There’s a strange power in not knowing.
Recently, I had an interesting personal experience. I had a meeting, but I wasn’t sure if it was confirmed. As I waited to see if it would actually happen, I felt conflicted.
On one hand, I was ready. On the other, I wasn’t really in the mood and would have rather moved on with my day.
Every noise from the hallway set off a flicker of expectation—a door creaked, footsteps approached—maybe it’s happening, maybe not. Do I want it to happen? Do I not?
It was an interesting dynamic. A feeling of suspense.
Life often presents us with these guessing games, where communication is vague at best—if it exists at all.
Aside from the obvious lesson about clear communication, it occurred to me that this is exactly what the Jewish people felt like in Mitzrayim.
They had strong indications that the Geulah was imminent. Pharaoh was on the verge of letting them go, but then he backtracked. The Egyptians were plagued with darkness, while the Jews had light. What could be a clearer sign that Hashem was on their side and that redemption was near? Yet still, they waited in suspense.
Then came the mitzvah of Kiddush HaChodesh—as if to say: the future may be unknown, but everything has its time and place.
Finally, the Korban Pesach. They already had their walking sticks in hand, ready to leave. They felt it in their bones. The Geulah was practically here.
They placed the blood on the doorposts. Not for God to see—but for them—to take a conscious step toward redemption, despite any doubts that may have remained.
When the moment finally arrived, the Jewish people were ready. They had utilized the power of not knowing to build emotional and spiritual resilience, so that they could leave at a moment’s notice. They left without provisions, just some quickly prepared dough, knowing that, while they did not yet know how, they fully trusted that God would provide.
Just as it was true in Mitzrayim, so it is today.
Just like waiting for this meeting, we wait for redemption. But do we really want it, or are we hesitant? Are we ready, or will we scramble to prepare only when it comes knocking at our door? And when it doesn’t come, are we disappointed—or secretly relieved? Thank God, I didn’t have to deal with that today.
But that’s just fooling ourselves.
The work still needs to get done, whether the meeting happens or not. We still need to be ready for Geulah, strengthening those spiritual muscles—not from a place of certainty, but from a place of not knowing.
Because when we become aware of what we don’t know, we can engage in the real work—emotional and spiritual training that builds resilience, preparing us for whatever, and whenever, that knock finally comes.
And so we sit, waiting—listening for the knock.
We may not know when it will come—but we can still be ready.
They had utilized the power of not knowing to build emotional and spiritual resilience, so that they could leave at a moment’s notice.
I love this.
“Then came the mitzvah of Kiddush HaChodesh—as if to say: the future may be unknown, but everything has its time and place.”
Even when we don’t know, Hashem gave us the agency to be partners in making time something holy with this specific mitzvah.