This is one of the most stunning visions in all of Jewish literature. A grieving woman becomes a city of light. And no one — not even Ezra — sees it coming.
God had told Ezra to go into a field where no house had been built, to eat only flowers, taste no meat, drink no wine, and pray continually. So Ezra went to the field called Ardat, sat among the flowers, ate the plants of the field, and waited seven days.
When he spoke again, he spoke about the Torah. "You showed yourself to our fathers in the wilderness. You said, 'Hear me, O Israel — I sow my law in you, and it shall bring forth fruit in you forever.' But our fathers did not keep it. The fruit of the law did not perish — it could not, because it was yours. But those who received it perished." And here Ezra made a strange observation: when a ship sinks, the sea remains. When food is consumed, the dish remains. The container outlasts what it holds. "But with us it has not been so. We who received the law will perish, along with the heart that received it. The law, however, does not perish but remains in its glory."
As he spoke these words, he lifted his eyes. And there on his right stood a woman.
She was mourning. Weeping with a loud voice. Deeply grieved at heart. Her clothes were torn and ashes covered her head. Ezra turned to her and asked what had happened.
She told him her story. She had been barren for thirty years, praying every hour of every day. Finally God heard her and gave her a son. She raised him with immense care. She arranged his marriage. But when her son entered the wedding chamber, he fell down dead.
She had fled to this field. She would not return to the city. She would neither eat nor drink. She would mourn until she died.
Ezra's response was not gentle. He erupted in anger. "You most foolish of women! Do you not see our mourning? Zion, the mother of us all, is in deep grief. You are sorrowing for one son — we, the whole world, for our mother." He cataloged the horrors: the sanctuary laid waste, the altar thrown down, the temple destroyed. The harp laid low, the song silenced. The ark of the covenant plundered. Priests burned to death. Levites led into captivity. Virgins defiled. The seal of Zion lost and given over into the hands of enemies.
"Shake off your sadness," Ezra told her. "Lay aside your sorrows, so that the Mighty One may be merciful to you again."
Then it happened.
Her face suddenly shone with blinding radiance. Her countenance flashed like lightning. Ezra was too frightened to approach her. His heart was terrified. She uttered a loud and fearful cry — so loud the earth shook.
And when Ezra looked again, the woman was gone. In her place stood an established city, vast, with huge foundations, shining with glory.
Ezra collapsed like a corpse. The angel Uriel came, grasped his right hand, lifted him to his feet, and explained everything.
The woman was Zion.
Her thirty years of barrenness — those were the three thousand years before any offering was made in the world. Her son — that was Jerusalem, the city Solomon built. His death in the wedding chamber — that was the destruction of the Temple. Her mourning — the grief of every exile.
And the transformation — her face becoming lightning, her body becoming a city of light — that was the Most High revealing the brilliance of Zion's true glory. The heavenly Jerusalem. Not the ruined city of stone and blood, but the city that God built, whose foundations no human work could endure beside.
"Do not be afraid," Uriel told Ezra. "Go in and see the splendor and vastness of the building, as far as it is possible for your eyes to see it. You are more blessed than many, and you have been called before the Most High, as but few have been."