Fear and stillness in Jerusalem

The most frightening experiences bring the deepest satisfaction.

Truthfully, I was petrified hiding from the missiles last night. The security guard shouted for us to take cover at Jaffa Gate as the sirens blared. Around 100 of us were quivering, praying, and trying to catch a glimpse of the rockets from within the shadowed ancient structure. Tears ran down my face as we crouched in the dark—not from fear, but because I was struck by the recurrence of this scene throughout the entire Jewish narrative. For whatever reason, God had withheld this collective experience from me all my life. Now, I knew firsthand what it felt like to be a part of this story. But I wish I had never found out.

I had just prayed at both King David’s Tomb and the Western Wall. Moments before the siren, I found myself deep in thought: If God’s goal is to create a world where He is personally known within, why involve us in the process? Why not just create that world Himself? Maybe, our involvement is more integral than we realize. If God made Himself known, the world would not really be a world. But if God is not immediately known, and the world makes itself know God, then the world can truly know Him. Through our decision to seek and see Him in all our ways, we create the reality that He desires. This is Moshiach.

There are many layers to the world. Some are easier in which to know God, and others less so. Although pain is not necessary, knowing God through pain is perhaps the grandest of all notions.