Each morning in Shacharis, as we recite Az Yashir, we echo the song the Jewish people sang at the shores of the Yam Suf. Among those sacred words, we declare: “Tivi’eimo v'sitaimo b’har nachalascha... Mikdash Hashem konenu yadecha—You will bring them and implant them on the mountain of Your heritage... the sanctuary, Hashem, that Your hands established” (Shemos 15:17).
Rav Moshe Shapiro zt”l, the brilliant ba’al machshava and ba’al mussar, posed a compelling question on this Pasuk. We find many references in Tanach to Hashem’s yad, His hand, in the singular form. For instance: “Yeminecha Hashem nedari bakoach—Your right hand, Hashem, has become glorious in power.” “Ki yad al kes Kah—For the hand is upon the throne of G-d.” But here, in Az Yashir, it says: “Yadecha”—both hands. Why the difference?
Rav Moshe Shapiro offered a profound insight. When two hands act separately, they are distinct. But when they come together, when they join in a handshake, that represents unity, relationship, connection. That, he said, is what the Beis HaMikdash embodied. It was a handshake between Klal Yisrael and HaKadosh Baruch Hu. A place of intimacy, of closeness, of embrace.
The Torah tells us in Parashat Terumah: “V’asu li mikdash, v’shachanti b’tocham—Build for Me a sanctuary and I will dwell among them” (Shemos 25:8). Why does the Pasuk say “among them” and not “in it”? Some explain that it refers to the Mishkan, along with the First and Second Temples. Others say it means Hashem will dwell within the hearts of the Jewish people. Either way, it is a message of closeness, of connection. The Mikdash was not just a building. It was the space where Hashem dwelled with us.
But today we don’t have that. We can’t build a Mikdash. We can’t travel to Jerusalem and construct it. According to the Rambam (Hilchot Melachim 11:1), only Mashiach can rebuild the Beit HaMikdash: “HaMelech HaMashiach asid la’amod u’lehashiv malchut David l’yoshna... u’boneh HaMikdash.” Mashiach alone will rebuild it.
Yet Rashi (Sukkah 41a) presents a different view: the future Mikdash will descend from Heaven, already complete. It will come down, fully built. And what is Rashi’s source? That very pasuk from Az Yashir: “Mikdash Hashem konenu yadecha.” The Mikdash of the future is the one Hashem built with His two hands. The ultimate handshake, the eternal connection.
So the question is: if we can't build it, and only Mashiach can, or it comes down from Heaven, what can we do? How can we bring it closer?
Let me share with you an incredible Midrash. It appears at the very end of Parshas Miketz, (Midrash Rabbah 88:7). The Midrash comments on the Pasuk: “V’lo zachar sar hamashkim es Yosef, vayishkachehu—The chief butler did not remember Yosef, and he forgot him.”
The Midrash asks: if it already says he didn’t remember Yosef, why does it add “and he forgot him”? And the answer is astonishing. The sar hamashkim did, in fact, remember Yosef. He tied a string around his finger to remind himself. But Hashem made him forget, because Yosef was not meant to be redeemed then. He would be freed only when Hashem decided the time was right.
Then the Midrash goes on with a repeated refrain, a mantra. “Mi haya ma’chakeh—Who could have anticipated...?
- Who could have anticipated that Avraham and Sarah—aged and childless—would have a son?
- Who could have anticipated that Yaakov, crossing the Jordan with nothing but a staff, would become so wealthy?
- Who could have anticipated that Yosef, abandoned and imprisoned, would rise to rule Egypt?
- Who could have anticipated that Moshe, the baby in a basket, would lead a nation?
- Who could have anticipated that Rus, a poor Moabite convert, would become the great-grandmother of Mashiach?
And then the Midrash concludes: Who could have anticipated that a nation dispersed among the nations would rise to glory?
Years ago, I stood with a group of ninety people in Poland. We walked through Majdanek, we stood in Auschwitz. We saw the shoes, the suitcases, the silence. We saw how our people were annihilated. And yet, who could have imagined that from that destruction would arise flourishing Jewish communities around the world? Mi haya ma’chakeh?
And yet, we did rise. Here we are.
But now I want to take this Midrash even further, based on the interpretation of Rav Elia Svei zt”l, whose shmuessen were compiled by his student, Avi Deutsch, in a sefer called Ruach Eliyahu. Rav Elya explains that the phrase “Mi haya ma’chakeh” doesn’t just mean who could have imagined. It means—who was waiting, hoping, believing?
Why did Yosef become viceroy of Egypt? Because he believed in his dreams. He never gave up on them. Why did Moshe become the leader of Israel? Because Miriam, his sister, believed in him. Why did Rus become the mother of royalty? Because Naomi believed in her. Who believed in the rebirth of Torah in America? Rav Aharon Kotler, the Satmar Rebbe. They came, they believed, and they built. You have to believe in redemption for it to happen. You have to want Mashiach to come. You have to wait for him, every day. Because if we don’t believe it, if we don’t care, it won’t happen.
We say it every day in Yigdal: “Yishlach l’keitz hayamim Meshicheinu... machakei keitz yeshua so.” He will send our Redeemer at the end of days—to those who wait for His salvation.
We also say it in Ani Ma’amin: “Af al pi shehismameha, im kol zeh achake lo b’chol yom sheyavo.” Even if he delays—I will still wait for him, every single day.
And that’s the test we will all face, as the Gemara says (Shabbos 31a): “Tzipsa liYeshua— Did you hope for redemption?”
Underline these words in your siddur. When you say Shemoneh Esrei, in Es Tzemach Dovid, underline the words: “Ki lishua’scha kivinu kol hayom.” We hope for Your salvation every day. That’s our role.
And if we do? Then this time the Mikdash Hashem, the one built with His two hands, will finally come down. And we’ll experience that eternal handshake.
