Vayeitzei: Rest, Love, and the Beloved Community
Jacob leaves Be’er Sheva, running for his life, and arrives at a nameless place where the sun sets. He takes stones from the ground to use as a pillow, lays down, and dreams of a ladder stretching to the heavens.
The Talmud (Chullin 91b) offers a breathtaking insight: the sun set prematurely just for Jacob, creating a sacred pause, a divine invitation to rest. Time itself shifted because Jacob, burdened by his struggles, needed to pause. This ancient teaching resonates deeply in our weary hearts, especially in a world overwhelmed by grief and loss.
Yesterday, we memorialized Omer Neutra, a young man whose life was tragically cut short. In the presence of his grieving parents, Ronen and Orna, and his brother Daniel — wearing Omer’s jacket — we bore witness to unimaginable pain. Yet, even amidst this sorrow, I saw a glimmer of resilience, a light in their eyes that reminded me: our response to profound loss must be to love more fiercely, to build a world overflowing with compassion.
Jacob’s story teaches us that rest and connection are not luxuries; they are divine necessities. In that nameless place, the stones under Jacob’s head miraculously merged into one. The Talmud imagines that each stone vied for the privilege of cradling his head, ultimately becoming a single, unified support. What a profound metaphor for community: to gather our strength, to bear each other’s burdens, and to create a foundation strong enough to hold even the heaviest grief.
Today, as we reflect on Jacob’s journey, let us also reflect on our own. We are all, sometimes, weary travelers, carrying the weight of our work, our pain, and our yearning for a better world. But like Jacob, we are invited to pause. To rest. To dream. And in our dreaming, to find a renewed capacity to love and to build.
The work of love and connection extends beyond any tribe. Just yesterday, at an interfaith clergy gathering in Westchester, I felt the power of diverse voices coming together — Jews and non-Jews alike, united by a shared commitment to justice and dignity. Reverend Lee Trollinger, a local faith leader and dear friend, reminded me of the beauty of building bridges. His hug, offered to me in a moment of personal vulnerability, was not just for me — it was for all of us, a gesture of the Beloved Community we aspire to create.
Friends, this is the challenge and the gift of Vayeitzei: to see every moment, every encounter, as an opportunity to build connection. Like the stones that became one under Jacob’s head (another imaginative interpretation found in Chullin 91b), we are stronger together. And just as God orchestrated a sunset to ensure Jacob’s rest, we are called to create sacred pauses for ourselves and each other — a rest that renews us for the holy work ahead.
So, let us hold each other. Let us become pillows for one another’s weariness. Let us double down on love, amplify the good within us, and extend it beyond the bounds of our own community.
In the words of Israel’s national anthem, Hatikvah, “As long as the heart beats within us…” — may our hearts beat both for ourselves and for the world we are striving to repair.
May we find rest. May we find love. And may we dream dreams that transform the world.