The following depiction is fictional. But it may not be as far from our reality as we think.

It’s Erev Shabbat, and the streets of Goshen are buzzing with the excitement that accompanies the imminent arrival of the Day of Rest.

For as long as they could remember, the idea of a thriving Jewish life and culture in the foreign lands of exile seemed like the stuff of dreams. For decades, adults lived under the unbearable reality of working every day of every week of their lives. There was little they could do other than comply with the expectations of their government and taskmasters.

And yet, even during the hardest of times – when even the most basic Jewish enlightenment seemed like an impossibility – there remained, in the land of Goshen, a select few whose role was to inspire the masses. The yeshivot, established centuries earlier by Joseph and his descendants, preserved a connection to Jewish tradition and sustained a spiritual backbone for the community.

Then, everything changed.

A messenger arrived in Egypt with a message of hope and faith. He stood boldly against the government and, with the help of God, sparked a revolution against the tyrannical regime. As the tides of Egypt shifted before their eyes, life began to feel almost magical. The Jews of Goshen experienced a renaissance of connection and spirituality.

What had once been reserved for a few devoted individuals was now accessible to the masses. Men and women who had spent their days in labor suddenly found themselves with access to Jewish learning. Freed from the relentless demands of backbreaking work, they could finally pray, reflect, and reconnect with their spiritual core.

As each miraculous event unfolded, more houses of study opened. More schools were established to teach children about their heritage. Kosher restaurants opened, offering not just sustenance but culture. While the broader Egyptian society faltered, Jewish life in Goshen flourished.

Slowly, the Jews of Goshen began to distance themselves from the identity of their ancestors – those who could barely whisper, “When will redemption come?” They walked proudly to their synagogues, singing “Next year in Jerusalem” with smiles on their faces.

And then came wealth.

In fulfillment of ancient promises, the Jews of Goshen acquired unimaginable riches. A people who had once been ridiculed became among the most comfortable and affluent in Egyptian society. Goshen transformed into a golden suburb – prosperous, vibrant, and secure.

And so the synagogues, temples, and shuls of Goshen continued their rhythm. They prayed. They learned. They supported one another.

The Young Israel of Goshen, led by respected figures, became a beacon for the surrounding community. A beautiful building. Thriving children’s groups. Teenagers who embodied the promise of the future.

And on that Erev Shabbat, with the scent of Egyptian delicacies filling the air, as men gathered for their pre-Shabbat l’chaim and charcuterie boards, rumors began to spread.

“Did you hear? Soon we’ll be sacrificing the lamb. We’re finally going to leave.”

“Leave? Since when are we leaving? I thought we’d be carried out on the wings of eagles.”

“Leave? My children are thriving here. I’ve heard the desert is dangerous – people lose their way.”

“Leave? What about my job? We’re finally making a living.”

“Leave? What about safety? I heard in the Promised Land our children might have to join an army.”

The proud and inspired members of the Young Israel of Goshen never made it out of Egypt.

As 20% of the Jewish people crossed the sea – witnessing open miracles and experiencing divine revelation in ways no prophet ever had – the Jews of Goshen stayed behind.

They checked their scrolls – and scrolled.

Videos of Jews dancing on distant shores. Images of destruction that somehow spared those on the journey. Reports of battles. Stories of heroism. Between kugel and Egyptian whiskey, they shared updates, spoke proudly of distant relatives, and carried on.

Calls went out across Goshen to send care packages -socks, snacks, handwritten notes:

“We are so proud of you. We are thinking of you.”

But over time, they grew tired.

Tired of the repetition. Tired of the same prayers. Tired of the same sermons about doing “our part.” Eventually, they began investing their vacation time elsewhere – deeper into the attractive landscape of Egypt, carving out new communities that were affordable, attractive and primed to to the next great community of Egypt. A few times a year, they needed a break.

A trip to Israel? It was discussed. Considered. But the urgency faded. The excitement dulled.

A new development along the Nile seemed like a better investment.

And so the Young Israel of Goshen – and the entire Jewish community it represented – was lost to history.

All our lives, we are taught that only one-fifth of the Jewish people left Egypt. That four-fifths were lost – assimilated, immersed in Egyptian culture and idolatry.

But perhaps there is another possibility.

Perhaps among those who stayed behind were good Jews. Committed Jews. Families and communities who built beautiful lives – but who simply could not see the forest for the trees.

The eagles are here, wings outstretched, ready to carry Jews home.

Whether or not the mythical creatures of redemption await us is beside the point.

If you are waiting for miracles – look at the news. Speak to your friends and family in Israel. Ask them about the everyday miracles that unfold, even in the absence of war.

If you are waiting for a sign from God – look around. The world is shifting before our eyes.

But the greatest tragedy would be to miss the moment entirely.

To fail to pause -even for a second -and recognize the opportunity standing before us.

L’shana haba b’Yerushalayim.

© The Times of Israel (Blogs)