You might be familiar with the classic Jewish children’s book series Fishele and Fraydele. They were written years ago by my grandmother, Faigy Shain. What many people don’t realize is that she had no background in writing, no publishing connections, and no formal training. She wasn’t an author—she was simply a Jewish mother who noticed something missing in the world. At that time, there were almost no children’s books teaching authentic Jewish values. She saw the need, felt the responsibility, and said, “If it isn’t there, then I will create it.” And she did. She wrote a series of books that shaped generations.
One of the greatest obstacles to action is fear—fear of inexperience, fear of failure, fear of inadequacy. We hesitate because we wonder, “Who am I to do this? What if I don’t succeed? What if I have no idea how to start?” But often it is precisely the first step—even the imperfect, uncertain one—that becomes the path to triumph.
We see this in the life of Yaakov Avinu. When he wrestles the angel of Esav, the angel blesses him and identifies two extraordinary achievements: “Ki sarisa im elokim v’im anashim—you struggled with an angel; “Vatuchal—And you prevailed.”
We understand the second praise—winning the fight. But Rav Gamliel Rabinowitz points out that the first praise may be even greater: that Yaakov fought at all. Who attempts to battle an angel? What chance does a human being have? And yet Yaakov did not ask, “Can I win?” He asked, “Is this my responsibility?” And if the answer was yes, he stepped forward, and Hashem granted him victory.
Chazal teach that this angel represents the yetzer hara, and the message is profound. In our own inner battles, it often feels impossible to keep fighting. We wonder how long we can resist, how many times we can get up again. But Torah does not ask us to calculate our odds. Hashem does not demand guaranteed success. He asks for courage, for movement, for an opening. We take the first step and He carries us through the rest.
Chanukah expresses this same truth. The Chashmonaim were outnumbered, outarmed, and outmatched. By every natural measure, the war was unwinnable. So why did they fight? Because a Jew does not ask, “Is it possible?” A Jew asks, “Is it necessary?” And if it is, we act, even when the story has no logical ending in sight. The miracle comes only after the first courageous step.
My grandmother didn’t worry about whether the world needed another writer, whether she had the credentials, or whether success was likely. She simply saw that something important had not yet been created and she trusted that Hashem would help her write it.
And so the message is this: Don’t wait for the story to be written before you begin. You may be the one Hashem is waiting for to write it.
