Waiting for Mashiach

It wasn’t so long ago that I stood in my kitchen, spacing out while I washed the dishes. I faced the window as I worked, letting the suds and water lull me into a kind of semi-conscious state, freeing my mind to wander like the elusive soap bubbles in the air. And that’s when I suddenly heard it—no, could it be? It sounded like a shofar blast—and we weren’t even in Elul! My mind quickly jerked back to the present as my ears strained to hear, to process—could this really be IT? Was that the shofar I was hearing, heralding in the era of our final redemption? I stood by the sink, holding in the proverbial breath, not daring to let go of the possibility that thousands of years of waiting could very likely be coming to an end at that very moment…..
 
And then, like those elusive soap bubbles, my sudden hopes popped in the air.
 
A car horn.
 
Sigh.
 
Ani Maamin. We believe each and every day that Mashiach could come. Any minute. Any second. But do we?
   
So many times we said–”That’s it! He’s coming!” And so many times—he didn’t. Individually—and as a nation—we have hoped, prayed and believed that his arrival was imminent—only to face the deep gash of disappointment. Many say—well, if he didn’t come after the Holocaust, when will he come? With our limited human vision, we use ‘human logic’ to pin down a good day on our calendars for his arrival. We can’t understand how we have not been redeemed. Like little school children waiting at the curb for our ride home after everyone else has left the building, we feel desolate at times. Abandoned.
    
But who is really the abandoned one? Is it us? Or Hashem? Who is waiting for Whom? Our Father in heaven is always waiting for us—but how often are we waiting for Him to bring about the geulah (redemption)?
    
Mashiach consciousness. With all of our daily distractions, it’s hard to get some Mashiach consciousness. Between the Blackberry in our hands, the Bluetooth in our ears, and the iPod at our fingertips—who is really pining for Mashiach? In the daily grind that is our life—are we honest enough to say that we, too, are waiting for him?
   
Today, during my mother’s visit, we did something mothers and daughters have been doing for generations—we cooked side by side in my kitchen, in Eretz Yisrael. Actually, she was trying to cook, but couldn’t find half the stuff, and I was trying to help, but then—anyway, it was a wonderful way to pass the time together.
   
“You know what Nona (my great grandmother) used to call this dinner? Ksmjfglos” (or something to that effect—it was Sephardi, so use your imagination).
  
I nodded my head as tears began to fall from my eyes—what an onion! Whew! I heard my mother sniffling, thinking she too had been struck by the onion, except—her tears were real.
   
“I remember watching Nona making this—I miss her so much!” she cried.
   
Between thoughts of Nona and the onion, I too sniffled.
  
“Don’t worry, Ma,” I said. “She’s here cooking with us—and when Mashiach comes, we’re both gonna get it from her!” Yes–we have been remiss in making bourekas weekly like Nona did. Or Kibbeh. Or Lachmajin. But there is one thing Nona could not accuse us of, and that is of missing her, and waiting for her to come back to us—when Mashiach comes.
  
There is nothing like missing our loved ones to give us some of that Mashiach consciousness. I always waited for Mashiach. A lot of my sentences in my daily lexicon began “When Mashiach comes…” But then life would get in the way. I would  think thoughts such as, “I hope we get to remodel the kitchen before Mashiach comes,” or  “Maybe we’ll have a car before Mashiach comes,” or when the kids would ask, “Are we ever getting a car?”and my reply would be–”When Mashiach comes!”
  
But did I PINE for Mashiach? Did I wait for him every minute of every day? Honestly, probably not. I am frum, therefore I believe in Mashiach. But to really feel that kind of anticipation? I can’t really say.
   
All that changed after suffering a stillbirth two years ago at 35 weeks gestation. As I held my little girl, and kissed her little head before handing her to the nurse for the last time—until Mashiach comes—my entire existence became one big wait—until Mashiach comes. When one is dealt a loss of such magnitude, one of the only things that brings comfort is—Mashiach. And waiting for him has gone from the back burner of my existence, right to the front. In one day my entire life—and all of my priorities completely changed. And one of those things to change the most, was my longing for Mashiach. Whereas before I was a ‘passive anticipator’, I am now quite proactive in my waiting for him.
    
