A Taste Of Redemption

“A taste of redemption in the form of a vision of the Temple is shown to every Jew this Shabbat”, the Rabbi preaches from his lectern.

“But I don’t see it!” the congregants claim, “I’ve never tasted redemption. Each year they tell me to look, and each year I am disappointed”

I listen to these people’s frustrations at not seeing with their own eyes a preview of the blissful Messianic era.

As I hear their complaints, I try hard to hide the smug smile on my face.

I do not mean to gloat.

I certainly do not want to brag.

But my soul is dying to let you know a secret: Each day I taught my students, I saw with my own two eyes what true redemption looks like. It looks like 25 students stopping their work on their own to applaud their friend who struggles with reading who finally finished her Hebrew reading book.

“You did it!”, you exclaimed to her as you all embraced her with hugs, “We are so happy for you!”. Tears of pride and joy blurred my eyesight, yet that scene is so vivid in my mind. Redemption tastes like the sweet words of Torah chanted by my students who begged me to continue the lesson even though it was recess time. “Please Morah”, you pleaded, “Can we do one more possuk? It’s just so much fun!”

I pinched myself at that moment, could this really be happening? Redemption sounds like a student hijacking my Chassidus lesson and explaining gently to her peers, “We ALL have a piece of G-d inside of us”. At that moment I asked G-d in my heart, “What did I do to deserve the merit of teaching these righteous students?”.

I am still waiting for His answer. Redemption feels like a student gently tapping me on my shoulder after taking a few minutes to calm down from a fight with a friend, “I’m ready to apologize to her now”, you tell me with a tear stained face.

I closed my eyes in that second and tried so hard to take just an iota of the humility that radiated from within you. Redemption smells like the school hot lunch, getting cold on the counter as we sing Chassidic melodies together. We sit in a circle, arms intertwined with one another, chanting the ancient melodies with joy and passion. “Another one!”, you demand. Although it’s getting late, I oblige.

I too do not want the moment to end.

The rabbi bangs on his lectern jolting me out of my nostalgic memories and back into the present moment. “You may not see the redemption with your actual eyes,” he comforts his congregants, “but your soul sees it”.

And as I hear this, my smile broadens and my heart fills with gratitude to G-d.

I take a deep breath and gently store these holy moments of redemption I experienced with my students safely in the depths of my heart, where they will be safe until next Shabbat Chazon.

And I will take them out again.