Three thousand and three hundred years ago, the Torah was written. And that’s when it was written, not when the stories within it took place. Three thousand and three hundred years ago, Rachel Imeinu’s story was told to the world as a story of perseverance, patience, and self-worth, but the morals are timeless. Her story starts mainly when she meets Jacob, who, once he saw her, immediately fell in love and pledged to work for seven years for her father in exchange for her hand in marriage (Genesis 29:1-20). On their wedding day, Rachel’s father tricks Jacob and gives him Leah instead of Rachel. Jacob is able to marry Rachel a week later, but must work another seven years.
In the Torah, a woman’s fertility was prized by the people and characters in the stories. Once married, Leah provided Jacob with four sons, leaving Rachel childless and jealous. She gives Jacob her maid to bear him two sons on her behalf. After years of waiting and praying and hoping, Rachel gives birth to her first son, Joseph, who will later become one of the central characters in the Torah and the favorite son of his father (Genesis 30: 1-24). On the 11th of Cheshvan, Rachel gives birth to Benjamin and dies (Genesis 35: 16-20), but her legacy doesn’t end. Rachel’s life was one of love, loss, perseverance, patience, jealousy, and compassion.
Three thousand and three hundred years later, Rachel’s story still feels startlingly relevant. Her struggles—to be seen, to be chosen, to be enough—mirror the quiet battles many face today. While the world has changed beyond recognition, the emotions that defined Rachel’s life have not. Being patient is hard. Really hard. Sitting in your bed, waiting and waiting for things to change or to go home or to see someone you love: it’s hard. But always, always, always worth it in the end. This moral has been preached to us for thousands of years through Rachel’s story. In a world of instant gratification (one-click purchases, overnight shipping, social media likes), it can be easy to forget the feeling we get when something hard or long or slow works out. Rachel’s story reminds us that real things take time: true relationships, healing, education, self self-growth. Her patience throughout the story shows us that waiting isn’t doing nothing. It’s an act of faith and quiet strength.
It’s easy to lose yourself in comparison with others. In grades and studies, friends and family, and Instagram pictures, everyone’s life is constantly thrown at you and made aware of; it’s hard not to automatically compare yourself to others. Rachel spent years looking at Leah, measuring her worth against someone else’s blessings. But what Rachel couldn’t see then — and what many of us forget now — is that someone else’s timing doesn’t define our own. In a world where everyone’s milestones are public and polished, it takes strength to stay focused on your own path. Rachel’s shows that fulfillment doesn’t come from matching someone else’s story, but from believing in the value of your own and knowing that everyone has their own path. Whether you’re in college for two years or six, in California or Maryland, everyone has a path that is best for them. Even when obstacles come your way that don’t go to others, Rachel shows that it’s important to trust your worth and your patience.
Rachel’s story doesn’t end with her death: it lives as a mirror for our own lives. We all wait for something: love, success, healing, clarity, etc. And, like Rachel, we face moments of jealousy and doubt along the way, but she reminds us of two things that I find critical to living a somewhat peaceful life (even though they’re very hard to practice). Patience is not weakness, and comparison is not truth.
