January 5, 2026|ט"ז טבת ה' אלפים תשפ"ו Stretching Without Breaking: Yaakov Avinu’s Model for Religious Growth By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

Last Shabbat, I attended the Shulamith High School Shabbaton. Being one of the few men in an all-girls school – one staffed primarily by female teachers – naturally comes with its own challenges. Yet during the Shabbaton, it turned out that being a man was actually an advantage. I did not have the most difficult job of the weekend, which was the logistical responsibility of getting the girls to and from their rooms for the various parts of the program, making sure they went to sleep and woke up on time, and managing whatever drama may—or may not—have arisen along the way.

My responsibilities were different. I was asked to give a drasha on Friday night, participate in a panel, and then lead an “Ask the Rabbi” session. At the end of my drasha on Friday night, when I was speaking to the entire school, I turned specifically to the twelfth graders and shared a message that I hoped would stay with them as they make decisions about seminary next year. I told them: Don’t choose comfort. Choose challenge. Ask yourself, “Where will I grow the most?”—and then lean into that choice fully.

Later that evening, during the Friday night dinner, I was sitting with Rabbi Heshy Blumstein, another rebbe at Shulamith, who had heard what I had told the seniors. He shared with me that he offers the girls a somewhat different perspective when they are thinking about seminary. He tells them to ask a different question: “Where will you be most b’simcha?” Where will you feel good? Where will you feel like yourself? Where will you be in a positive emotional and spiritual space? That, he tells them, is where you should go.

Now, Rabbi Blumstein is the Rav of Yismach Moshe in Woodmere. He served for many years as the Rav of the Young Israel of Hewlett, and he is one of the spiritual leaders of the Thank You Hashem movement, which has spread rapidly in recent years and emphasizes gratitude, emotional faith, and the idea that Hashem loves us deeply and personally. That movement places relationship with God front and center in our religious lives.

So it makes sense that I – a product of a Litvak yeshiva, a student of Litvak rebbeim in YU like Rav Rosensweig – would instinctively emphasize challenge, rigor, and pushing oneself, while a spiritual leader of the Thank You Hashem movement would emphasize simcha as the primary lens through which we think about growth.

And that raises a fundamental question: Which is more conducive to religious growth – challenge or joy?

I believe the answer lies in Yaakov Avinu’s blessings to his children in this week’s parsha. We all know that Yaakov blesses each of his sons differently, offering each one a blessing tailored to his unique personality and destiny. And we also know that Yaakov does not sugarcoat his message. He openly criticizes Reuven, Shimon, and Levi. He confronts them directly about their failings. There is no question that Yaakov challenges his children. There is no question that he identifies their character traits and pushes them to confront the consequences of their actions.

From Yaakov’s words, it is clear that challenge is essential for growth. Human development – psychological, moral, and spiritual – almost universally requires challenge. Skills are refined through struggle. Character is forged through difficulty. Resilience and moral depth emerge when a person is pushed beyond their comfort zone. Without friction, growth stagnates.

But that is not the whole picture.

Because Yaakov does something else as well. The Torah tells us:
“וַיְבָרֶךְ אֹתָם אִישׁ אֲשֶׁר כְּבִרְכָתוֹ בֵּרַךְ אֹתָם” — “And he blessed them, each one according to the blessing that was appropriate for him.”

Growth requires challenge – but challenge alone is not enough. Real growth happens when challenge is embedded within a foundation of positive emotion, purpose, and confidence. And that is what Yaakov gives his children through their individual blessings. Each bracha conveys a powerful message: I see you. I know you. I understand your strengths and your struggles. And this is the path I envision for you.

That message creates simcha – not superficial happiness or excitement, but a deep, grounded sense of rightness. A feeling that I am seen, that I am known, that I am standing in the right place. It is the emotional security that allows a person to grow.

Challenge without that grounding can be destructive. Challenge without emotional safety triggers fear, stress, and defensiveness. It can paralyze rather than inspire. On the other hand, happiness without challenge produces comfort, but rarely transformation. Feeling good about oneself does not automatically lead to becoming better.

The strongest motivator, research consistently shows, is challenge built upon a foundation of positive emotion. We grow most when we feel safe enough to stretch. In psychology, this is often referred to as the “optimal stress zone.”

This is where simcha enters the picture.

Rav Soloveitchik zt”l developed a foundational idea about simcha in Judaism. In Judaism, simcha does not mean constant happiness or emotional highs. Simcha means lifnei Hashem– being in the presence of Hashem, feeling close to Him. The Midrash teaches, “אין עצבות לפני הקדוש ברוך הוא” – there is no sadness before God. The pasuk in Tehillim says, “הוֹד וְהָדָר לְפָנָיו עֹז וְחֶדְוָה בִּמְקוֹמוֹ” – strength and joy exist in His place.

Simcha is relational. When a person feels close to Hashem, they feel grounded, secure, and whole. That is exactly what Yaakov creates when he blesses each son individually. The simcha emerges not only from the content of the blessing, but from the relationship – the sense that their father truly knows them and stands with them.

And that brings us back to the bracha we give our children every Friday night.

We do not bless our sons by invoking Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. Instead, we say: “Yesimcha Elokim k’Efraim v’k’Menashe.” This was a blessing given not from a parent to a child, but from a grandfather to his grandchildren – from Yaakov to Efraim and Menashe. A parent’s blessing can sometimes be complicated by expectation, pressure, or even disappointment. But a grandparent’s blessing is different. It is a blessing of unfiltered love – love without agenda, without conditions. That is the kind of blessing we consciously invoke every single week, and that is the emotional foundation upon which all challenge must rest.

Yaakov’s blessings to his sons were sometimes harsh – but they were always predicated on deep love. And while challenge is necessary from time to time, what our children need every single week is the reassurance that they are loved, seen, and valued.

But this message is not only for our children. It is for us as well. Each of us is called to grow – to deepen our learning, strengthen our tefillah, refine our middot, and elevate our avodat Hashem. Growth is not optional in a life of Torah; it is the calling of every Jew.

The real question is not whether we will grow, but how we will grow. Will we push ourselves in ways that inspire us – or in ways that drain and discourage us? Will our growth be driven by pressure alone, or sustained by connection, meaning, and joy?

Each of us must find that optimal space for growth – the place where we are stretching, but not breaking; where we are challenged, but grounded in simcha and relationship. That foundation comes from connection: closeness to Hashem, support from others, and a basic sense of self-worth that tells us our efforts matter, even when they are imperfect.

And this gives us a practical lens for growth, for our children and for ourselves. When motivation fades or avodat Hashem begins to feel heavy, the first question may not be, “Am I pushing myself enough?” but rather, “Do I feel connected enough?” Do I feel seen? Supported? Do I feel that Hashem is close to me and values my effort?

Because challenge without relationship can crush. But relationship without challenge rarely transforms. Real growth happens when challenge is carried by love – when effort is sustained by simcha, and demand is rooted in connection.

Sefer Bereishit is not the story of a nation – that is Sefer Shemot. Bereishit is the story of a family. And at its conclusion, it teaches us how a Jewish family – and a Jewish life – is built: through challenge, yes, but grounded in simcha, relationship, and unconditional love.

That is how our children grow. That is how we grow. And that is how challenge and joy become not opposites, but true partners in avodat Hashem.

And my bracha is that each of us should merit not only to grow, but to grow wisely and sustainably – to stretch ourselves מתוך שמחה, to challenge ourselves מתוך אהבה, and to build lives of Torah that are demanding, meaningful, and deeply sustaining.