“So said the Lord God, when I gather in the House of Israel from the nations among which they have been dispersed, and will be sanctified by them in the eyes of the nations, and they will dwell on their land which I had given to my servant Yaakov.” (Yechezkel 28:25)

The navi, in this initial verse of the haftarah for Parashat Va’eira, is expressing a fundamental concept: Kiddush Hashem. This is defined not in eschatological terms, but in the framework of the Jewish people returning to their land, a fulfillment of a promise made by God to the Patriarchs at the dawn of Jewish history. The following verse embodies a rather mundane framework for actions which will sanctify the name of God: “and they will dwell on it securely and build houses and plant vineyards…and they will know that I am the Lord their God.” It is the very return of the Jewish people to their homeland to engage in the everyday work of building and planting that constitutes a manifestation of God’s revelation in history, no less so than the wondrous plagues recorded in this week’s parashah.

Why, one may ask, is that so? Would the sanctification of God’s name not be more manifest with overt miracles, a type of cosmic shock and awe that would validate God’s eternal truth? Perhaps. But our task is both subtle and complex – to see the hand of God in history not only in hindsight, but also while caught up in the daily currents that, at times, threaten to inundate us. Our task, which is both difficult and subject to our succumbing to the simplistic, requires a keen eye and a sensitive soul. One is required, as the navi declares, to live in the land, to build and plant, then come to the realization that “I am the Lord their God.”

The Netziv, in his introduction to Sefer Bemidbar, contrasts the lifestyle of the generation of the Exodus with that of the generation which entered the Land of Israel. The former experienced Divine providence openly, with ongoing miracles, whereas the latter experienced more subtle providential manifestations. “Only one who looks carefully would be cognizant of it (providence), as is one who walks in the darkness of the night (and requires a good eye not to stumble).” The metaphor of a dark night is striking, as the Netziv quotes Bereishit Rabbah: “ ‘and God separated between the light and between the darkness’ – this refers to Sefer Bemidbar, which separates between those who left Egypt and those who entered the Land.”

To live an everyday life, building and planting, and in these mundane actions live out God’s promise to return His people to the land He promised to their forefathers, constitutes the greatest Kiddush Hashem. The discerning eye will see the hand of God where others may fail to see anything of religious significance. Our task is to be both sensitive and discerning, and in that way, appreciate the significance of all that we experience.