Biblical Days
Does anyone doubt the biblical nature of the times?
I’m not here to debate theology. Everyone has their belief set, and I respect that. But sometimes, the events around us feel so deeply aligned with the language and rhythm of Tanach that it’s hard not to pause and reflect.
As King David wrote in Psalm 92:
“It is good to give thanks to the Lord, to sing praises to Your name, O Most High;
To declare Your kindness in the morning, and Your faithfulness at night.”
טוֹב לְהוֹדוֹת לַה׳ וּלְזַמֵּר לְשִׁמְךָ עֶלְיוֹן.
לְהַגִּיד בַּבֹּקֶר חַסְדֶּךָ וֶאֱמוּנָתְךָ בַּלֵּילוֹת.
This morning, I felt that. I saw it. I heard it. And I felt compelled to give thanks—not just to leaders or armies, but to G-d.
I abhor death. The tragedy of October 7 will never leave my eyes. The hostages will never leave my thoughts and I hope they come home NOW. My prayers go out to all innocent people harmed in this conflict. They were casualties of a grand plan hatched by the Supreme Leader of Iran and his proxies—and it is coming home to bite them.
I wish it had never started. But it did. And last night, we witnessed the culmination of a series of events that have felt truly biblical in nature—events that may open the door to real change for our children and grandchildren, in this region and beyond.
We saw what is hopefully the end of the nuclear threat posed by a fundamentalist regime that has sought to destroy Israel and has hated the West for over 40 years. I don’t know what happens next. Risks remain. Sadly, more may die. But I believe this moment calls for praise—not only for the leaders and armed forces of the US and Israel who made this operation possible—but to G-d, who, in my view, clearly guided it.
I don’t pretend to understand how G-d makes His decisions. I don’t understand why bad things happen to good people. But I trust Him. I believe in a G-d who wants us to love our neighbor and the stranger alike. To seek peace. To bring out the best in people. And to stand firm against those who seek death and destruction.
And perhaps, just perhaps, this moment is not only political—it’s prophetic.
There’s a mystical interpretation of Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) Chapter 3 that has been circulating recently. It’s not usually my style—I’m not a big fan of spiritual arithmetic or date-based predictions. But this one caught my attention, if only for the poetry of its timing.
Kohelet lists 28 “times”—seasons of human experience:
“A time to be born, and a time to die;
A time to plant, and a time to uproot;
A time to kill, and a time to heal…”
Jewish tradition teaches that the world will exist for 6,000 years, followed by a seventh millennium of rest and redemption—a kind of cosmic Shabbat. This idea is found in the Talmud (Sanhedrin 97a), and is echoed by major thinkers including Maimonides (Rambam) in his Mishneh Torah, and Rabbi Moshe Chaim Luzzatto (Ramchal) in Derech Hashem.
Based on this framework, some interpret each of the 28 “times” in Kohelet as representing approximately 214 years of Jewish history (6000 ÷ 28).
By this calculation, we are now entering the 28th and final time—“a time for peace” (עֵת שָׁלוֹם)—having just emerged from the 27th time, “a time for war” (עֵת מִלְחָמָה).
Do I believe this is a guaranteed prophecy? Clearly not. But part of me truly hopes it is. There’s something deeply moving about the idea that we are now living in a moment with the potential for peace—not just geopolitically, but spiritually. That we are being invited to choose differently. To build differently. To become something more whole than we’ve been before.
We know from history—Purim, the Exodus, the return from Babylon—that G-d often delivers His plans in hidden ways. Through imperfect people. Through unlikely moments. Through resilience.
May this be one of those moments.
May we see more better days.
