I Am the Pill

"Not the one that eases the fast. The one that ends the exile"

Write. Write. Write,” screams my soul.

But my fingers refuse to type.

My mind doesn’t want to find the right words.

It’s scared.

“This is too sacred,” it says. “Too intimate. Why put this out?”

“Okay,” says my soul. “We won’t.”

“Right!” says my mind. “Like all the other ones you promised never to publish.”

He’s right. I probably will publish this.

But whether I do or I don’t, this needs to be said. Even if it’s just for me.

Even if I don’t fully know why I’m doing this—

at least I’ll have something to hold.

Something I can read.

Something that burns back.

It’s Tisha B’Av today. Last night was Motzai Shabbos. Today is Sunday, Tisha B’Av.

Yeah, I’m repeating myself—because my mind refuses to find words.

It’s been 2,000 years of exile.

2,000 years of death, destruction, persecution.

And it’s still going on.

The same game—both from outsiders, and the sinas chinam within. Sadly, nothing’s changed.

Why would we think, “Oh, finally this year it’ll change”? This year, God will finally wake up from His deep sleep, notice the pain we’re in, and take us out—rebuild our glorious nation in our glorious home.

He’ll finally find compassion. His mercy will be aroused. He’ll end this exile once and for all.

He’ll send Mashiach and give us that magic pill where the world will finally be whole.

It’s been 2,000 years of that very same thinking.

And to the best of my knowledge, it hasn’t happened. In fact—it’s only gotten worse.

We’re one natural disaster away from man eating man to survive.

Yes, we have all the amenities we could ever dream of—and then some. Both physically and spiritually. Yet we’re further apart than ever.

Further apart from each other.

Further apart from God.

Further apart from our very own souls.

Something has to change.

Doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results is the definition of insanity, said Einstein.

The Midrash says the third Beis Hamikdash will be built from fire. The Midrash also says that each person will see Mashiach as the one who came from his own tribe. His political party. His chasidus.

Other than an outright miracle, I don’t see that happening. The Midrash also says that Tisha B’Av will be a Yom Tov—a joyous-filled day.

And so I propose something else.

Mashiach is already here.

Just like in the time of Adam and Eve—electricity existed. They just didn’t know how to tap into it, extract it, or harness its power. It lacked tools. It lacked language. But it was always there. Always in the air. Waiting to be discovered.

Mashiach is the same way.

It’s always been here.

But nobody taught us how to tap into it. Nobody knows how to use its power. None of us know how to rebuild that Temple of fire.

And neither do I

But what I do know is that something has to give.

Something needs to change.

And it ain’t coming from the outside.

It’s gonna happen from within.

There’s not gonna be any magic pill.

We’re not suddenly gonna wake up one morning—the morning after Tisha B’Av—and see the Beis Hamikdash descend over our world.

We’ve tried that.

I believe the work, the Temple, the Mashiach… lies within each one of us. The work needs to be done—by us, through us, and for us. And until that happens, there is no end to this exile.

It’s no coincidence that 80 percent of Bnei Yisrael didn’t leave Egypt. Not because they were punished. Because they never did the work.

And even when God did come down to save them—the magic pill—they still weren’t able to leave.

Because they didn’t do the inner work.

The same is true today.

Each one of us needs to work on themselves.

And I’m not talking about going to therapy to heal old trauma. That’s a great start.

But I’m talking about building the third Beis Hamikdash in our hearts. Believing that God doesn’t just exist somewhere outside, in heaven, clipboard in hand, checking whether we put on tefillin today.

Believing that the “reward” we’re waiting for isn’t some huge mansion in heaven. Believing that we’re no longer 3 years old, waiting so impatiently to get our prize for behaving so well.

No.

It’s realizing that God is within each one of us.

That’s who we are. Making a relationship with Him in our very own hearts and minds. Living with Him every second of the day. Not just in shul, checkboxing Maariv, Mincha, Tefillin.

No.

Making a home for Him inside my heart. The heart that burns with Him. Whether it’s rage at Him for the injustices of the world. Whether it’s anger toward Him for His seemingly blind eye when we wither in pain. Or the joy of seeing a mother smother her kid as she takes him off the bus at the end of the school day.

That burn?

That’s the burn of the third Holy Temple.

That’s God’s home.

That’s our home.

That’s our Mashiach.

Personalized.

Individualized.

Customized.

And finally—each one seeing how Mashiach is truly from their very own tribe.

And so this year, I made myself a new Tisha B’Av.

One that involves eating.

Showering.

Dancing.

Acknowledging the inner Beis Hamikdash I’ve built.

The fire in my soul. The home that God finally feels comfortable in. The one where I have intimacy with Him. The one where galus doesn’t exist. The one where I finally realize:

I am the pill.

I am the Beis Hamikdash of fire.

I am the Mashiach.

For my very own self.

And I invite you to do the same.

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If you made it this far—thank you.

You might feel resistance.

You might feel fire.

You might even feel judgment—toward me, toward yourself, toward God.

I get that.

So do I.

I didn’t write this from clarity. I wrote it from ache.

Not to sound holy. Not to be right.

But because this truth wouldn’t let me stay silent.

I know I’ll be misunderstood. I know some will call it arrogance, others heresy.

That’s okay.

I call myself that all the time.

Just know—I didn’t write this on a throne.

I wrote it from the floor.

On Tisha B’Av.

In the dust. In the rubble.

I’m not the Mashiach.

I’m not the answer.

I’m just the wick.

I’m just the messenger.

And I need this message more than anyone.

This is not a theology.

I’m not looking to debate its validity.

It’s one soul’s fire.

Offered clean.

– איש