Graduation day blinks before me. Like a flashing light, it is dazzling, dizzying, thrilling, or terrifying, depending on the hour. Transition periods don’t invite reflection, they insist upon it. And in that spirit, it’s time to fulfill a promise.
Four years ago I promised to write something about the centrality of Moshiach. Dr. Charles Raffel had assigned each student to present one of Maimonides’ Thirteen Principles of Faith. Still heavily saturated with the previous years’ spiritual discovery at Mayanot Institute of Jewish Study, I had decided to present the Rambam’s teachings on Moshaich. As a preface, I declared the the topic to be “Judaism’s most important idea.” A hand shot up, cutting me off. “What do you mean the most important?” an outraged student demanded. “What about all the other ideas, like Israel?” I was unprepared. I mean, wasn’t it obvious? Were we not in a broken world awaiting repair? Wasn’t that the ultimate objective of Torah, of Judaism, of our entire existence? After a long hesitation, I mumbled something about “tikun olam.” Fifteen minutes later, as I took my seat, I promised to raise the subject publicly.
Obviously, that meant The Yeshiva University Observer.
Here I am, seven semesters later, writing about Moshiach. Only this time, I’m not preaching to my fellow students, I’m reminding myself. Like many of my comrades, I entered Yeshiva University fresh off the plane from Jerusalem, heart charged with purpose. Admittedly, it’s been awhile since I seriously considered “transforming the world” and the same eyes that once brimmed bright with idealism are now ringed, bloodshot and frantically scanning Craigslist for a job.
But this is not about lamenting over a former self. This is an articulation of why I believe Moshiach is the most important idea of Judaism and, for that matter, the world.
The word Messiah has gained a rather “supernatural” and uncanny connotation. For many, it brings about horrific scenes of Armageddon, a Temple descending from the sky, or, as it did when I was a child, giant fruit. I know quite a few people who won’t raise the subject because it “freaks them out.” They can’t help but conjure up images of a huge, zombie-apocalypse-like revival of the dead.
This is unfortunate because Moshiach is ironically a much more “natural” state for the world than the one it currently occupies. Moreover, it’s not a mystical phenomenon but, on the contrary, one that is profoundly practical.
For Jews, the notion that G-d’s world can be perfected presents a glaring contradiction. This world is not all good. Not even close. And it’s a paradox that strikes all too often. Every child diagnosed with leukemia, every storm that wipes out a village, every homeless person I pass walking to my dorm — to name just a few. It struck me especially hard just last year, with the tragic and premature loss of Dr. Raffel. And yet, we all accept this as the life, nature, or — most tragically — as G-d’s ultimate will.
I’m not here to deal with the great theological difficulties or to absolve G-d of any re-sponsibility. It is critical to remember that we are not powerless in this predicament. The ideology of Moshiach is the empowerment of men and women to positively impact their environment and — yes — to ultimately transform it. It is the primal calling within each and every human being, to redeem their small portion of this obscure, dark planet and make it something better. It is the force behind a doctor’s endeavor to cure disease. It is the drive behind a young woman placing a cut of her hard-earned income a charity box. It is the irrational impulse that beats with each and every one of us to do small acts of kindness even as they stand with all odds stacked against them, even as they seem like strikes of a match in a dark and mammoth cave.
Graduation day blinks before me and already I feel pressure to meet the defected standards of an imperfect world. Just get a job that pays the bills and squeeze the world of its contents for my personal benefit.
And thats when I remember Dr. Raffel’s approving smile as I mumbled something about “tikun olam.”