By Rabbi Josh Wander

Perhaps the greatest challenge of our generation is not recognizing just how fast history is moving. Previous generations lived with an entirely different psychological reality. A Jew could be born in exile, live seventy or eighty difficult years under foreign rule, and die having seen virtually no visible movement toward redemption whatsoever. Kingdoms rose and fell, pogroms came and went, expulsions repeated themselves endlessly, but the overall condition of the Jewish people remained fundamentally unchanged. Galut was simply life itself. The dream of redemption existed almost entirely in the realm of faith. And yet they believed.

That may be one of the most astonishing things to contemplate. Jews for thousands of years sincerely declared every single day, אחכה לו בכל יום שיבוא. Not because they saw clear evidence unfolding before their eyes, but because they possessed pure emunah. They accepted that redemption might not happen in their lifetime, or their children’s, or even many generations later. Still they waited. Still they prayed. Still they faced Jerusalem and believed that one day the scattered exiles would return home.

Contrast that with our generation. We are not crawling through history anymore. We have been strapped into a bullet train. Events that once took centuries now unfold in years. Transformations that once required generations now happen in months. Entire geopolitical realities collapse overnight. Jewish sovereignty returned after two thousand years. Hebrew became a living language again. Millions of Jews returned from the four corners of the earth. The Land itself has awakened. Wars, technology, global instability, mass communication, artificial intelligence, economic upheaval, the collapse of old institutions — everything is accelerating simultaneously.

And not only are events accelerating, but human capability itself has exploded at a pace unimaginable to previous generations. Knowledge that once required scholars to spend years traveling to libraries, poring over fragile manuscripts and ancient books by candlelight, now sits in our pockets. A person can pull a small device from their pocket and instantly access more information than kings, governments, or the greatest scholars of previous centuries could gather in an entire lifetime. Torah sources, historical archives, scientific discoveries, maps, languages, world events — all available within seconds. Humanity has become accustomed to this miracle so quickly that we no longer even recognize how unnatural it truly is.

And yet somehow we have already become desensitized to it all. If a week passes without some dramatic development, people become disappointed. They start wondering why things feel “stuck.” We have become so addicted to rapid movement that we no longer appreciate the sheer magnitude of what we are witnessing. It is almost comical when you think about it. A person traveling by horse and buggy understood that journeys were slow. If you crossed a few villages in a day, that itself was progress. Humanity lived with patience because reality itself moved patiently. But today we live in the era of instant gratification. Amazon delivers overnight. Messages cross the globe instantly. A jet plane can carry you across continents before you finish digesting breakfast. Everything must happen now.

And that mentality has infected how people view Geula as well. We stare out the windows of the redemption train frustrated if a few moments pass without another breathtaking sight, all while ignoring the fact that the landscape outside would have appeared utterly unimaginable to previous generations. If you could transport a Jew from a thousand years ago into today’s reality, they would probably collapse from shock. A sovereign Jewish state? Jewish armies? Torah flourishing in Eretz Yisrael? Hebrew street signs? Millions of Jews gathered back in the Land? Open discussions about the Beit HaMikdash? The nations of the world focused obsessively on Jerusalem exactly as the prophets described? Instant global communication? Human knowledge accessible at the touch of a screen? To us, these things have become normal.

That is the danger. Human beings adapt incredibly quickly. The miraculous slowly becomes routine simply because we become accustomed to it. The brain recalibrates. Yesterday’s impossible becomes today’s background noise. We no longer see the revolution because we are living inside it. But perhaps this itself is part of the test of our generation. Can we maintain the ability to be astonished? Can we still recognize the hand of Hashem even when miracles unfold through historical processes instead of splitting seas? Can we appreciate the speed of redemption without demanding that every single day provide a new emotional high?

Because Geula is unfolding. Rapidly. Almost violently at times. But the train does not move according to our need for entertainment. It moves according to the Divine timetable. And perhaps the greatest privilege imaginable is that we have merited not merely to believe in redemption abstractly like previous generations, but to actually watch the tracks rushing beneath our feet in real time.