Before a single flower bloomed or tree grew, the world was already filled with hidden potential—waiting. The grass was beneath the surface. The seeds were in place. But nothing sprouted. Why? Because there was no man to pray for it.
Rashi explains that Hashem withheld rain because there was no one to recognize the blessing it would bring. Creation paused—until Adam arrived. He looked at the world, understood its potential, and davened. The rain fell. Life burst forth.

From the very first parsha, Hashem reveals something profound: the world wasn’t created to be finished, but to give man a role. Hashem, who is perfect and lacks nothing, created man to receive the ultimate good—and the greatest good is to become a giver. So Hashem filled the world with potential and held back its completion, so that we could help bring it to life.

That’s why Hashem never said “ki tov” about man. Everything else was complete. Man was left unfinished—a work in progress, capable of rising, falling, and rising even higher. Unlike malachim, who are perfect but static, man alone can grow—and through that growth, elevate the world.

Even Shabbat, the crown of creation, waited for its completion. The Midrash says Shabbat came before Hashem and said, “Every day has a partner—except me.” Hashem replied, “Bnei Yisrael will be your partner.” And the Gemara adds: “Whoever recites Vayechulu is considered a partner with Hashem in creation.”

We don’t just keep Shabbat—we help complete it. The Torah ends the creation story with “asher bara Elokim la’asot”—that God created, to be done. Later, we’re commanded “la’asot et haShabbat”—to make Shabbat. When we bring it in early or hold it longer, we expand its holiness. Over a year, our tosefet Shabbat adds an entire day (24 hours) of Shabbat. We become participants in Hashem’s masterpiece.

This pattern runs through all of creation. The Vilna Gaon explains that the six days mirror each other: the first three lay potential, the next three fulfill it. Every bara was waiting for its la’asot. So too, history itself is waiting—thousands of years of potential leading to the seventh day: Geulah.

Just as the rain waited for Adam’s tefillah, and Shabbat waited for Am Yisrael, Mashiach is waiting too. Every mitzvah, every act of emunah, brings the world closer. We’re not just waiting for Geulah—we’re helping build it. One tefillah at a time, one Shabbat at a time, we prepare for the day the world enters the Yom Shekulo Shabbat.