Parshas Vayeitzei 5783
Had Yaakov simply decided to turn in for the night, surely he would not have been blamed. He was a long way from home and had no clear destination. According to Rashi’s understanding of events, Yaakov arrives all the way in Charan—the city he’d first set out for—only to feel a twinge of guilt over having possibly passed up on praying at the sites hallowed by his father and grandfather before him. He makes an about face, and before making much progress, finds that the sun has abruptly set, and it’s time for him to make camp.
But before he goes to sleep, he prays. Not just any prayer, but a prayer of significant intention, one that is described in a way that indicates that Yaakov was gearing up for just this occasion. Yaakov’s prayer is described with the words “Vayifga BaMakom—And he entreated at the place.” But the word Vayifga is an unusual one, connoting a premeditated intervention or attack. When Avraham makes sets out to purchase Ma’aras HaMachpeilah, a cognate of this word is used, as Avraham asks the locals to “Pig’u li b’Efron ben Tzochar—entreat Efron ben Tzochar on my behalf.” Vayifga is to set your sights on your objective and to pounce.
Which is puzzling when it comes to Yaakov’s prayer. When he wakes from the spectacular vision he dreams that night, the Torah records his surprise that he’d somehow ended up in such an awesome place. He had no idea where he was, yet prayed as though this was the Makom, precisely the location where he ought to pray.
Perhaps this is exactly what the Torah intends to highlight. Yaakov was planning to arrive at a holy site and pray there. When would he get there? Tomorrow. Maybe the next day. He had no sense that he’d already arrived at a place so saturated with holiness—that Hashem had brought him to Har HaBayis prematurely. Yaakov didn’t believe that he was anywhere special. But the sun set, and he had a chance to pray. Vayifga. He attacked. He entreated. He pounced.
The day doesn’t always go as planned. We’d had hopes for accomplishing so much, for getting so much done, for crossing so many items off our lists. Instead, things zigged and then zagged and—in a bewildered state of how it all went so wrong—we’re ready to just check out and look to tomorrow for a fresh start. Tomorrow will be the day when things get back on track. Tomorrow will be the day when we arrive at the correct destination.
To this manner of thinking, Yaakov pushes back. He won’t just write the day off. Perhaps he’s not where he truly hopes to be, but it’s a nice hilltop nonetheless, and the day hasn’t quite ended, why not daven?
The prayer that Yaakov instituted that night was Maariv. A tefilah that’s recited after nightfall, when the day is largely over. It may well have been a day when we told ourselves we’d learn Torah, we’d volunteer our time, or we’d comport ourselves in a manner reflective of Hashem’s middos. And something went wrong. Or many things went wrong. And the day didn’t prove nearly productive as we would have liked. It may be a day we’re tempted to simply write off, to pledge a reset, that tomorrow things will be better.
But Yaakov impels us to do something else. To daven. There’s still time yet before you turn in. Make the most of it. Wring out what’s left of the day, no matter how it’s gone until now. A reset doesn’t have to take place in the morning or after the weekend or in the summer. There may be huge opportunities that come our way before then and it would be a shame to waste them.
Maariv is more than a tefilah, it’s a mentality. One that says I don’t need to wait until later to crawl out of my funk, I can recalibrate now. I don’t need to be irresponsible or impatient or insensitive for the rest of the night simply because it’s how I’ve already acted today. I can wring out some remaining opportunity in this day, however wrong things may have gone until now.
Yaakov doesn’t just go to bed. It’s been a confusing, confounding day. Tomorrow he’ll arrive at his destination, but that doesn’t stop him from davening tonight. Had Yaakov hesitated, perhaps he’d never have seen that great vision and never heard Hashem’s comforting words. Perhaps he’d have missed out on it all had he been the sort of person who schedules opportunity for later, rather than one who seizes opportunity whenever it may arrive.