, except the last time they saw each other, Esau wanted to kill him. And now Esau is coming… with 400 men. That’s not a family reunion — that’s a battle scene.
So Jacob prepares. He sends gifts, splits his camp, and prays to God. He’s anxious, unsure if this meeting will bring forgiveness or disaster. And then that night, something mysterious happens — Jacob wrestles with a man, or maybe an angel, until dawn.
Can you imagine what that looked like? Two guys rolling around in the desert all night.
If that happened today, it would definitely end up on YouTube with the title “Angel vs. Patriarch: Who Will Win?”
In the end, Jacob wins — kind of. He’s limping, but he’s also transformed. The angel blesses him and gives him a new name: Yisrael, meaning “one who struggles with God and prevails.”
But here’s the part that matters most — what happens after the wrestling. The next morning, Jacob meets Esau. After all that fear and planning, something amazing happens: Esau runs to him, embraces him, and they weep together. No battle, no revenge — just two brothers finding peace after years of anger and pain.
To me, that’s the real heart of Vayishlach: reconciliation. It’s not just about wrestling; it’s about what comes after — the courage to forgive, to let go, and to start again.
We all wrestle with things in our own lives. Maybe not angels in the desert, but definitely alarm clocks, bad WiFi, or people who take 18 items into the “10 items or less” line. [wait for laughs]
And sometimes, the hardest wrestling matches are with ourselves — our fears, doubts, and pride.
Like Jacob, we struggle through the night, and hopefully, by morning, we’ve grown just a little bit stronger or a little bit wiser.
But the story reminds us that the struggle isn’t just about winning. It’s about finding peace — with others and within ourselves. It’s about saying, “I’m sorry,” or “I forgive you,” or even just, “Let’s start over.” That’s not weakness — that’s strength.
Being Jewish doesn’t mean we never struggle. It means we keep wrestling — with faith, with courage, with forgiveness — and we still show up the next morning to try again.
So, whether you’re wrestling with your alarm clock, your homework, or your own heart, remember Jacob.
Hold on, stay in the fight, and when the morning comes, you’ll walk away stronger — even if you’re limping to the coffee machine.
Becoming a Bat Mitzvah is a special moment in my life — a time when I begin to take responsibility for my own actions and choices as a Jewish person. When Yaakov receives a new name, Yisrael, that moment sparks a change in his life — a transformation that shows his strength, growth, and new sense of purpose.
I feel like my Bat Mitzvah is a little bit like that. I may not be getting a new name, but I am stepping into a new identity — one where I take ownership of my Jewish values, my learning, and the kind of person I want to be.
Just like Yaakov’s new name connected him more deeply to his faith and to the future of the Jewish people, my Bat Mitzvah connects me more deeply to my community, my heritage, and my own journey. It reminds me that being Jewish means striving, learning, and growing — just like Yaakov did.
This day celebrates not just what I’ve accomplished, but who I am becoming.
For my Bat Mitzvah project, I chose to raise money for guide dogs for the blind in Israel. This cause is especially close to my heart because my uncle Ken was blind, and I’ve seen how much independence and confidence guide dogs can give to people who can’t see. Through this project, I’ve learned that doing a mitzvah isn’t just about helping others — it’s also about showing love, compassion, and making a real difference in someone’s life.
My Bat Mitzvah reminds me that being Jewish means learning, caring, and striving to be my best self. This moment connects me more deeply to my family, my community, and the generations before me. It’s both a celebration of who I am and a promise of who I want to become.
I want to thank all of you for being here.
Thank you to my mom and dad for helping me through this journey, to my siblings for always being there for me, to my teachers for their guidance and patience,
and to my friends at school and at Hebrew school for making every moment more fun. Thank you to Joanna for helping us organize this event, and last but not least, thank you to Sandra Beckman for helping me make and edit my speech.
Shabbat Shalom!