One may err in thinking that, “And there was evening, and there was morning – one day,” is a chronological note in the opening of Creation; rather, it is a foundational statement about the rhythm of existence itself. Choshech/darkness/evening suggests decline, uncertainty, obscurity and also adversity – both physical and spiritual. In contrast, morning, light, day, suggests renewal, illumination, awakening with vigor to take on the challenge of adversity. The human instinct is to treat night and day as opposites when, in fact, they work in tandem. One who hits a bump in the road – a pothole from which he feels he cannot extricate himself – should focus on va’yehi erev va’yehi boker. Day always follows night. We always have the opportunity to start again as the “sun” arises. Evening is not discarded as soon as the first light breaks through the clouds, but rather, it is absorbed by the light. The day is a continuation of the night, only in a different form.
Too many people give up as soon as the light begins to darken the sky of their life. This is especially true when one feels that he “messed up” spiritually. True, shteiging, achieving, is a critical part of limud haTorah, but it happens that one hits a snag in his journey to achieve Torah mastery. Suddenly, he is left out of his chaburah, friends. He is no longer a “good boy.” To hang around with him might ruin the other’s reputation. No one bothers thinking that maybe the boy needs a little room and much encouragement. And even if an individual does think of it, “It is not my responsibility.” The other person is not in kiruv, outreach. We are all on a journey. Why chance disrupting my personal Torah growth to help someone who is falling by the wayside? As a result, the one who slipped feels rejected and dejected, making it that much more difficult to return. Vayehi erev – but, also, vayehi boker. You can begin over again the next boker.
One must remember that growth does not occur only when answers are obvious and life is perfect. Much of spiritual life is forged precisely when the answers are not clear, when one feels that no one cares. A Jew’s neshamah has an on-board GPS which is trained on Hashem – even when he does not know where he is, how he got there, and how to return. The switch for the GPS is emunah, faith in Hashem, and faith in oneself. Evening is the beginning of morning. Just be patient, keep your faith, and the sun will soon emerge to illuminate your life.
Vayehi erev—vayehi boker is much more than the description of the first day of Creation. It is the template of every day and every life. Darkness does not just disappear; it merges into morning, creating a whole one day.
One can place three pots of water on a fire. Into one pot, he places potatoes, into another eggs, and into the third coffee grounds. After the water reaches a boil, the potatoes, which had been hard, become soft. The eggs, which had been fragile within their shells, become hard. The coffee grounds, however, transform the water itself into something rich, fragrant, and beneficial.
The lesson is powerful. Some people encounter hardship and become like the potatoes. They lose their resilience, their enthusiasm, and their sense of purpose. Others react like the eggs do. Once gentle and open-hearted, they become hardened by disappointment and pain. Others resemble the coffee grounds. Rather than allowing circumstances to define them, they transform the challenge itself into an opportunity for growth. The very “boiling water” that threatens to overwhelm them becomes the catalyst for developing greater faith, wisdom, compassion, and strength.
From a Torah perspective, adversity is never an end in itself. Every nisayon, every challenge, contains within it the potential for spiritual growth. The choice is ours. Will we allow life’s difficulties to soften our resolve, harden our hearts? This may be one of the messages of Vayehi erev, vayehi boker. Every morning is born from an evening. Every spiritual ascent is preceded by challenge. The question is not whether we will encounter boiling water; everyone does. The question is what we will become as a result of it. Will we become soft like the potato? Hard like the egg? Or will we be like the coffee grounds, transforming the darkness itself into a source of blessing? The Jew lives with the certainty that, after every erev, comes a boker. Yet the highest level is not merely waiting for the morning. It is creating the morning from the evening, finding within the challenge the seeds of growth, wisdom, and greater closeness to Hashem. The coffee grounds do not escape the boiling water; they elevate it. Likewise, the faithful Jew does not simply endure the darkness; he transforms it into light.
A mechanech once related the story of a young man who had been one of the brighter students in his yeshivah. He was diligent, respectful, and possessed considerable potential. Then, almost imperceptibly, he began to struggle. His learning lost its consistency. His davening became sporadic. The spark that had once characterized him appeared to dim.
Sadly, people noticed the decline long before they noticed the pain. Whispers began. Expectations were lowered. Some friends distanced themselves. Others viewed him as a lost cause. The young man internalized their verdict. If everyone else had given up on him, why should he continue to believe in himself?
Years later, the mechanech met him again. The young man had rebuilt his life. He had married, established a Torah home, and was raising a beautiful family. During their conversation, he shared a poignant insight.
“The turning point,” he said, “was not a shiur, a mussar shmuess, or even a dramatic life event. It was one person who refused to give up on me. While everyone else saw what I had become, he remembered who I still could be. He kept calling, encouraging, and believing. Eventually, I borrowed his faith in me until I was able to believe in myself.”
A Jew is never defined by his night. Darkness is only a chapter; it is not the entire story. The Ribbono Shel Olam created a world in which every sunset carries with it the promise of a sunrise. The challenge is to maintain the faith to wait for that sunrise – and to help others wait for theirs.
