Jewish tradition has some pretty mind-blowing ideas about it.
One vision, described in Tree of Souls, paints a picture so vivid, so intense, it’s hard to ignore. Imagine this: in the very generation when the Messiah finally arrives, the skies themselves erupt. Fiery seraphim, angelic beings of pure flame, are dispatched into the Temple. Stars blaze with unnatural fire. It's a spectacle of divine proportions.
And that’s just the beginning. The Shekhinah – the divine presence, the very embodiment of God’s glory – floods the Temple, making it almost unbearable to look upon. God Himself descends, bringing His throne to rest in the Valley of Jehoshaphat, ready to judge. This isn’t a subtle affair; it’s a full-blown, cosmic unveiling.
Then comes the Messiah. He isn't just born; he's clothed in power. He receives a diadem, a helmet of salvation, garments of glory. He’s placed on a high mountain, a beacon of hope. And what does he announce? Simply, powerfully: "Salvation is near!"
But it doesn’t stop there. The Messiah then proclaims the news to the patriarchs, to Adam himself, who slumbers in the cave of Machpelah. Can you imagine the scene? Adam, the first human, awakened from his long sleep, along with his entire generation, and the patriarchs, and all the generations from the dawn of time until that very day. It's the ultimate family reunion, a gathering of all who have ever lived.
This Messianic age, this golden era of peace and divine presence, isn’t forever, though. This vision gives it a timeframe: 400 years. As we find in 4 Ezra 7:27-30, there are limits to how long this world can sustain perfection.
And then? Then comes the truly shocking part. After those 400 years, the Messiah dies. And not just him, but everyone "in whom there is human breath." According to Sefer Eliyahu (found in Beit ha-Midrash 3:68-78), this marks the end of an era, a grand finale before the ultimate reset.
The world then reverts to its primordial state of silence for seven days. A cosmic pause, a moment of reflection before the next act. The heavens themselves melt away like smoke, and the earth wears out like an old garment, as described in Isaiah 51:6. Everything returns to its original, unformed state, echoing the beginning of Creation.
This isn’t just a story about the end of the world; it’s a story about transformation, about hope, and ultimately, about renewal. It's a grand fantasy of redemption, as Schwartz calls it. The rebirth of Adam and the patriarchs, figures of our collective past, is a crucial part of this vision of the Messiah. It’s a reminder that even in endings, there are echoes of beginnings. That even after destruction, there's always the possibility of something new, something better, something divinely inspired. What does that tell us about how we should live now?