You Are Not Alone: Reflections on Parashat Vayeishlach and the Concept of Grace

Parashat Vayishlach • Genesis 32:4–36:43

“He called the place Beth-el, for there, God had been revealed.”
— Genesis 35:7

In this week’s parasha Jacob returns to Beth-el — where he pauses to build an altar and name the place where God once appeared to him in his distress.

In my illumination of Genesis 35:7, I focused on the stone Jacob set up — a simple rock that becomes a marker of sacred encounter. I painted a standing stone inscribed with the words “Beit El,” set against a layered horizon of earth and sky. To me, that stone is like a visual exclamation point: a reminder that there are moments in our lives when we suddenly realize, “Something holy happened here. I need to remember this.”

Even though the Torah doesn’t use the English word grace, the experience described in this verse is, in many ways, a quintessential experience of grace. God reveals the Divine Presence to Jacob in his time of distress — offering comfort, guidance, and accompaniment at a moment when he feels most vulnerable. That experience of being met, held, or supported by something greater than oneself is what many people across different faith traditions understand as grace. And it’s what Jacob recognizes only once he pauses, looks back, and realizes that he was never truly alone.

As I sat with this Torah portion, I found myself thinking about the word Grace. For many years, I thought the concept of Grace was something embraced primarily by my Christian friends. It wasn’t a word I heard often in Jewish spaces, and I didn’t realize that Judaism, too, has a rich and beautiful understanding of Divine Grace—expressed not through the English word “grace,” but through Hebrew words like chesed (lovingkindness), rachamim (compassion), and chanun (graciousness).

In Jewish tradition, grace is deeply relational. It’s not something we “earn,” nor is it usually framed as a doctrine of salvation. Instead, grace is experienced as a gentle, sustaining presence — a love that meets us where we are, especially in moments of fear or sorrow. Grace is the Divine whisper that says: You are not alone. I am with you on the journey.

Many Christian traditions understand grace as an unearned, transformative gift — a holy love that heals, saves, or restores. While Judaism doesn’t often speak about grace in that redemptive language, we share a profound appreciation for the way grace softens the heart and invites us into greater wholeness. Both traditions cherish the idea that grace is something that finds us, often when we aren’t looking. Something that opens a closed place within us, or lights the path forward when the way feels dark.

This theme feels especially resonant to me right now. As I accompany my daughter on her cancer journey, there have been moments of deep overwhelm — times when I wasn’t sure how we would navigate the uncertainty ahead. And yet, there have also been surprising moments when I felt held: by love, by community, by something greater than myself. Those moments didn’t take away the fear, but they softened it. They reminded me, again and again, that we are not meant to walk through life alone.

And perhaps that is why this moment in Jacob’s life feels so universal. Jacob is not looking for grace; he is simply trying to survive. Yet grace appears anyway — in a dream, in a blessing, in reconciliation, in the courage to return, and finally in the awareness that God had been with him even in the depths of despair. The stone at Beth-el becomes a marker of that awareness, an altar of remembrance. Grace itself was already there, quietly guiding him home.

This is the kind of grace I was thinking about when I wrote this week’s prayer.

Transcendent Grace

A Prayer for Parasha 8, Vayishlach

Centuries ago
my ancestor, Jacob,
wrestled with an angel
(or was it with himself?)
and received the blessing of a new name.

I wrestle, too—
trying to understand
how we’ve gotten to this point in time
without having learned the importance
of reaching out in love
and using our innate gifts
to make a difference for others.

As I continue to seek connection
to something greater than myself—
with every breath, every heartbeat,
every hope and every prayer—
may I grow more aware of the Infinite Source of Blessings
and deepen my ability to BE a blessing.

Source of Infinite Possibility,
Fill me with Your Transcendent Grace.
Transport me, awe-filled, to the liminal space—
so, like Jacob, I may awake and exclaim:
“Surely God is in this place!”

Journaling Questions

Where have you recently experienced a moment of grace — subtle or profound?
In what area of your life do you long to feel more softness, compassion, or Divine Presence?
What “altar” or marker might you create — literal or symbolic — to honor a moment when you felt accompanied or uplifted?
How might you offer grace to yourself, and to someone you care about, in the coming week?

Closing Blessing

In the week ahead,
may the One who wrestled with Jacob
meet us in the places we struggle,
soften what feels hardened,
and guide us toward compassion and clarity.
May we emerge, as Jacob did,
carrying a blessing and a deeper knowing
that we do not walk alone.