Jewish tradition has some fascinating things to say about that, especially when it comes to the grand sweep of history and the ultimate redemption.
Let’s go back to Abraham, sitting at the very beginning of our story. According to Pirkei DeRabbi Eliezer, a fascinating early medieval Midrashic text, as the sun was about to rise, Abraham found himself in a protective role. He actually waved his scarf over those with him, ensuring that birds of prey wouldn't attack until a raven appeared. Seems like a small detail, right? But the Rabbis saw so much more within it.
Rabbi Elazar ben 'Azariah, a prominent voice in the Talmud, took this imagery and made a profound connection. He said that the rule of the four kingdoms (often understood as Babylon, Persia, Greece, and Rome) would last only "one day" according to the day of the Holy One. What does that even mean?
Well, we know from Psalms 90:4 that "a thousand years in Your sight are but as yesterday that is past." So, Rabbi Elazar was suggesting that even these vast, world-altering empires would have a limited lifespan in the grand scheme of things. It’s a powerful perspective shift, isn’t it? To see earthly power as ultimately fleeting against the backdrop of eternity.
But Rabbi Elazar ben 'Arakh went even further. He agreed, saying, "Verily it is so, according to thy word," and then quoted Lamentations 1:13: "He hath made me desolate and faint all the day." But, he added a crucial detail: "except for two-thirds of an hour (of God)."
Now, this is where it gets really interesting. Remember, we’re dealing with God's time. Two-thirds of an hour, in God's time, is a significant chunk of our time. What Rabbi Elazar ben 'Arakh seemed to be saying is that even in the darkest periods of exile and oppression, there are glimpses of hope, moments where the divine light can break through.
He then gives a beautiful example. "Come and see," he says, "for when the sun turns to set in the west, (during) two hours its power is weakened, and it has no light." Think about twilight. That moment of fading light can feel melancholic, a bit scary even. But that’s not the whole story.
Rabbi Elazar continues: "likewise whilst the evening has not yet come, the light of Israel shall arise, as it is said, 'And it shall come to pass, that at evening time there shall be light' (Zechariah 14:7)."
Isn't that a stunning image? Even in the deepest darkness, even when it seems like all hope is lost, the promise of redemption remains. Just as the sun sets, giving way to a new dawn, so too will the "light of Israel" – a symbol of hope, renewal, and divine presence – eventually emerge.
So, what can we take away from this ancient teaching? Perhaps it's a reminder that even when we're facing difficult times, whether personally or collectively, we should hold onto the belief that brighter days are ahead. Even in the longest, darkest "day," there's always the promise of "evening time… light." It's a message of enduring hope, woven into the very fabric of Jewish tradition.