Israel has brought Iran to its knees—a tiny nation systematically dismantling a regional superpower in days. Then came President Trump’s decisive strike, erasing Iran’s nuclear ambitions. These are not ordinary military victories; they are miraculous reversals our ancestors could only dream of.
Yet aside from some overheated Facebook posts and WhatsApps from friends sharing gematrias that equate Donald Trump with Moshiach ben David, there’s a conspicuous lack of serious discussion about what we’re witnessing. Are we living through redemption now? Is it happening before our eyes?
Growing up, we were taught to sing “We Want Moshiach Now!”, but the conversation rarely went deeper than that. Serious discussion of geula was for the people who weren’t serious about “real” Torah learning. Gemara was real. Halacha was real. But geula? That was territory best left unexamined.
Our hesitancy is understandable. The trauma of Shabtai Zvi still haunts us—his false messianic movement led to conversions, broken communities, and disaster. Yet the parallels between what we’re witnessing and the messianic prophecies in Yechezkel, Yishayahu and Zechariah are becoming impossible to dismiss as coincidence. The daf yomi cycle itself tells the story. Tosafot in Avodah Zara states that “just prior to the coming of the Moshiach, Rome will defeat Persia”—i.e., the West will defeat Iran just before Moshiach arrives. This was the daf that Jews around the world were studying on the day America destroyed Iran’s nuclear facilities. Can this really be a coincidence?
Yet at the same time, Jews are suffering. Ballistic missiles hit apartment buildings in Tel Aviv. Innocent people are being killed, injured, and rendered homeless. How can we speak of redemption when real people endure real pain? Can this chaotic, bloody reality truly be the geula we’ve yearned for?
In a fascinating passage, the Gemara reveals that God intended to make Chizkiyahu the Moshiach, but did not – because he failed to sing shira after God destroyed Sancheriv’s entire army, saving Jerusalem from annihilation. The attribute of justice argued: “If David, who recited several songs and praises, was not designated as Moshiach, then Chizkiyahu, for whom You performed all these miracles… yet he did not recite praise, will You make him Moshiach?” (Sanhedrin 94a).
How could the great Chizkiyahu fail to sing praises to God after such an awesome miracle? Rav Shmuel Eliyahu explains that it was far harder for Chizkiyahu to sing than we might think. Yes, God miraculously saved Jerusalem, but in the months beforehand, Sancheriv had conquered and destroyed many cities throughout Judea, killing and exiling thousands of people. Given this terrible suffering, how could Chizkiyahu possibly sing songs of praise to God?
But that was the test—to recognize salvation alongside tragedy, to see God’s hand even when the picture remained incomplete and painful—and to sing shira! Chizkiyahu was meant to see redemption even through pain, to sing even when the picture was incomplete. His failure was not one of gratitude, but of vision.
This is our challenge today. Can we develop the spiritual vision to recognize God’s redemptive work even as missiles fall and families grieve? Will we repeat Chizkiyahu’s mistake, or will we succeed where he failed?
The Rambam writes that even in the days of Moshiach, olam keminhago noheig—the world will continue as it always has (Hilchot Melachim 12:1). Redemption, then, unfolds not through open miracles but through natural, step-by-step transformation.
But what is the purpose of redemption? As Chabakuk teaches, it is nothing less than universal recognition of God: “For the earth will be filled with the knowledge of the glory of the Lord as the waters cover the sea” (2:14). Yishayahu adds: “My name will be great among the nations… in every place incense and pure offerings will be brought to me” (1:11).
But how will the world recognize God if redemption comes through natural means, without open miracles? This is our responsibility. This is what Chizkiyahu was supposed to do by singing shira, but failed to accomplish. We must help the world see the redemption happening before their eyes.
Chazal teach that after death, we are asked: Tzipita l’yeshua?—“Did you watch for redemption?” (Shabbat 31a). Not kivita—did you hope—but tzipita—did you actively watch for it?
Rav Kook explains that we are meant to be watchmen, like those described in Yishayahu: “The voice of your watchmen… they shall see eye to eye when God returns to Zion” (52:8). A watchman sees from a higher vantage point, discerning what others miss. To be a watchman of God is to align our vision with the prophetic lens—to see history through God’s eyes (Ma’amarei Ra’aya, 257).
Being a watchman means studying the prophecies of redemption and current events with equal intensity. Only then can we recognize redemption as it unfolds—and help others see it too.
The world is watching Israel achieve impossible victories, witnessing the precise timing of events, seeing the systematic collapse of Israel’s enemies. But they don’t understand what they’re seeing. We do. We have the texts, the prophecies, and the vision to make sense of these extraordinary times. This is our moment to be the watchmen Rav Kook envisioned—those who recognize redemption, proclaim it, and awaken the world to God’s hand in history.