In a world where Hashem appears to be hidden at times, and the suffering  reaches levels of unimaginable proportions—it is hard to believe that we will ever be redeemed. But I have become a staunch believer that he will come—and if all the kind readers of Breslev Israel will humor my imagination a bit of fancying, I have my own version of what will transpire when Mashiach arrives…
    
First of all, us here in the Holy Land will take an Egged bus to Yerushalaim.  All you out there in the rest of the world will have to deal with TSA and all those other wonderful security measures so prevalent nowadays. While the rest of the world is trying to get here on ‘eagles wings,’ we will be greeted by a pleasant and courteous Israeli bus driver (Mashiach is here! Disclaimer: for anyone who might be offended—there are some really nice Israeli bus drivers—just for the record). Just like thousands of years ago, when the Beit Hamikdash stood regally in Yerushalaim, we will pack a few Shefa Shuk bags full of  fruits to bring as an offering (does Bamba count)? All iPods on the way will be filtering Mordechai ben David, and the bus ride will be free of crying and or vomiting children (Mashiach is here!) The stretch of highway being constructed, leading to all the main highway arteries in Israel will be finished miraculously, ready to accommodate the streams of humanity arriving from Ben Gurion Airport. Around the world, Jewish families will be scrambling to catch their flights. All airplane food will be like manna from heaven—the kid that wants pizza—gets pizza. The one that wants hot dogs—you get the picture. All in flight movies will be—Uncle Moishy! Mashiach is here!
    
Once in Yerushalaim, we will gasp at the new skyline. That gold dome will have suddenly—disappeared! And there, as if it had always been there—the Beit Hamikdash!
   
Oh, the dancing in the streets! (men and women separate of course). The Kohanim, the Leviim, it’s all there! Hashem’s knowledge filling the world, filling our hearts and minds. All those questions that we always wanted to know the answers to—things we just couldn’t comprehend—will all be revealed. And there, in the midst of all this rejoicing, I imagine there to be a line for asking questions—the questions which have plagued us since the beginning of time. As I stand patiently in line, I hear a woman ask about the Holocaust, and she walks away moments later—her question resolved. Next—a woman wants to know about human suffering. And before I know it, my turn has arrived, and the question that has been burning in my heart for years, is finally going to be resolved!
  
“Excuse me,” I ask, tears forming in my eyes, the years of doubt about to give way to resolution. In a shaky voice, I ask, “Please, please, could you please tell me—I just don’t understand—but—where do all the socks go?! I mean, I put a perfectly good pair of socks in the drier, but I constantly come out without pairs! I have bags and bags of unmatched socks! Please, tell me—where are all those unpaired socks?!” (this is my dream,you’ll all have your turn soon, with Hashem’s help). And I too walk away, lighter than before (but not before getting my paper stamped and signed—I don’t know if Israeli bureaucracy will still exist).  And the answer was—well,we’ll have to wait until Mashiach comes.
   
My mother always tells me that her grandfather, Abuelito Jose (may his neshama have an Aliyah) bought burial plots in Har Hazeitim, because he was a firm believer that those buried there would be one of the first to be resurrected. I myself don’t claim to be a scholar on Mashiach—I am a simple person, waiting every day for his arrival. And I can only imagine what will be when all our loved ones will come back, as shuttles upon shuttles leave Har Hamenuchot, and all other cemeteries around Israel, transporting all those back to their loved ones. I always like to entertain the following scenario:
    
There we are, back home, after a very pleasant ride back from Yerushalaim . There is a knock on the door. One of the kids opens it, and there in the doorway—Nona! Abuelito Jose! Oh my goodness—the house is a mess! And then will walk in my grandmother, she’ll give me a hug, hand me my baby, and say, “Here—it’s your turn now—I’m done with this babysitting business! Now let’s go make some bourekas!”
      
Is Mashiach a fairy tale? Yes, in a way it is. Mashiach has been the eternal goal of the Jewish people. Jaded by science and hard facts, it sounds like a fantasy world that could never be real. But it is. Mashiach is real. And so should our waiting for him be as well. We should not have to wait for some life changing event to yearn for Mashiach and the time of our redemption. We should be pleading. And begging. The harder things get the more we should cry—for we are so very close.
    
Yes—the time of our redemption seems imminent.  We should continue to pray that it comes about in a good way. We women should begin to ready our tambourines, and we should bring into our homes a bit more ‘Mashiach Consciousness’. In the meantime, I will be hoping, praying, and waiting. Especially while I try to find that ubiquitous missing sock…..
 
Author’s postscript: before sending this article off into cyberspace, my mother pointed out that I had been neglectful in properly giving kavod (honor, respect) to the chicken dinner we made that day, otherwise known as ‘keftikas’. I had called it by some other name (for illustrative purposes) and I apologize. Thank you, Mommy, for pointing this out to me. I’m sure Nona will be pleased– until Mashiach comes!