Ruach.

In the summer of 2015 Kellie and I started a two-year training in spiritual direction through The Transforming Center, and in one of the early retreats we were invited to consider which biblical character story most reflected our own. It’s kind of a tough question, and I immediately began to consider a few of the faith heroes with whom I felt most affinity—men like King David…or perhaps John the Beloved…but none of it quite seemed to fit.

Eventually a name popped into my head—Jacob—followed immediately by a second thought, Seriously? Jacob is your guy? Does it have to be him? I mean, come on, Jacob’s story isn’t exactly stellar; even his name means “deceiver” (which I will actually rebut). Nevertheless, over time it felt true…and even insightful. I won’t share all the story behind that, but I would like to focus on the key turning point in Jacob’s life as a paradigm for key transitions in our own lives, what the contemplative tradition calls the paschal mystery.

The paschal mystery is a way of looking at the death and resurrection of Christ as, not only the crux of salvation history, but also as the template for all of our own conversions and transformations, our own mini-deaths and mini-resurrections. The template for Jesus went like this: 1) loss of an old life – Good Friday, 2) reception of a new life – Easter Sunday, 3) adjustment to the new, grieving the old – the forty days, 4) letting go of the old and letting it bless you – the ascension, and 5) reception of a new spirit for the new life – Pentecost.

Jacob also had his paschal transition, which we see in Genesis 32 when he wrestled with a mystery man and received a new name: Israel in place of Jacob, “because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.” The name Jacob literally means to grasp the heel, a crafty wrestling move that can be seen negatively as deceptive…or positively as skillful or strategic. He started his journey as a deceiver but ended his journey as a strategist.

Jacob came out of the womb just after his older twin brother, literally holding onto Esau’s foot…so the naming was legit. And so began a life of wrestling, starting with the deception of his father in order to win the family blessing, followed by continued wrestling with his equally-crafty uncle Laban. But as Jacob leaves Laban after twenty years to strategically confront his brother Esau, God unexpectedly picks a fight with him.

Jacob wrestles all night with a “man” who seems to represent God…and everything changes for Jacob. He loses his old life (wrestling with men), receives a new life (wrestling with God, in a good way), adjusts and grieves (symbolized by his limp), lets go of the old (literally responds to his adversary’s demand to release him in return for a blessing), and receives a new spirit for a new life. This last point, for me, represents a release of the small story of building his own fortune and stepping into the bigger story of building a nation: picking up his authentic role in the Abrahamic covenant (Gen. 35:9-12).

So let’s bring this full circle into our own lives. Almost every moment of our lives involves a transition of some sort—letting go of one thing, letting something old die, and opening our hearts to something new. And then there are the biggies: the defining pivot points of our lives that, when we look back, have changed everything.

I’ve been writing and talking recently about addictions. Certain moments of our lives have the potential to be pascal pivots, and sometimes this means coming to the end of ourselves, admitting we are powerless over some destructive pattern—that it needs to die, and that we are ready to surrender ourselves in a deeper way in order that something brand new can come to life in us: a new spirit for a new life.

Ruach is the Hebrew word for Spirit, and on my trip to Colorado with my son Thorpe, this word became the touchpoint of yearning for us both, a profound desire and determination to let something old and broken die and to embrace something new with humility and hope. For me it was my addiction to stress: the way I endlessly criticize myself, then heap obligations upon myself, and ultimately flounder in anger and despair. I can’t change it…but Ruach can.

In the first few verses of the Bible we see Ruach as the creative force hovering over God’s vision for the world. Ruach then becomes the very breath breathed into Adam in the crescendo of creation. Most of the great men and women of scripture were described as filled with Ruach…and the Greek equivalent, Pneuma. Jesus himself was marked by Pneuma in the form of a dove at his baptism, then quoted from Isaiah that Ruach had anointed him to proclaim good news…and finally breathed Pneuma upon his disciples after his resurrection. Pentecost, of course, is when there is an explosion of Pneuma that ignites the infant church.

We cannot break addictions. We cannot change or transform ourselves. But we can invite Ruach to do what only She can do in us. (Yes, Ruach is a feminine noun and represents the feminine side of God.) Ruach is the power to break bondages and to live in the fullness of God’s kingdom, so I want to follow in the footsteps of faith, including my brother Jacob, and receive a new spirit for a new season of life. I want my every breath to be filled with the Spirit to break old dysfunctional patterns and release me into new life-giving ones. Ruach is ready, and I am freshly ready. Are you ready?

ThriveTip

If you could have a fresh infusion of the Holy Spirit in your life—and She is 100% available!—and if Ruach’s presence could transform something from false to true, what would it be? What most needs the Spirit’s gentle transformation? Take a few minutes in your next quiet time to journal about that…and actually invite Ruach into that pascal pivot.

 

Takeaway

Our fiercest wrestling often precedes a blessing!

Jerome DaleyComment