By Rabbi Josh Wander
Most people have a bucket list. They dream of climbing Mount Everest, visiting the pyramids of Egypt, seeing the Northern Lights, or meeting someone they have admired for years. Others hope to celebrate weddings, hold grandchildren, or retire to a quiet life. These are beautiful aspirations that give people something to anticipate and work toward. But there is one question that is rarely asked: do we have a spiritual bucket list?
Imagine writing down the spiritual accomplishments you hope to achieve before your time in this world is over. Perhaps some items are deeply personal. Completing the entire Torah. Finishing Daf Yomi. Learning Hebrew well enough to understand the prayers without translation. Giving a certain amount of charity. Becoming more patient, more grateful, or more devoted in prayer. Unlike worldly ambitions, these goals accompany us long after every passport has expired and every souvenir has gathered dust.
For many Jews, visiting Israel would certainly appear on such a list. Standing at the Western Wall, walking the streets of Jerusalem, praying at the resting places of our righteous ancestors, or simply experiencing Shabbat in the Jewish homeland can become life-changing moments. Others may aspire to complete Shas, master Tanach, or become meticulous in acts of kindness. Yet even these are often viewed as personal achievements rather than stepping stones toward something much greater.
If we are honest, many of our spiritual bucket lists are strangely disconnected from the very prayers we recite every day. Three times daily we ask for the ingathering of the exiles, the restoration of Jerusalem, the rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash (Holy Temple), the return of the Sanhedrin, the reestablishment of the Davidic monarchy, and the coming of Moshiach (Messiah). We ask for these things constantly, yet how many of us have placed even one of them on our personal bucket list? More importantly, how many of those aspirations do we actually believe are attainable within our own lifetime?
Perhaps that is because we have unconsciously categorized these aspirations as dreams rather than goals. Dreams belong to someone else. Goals require action. Dreams are distant. Goals have practical steps. We have become so accustomed to praying for redemption that we sometimes forget it is meant to become reality, not merely remain beautiful poetry in our siddur (prayer book).
This is not simply a nice idea or an inspiring exercise. It is an obligation. The Talmud teaches that after a person leaves this world, one of the questions each of us will be asked is, “האם ציפית לישועה?” — “Did you anticipate the redemption?” That question carries far more weight than many realize. It does not ask whether we occasionally spoke about Moshiach or wondered when he might arrive. It asks whether redemption was something we genuinely lived for. Did it shape our priorities? Did it influence our decisions? Did we actively prepare for it, or did we simply assume it was someone else’s responsibility?
King David provides one of the greatest examples of what this mindset looks like. His life’s greatest ambition was to build the Beit HaMikdash. Yet the prophet Natan informed him that he would never fulfill that dream. The privilege would belong to his son, Shlomo. At that moment David could have understandably crossed the Temple off his bucket list forever. After all, Hashem Himself had declared that he would never see it accomplished.
Instead, David devoted the remainder of his life to preparing for a project he knew he would never complete. He amassed enormous quantities of building materials, organized the Levi’im into their divisions, established the priestly watches (mishmarot), prepared the musical service, gathered the plans, and laid every piece of infrastructure possible so that Shlomo could begin immediately. David understood a profound lesson: although he would never finish the mission, he was still obligated to move it forward.
That lesson belongs to every generation. We may not personally place the final stone of the Beit HaMikdash. We may not be the generation privileged to witness every stage of the Geula (Redemption). That does not exempt us from responsibility. Every Jew has both the opportunity and the obligation to advance the redemption in whatever way he or she can. Just because we may not be capable of ascending the Temple Mount tomorrow and physically constructing the Temple does not absolve us from doing everything within our power to help make that day a reality.
Imagine if our bucket list included making Aliyah and settling permanently in the Land of Israel. Visiting the Temple Mount in accordance with halachic (Jewish legal) requirements to better understand the place where the Beit HaMikdash will stand. Learning the laws of the Temple service. Supporting organizations preparing the priestly garments, sacred vessels, and the training of Kohanim (priests). Teaching our children not only about Jewish history, but about the Jewish future. These are not fantasies. They are tangible steps that thousands of Jews are already taking today.
Perhaps your list could include witnessing the first Korban Pesach (Passover sacrifice) offered once again, hearing the Chatzotzrot (Temple silver trumpets) sounded in Jerusalem, seeing the Sanhedrin functioning once more, or praying in the rebuilt Beit HaMikdash. For generations these may have sounded impossible. Today, many of the practical preparations already exist. The only missing ingredient may be our willingness to believe that these goals belong on our own list rather than someone else’s.
Every item we cross off a bucket list reminds us that life is moving forward. It gives us purpose and direction. A spiritual bucket list does the same, except its rewards are eternal. It forces us to ask not merely what places we wish to visit, but what kind of Jew we hope to become and what role we want to play in the unfolding redemption of our people.
The remarkable thing about the generation in which we live is that many of the greatest spiritual aspirations no longer belong solely to the distant future. Jews have returned from over one hundred countries. Jerusalem has been reunited. Torah learning flourishes on a scale unseen in centuries. Preparations for the Beit HaMikdash are advancing in ways that previous generations could scarcely imagine. History is moving, and it is inviting us to participate.
Perhaps it is time to sit down with a pen and paper and write your own spiritual bucket list. Include the personal goals that will bring you closer to Hashem, but do not stop there. Add the national aspirations as well. Make room for redemption. Write down the things you hope not merely to pray about, but to help bring about. Then ask yourself one final question: if you were asked today, “האם ציפית לישועה?” would your bucket list answer for you?
One day, with Hashem’s help, we may look back and realize that what once seemed impossibly ambitious became reality, one faithful step at a time. After all, the greatest bucket list is not simply about seeing extraordinary places. It is about helping build the extraordinary future that generations of Jews have prayed for.