When choosing a topic to write about, I typically reflect on issues that resonate deeply within my heart. I sometimes spend hours contemplating my ideas with the hope that my writing is honest and heartfelt. I often spend more time choosing and pondering a topic than writing the actual article.

The past three weeks have been an emotional whirlwind as we have devoted ourselves to helping our son recover from the serious wounds he sustained while bravely defending our people and our land. My mind has been a torrent of emotions—gratitude and worry, pride and pain—making it challenging for me this week to settle on a topic to write about. Thoughts flitted through my mind, each vying for attention, yet none felt like the absolute and complete reflection of my emotional core.

Typically, I write with literary confidence, assured of my chosen subject, but this time, lingering doubt and uncertainty shadowed my writing, leaving me searching for clarity amidst the chaos of my thoughts. Amid the doubt and uncertainty of my situation, I struggled to find the clarity I usually rely on to begin writing.

Life Itself

And then it struck me—perhaps I should write about doubt and uncertainty itself. It occurred to me that my hesitation over what to write about mirrored my broader state of being: the doubt and uncertainty that have come to define my life in this moment. How do I navigate these unfamiliar feelings and how can embracing doubt, enrich my life and possibly offer a different form of clarity?

Parshat Vayishlach vividly portrays Ya'akov as a man grappling with profound uncertainty. He faces the looming threat of Esav, who approaches with a band of mercenaries, armed to the teeth. Likewise, Ya'akov is unsure how the surrounding nations will respond to the devastating massacre at Shechem. This sense of instability persists as his life unfolds in unexpected ways.  After the crisis of Dinah’s abduction subsides, Ya'akov hopes for a semblance of peace and stability. Yet, he remains unaware of the brewing storm within his own family—sibling rivalries that will fracture his household and hurl them into two decades of chaos and suffering.

The Haunting

Ya'akov's doubts extend beyond external events; they gnaw at his soul. He remains haunted by the specter of having seized the blessings from Esav’s, wrestling with the morality of his actions. Additionally, though he acknowledges Hashem's fulfillment of the promise to protect him, he worries that his heavenly merits have been depleted. As the Gemara suggests, Ya'akov also fears that his extended years in exile may have led him to sin, further fueling his inner turmoil.

Ironically, life with Lavan, though challenging, offered the strange comfort of predictability. Returning to Eretz Yisrael to reclaim his spiritual legacy introduces a cascade of doubt and complexity.

Ya'akov’s journey, steeped in uncertainty, unfolds across uncharted terrain, where doubt and certainty collide, and clarity remains tantalizingly out of reach.

Misty Doubt

After our son's injury my life has suddenly been enveloped in a fog of doubt and uncertainty—on every front. I have no idea how long his medical recovery will take or where it will ultimately unfold. Since his injury, we have been far from home, living between hospital corridors and modest motels, caught in the whirlwind of an unpredictable and exhausting routine. My entire life has been put on hold – all my plans suspended as I try to be the best parent that I can possibly be.  Even catching a minyan feels like a rare achievement, as the strain of the daily schedule leaves little room for stability or normalcy.

Like Ya'akov, my doubts extend far beyond logistical concerns or future plans. I am haunted by deep, internal uncertainties. Why did this happen to my beautiful son? Why must he endure such profound struggle? Amidst all the pain and heartache, I am overwhelmingly and wholeheartedly grateful to Hashem for the miracle that, im yirtzeh Hashem, he will make a full recovery. The countless nissim that have paved the way for this outcome leave me in awe. But with this gratitude comes another layer of doubt: Why was I granted this miracle? What does Hashem now expect of me? Will I have the strength and courage to rise to these expectations—even if I can discern what they are? The weight of this reality presses down on me. How will this trauma reshape my family? How will it transform me? My life feels unsteady, as if I am standing on quicksand rather than solid ground, searching for balance amidst the instability. These questions follow me day and night, and I have no clear answer.

Always at the Door

Today, I was twice reminded of the fact that uncertainty always lurks at the door. Literally as I began to write this article, the news arrived: four more soldiers have been seriously wounded in Lebanon. A few minutes later a woman burst into the hospital Beit Knesset where I sat, her face streaked with tears, pleading to enter the men’s section. I quickly assured her that she could and watched as she stood before the Aron HaKodesh, sobbing uncontrollably.

Gently, I approached and asked if I could help. She cried out, her voice raw with anguish, that her daughter’s condition was dire. Hoping to offer some comfort, I told her I was a rabbi and offered to recite Tehillim with her and give her daughter a beracha. Together, we walked to the ICU, where her daughter lay fighting for her life—just a few feet from the very spot where my own son had been intubated and sedated for two long weeks.

During the past few days, having witnessed my son's steady recovery, I allowed myself a fleeting moment of relief, daring to glimpse the possibility of stability. Yet, I was swiftly reminded of the storm I had weathered just days ago—both physically and emotionally. Her anguish rekindled my awareness that the tempest of unpredictability still rages, enveloping countless others in its relentless grasp.

Uncertainty Brings Clarity

We are not accustomed to living with doubt. We crave control over our schedules and the ability to map out our lives with precision. Planning the future and dictating the rhythms of our days provide a comforting sense of stability. Human psychology thrives on certainty and predictability, while our natural biorhythms are aligned with the steady cycles of day and night, enabling us to function with consistency and purpose.

Ironically, when that stability is stripped away—when the schedules and plans we depend on dissolve—we are thrust into a more existential state. We are compelled to confront our identity in its most raw and stripped-down form. Deprived of the regularity of daily life and the predictability of the future, we must search for deeper meaning and reach for something more solid to anchor ourselves amidst chaos.

My Rock

I have tried to use this doubt to draw close to Hashem. In a world where everything can be stripped away in an instant, the only enduring foundation is faith. I have leaned heavily on countless people for support during this challenging time—friends from across the globe who reached out with heartfelt wishes, strangers who assured me they were praying for my son or singing his favorite Shabbat zemirot, tireless doctors who worked to heal him and uplift us with their optimism, and, above all, my extraordinary family—a blessing for which I can never express enough gratitude.

Yet, in my darkest and most uncertain moments, I turned to Hashem as my steadfast rock. Speaking to Him, confiding in Him, and feeling His guiding hand brought me a sense of comfort and reassurance that no human presence could provide.

Doubt has pushed me into a more profound and existential space, forcing me to confront life’s rawest truths and to anchor myself in something deeper. I hope that when this cloud of uncertainty eventually lifts, the clarity and strength I have found in this crucible will remain etched in my soul, fortifying my relationship with Hashem and deepening my own sense of purpose and selflessness.

Rambam Hospital, Haifa, Israel. Dec 8.

The writer is a rabbi at the hesder pre-military Yeshivat Har Etzion/Gush, with YU ordination and a master’s in English literature from CUNY. His most recent book, Reclaiming Redemption: Deciphering the Maze of Jewish History (Mosaica Press), is available in bookstores or at www.reclaimingredemption.com