Even though the days are—even if infinitesimally—getting longer, and even though we might still be in the post-New Year’s glow, it is still dark this time of year. It is dark when many of us wake up, and driving home most days it is edging towards evening. Gorgeous LA sunsets aside, these dark days can be hard. And today might feel extra hard, as we add no extra light; the hanukkiah is done for the season, and Shabbat is still a day away.

A colleague, Rabbi Gray Myrseth, wrote a beautiful reflection on this week’s Torah portion—VaYigash. Reflecting on these winter days, Rabbi Myrseth writes:

Have you ever stepped from a well-lit room into a darkened one? You can’t see a thing. In fact, you can see even less than you would have been able to had the light been dimmer in the first place. Is this how we feel when Hanukkah ends? As winter sinks its claws in, we get a blaze of light, followed by a darkness even deeper than we’d known before the first candle’s flare. It’s quite a while until Tu b’Shvat reminds us that new growth will indeed happen, and even longer until Purim gives us an outlet for our cabin fever.

How do we orient towards the dark? Maybe, just maybe, our parsha has the beginnings of an answer. So much happens in Torah this week. Yosef reveals himself to his brothers, Ya’akov learns that his beloved son is still alive, the remaining family members come together once again.

Between revelation and reunion, the narrative settles for a moment on Ya’akov, about to make the journey to Mitzrayim where Yosef now lives. Ya’akov is scared. He’s heading into the unknown. He can’t see clearly. What does G-d offer him as reassurance? A dream. G-d comes to Ya’akov in visions of the night—b’marot ha-laylah—and tells him Anochi ered imcha. I will go down with you (Genesis 46:4).

The New Year is, fairly, seen as a time of great possibility. We make resolutions; writing down goals and hopes for the year ahead. It is exciting! And…it is unknown. For better or worse, we do not know what will happen in the year ahead. And again, Rabbi Myrseth offers a teaching for this moment:

We certainly do descend into winter, into night, into unknown and obscured places. Ya’akov is undertaking this kind of descent. He is leaving his familiar home, moving towards something he can’t yet see. He is going down—nothing can stop that natural process—but he has company on his way.

As we head into the first Shabbat of 2025, I offer this blessing from the end of Rabbi Myrseth’s words:

When the sun sets on the last night of the festival, and we are left in the dark, without any festival candles to kindle, let us be patient with ourselves as our eyes adjust. Let us remember that we may not see clearly as we go forward, but we do not go forward alone.

—Rabbi Sari Laufer