There's a folk tradition, a whisper passed down through generations, that paints a rather surprising picture. It begins not with wailing, but with joy. Imagine: on the very day the world is set to transform, people emerge from the earth, not as ghosts or tormented souls, but filled with happiness. They're beating drums, playing flutes, making music – a full-blown parade of joy!
According to this vision (as retold in Howard Schwartz's Tree of Souls), this jubilant throng travels from east to west, their destination etched in their hearts: the Holy Land. And as they journey, a miracle unfolds. The very mountains before them blossom into blooming gardens. Can you picture it?
But it gets even wilder. Every tree bursts with fruit, an endless bounty. And – hold on to your hats – the stones themselves… transform into meat and rice! Yes, you read that right. The very rocks offer sustenance, and the people eat to their hearts' content.
It’s a striking image, isn’t it? A world where even the stones provide nourishment. This detail, Schwartz notes, speaks to a very human understanding of the messianic era: even in paradise, we’ll still have appetites, and there will be plenty for everyone. No scarcity, no hunger. Just pure, unadulterated abundance.
But the story doesn’t end there. After this incredible feast, the Messiah arrives. His task? To separate the believers from the non-believers. A stark division. Those deemed unworthy are sent to Gehenna (hell), while the faithful accompany the Messiah to Jerusalem. And that, according to this folk tradition, is how the world ends – and a new one begins.
This vision, as Schwartz points out, echoes a fundamental mythical pattern: the resurrection of the dead, the gathering of the righteous in the Holy Land, and the arrival of the Messiah. It's a powerful narrative of redemption and transformation.
But what are we to make of this strange and wonderful tale? It's not the fiery apocalypse we often imagine. Instead, it’s a celebration, a journey, and a promise of plenty. Perhaps it's a reminder that even at the end, there's still room for joy, for music, and for a good meal. Maybe, just maybe, the end of the world won't be so bad after all. Maybe it will be… delicious.