The beloved Rav Avrohom Genachovsky, zt’l, Rosh Yeshiva of Kochav mi-Yaakov Tchebin, was a gentle, modest and kind “master of bein adam l’chaveiro.” Agan ha-Sahar” is a beautiful collection of stories extolling the righteous ways of this humble Torah genius and his life dedicated to the wellbeing of others.
One night, while Reb Avrohom was learning in his Bnei Brak apartment, he heard the sounds of crying children through his open window. When the crying intensified and did not abate, the Rosh Yeshiva closed his Gemara and went downstairs to see what was going on. He walked back and forth on Rechov Avtalyon until he was able to ascertain where the cries were coming from: an apartment in the next building, one flight up. Not wasting any time, Reb Avrohom ascended the stairs but when he knocked at the door, he quickly understood that a number of small children were inside, seemingly without a parent at home. Perhaps the parents had stepped out thinking the kids would remain asleep!
At first, Reb Avrohom tried to console the kids from behind the locked door. Unable to soothe them or guide them to open the door, he told them to go to the window in the living room and to wait there. Reb Avrohom quickly descended, ran back to his building and returned a few minutes later carrying a ladder. Though not a young man, he climbed up to the window where the children had gathered. With soft, grandfatherly reassurances, he handed the children candies. “Kinderlach, don’t be scared; come sit by the window until Ima and Abba come home.”
The children brought their pillows and blankets to the couch by the window and the rosh yeshiva, standing high atop the ladder, told them bedtime stories and sang songs to soothe their worries.
When the frazzled parents came home some time later, they were stunned to encounter the angelic face of the well-known sage framed by the window, singing sweet lullabies, while their tear-streaked children nodded off on the couch. A few fortunate neighbors and passersby stood below, also transfixed by the Rav’s “ascent” and revelation of glorious, otherworldly concern and care.
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As a refugee running from a brother who sought to kill him, Yaakov Avinu’s future is uncertain. With nowhere to go and not even a roof over his head, Yaakov has a Divine encounter on the Temple Mount: “And Yaakov encountered the Place — and he slept there.”
וַיִּפְגַּע בַּמָּקוֹם וַיָּלֶן שָׁם כִּי־בָא הַשֶּׁמֶשׁ
“And Yaakov encountered the Place — and he slept there, for the sun had set….”
וַיַּחֲלֹם וְהִנֵּה סֻלָּם מֻצָּב אַרְצָה וְרֹאשׁוֹ מַגִּיעַ הַשָּׁמָיְמָה
וְהִנֵּה מַלְאֲכֵי אֱלֹקִים עֹלִים וְיֹרְדִים בּוֹ
“And he had a dream: a sulam, a ladder, was set on the ground and its top reached to the heavens, and messengers of God were going up and down on it.”
(28:12)
During the evening, after the sun had set, Yaakov davened. Based on this, our Sages (Berachos 26b) instituted Arvit, the evening prayer:
וַיִּפְגַּע בַּמָּקוֹם: ואין פגיעה אלא תפלה
“And Yaakov ‘encountered’ the Place… The word tifga, ‘encounter’, always means prayer, as Hashem said to Yirmiyahu haNavi:
ואתה אל תתפלל בעד העם הזה ואל תשא בעדם רנה ותפלה ואל תפגע בי
‘And as for you, do not pray on behalf of this nation and do not raise on their behalf songs and prayer, and do not tifga, ‘encounter’ (pray to) Me, for I do not hear you’” (Yirmiyahu 7:16).
Yaakov’s vision or dream sequence unfolds davka at night, “after the sun had set.” In the face of fear, threatened by armies of Eisav, surrounded by darkness, all alone, he turns to Hashem with emunah.
Rav Yitzchak Ginsburg, shlit’a, (in “Sefer Ma’ayan Ganim,”) teaches that different times, stages and challenges present different pathways to forge a kesher (connection) with the Ribbono shel Olam. In our ups and downs, we can turn to Hashem in different modes, depending on whether we feel distant or close. Yaakov Avinu’s ability to encounter Hashem within his darkest experiences gave him the power to establish the evening prayer.
While Avraham and Yitzchak are associated with prayers that are in a mode of “daytime,” Yaakov introduces a prayer in the mode of “nighttime,” calling from within concealment, turning to Hashem during a time of literal and figurative darkness — challenge, loneliness or hardship. This is the avodah of calling out with tears, revealing light within darkness, and finally breaking out of exile, as in the prophecy of Yeshayahu HaNavi:
אָז יִבָּקַע כַּשַּׁחַר אוֹרֶךָ וַאֲרֻכָתְךָ מְהֵרָה תִצְמָח וְהָלַךְ לְפָנֶיךָ צִדְקֶךָ כְּבוֹד ה׳ יַאַסְפֶךָ:
“Then your light shall break forth as the dawn, and your healing shall quickly sprout, and your righteousness shall go before you; the glory of Hashem shall gather you in!” (Yeshayah 58:8)
The word יִבָּקַע, yibaka, “shall break forth” has the letters that spell Yaakov.
Only from within a seeming void and absence, a place of darkness, tears and anxieties, can the undefeatable power of “emunasecha ba-leilos—your faith within the nights” break forth. With Yaakov’s “emunah breakthrough,” he forged this path for us, walking in front of us into the darkness and sleepiness of exile. By initiating the avodah of “vayifga ba-makom,” praying in that place of uncertainty, he revealed points of Divine contact and encoded them into the Maariv prayer. Whenever we daven at night, we can thus find the koach to dispel the darkness that surrounds us.
Ramban writes that the sulam, the ladder, stretched from Yaakov’s present to his future. Moving on through his pain and trembling, he found a footbridge of faith crossing the unknown, a way forward ascending all the way to the End of Days, the future of promise and potential, the dawn of a brighter era.
Our life, too, is a ladder of radical emunah. Every step we take, whether we are ascending or descending, necessitates at least a moment of instability. Every movement from one rung to another, requires that our foot will pass through dizzying, ungraspable empty space. Reaching and moving, we pass beyond our sense of level stability and comfort, again and again. Yet as we bridge these “dark” gaps between where we are and where we must go, we find there the footsteps of Yaakov and the angelic, yet deeply human, tzaddikim who have walked before us.
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There are times when we feel alone and abandoned, and we may cry out in worry. Yet, deep down, we know that “Keitz sam la-choshech– Hashem set a deadline for darkness” (Iyov 28:3). We are lifted by the emunah that this night will end and the dawn will break.
As we look out the window in search of consolation and salvation, may our prayers be heard — and may we soon behold this glorious light with our own eyes!
Rav Judah Mischel is executive director of Camp HASC, the Hebrew Academy for Special Children. He is the mashpiah of OU-NCSY, founder of Tzama Nafshi and the author of “Baderech: Along the Path of Teshuva.” Rav Judah lives in Ramat Beit Shemesh with his wife Ora and their family.
