I spend much of my time speaking to groups of Jews and Christians across America. In every talk, I make the same argument: we are living through the fulfillment of biblical prophecy, through miracles our great-grandparents only dreamed of seeing. The return of Israel from exile, the great ingathering prophesied in Deuteronomy 30 and throughout the books of the prophets. The blossoming desert Isaiah foretold. Jewish sovereignty restored after millennia of foreign domination. The evidence surrounds us.
To me, these miracles are blazingly obvious. What a privilege to witness such an extraordinary time! What a gift to see ancient words realized before our eyes.
Yet if I’m honest, most people don’t share my excitement. Even believers—both Jews and Christians who love Israel—remain surprisingly unmoved. They nod politely. They acknowledge the facts. But they don’t feel the fire.
How can they miss it? How do people see these events and shrug?
The psalmist writes in Psalm 74:16:
The Sages understood this verse as describing two kinds of miracles God performs. When He grants us “daytime miracles,” we sing by day. When He grants us “nighttime miracles,” we sing by night.
What separates a daytime miracle from one that happens in darkness?
A daytime miracle leaves no room for doubt. When the Red Sea split, even nursing babies lifted their heads from their mothers’ breasts and burst into song the instant the Divine presence became visible. No one questioned what they were seeing. No one needed convincing. The miracle announced itself in brilliant, unmistakable light.
But we also need songs for miracles that unfold in the dark—in moments when events remain murky and ambiguous. These are not miracles we can celebrate in broad daylight. The wonders are real, but they come wrapped in pain and confusion. Yet we are still called to sing for them, even as we strain to see clearly.
The miracles unfolding in Israel today are astounding. In just two years, Israel has systematically defeated its enemies on seven fronts. Iran—the great regional threat—was brought to its knees in twelve days, its ballistic missile capabilities crippled, its nuclear ambitions destroyed in coordinated strikes with American forces. Inside Israel itself, an unprecedented religious revival is sweeping the nation. Israelis by the tens of thousands are returning to God, to prayer, to Torah study in ways we haven’t seen in generations.
These are genuine miracles. Yet they are miracles of the dark.
They came with unbearable costs. We lost so many innocent souls on October 7th. We lost soldiers defending the nation. Even in the Iran campaign—militarily spectacular, strategically decisive—29 civilians died. That number is remarkably small given the scale of the attack, but every life lost carries infinite weight. And so our vision clouds. The pain obscures the wonder. It becomes harder to see God’s hand clearly.
This is why people miss the miracles right in front of them. Not because the miracles aren’t happening, but because darkness makes seeing difficult.
But why does God do this? If the whole point is for humanity to recognize Him, why not make it obvious? Why not perform open miracles right now that would stop all the blindness and confusion? Why hide His presence in ways that let people miss the most extraordinary events in thousands of years?
Nachmanides explains that open miracles would compel humanity to acknowledge God. If God’s presence were undeniable, human beings would have no choice but to believe. Faith would disappear, replaced by coercion. Free will—essential for genuine moral choice, for real reward and punishment, for meaningful commandments—would collapse.
The goal of creation itself demands this hiddenness. God formed humanity so we would know Him, thank Him, and declare our dependence on Him through the choices we make. This only works when divine providence operates within nature, veiled enough to require discernment.
This is why prophecies fulfilled today appear “natural.” The ingathering of exiles looks like immigration policy and airline tickets. The desert blooming looks like agricultural technology. Even military victories that defy all strategic logic get explained away as tactical competence or enemy incompetence.
The miracles of the dark aren’t a flaw in God’s plan. They are the plan. They are the entire purpose.
God could perform a daytime miracle this instant and make His presence undeniable. He chooses not to. Because the whole point of this physical world is for humanity to recognize God within the darkness, through the fog of natural-seeming events. To choose, with free will intact, to acknowledge that the Master of the Universe is at work.
And God has chosen to accomplish this revelation through the people and land of Israel.
This makes Israel the central stage of human history. What happens here matters for everyone, not just Jews. When the nations learn to see the miracles unfolding in Israel—miracles hidden in pain, obscured by complexity, easy to miss if you’re not paying attention—they learn to see God Himself.
This is why it is critical for people to open their eyes. To look carefully at what is truly happening. To come to Israel and witness these events firsthand, to walk the land where prophecies are coming to life. Israel365 offers tours that help people make these connections, that train the eye to see what others miss.
We all live in the dark. We all face moments when God’s presence seems hidden, when pain obscures blessing, when the right path isn’t obvious. Learning to sing in those moments—to recognize the hand of God even when it’s not plainly visible—is true faith.
Israel teaches that lesson every day. The nation itself is a song sung in darkness, a miracle wrapped in ambiguity, a divine presence that demands discernment to see.
The world needs to learn this song. Because once you can see the hidden miracles in Israel, you can see God anywhere.
