We’re all thrust into this world, screaming, seemingly without a clue. But what if there was a pre-birth experience, a sort of cosmic orientation, that shapes our very being?

Jewish tradition offers a fascinating glimpse into this mystery. Imagine, if you will, an angel – a celestial guide – entrusted with the soul even before it enters the earthly realm. According to the Legends of the Jews, between morning and evening, this angel takes the soul on a whirlwind tour.

It's not just a sightseeing trip, though. This is a journey of profound significance. The angel shows the soul where it will live, where it will meet its end, and even the very spot where it will be buried. Talk about a spoiler alert! But it's more than that. The angel takes the soul across the world, revealing both the righteous and the sinners, the good and the evil, tzadikim and resha'im. Everything.

Then, as evening descends, the angel gently returns the soul to its haven in the mother's womb. And there it remains, nestled in the darkness, for nine long months, preparing for its grand entrance.

But what happens when it’s time to leave?

The angel, ever-present, announces to the soul, "The time has come for thee to go abroad into the open world." And here’s where it gets really interesting. The soul, understandably, hesitates. "Why dost thou want to make me go forth into the open world?" it asks, reluctant to abandon its peaceful existence.

The angel’s response is both poignant and profound. "Know that as thou wert formed against thy will, so now thou wilt be born against thy will, and against thy will thou shalt die, and against thy will thou shalt give account of thyself before the King of kings, the Holy One, blessed be He."

Wow. A stark reminder of the cycle of life and our ultimate accountability. Despite this knowledge, the soul still resists. It doesn't want to leave its secure, comfortable place. Who can blame it?

And that’s when the angel, with a touch that seems both gentle and forceful, flicks the babe on the nose, extinguishing the light at its head. And just like that, the baby is brought forth into the world, against its will.

Immediately, the child forgets everything its soul has seen and learned. All that pre-birth wisdom, that cosmic orientation, vanishes in an instant. And that, the legend tells us, is why the child enters the world crying. It's not just the shock of the new environment; it's the loss of a place of shelter, security, and rest.

Think about that for a moment. We enter this world with a cry, a primal scream of separation and forgetting. But perhaps, deep down, we carry a faint echo of that pre-birth journey, a whisper of the knowledge we once possessed. Maybe that's why we spend our lives searching for meaning, for connection, for a sense of belonging that feels both new and strangely familiar. Could it be we are trying to remember something that our souls already know?