Shabbat Greetings
As we move past Thanksgiving, many of us open our refrigerators to a familiar sight: containers of leftovers—bits of turkey, stuffing, vegetables, pies. Some are delicious; some make us wonder why we saved them at all. But there’s something comforting about leftovers: they remind us of the warmth and abundance of the holiday that has just passed, even as we return to colder days and busier routines.
This week’s Torah portion, Vayetze (Genesis 28:10-32:3), also begins in a moment of “after.” Jacob has left home, fleeing Esau, uncertain of his future, heading into unknown darkness. The Torah tells us “Vayetze Yaakov mi’Be’er Sheva va’yelech Charanah”—Jacob left Be’er Sheva and went toward Haran (28:10). But the sages point out that the Torah emphasizes the leaving because Jacob is not stepping into a moment of wholeness; he is leaving behind what once felt safe and full.
Night falls. Jacob rests his head on stones. He has nothing. Yet it is precisely in this moment when he is alone, frightened, in the dark that Jacob receives one of the most expansive, hopeful visions in all of Torah: the ladder reaching toward heaven, angels ascending and descending, God’s assurance that Jacob is never alone. The miracle comes not when the table is full, but when the night is at its darkest.
As we move into the darkest weeks of the year, this message matters. Many people feel a dip in energy, a sense of heaviness. The “glow” of holidays dims; the nights lengthen. But Vayetze teaches us that darkness is not the absence of holiness; rather, it is often the place where holiness becomes visible.
Leftovers are not glamorous. They’re fragments of a celebration, the remnants of abundance. But they are also a physical reminder that blessings linger. Blessings don’t exist only in the moment of fullness; it persists afterward, in quieter and simpler forms. Just as Jacob carries the memory of his own home into the uncertaintly of the night, we too carry the warmth of gratitude and our family connections into the darker days ahead. Leftovers, like Jacob’s stone pillow, are small things, ordinary and imperfect, but they can anchor us in a sense of abundance even when the world outside feels dim.
Later in the poriton, Jacob wakes from his dream and declares, “Surely God is in this place, and I did not know it.”(28:16). Finding joy in darkness is not pretending everything is light. It is realizing that God, meaning, and blessing are present even when we did not expect them; sometimes especially when we did not expect them. Vayetze reminds us that our blessings do not vanish with light; it transforms. Thanksgiving leftovers remind us that abundance can carry forward into leaner days. And Jacob’s dream reminds us that even in the cold, dark nights, there is a ladder connecting us to something larger, something luminous, something hopeful. May we each find light in unexpected places, joy in small remnants, and the courage to declare, like Jacob: God is in this place – even if I did not know.
SHABBAT SHALOM