Hoshana Rabbah is Today.

In some ways, the crescendo of this special season of holidays. It arrives more quietly - with not as much fanfare as the others, yet we have learned that it's the day of final sealing of everything we've been praying, refining, and becoming since Rosh Hashanah - a very auspicious day. It contains the last echo of Rosh Hashana and Yom Kippur's song and cry, with solidity and clarity. It is a day where the soul stands bare and says: This is who I choose to be now.

If Yom Kippur is compared to a day we meet God in heaven, Hoshana Rabbah is the day heaven meets us on earth.

Hoshana Rabah is called "the day of final signatures" - when what has been written in the Book of Life becomes sealed not just in heaven, but in REALITY. The prayers of your lips become the movements of your life. The unseen becomes visible, the infinite starts taking shape into form.

And this year, the Jewish people feel it in our bones. The air shifted. The wind returned. "Mashiv haruach u'morid Ha'geshem" - God brings back the wind and draws down the rain. ( A prayer we begin saying again today.) Spirit returning. Blessing descending. Shefa (abundance) overflowing. It's not just a verse we say- it's what we're living.

Because just as the world turns toward renewal, we watched life itself return - precious hostages stepping again into the Holy Land, breath reentering lungs so many people prayed for, cried for, longed for. The wind is moving again through our people. The breath of God, unmistakable, stirring grief and relief all at once.

And yet - it's not fully complete. It is so heartbreakingly glorious and so heartbreakingly devastating. Not everyone is home. So many lives were lost. So many lives were found. The ache is still here. The story still unfolding.

This is the wisdom I've been feeling inside of Hoshana Rabbah to stand, holding both, being with all of it, inside the "not yet," and know that it is holy.

To understand the same rain that nourishes also falls as endless tears. That the work of this day is not to escape contradiction, but to embody and Be with it, to stay open, awake, trembling, real, happy, grieving, alive, real.

Because on Hoshana Rabbah, we don't ask just for surface level comfort - we ask for deep soul alignment - the deepest comfort that is. We ask to be vessels wide enough for both pain and promise, to carry the world's ache without shutting our hearts to its miracles. To me, that feels redemptive. A collection of the parts, returning Home.

So today, if you choose to say the traditional Hoshana Raba prayers of: Hosha Na -"save us" - You may choose to feel inside that it's not a plea from despair. It's a declaration of faith that salvation is already moving. That the wind is already returning. That even what feels unfinished is part of redemption beginning to breathe.

Redemption beginning to breathe. The winds of redemption beginning to move. The rain of redemption beginning to fall.

On Hoshana Raba, we learn that the gates close and our prayers are sealed inside. The gates are closing, yes - but only to preserve what's true. May we merit and choose that what is false falls away; what is real remains.

So let the wind move through you. Let the rain soften you. Let the ache be prayer and the gratitude be fire.

This is Hoshana Rabbah - the day the veil thins, the day heaven breathes through you, the day the soul remembers: We are the wind returning. We are the rain descending. We are the prayer becoming real. We are the infinite remembering ourselves in form.

This is the essence of Hoshana Rabbah - to stand at the edge of what is known, hearts wide open, praying: save us, heal us, awaken us. Choosing to save ourselves, to heal ourselves, and to awaken. All at the same time. It's the final plea and the quiet knowing all at once. The moment when you realize that prayer isn't just asking for things - it's remembering who you are.

The wind returns. The rain descends. The breath moves again.

May today's wind carry comfort to every soul whose journey is still not over. Every soul who's been through unspeakable things. Every soul flying high, who returned to its creator. May the rain soften the hardened places within us. The Illusion of separation: from each other, our creator, ourselves. May we become the vessels through which redemption breathes itself into being.

Because maybe "Mashiv Haruach" is not only about the sky. Maybe it's about us - returning the wind, the breath, the spirit - to one another. Becoming the gust that carries each other home.

When I was praying (very early this morning) after seeing the incredible news, I had a conversation with God. I had a conversation with my soul. And this is what came through. Maybe it will be a balm for you too. I made sure to write it down, so I could remember and share it with you.

A letter from the Piece of God in me, to the Piece of God in you:

Dear Child, you are not alone in your ache and in your celebration. You are not alone in your hope. You are living inside a moment of Me - raw, unfinished, perfect, "imperfect", radiant, incredibly special.

So breathe. Sing when you can. Cry when you must. And remember: every soul that returns, every tear that falls, every heartbeat that dares to love again - is another piece of Me coming home.

I love you. Love, Rivky