This piece was first published in Hanassi Highlights, 27 November 2025.
There is a puzzling phrase at the heart of this week’s
parsha. After Yaakov agrees to work seven years in order to marry Rachel, the
Torah tells us that these years were “in his eyes like a few days”—keyamim
achadim. Anyone who has waited for something deeply desired knows that time
does not pass quickly. It drags. The Akeidat Yitzchak sharpens the
point: for someone so eager to marry the love of his life, the wait should have
felt like a thousand years. What, then, is the Torah trying to teach us?
The Sforno offers a simple but powerful explanation. The
phrase keyamim achadim does not mean the years passed quickly; rather,
they felt light—an insignificant price compared to what Yaakov was receiving.
He would gladly have worked even longer because Rachel was worth far more than
seven years of labour. The Torah is describing not the speed of time but the
magnitude of Yaakov’s love.
But perhaps there is something deeper happening. The stories of Yaakov’s early years—from his flight to Charan to his years of labour—are strikingly unspiritual. We read about wages, contracts, sheep, daughters, and family disputes. It feels more like a biography than a parsha. Why does the Torah spend so much time on what appears to be the mundane details of Yaakov’s personal life?
The answer is that Yaakov’s life is never just personal. Rather,
it is about the future of Am Yisrael. His work, his marriage, his family—all
of this forms the foundation upon which the Jewish people will be built. In
that context, seven years truly are like a few days. When a person
understands that his actions are part of a mission stretching across
generations, the scale shifts. What might otherwise feel like a burden becomes
meaningful. What might feel endless becomes purposeful.
This idea also sheds light on the only other place where the
phrase yamim achadim appears. When Rivka tells Yaakov to flee from
Esav’s wrath, she urges him to remain in Charan for just “a few days”, yet he
ends up staying for over two decades. Rivka was not promising a short exile;
she was giving Yaakov a framework. Measured against the long arc of Jewish
history, even decades can be understood as a short chapter in a much larger
story.
In our world of instant results and constant immediacy, we
often lose that broader perspective. We judge our lives by the urgency of the
moment rather than the purpose of the journey. Yaakov teaches us to look up, to
see ourselves as part of something far bigger than today’s pressures or
frustrations.
If we remember that our daily efforts—our Torah, our
mitzvot, our commitment to community—are part of the ongoing story of Am
Yisrael, then we too can experience moments of keyamim achadim. Not
because life is easy, but because it is meaningful.
