Parshat Vayera: The Early Hours: Avraham’s Quiet Readiness

by Rabbi Yali Szulanski, Class of ‘25

Three times in Parshat Vayera, the Torah pauses to tell us, “Vayashkem Avraham baboker”—“Avraham rose early in the morning.” It seems like a small detail, yet it appears at decisive moments. It appears before he stands at the edge of Sodom and sees the aftermath of destruction. It appears before he sends Hagar and Ishmael into the wilderness, a moment of profound heartbreak. It appears before he sets out with Isaac toward Mount Moriah, unsure of what the day will bring.

These are not ordinary mornings. Each “early rising” marks the threshold before a moral or spiritual test. The Torah does not only record what Avraham does, but when—in the first light of morning, before the day’s demands have spoken.

Rashi explains that Avraham’s early rising reflects zerizut—a readiness to act. The Ramban notes his steadiness: not haste, but intention. Avraham does not delay, nor does he rush. He wakes into cold air and silence, when the world is still unformed, when the first rays of light have not yet revealed the road ahead. He begins the day with resolve.

Those who have known early hours know their feel—the sting of air against skin, the faint crunch of frost underfoot, the sky the color of pewter before it softens to gray. Breath visible. Heart steadying itself against the quiet. In that stillness, there is space to hear what daytime often drowns out: the pulse of one’s own faith, the subtle courage it takes to begin.

Across Jewish life, the early morning has always carried spiritual weight. The Mishnah (Yoma 3:1) describes the priests rising before dawn to prepare the altar, while Berakhot (26b) names the early hour as the model for Avodat HaLev—the service of the heart. From the Temple courtyard to the synagogue, from the quiet kitchen to the beit midrash, Jewish life has long begun in those liminal moments before sunrise—the hour of preparation, reflection, and resolve.

Avraham’s awakenings remind us that faith is not born in revelation alone. It is forged in readiness—showing up when it is still dark, gathering strength before clarity arrives.

In every community there are people who embody this spirit: the teacher turning on the lights of the classroom before students arrive, the volunteer setting up the chairs, the caregiver lifting blankets, changing diapers, or setting up medications before anyone else wakes, the rabbi reviewing notes before morning prayers. Their work often goes unseen, yet it forms the quiet foundation upon which the rest of the day—and the life of the community—rests.

There are others who rise early not for others, but for the self—the person who sits with a cup of tea and breathes before dawn, the student turning pages of Torah by lamplight, the runner, the artist, the one who prays alone. They seek clarity, renewal, or simply stillness. These hours do not belong to production, but to orientation. In the cold and the quiet, the soul stretches awake.

Both kinds of rising—the outward and the inward—are acts of faith. To rise while it is still dark is to declare that the world is worth tending, that the self is worth preparing, that light will come.

“Vayashkem Avraham baboker” is more than a note about time; it is a posture of spirit. To lead is to rise before the noise, to cultivate patience and courage, and to meet what the day will demand. Avraham’s greatness lies not only in his obedience, but in his readiness: the quiet, deliberate courage to begin again, even when the path ahead is cold and uncertain.

Each of us is called to our own early hours—the moments before clarity, before confidence, and before light. May we meet them with steadiness and humility. May we rise into the cold and the quiet, trusting that the act of rising itself is holy. Holiness often begins not in fire or revelation, but in breath visible in the dark, in footsteps through morning frost, in the unseen labor that prepares the world—and the soul—for what comes next.

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Rabbi Yali Szulanski’s journey to Maharat was shaped by her commitment to emotional wellness, spiritual growth, and community resilience. She founded The “I Am” Project/The Neshima Initiative, bringing trauma-informed wellness practices to classrooms and Jewish spaces. R’ Yali is the Youth and Family Engagement Rabbi at the Hebrew Institute of Riverdale and continues her work educating and tending to emotional wellness at SAR Academy and beyond.