I was enjoying the evening walk with my mother, a habitual escapism we set aside daily to review major points of the day, stirring emotions and future plans that still manage to elude us. As the conversation flowed into woeful lamentation of the elusive Mr. Right, a modest white home bordered by a low iron gate caught my eye.

I used to pass this house every day in my youthful excursions, jogging past it with awe and the wide-eyed look of a mesmerized child. To me, this house was palatial, majestic, something Frank Lloyd Wright could only aspire to build. I stopped and recounted to my mother the dull effect this now seemingly modest and plain house had on me. What was once extraordinary now appeared ordinary.

What was once extraordinary now appeared ordinaryWe have all experienced this progression in our perspectives. The dwarfed size of chairs in kindergarten classrooms begs the question, How did we ever manage to fit these elongated limbs into dollhouse furniture? Or the books there, How did that simple picture book with the superficial dialogue intellectually excite me? Such events are quasi-prophetic; it is through our gained maturity and insight, a precious gift bequeathed by time, that we are able to gaze back at our progression, giving us insight into the future. If we extend this trajectory, bending the rules of physics and the laws that govern “reality” as we know it, a fascinating new world emerges from the dust of exile.

Our sages teach us that the coming of Moshiach is accompanied by a great upheaval of the reality to which we have become accustomed—a reversal of sorts. The sparks of divine light hidden within what we perceive as difficult, even devastating, will be revealed, imbuing every seemingly trying test with a meaning previously unseen. What we write off as bad luck or punishment from an unjust creator, G‑d forbid, is only a matter of limited perception. Similarly, what we are convinced holds the greatest importance and esteem in the physical world, may strike us as empty and unimpressive if only we had the eyes to see it.

But how can we be expected to see that which is hidden from us? Surely, our Creator doesn’t demand superhuman insight from his flawed and imperfect creatures. The answer lies in the reality that G‑d has given us all a foresight that didn’t end with Malachi, the last of the prophets, an insight that doesn’t even require faith because it is something we have all seen before us—the white house. G‑d has shown us that our perceptions change, that what we are convinced represents greatness is just as easily dismissed as mediocre by the same set of eyes.

We travel a long way in our divinely chosen timeframe that is lifeWe travel a long way in our divinely chosen timeframe that is life. Much like the juvenile mind overwhelmed with the majesty of the white house, as adults, we see greatness in physicality—the toys need just be larger to impress us. As we age, our minds, hearts and faces are etched with experience. We feel this intangibly as wisdom, and see it physically as wrinkles. We evolve to deemphasize the physical and material, garnering a greater respect and awe for that which is eternal and untouchable.

May we, as an insightful people, merit the coming of Moshiach speedily in our days; but until that revelation, as we progress in our journeys and the truth manages to evade us, may we understand that in essence, we are still children gazing at a white house, convinced it is a castle.