“Vayeitzei Yaakov.” Rashi asks why the Torah mentions the leaving when we already know he’s going to Charan. Because when a tzadik leaves, the spiritual atmosphere shifts. His presence lifts the city, and when he’s gone, people feel the loss. If one tzadik’s departure creates a void, imagine the impact of all of Klal Yisrael leaving Eretz Yisrael with the Shechinah at the Churban. And if leaving created emptiness, returning will shake the world in ways we can barely imagine.

Before entering Lavan’s corrupt environment, Chazal teach that Yaakov prepared with 14 years in the yeshiva of Shem and Ever, building inner strength before the test of galut. Alone on the road, “Vayifga bamakom” — he davened Maariv. Rashi says “HaMakom” is Har HaBayit, the site of the Akeidah. Chazal teach that even after the Churban, all tefillot ascend through this spot — the eternal gateway between heaven and earth. Yaakov was standing exactly where the Beit HaMikdash would one day stand.

That night he dreams of the ladder. The Midrash says it was a prophecy showing the nations rising and falling, the long exiles of his children, and Hashem’s promise that we would survive them all. It describes the angels of the nations climbing and descending rungs corresponding to the years of exile — except Esav’s, rising higher and higher until Hashem assures Yaakov that he will have Divine protection and ultimately return to Eretz Yisrael. Even when Bnei Yisrael is in the depths of galut, we will rise to the heights of geula.

Then Yaakov wakes up. “Achein yesh Hashem bamakom hazeh, v’anochi lo yadati.” Hashem was here, and I didn’t know. Not that Hashem appeared — Yaakov became aware of what was always there.

Rav Yisrael Salanter once slept at a small inn. The innkeeper treated him politely, not knowing who he was. Later, when townspeople arrived searching for Rav Yisrael, the innkeeper realized whom he had hosted and cried, “Rebbe, if I had known, I would’ve treated you so much better.” Rav Yisrael hadn’t changed. The innkeeper’s awareness changed. That was Yaakov’s moment — and it’s ours.

Before leaving, Yaakov makes a vow, and the Torah adds the unusual word “leymor.” Exile will be long and throughout the generations, there will be times of great distress. The Midrash says that word leymor was was speaking to future generations: Strengthen yourselves with mitzvot and they will protect you. Yaakov saw the long galut and addressed us in its final stretch.

We left Eretz Yisrael — the world dimmed. We prepared in exile with Torah, mitzvot, and tefillah. We stand at the foot of the ladder, watching nations rise and fall exactly as Yaakov saw. We get flashes of Hashem’s hand — moments that pierce the darkness.

Very soon, we wake up. Geula will arrive and everything will feel like a dream. We will say Yaakov’s words: “Hashem was here the whole time… and we didn’t know.” Not because He wasn’t present, but because our awareness wasn’t complete.

And when that awareness returns — when our eyes open and we finally recognize Who carried us through every step of history — the world will shift. Just like Yaakov. Just like the innkeeper. Just like a nation returning home with the Shechinah, ready to shine again.