Many years
ago my husband and I were walking with some of our children a little after
sunset. In the fading
light we spotted a white donkey. It had two children on its back and another
was leading it with a ragged rope.
“Here comes
the Moshiach!” my husband announced, referring to the belief that
our redeemer will arrive riding that pale colored animal.
We all
chuckled and continued in our opposite directions. By the time I reached my
house I’d already forgotten the encounter. The following morning, though, my
five-year-old came eagerly into my room. Standing at my bedside she asked her
question excitedly.
“Is she here
yet?”
“Who?” I
inquired sleepily.
“Rachela.”
Her answer woke me up fully. Rachela was her friend’s mother who had been murdered in a terror attack six months earlier. I’d thought then my daughter understood that death was final. I carefully broached the subject again and she cut me off.
“Abba said
the Moshiach came,” she reminded me.
I looked
into her pure, trusting face and swallowed my tears. Our Sages have taught that
when the Moshiach does come there will be the revival of the dead. With
pure faith my daughter was ready and waiting.
My faith
isn’t as pure as my daughter’s was that morning but there have been several
times when I believed the Moshiach was only footsteps away. Certainly,
right before the Expulsion of Gush Katif fifteen years ago, I thought our
Redeemer would arrive in time to save the day. Six years ago, in the aftermath
of the unity following the kidnapping of Eyal Yifrach, Gilad Shaer, and Naftali Fraenkel,
may HaShem avenge their deaths, and the subsequent war, I was sure we’d merited
the coming of the Moshiach.
With the beginning
of Covix19 I again felt we were on the cusp of redemption. Each time I was
wrong.
Of course,
I’m sure that throughout Jewish history there have been countless times we
were confident the Moshiach was almost here. In fact, in the almost
final scene of Fiddler on the Roof, after the villagers have been told
they have three days to leave Anatevka, Mendel turns to his father and says: Rabbi,
we’ve been waiting for the Messiah all our lives. Wouldn’t this be a good time
for him to come? And the rabbi gently answers: We’ll have to wait for him someplace else. I’m waiting for the Moshiach
someplace else, in the front row of history, here in the Land of Israel.
There’s a
tradition that the Moshiach will come on the 9th of Av. This
year, sadly, I didn’t have high expectations. The amount of violence and
hateful rhetoric I’ve seen recently all over the world has had me discouraged.
As the day wore on, though, I began focusing more and more on the positive. I
reminded myself that for every individual who pushed and shoved trying to cross
the Corona barriers at the Kotel there were dozens more who waited patiently.
For all those who rioted we know there are many, many more who donated their
time helping lonely people in isolation.
For each individual who spoke of hate there were the countless souls who
put their lives on the line daily to help the rest of us. And at the close of
the fast I heard Rabbi Avi Berman state unequivocally that we are one day
closer to the coming of the Moshiach. I know he’s correct.
Yet, it’s
not going to happen by magic. I have to try to make it happen. I have to do my
part to bring about peace and harmony.
Rabbi Zev Leff, shilta, gives a beautiful analogy. The story
is told of a man whose five-year-old son was constantly interrupting him as he
read the newspaper. Finally, in desperation, he tore off a page of a magazine
with a map of the world and ripped it into small pieces, telling his son not to
return until he had reconstructed the map…Fifteen minutes later, however, the
child returned…His father was dumbfounded. “How could you put the map together
so quickly…?” “It was simple. On the other side of the map was a picture of a
person. I put the person together and the whole world fell into place.”
It sounds so
easy but it’s not. It’s a lifetime of work to put myself together and serve my
Maker and fellowmen properly but I mustn’t give up or stop trying. I must do
all I can to bring the Moshiach. I owe it to my daughter. I owe it to
her friend. Most of all, I owe it to myself.
*messiah
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