Dear Friends,
I hope your Thanksgiving was filled with family, friends, good food, and, most importantly, time to step back and recognize the blessings that fill our lives.
This week’s Torah portion brings us into one of the most vulnerable moments of Jacob’s life. Having deceived Esau, Jacob sees his brother’s rage, recognizes the consequences of his actions and flees for his life. The text begins:
“Jacob left Be’er Sheva and set out for Haran.
He came upon a certain place and stopped there for the night, for the sun had set.
Taking one of the stones of that place, he put it under his head and lay down in that place.
He dreamed, and behold—a stairway was set on the ground and its top reached to the sky, and angels of God were going up and down on it.
And Adonai stood beside him…”
The young Jacob, who only moments earlier felt secure in his future, beloved by his mother, and confident in the blessing he had received, now finds himself alone and frightened. He is so emotionally drained and broken that he resorts to using a rock as his pillow. One moment he is at the height of privilege; the next, he is wandering and homeless. Both literally and figuratively, the ground beneath him has shifted.
And yet, Jacob keeps moving forward.
When morning comes, he rises. He brushes the dust from his clothes. And he continues toward a future he cannot yet see, but refuses to abandon. The dream, as anxiety-producing as it may have been, somehow gives him clarity, purpose, and just enough hope to take the next step. At his moment of greatest desperation, he digs deep into himself and finds a way to keep going. It is a powerful lesson and reminder for us all: no matter how great the challenges may be, our task is to keep moving forward and, God-willing, push through toward better days ahead.
What has always captured my attention, though, is a small detail in the dream. The text tells us:
“And angels of God were going up and coming down on it.”
I’ve always wondered—if angels dwell in the Divine realm, shouldn’t the order be reversed? Shouldn’t they descend first and then ascend?
The rabbis of old noticed this too. And one of the most beautiful interpretations teaches that holiness doesn’t always come down from above. More often, it begins down here. It begins with us. The angels ascend first because the spiritual movement starts from the ground. From our actions. Our choices. Our courage. Our compassion. The holiness we generate rises, and only then do blessings flow back toward us.
Jacob believed he was alone, but the moment he reached for strength and when he resolved to keep going despite fear and uncertainty, the angels rose with him. The divine presence was already there, waiting to meet the effort he put forward.
And perhaps that is the message we need most right now.
We live in a world that feels unsteady. We carry worries about our country, about Israel, about our families, about the future. It’s easy to feel overwhelmed. But Jacob reminds us that holiness doesn’t appear out of nowhere. It emerges through the daily decisions we make: to show up for one another, to act with kindness, to lift someone’s spirit, to speak a word of truth, to choose hope over cynicism.
Jacob’s fitful night reminds us that inner strength and clarity of vision allow our small acts to rise upward and, in return, I pray, bring us blessing, comfort, and peace in the weeks and months to come.
Shabbat Shalom
Rabbi Daniel Cohen