Well, the Three Weeks are upon us again and the geulah still hasn’t arrived. We are still in golus…and we are impatient!
Many hoped that the recent war with Poras, the Iranians, would be the harbinger of the geulah. Yes, the war was very successful, boruch Hashem, but it seems that we are still mired in golus. That exalted time we so long for—the geulah—has not yet come.
The question is: How much longer? You know, the Jewish people are not exactly known for their patience. Just try driving behind a slow car, or try being the slow driver as the person behind you practically kisses your bumper, flashes his lights, and honks, urging you to speed up.
Ad mosai?
We’ve been in golus for nearly 2,000 years and have yet to witness the yeshuah. I sometimes hear people cry out, “Ad mosai…,” and I’m tempted to remind them that those words don’t have the best connotation in the Torah. How were they used? Hashem said to Moshe and Aharon regarding the meraglim, “Ad mosai la’eidah hara’ah hazos asher heimah malinim Alai – How long for this evil assembly that provokes complaints against Me?”
Indeed, we all yearn for the geulah. We know how bitter the golus is. But sometimes, in their eagerness, well-meaning individuals come across as trying to “force Hashem’s Hand,” as if they have grievances with Him for not yet bringing the geulah sheleimah. That attitude has always bothered me. But this past Shabbos, while flipping through one of those booklets you find on the table in shul, I came across something that opened my eyes, something I’d like to share.
When “Almost There” Led to a Lack of Patience
Let’s paint a historical picture.
Klal Yisroel had almost made it. Finally, they were almost in Eretz Yisroel.
It had been a long forty years.
Yes, the Yidden had wandered in the midbar for forty years, each year corresponding to one of the days that the meraglim spent in Eretz Yisroel. Instead of returning with a good report, they had spoken lashon hara about the land. And now, after all this time, they were nearly at the border.
But they didn’t have the patience to wait a bit longer. They desperately wanted to enter Eretz Yisroel immediately. Perhaps that impatience led them to stumble again.
The posuk says, “They journeyed from Hor Hahor by way of the Yam Suf to go around the land of Edom, and the spirit of the people grew short on the way. The people spoke against Hashem and Moshe: ‘Why did you bring us up from Mitzrayim to die in the desert? For there is no food and no water, and our soul is disgusted with the monn.’”
They were complaining—again. As a result, Hashem sent venomous snakes that killed many. The people had to beg Moshe for forgiveness and plead for an end to the plague.
Why were they so upset? Because they were tired. Tired of the journey. Tired of waiting. They weren’t evil or rebellious. They just couldn’t bear to wait any longer. They were so close, yet still so far.
Our Inability to Just Wait
This feeling of impatience isn’t limited to that time and place.
Like the Dor Hamidbar, we, too, feel it today. Look around. Look at the golus we are in. We know how long it’s been. We know the suffering and the tzaros—material, physical, and spiritual. And we also sense that we are almost there. We are in the period of ikvesa d’Meshicha. The geulah is right around the corner.
And so many of us feel—whether we say it aloud or not—that Moshiach should just come already. Isn’t it time? Doesn’t it feel like we can’t hold on much longer?
But that same urge to cry out can lead to the same misstep the Dor Hamidbar made.
The lesson for us is to remember that yes, we desperately want Moshiach. And yes, we may be very close. But if Hashem hasn’t brought him yet, then clearly more time is needed. We must hold on just a little bit longer. We must have savlanus. No taanos.
Because look what happened when the Bnei Yisroel came with taanos against Hashem and Moshe.
Of course, we must daven. We must plead for the geulah. That is what these Three Weeks are for: mourning the loss of the Bais Hamikdosh and begging Hashem to rebuild it.
But even as we plead, we must accept. If Hashem has not yet brought the geulah, we bow our heads in hachna’ah and accept His will.
Discerning What Hashem Really Wants
Let’s bring it closer to home.
Meet Reb Yudel*, a yungerman blessed with a house full of young children. One day, he’s learning about the greatness of Shabbos, about the spiritual elevation of the seudah. He becomes inspired. He wants to elevate his Shabbos seudah to something sublime. He envisions his children, all freshly bathed, dressed in their Shabbos best, sitting angelically around the table as he shares a devar Torah, with each child eagerly contributing from their Shabbos sheets. He even buys special prizes and Shabbos treats, and davens with extra kavanah that the seudah will be uplifting.
And then…the seudah begins.
Moishy hits Chani. Chani bursts into tears. Suri spills grape juice on the table. Chaos.
Instead of his envisioned spiritual haven, the scene is bedlam.
Reb Yudel is livid—at the kids, maybe at his wife, and perhaps even at Hashem. “Why?” he wonders. “I wanted this for You, Hashem! Why throw it back in my face? I wasn’t asking for wealth or indulgence, just to experience the sweetness of Shabbos! Why not let me have that?”
But his mistake is clear: He wasn’t thinking about Hashem’s ratzon. Perhaps Hashem did want him to conduct a meaningful seudah, but within the chaos. Perhaps this, too, was part of his tafkid.
I recently read a story in Moments of Greatness, the new book by my dear friend, Rabbi Yitzchok Hisiger, about Mrs. Chana Tabak. Near the end of her life, she lost her eyesight. When her grandson asked her what it felt like, she answered with profound insight: “When I had my vision, I thought that seeing was part of me. But when I lost that ability, I realized that my tafkid doesn’t include seeing.”
Our tafkid is to serve Hashem with the tools He gives us, not to mold our own vision of perfection, even with good intentions, into His plan.
Accepting the Golus According to His Will
The same applies to golus and geulah.
Yes, we must do all we can to hasten the geulah. But in the end, it is Hashem Who decides when it will come. We don’t know His cheshbonos. We’re not here to challenge Him. We are here to wait with faith and with patience.
The Sefas Emes (Shemos 5648) writes, “We, too, in our golus, should ask Hashem that we should be able to accept the golus in accordance with His desire, not our desire.”
We should not constantly badger Hashem for the geulah. We must learn to accept the golus as long as it lasts, with hachna’ah.
Yes, it’s the Three Weeks. Yes, we mourn. Yes, we yearn. But we must also trust. He knows what He is doing. He has a plan.
So even as we daven and cry out, let’s surrender control and let Hashem run His world the way He sees fit.
You gotta have p-a-t-i-e-n-c-e.
