Wednesday, August 5, 2020

Bringing the Moshiach


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

  





My novel, Growing With My Cousin, a good summer read, is available at Jewish bookstores and on line at  http://www.feldheim.com/growing-with-my-cousin.html or

https://www.amazon.com/Growing-Cousin-Ester-Katz-Silvers/dp/194635113X/ 


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