This verse, describing Jacob’s triumph over adversity, introduces the name Israel for the first time. The etymology of Yisrael draws heavily on the word sarita, which means to strive or struggle rather than vatuchal which means to prevail and emerge victorious.

Curiously, in seeking to memorialise this epic victory in a name by which the Jewish people and their homeland would become known for posterity, God chose to highlight the turbulence rather than triumph in this encounter, symbolising the struggle of Jewish existence and continuity.

But why name your children “the Strugglers” if you could name them “the Victors”?

Herein lies the counterintuitive teaching that Judaism is a religion of progression, not perfection.

King Solomon put it this way in Proverbs: “Seven times do the righteous fall and rise.” Righteousness is defined by continued struggle rather the attainment of perfection.

In the secular world success is often measured by the outcome and result, by the bottom line; in the spiritual tradition success is defined not by how much you take out, but by how much you put in.

The six most radical words I’ve encountered in a spiritual text comes from the foundational Chabad work, the Tanya, written by Rabbi Shneur Zalman, founder of the Chabad movement.

In it he develops and addresses the character of the beinoni, literally translated as the “intermediate” or “in-betweener” (who lies somewhere on the moral spectrum between the wicked rasha and the saintly tzaddik), but perhaps best translated as “the struggler”.

Talking of the base impulses and appetites within the beinoni triggered by daily life, the Tanya teaches: “While you cannot control the thoughts which come knocking on the door of your heart and mind, you can always control who you let in.”

The beinoni is therefore in a constant struggle to ensure that his thoughts, words, and actions are righteous.

He can never set his life to cruise control, since at any given moment he can be triggered into behaving in conflict with his higher self.

Addressing the desperation that comes with the beinoni’s endless struggle, Rabbi Shneur Zalman writes: “Do not feel depressed even if engaged in this battle every day of your life.”

Here come those six breathtaking words: “Perhaps for this you were created”, ie in order to struggle.

Perhaps your divine purpose is not to uproot or eradicate your demons and darker side, your daily struggles with insecurities, inconsistencies and idiosyncrasies, but to embrace, engage, and elevate them.

Perhaps God, the architect of your psyche, created you exactly so, perfectly imperfect, to alert you to the counter-intuitive spiritual truth that the arduous battle of betterment and refinement is not the means to an end, but a very noble end in itself.