The meeting between Isaac and Rebecca unfolds with a curious phrase: “Isaac went out lasuach basadeh toward evening” (Genesis 24:63). The Rabbis teach that this seemingly simple verse contains the origin of the afternoon prayer service, minchah. “What does lasuach mean?” asks the Talmud (Berakhot 26b). “It means prayer, for it is said: ‘A prayer (sichah) of the afflicted when he faints.’” Here, in Isaac’s twilight meditation, we discover not just a prayer but a lesson about the unique power of the afternoon service.
Elsewhere (Berakhot 6b) the Talmud teaches that there is special vigilance required for the afternoon service, noting that Elijah was answered specifically at minchah on Mount Carmel. Here, the Kli Yakar notes something remarkable: among the patriarchs, all of whom inaugurated prayers, only one received an immediate answer to his prayer: Isaac. He was likely praying for his marriage match, and even as he prayed, Rebecca was already approaching.
The Abir Yaakov deepens this point: How can we say Isaac was answered immediately when the answer was already en route? This teaches us something fundamental about prayer’s mechanics: shefa berachah, abundant blessing, is already waiting in the wings. Prayer doesn’t create the blessing; it provides the channel through which ready blessings can descend.
Why does minchah carry such weight? The Arukh HaShulchan suggests that as the day’s final prayer service, minchah functions like a daily version of neilah on Yom Kippur—a closing of the gates, a last opportunity. In fact, the Torah Temimah understands the etymology of the word minchah to come from the fact that the sun is setting (alternatively, see Tosafot, Pesachim 107a). It it is a time to introspect, to take stock of the day and how has been impacted by it.
The Tur, by contrast, offers a different explanation, one that resonates with contemporary life: minchah requires special care precisely because it falls in the middle of the day when we’re caught up in everything else. Morning prayer can take place before the day gets started; the evening prayer can be recited after all else is finished. But minchah interrupts. It demands we tear ourselves from work, from errands, from the momentum of daily life, and remember what matters.
These two prospectives correlate to a question of when the ideal time for minchah is. Maimonides (HIl, Tefilah 3:2) gives the impression that the early minchah gedolah, from half an hour past midday, is merely acceptable, while the ideal time is later in the afternoon; consistent with the neilah comparison. The Tur, consistent with his perspectives does not understand this way; minchah is right in the middle of the day.
Similarly, there are different perspectives as to the actual translation of lasuach. The Torah Temimah takes it to mean “talking” or “meditating”. That, he explains, is how we know the verse isn’t describing a casual stroll; Isaac went out “to do something” in that field, something inward and purposeful.
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch understands that prayer (the reflexive hitpalel) means to steep one’s inner self with thoughts of purity and integrity, and to reflect upon oneself; it’s about inner growth of spirit and emotion. Lasuach captures this; not just reciting words, but genuine meditation, allowing the soul to expand in conversation with its Creator.
We rarely pray in actual fields anymore. Our minchah often happens in office buildings, in makeshift prayer rooms, in the corners of daily life we manage to sanctify. That’s precisely why Isaac’s example resonates. He took the field—the ordinary, working space of his world—and made it holy through prayer.
And he did so at the hardest time: not in the peaceful morning, not in the reflective evening, but in the middle, when the day still demands and distracts. That’s the test of minchah, why the Rabbis emphasize “be careful with the afternoon prayer.” It’s easy to pray when nothing else calls us. It’s harder, and therefore more significant, to pray when everything else does.
When we step away from our desks, our tasks, our endless obligations, and find that field—literal or metaphorical—where we can go lasuach, where we can steep ourselves in purity and let our souls grow, we join Isaac in the twilight. We tap into that shefa berachah waiting for the channel of our prayers. The answer may already be on its way; but prayer makes space for it to arrive.
Rabbi Feldman
