Seeing the Hand of God in History
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Unrolling the Scroll:
Seeing the Hand of God in History
By: Rabbi Rami Goldberg
The timing of this war feels almost biblical.
In the Book of Esther, we read of a wicked leader in Persia who seemed untouchable. He wielded power, issued decrees, and plotted destruction. Yet through a stunning reversal of events, the very gallows he prepared for others became his own end. The one who appeared to control history was revealed to be subject to it.
In recent days, we too have witnessed events that feel almost beyond comprehension—moments of survival and resilience that many would describe as miraculous, alongside the sudden collapse of those who sought our harm. It is difficult not to think of Esther’s world as we watch our own unfold.
But to understand what we are living through, we must widen our lens.
The Sages tell a powerful story about Rabbi Akiva, who lived after the destruction of the Second Temple. He once walked with his colleagues on the Mount of Olives. From there, they saw the ruins of Jerusalem—and foxes running in and out of the Holy of Holies, the sacred place the High Priest would enter only once a year on Yom Kippur (Day of Atonement).
At this sight, the other sages tore their garments and wept uncontrollably.
The profanation of what had once been the holiest place on earth overwhelmed them.
Rabbi Akiva, however, laughed. Shocked, they asked him: “How can you laugh at a time like this? Foxes roam where the Divine Presence once rested—and you laugh?” Rabbi Akiva replied, “Why are you crying?”
They answered, “How can we not cry? We see destruction. We see holiness desecrated.” Rabbi Akiva explained: “The prophet Uriah foretold the destruction of Jerusalem. The prophet Zechariah foretold that once again, elderly men and women would sit peacefully in its streets, and children would play there.”
Zechariah 8:4-5
Now that I see Uriah’s prophecy fulfilled, I know that Zechariah’s prophecy will be fulfilled as well. At that moment, Rabbi Akiva was not blind to tragedy. He simply saw beyond it.
There is a unique law regarding the reading of the Book of Esther. Unlike the public reading of the Torah, the scroll of Esther must be completely unrolled before it is read. One cannot simply open to the chapter of the day.
One explanation is that the Megillah (scroll) demands a panoramic view. The name of God does not appear anywhere in the Book of Esther. The miracles are subtle, hidden within political intrigue and human decisions. If we examine only isolated moments, we might miss the grand design.
Only when the entire scroll is unrolled can we see the pattern.
History works the same way. If we look at single days, single battles, or even single years, we may see chaos, setbacks, or pain. But when we step back—when we “unroll the scroll”—we begin to perceive a larger movement.
Rabbi Akiva had already unrolled his scroll. He understood that destruction was not the final chapter.
There is a popular song that many young Israeli soldiers have sung during this war: “Am HaNetzach Lo Mefached MeDerech Aruka” — “The Eternal Nation is not afraid of the long road.” Faith is not naïveté. It is perspective. It is the refusal to measure destiny by a single moment.
The enemies of Israel, and of the God of Israel, operate in the immediacy of power. They make decisions based on rage, ideology, or short-term gain. They rarely account for the long arc of history.
Faith traditions, both Jewish and Christian, hold that history is not random. Though God’s name may at times appear hidden—like in Esther—the Divine hand is not absent.
We are living inside a chapter whose ending we cannot yet see. There is pain. There is loss. There is uncertainty.
But if we unroll the scroll—if we dare to see beyond the present moment—we may find the courage to believe that this too is part of a story still being written. And that the final chapter will not belong to foxes in ruins, but to children playing in the streets of Jerusalem.
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