But Jewish tradition is full of surprises. And one of the most striking is the image of the Messiah, not as a triumphant king, but as someone held captive, waiting for us to set him free.
According to some stories, for generations, the Messiah has been sitting chained before the Throne of Glory. Chained with golden chains, no less! It’s a powerful image, isn’t it? As Howard Schwartz recounts in Tree of Souls, the prophet Elijah himself has tried countless times to release him, but always without success.
So, what's the key? How do we break these chains? Elijah, in his earthly travels, reveals the answer: a magic saw. But this isn't just any saw. Its teeth are formed by the good deeds – the mitzvot – of the people of Israel. Every good deed adds a tooth, while every sin, alas, takes one away.
Think about that for a moment. We, in our daily lives, are literally building the tool that will bring about redemption.
The idea is that when our good deeds outweigh our sins by a factor of two, the saw is complete and can be used to free the Messiah. That’s why, as the tradition teaches, the Messiah won’t come until we bring him. We hold the power. We are the key.
This isn't just one isolated story. Numerous texts depict the Messiah as bound. Pirkei Hekhalot Rabbati, for instance, describes God Himself tying up the Messiah hand and foot for eight long years. During this time of the Messiah’s imprisonment, God hides His face from him.
Why such a harsh image? It’s a potent reminder. The decision to bring about the End of Days, the Messianic Era, doesn’t belong to the Messiah himself. It ultimately rests with God, or, perhaps more accurately, with the collective actions of the Jewish people. Our deeds will pave the way.
It adds another layer of complexity to the whole concept of Mashiach. It’s not just about waiting for a savior to descend from on high. It’s about active participation, about taking responsibility for the world we live in.
And the layers don't stop there. There are even more startling myths in which God Himself is in chains! As we explore in "Mourning over the Shekhinah," the Divine Presence can also be seen as captive, yearning for release.
What does it all mean? Maybe it’s a call to action. A reminder that we are not passive observers in the grand drama of history. We are active participants, capable of shaping the future, one good deed at a time. The choice, ultimately, is ours. Will we build the saw that can break the chains?