Traveling for Thanksgiving always seems to be a harrowing ordeal. There's not a long time to travel, and lots of people are doing it, and so it seems like there are so many more opportunities for something to go wrong. Last year, I drove to and from my parents' house in Western New York, and on the way back, there was a horrible snowstorm in Erie, so I stretched the drive over two days and spent the night in Pittsburgh at my best friend's house, skirting south around the worst of the storm. This year, I tried to avoid the stress and time of driving by booking a flight well in advance, but a few weeks ago, during the seemingly unending government shutdown, as delays piled up like dominoes, I felt like flying would somehow be even worse. Instead, my mom drove out to Chicago to spend a few days with me, attend my choir concert last weekend, and the NTMA Gratitude Service that we hosted at Temple Jeremiah, and drove me back to Rochester. I'll take the train back to Chicago this weekend. Going places is expensive, time-consuming, and inconvenient. These travel experiences were stressful! But in the end, the delays and stress actually gave me the opportunity to spend more time with people I love.
In this week's Torah portion, Vayeitzei, Jacob goes on a few journeys. Firstly, he travels to Haran to escape the wrath of his brother Esau and to begin building a life of his own. That journey, like so many of ours, is filled with uncertainty, fear, and the unknown. Yet it's on the road, while sleeping out in the open with only a stone for a pillow, that Jacob encounters holiness. He dreams of a ladder stretching from earth to heaven, with angels ascending and descending. When he wakes, he proclaims, "Surely God is in this place, and I did not know it!"
Jacob's second journey is the long stretch of years working for Laban, navigating complicated family dynamics: falling in love with Rachel, unexpectedly marrying Leah, raising children in a household full of rivalry, tenderness, frustration, and blessing. This is not the tranquil family portrait we sometimes imagine the Torah to provide. It is messy and imperfect. And yet, through this flawed and human family, the future of our people is shaped. Jacob's relational challenges become a crucible for growth, patience, and, ultimately, gratitude.
And then, Jacob journeys again, turning homeward with a large family in tow. That trip, too, is fraught. He fears meeting Esau. He wrestles a mysterious being through the night. He emerges limping, but with a new name, Israel, and a deeper sense of purpose. Somehow, through all the detours, anxieties, and emotional turbulence, Jacob moves closer to becoming the person he is meant to be.
As we gather for Thanksgiving, whether we've flown, driven, squeezed into overcrowded trains, or rearranged our plans entirely, we may feel a kinship with Jacob. Travel rarely goes as planned. Family time can be full of contradictions: joy and tension, comfort and challenge, the familiar rhythms of home alongside the unresolved parts of our shared histories. And yet, like Jacob, we often discover unexpected blessings along the way. A snowstorm forces a visit with an old friend. A cancelled flight turns into a meaningful weekend with a parent. A long drive becomes time to talk, reconnect, or simply sit quietly beside someone we love.
This season invites us to notice the sacred ladders that appear in the middle of our disruptions – the unplanned moments of connection, generosity, and love. Even when our journeys feel exhausting or inconvenient, they can also reveal the holiness in our relationships and the gratitude that arises from being together.
May this Thanksgiving remind us that our travels, like Jacob's, are not just about reaching a destination. They are about who we encounter, how we grow, and the bonds that sustain us along the way. And may we have the wisdom to say, like Jacob, "God was in this place, and I did not know it," recognizing the blessing of the family and friends who walk life's winding paths with us.