It is really hot outside. Hot like a desert.

Hundreds of people are out in the fields, wrapped in rags, ripped sandals on their aching feet. They walk haggardly, whiplash marks painted all over their broken bodies. To the side stands the guard, a dark-skinned man with an interesting-looking beard.

Stop for a moment and imagine the scene. Enter Egypt of 3,300 years ago.

Now make use of your mental Photoshop program and insert yourself into the picture. You will be experiencing the drama along with the others; you will try to feel their pain and plight.

Ready?

You notice one of your coworkers collapsing. He is blue.

You don’t cry; you are already immune to pain, having lived this nightmare as long as you can remember. Life is painful.

When the guard walks over to the dead man, you have a brief moment to think undisturbed. Your mind begins to wander . . .You are already immune to pain, having lived this nightmare as long as you can remember

You remember the time your daddy sat you on his lap and related what had been told to him by his father, quoting the patriarch of the family: “A day will come when a man will arise and declare in the name of G‑d, ‘I have surely remembered you!’ All the suffering will then end . . .”

Whip! “GET TO WORK!” The guard is back. Back to reality!

Back to work you go, but with a flicker of hope. The future envisaged so vividly revives your shattered soul. It is all about to end, you tell yourself with pure faith . . .

Hey, what’s the noise you suddenly hear? Why is everyone shouting?

You raise your eyes and behold a dream come true.

There stands a man with an angelic look, a long white beard and eyes so kind, and he is shouting for all to hear, “G‑d has said: ‘I have remembered you!’”

Moses has arrived.


Close Photoshop. Go back to the exile of America circa right now.

No whips, no guards, but an exile of a different sort—a prison of secularism. The divine hand obscured almost completely.

People walk the streets fashionably dressed, fancy shoes on their feet. They walk proud, with meaninglessness painted all over their face. All over are billboards and screens telling people how to live their lives.

No need to imagine the scene. Just turn on a TV or walk down the street.

You notice another neighbor who has fallen off the beaten path, his morals shattered.

You don’t cry, you don’t flinch. You are used to this; this is life.

When the radio, phone and TV are all shut, you have a few minutes to think undisturbed.You raise your eyes and behold a dream come true

You remember sitting on Daddy’s lap, as he related how the one-liner Ani Maamin—which proclaims the faith that one day we will be free from evil and pain, and we’ll live in a utopian world where G‑d is revealed and peace takes over the world—has been with us Jews wherever we went. It has given us hope even at the darkest moments . . .

Hey, what’s that noise you hear? Why is everyone shouting?

You raise your eyes and behold a dream come true.

There stands a man with an angelic look, with a long white beard and eyes so kind you feel the truth penetrating your soul. And he is shouting for all to hear, “The time of your redemption has arrived!”

Moshiach has arrived.

It’s about time.