A MIRACULOUS MOMENT IN TIME

There are times in a person's life that the obvious intervention of fate is so realized, the thought that anything else besides Divine mediation that's orchestrating our world is unimaginable.  I'm one of those people who need a lot of nudging when it comes to realizing that the creator of my world is not me, but a larger entity stirring, stimulating, creating perfect symmetry and choreography to my daily routine.  But I am also curious and annoyed enough by my inability to know it without seeing it, that I tend to test this manifestation by watching life like an ongoing cinematic picture hoping to catch the nuance and subtlety that time and space sometimes holds.

I think that it is when we to close our eyes to these nuances of life unfolding that we tend to get apathetic, frustrated and downright cynical. Habits, I have inhibited but am no longer fond of inhibiting me.  And so just when I think I have missed the big Aha moment, I get a little nudge reminding me that indeed something bigger is orchestrating my wake.

The pain of living in this world is the constant search we have for clarity in a world that is muddled by confusion and falseness.
The Jewish concept of “Golus” or “Exile” is one where the real source for all energy is concealed. One only has to travel to Jerusalem and stand by a 2000 year old wall that is on the outskirts of the Holy of Holies, a known place where G-d rested during the reign of King David's Holy Temple 2000 years ago, that is now underground and completely unattainable and inaccessible to realize that even that holy spot contains a concealment of the truth that we crave.  I was fortunate enough to recently visit this holy site amongst the other holiest Jewish site set in the backdrop of Hebron where Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, Sara, Rebecca, and Leah are buried. It was there that I noticed that  the holy patriarchs' and matriarchs' large tombs stood behind locked gates covered by silk blankets. The truth was, they were actually for show. For the real resting place of these biblical characters lie underneath the very building we stood in- inside caves. Caves we were not privy to, for the real truth of holiness once again was concealed. I realized that truth is sometimes a privilege. And I wondered if on this trip in Israel I would indeed see a revelation, an authentic obvious moment of truth or would the state of exile not allow such an experience? 

It was 4 in the morning, while I was in Israel visiting when I received a call from my younger sister living in New York, telling me she was in labor. Although we were seven hours apart, we were still connected to the hip, our usual.  I decided the only place I wanted to be as my sister's new child entered this world would be at the Kotel, the holy Western Wall that sits in the Old City of Jerusalem. I had the good fortune of going there the day before, but had yet to write a letter asking for blessings, as was the tradition. In the Jewish faith, when one wants a blessing to rain down from heaven, it is usual practice to match the conversation of asking with a form of action, which is why when Jews go to visit the Western Wall, they don't only whisper their prayers but they write them down, using a form of action, on small pieces of paper. This practice, which includes folding this tiny paper into the smallest piece and placing inside the many opened cracks, is believed to be the action that has the power to create the blessing.

The idea that a 2000-year old wall lacking spackle in between those many heavy meleke limestone is now standing because of thousands of prayers, requests, and names are holding it up, is nothing short of miraculous. 

Upon arriving to the wall, it was 1:15 in the afternoon. I remember that number, because I was hoping to travel up to the Temple Mount ramp, but they had told us that we would have to wait until 1:30. I spent a good ten minutes searching for a piece of paper and a pen. Using my broken Hebrew, I asked a group of Israeli students, and after several minutes, I finally found a small piece of paper and a pen to write down my entire family's name. I included my brothers and sisters, my grandparents, my mother, my nieces and nephews, my husband's entire family, a few close friends who are in serious need for prayers and of course my sister and her husband, the new parents to be that were about to give birth. I called my sister and could hear the woofing of the baby's heartbeat on the monitor through the phone. Through her breathing in between contractions, I read each name to her while standing in the Kotel Plaza. Suddenly I realized I forgot to write down my sister Mimi's name. The clock was ticking, it said 1:35, a time I remembered, because I had realized I'd have to now wait till 2:30 to take the Temple Mount ramp to get a glimpse of where the Holy of Holies once stood.  Again I went back to look for a pen, and finally found a sweet woman willing to part with one. I wrote down Mimi's name and went back to the Wall. Praying so fervently it was now 1:45. Again I read each name and put the delicate paper inside one of the many opened cracks. Finally our names and our prayers were part of the brick and mortar of Jerusalem that carried the tears of 2000 years worth of generations.  I prayed for my sister with conviction and at 1:48, My sister called crying that she had given birth to a healthy baby girl, which they named Chava Rosa, which translates to mean mother of all living flowers.

It was an incredible moment. The feeling in the air was one of true energy. I found it funny that the entire Kotel Plaza was packed. I wondered why a regular Tuesday afternoon was so full of men and women crying in prayer. I didn't think much of it, and figured that Tuesdays must be a good visiting day for Jerusalem.

Every fifty years, after 7 sabbatical cycles of sabbatical years, G-d created an observance that is in direct correlation with the working of the land. In this “Yovel year” also known as the “Jubilee year,” people are to abstain from working the land and let the purchased properties revert back to their original tribal owners- the idea behind this exercise was that the Jubilee year signals our opportunity to rise above nature and trust in the Divine's ability to nurture the land for us without our own toil.

A few days later I had learned of an awesome opportunity for prayer had been dictated by Eliyahu hanavi, the famous prophet, who had appeared to an early generation Tzaddik (righteous man) and had revealed many secrets including this following secret in relationship to the “Yovel Year” saying:

“In the ninth year that Yovel arrives, in the ninth month, in the ninth day, and in the ninth hour – whereupon all the wheels in the upper worlds are agitated and Your good treasure house upon us opens… It is during these fateful moments, an incredible abundance of salvation is poured into this world. G-d opens the heavens and is receptive to salvation, joyful events, communal salvation and individual ones, Torah, good health, livelihood, finding one's love partner, marital harmony, children, and pride from one's children.  The key to the abundance of the coming fifty years can be found in these moments. Out of fifty years – out of all the years, months, days, and hours – there is one solitary hour that never repeats itself, about which it is written, “This is the choicest of all hours and auspicious for all abundance.” What is obtainable during this hour is unattainable at any other time.”

And many have been quoted saying this small window of time, which arrives only every fifty years is not only a pipeline for success and abundance but for great joy and gladness as the “Ramban” writes.

I had learned that on that Tuesday, November 12, 2013 corresponding to the hebrew date of the 9th of Kislev from 1:44 pm – 1:53 pm Israel time, that very hour that I had been putting my list of names in the Western Wall, the very moment my niece, “Chava Rosa” was born was the exact moment that, unbeknown to me, this auspicious 9-9-9 hour had hit the earth. The perfect symmetry of time that coincided with my prayers had me thinking, that the obvious intervention of fate IS so realized, the thought that anything else besides Divine mediation that's orchestrating our world IS truly unimaginable.  For it was at that moment that G-d delivered “The mother of all roses” to gladden and bless not only my family but I felt it was a strong incredible gift that hinted to the blessings for the entire world, for when one child is born the entire world is blessed.  May this be a new era for all of us to embrace, like a flower which brings beauty and fragrance, may the energies of that moment have the power to create great beautiful blessings and the sweet perfume of abundance for us all.