Sometimes in life G-d decides to let us see Him in the most tangible and vivid way. Most of the time, He remains hidden, but the Rebbe taught that right before the coming of Moshiach, we will begin to see open miracles, moments when He shows His face plainly for all the world to see.
We were privileged to experience one such moment this week, when every single person on the Flydubai flight to Tel Aviv walked off the plane alive after what, by every account, should have ended in catastrophe.
The whole world watched it unfold in real time and all anyone can say is: Wow!There must be a G-d in this world. There is simply no other explanation, no way to account for the way things unfolded.
Look at the chain of “coincidences”:
Although bleeding and badly hurt, the wounded pilot still managed to open the cockpit door, allowing passengers and crew to rush in and overpower the attacker.
There “happened” to be other, off-duty pilots on the flight, who could take control and land the plane safely.
The plane went into a free dive, dropping thousands of feet in a matter of seconds, and a simple Israeli plumber who had never flown a plane before managed to stabilize it.
The terrorist ripped off the steering wheel but still the crew kept that plane in the air.
The right wing was damaged and still they managed to land.
Seconds from tragedy, they averted disaster.
It's unreal. A miracle of biblical proportion! There is no rational way to account for this, which is exactly the point: open miracles like this one are the preparation for the greatest miracle of all, the coming of Moshiach.
Now, let me tell you something personal: Every single time I step onto an airplane, I'm terrified. In my car, I'm in control; my hands are on the wheel, I can brake, I can swerve, I can do something. But strapped into a metal tube 35,000 feet in the air, a tube I didn't build and can't fly, I've handed my life over completely.
And this week, the week of Sukkot, of all weeks, I watched my worst nightmare come true for a plane full of strangers. And then I watched Hashem reach in and catch them.
On Sukkot, we leave our solid, well-built homes and go sit in a flimsy little booth with a roof of branches, open to the elements—the wind, the rain, the bugs, the snow, the heat and humidity, depending where you live.
By every measure, it offers no real protection at all, but that’s entirely the point. We leave what feels safe to remind ourselves it’s never the walls that keep us safe, it’s Hashem.
And what is an airplane if not a sukkah at 35,000 feet? A fragile shell, no control, only the One Above deciding whether you come down gently or not at all.
Surely we cannot remain the same people after witnessing a miracle like this!
Sukkot is the one holiday where the Torah outright commands us to rejoice, so let’s redouble our rejoicing. Go out into the street today, find a Chabadnik on the corner, and shake the lulav with him. And this weekend, as we celebrate Simchat Torah, go to your local Chabad and dance like no other time in your life. Dance like you mean it, in preparation for the coming of Moshiach, and thank Hashem for the incredible miracle He did this week, and every single thing He does for us always.