In the opening of Sefer Vayikra, there’s a quiet but powerful message hidden in the very first word. The Torah says “Vayikra el Moshe”—“And He called to Moshe.” But the word Vayikra is written with a small alef.

The Ba’al HaTurim explains: Moshe, in his deep humility, didn’t want to write that Hashem called to him lovingly and intimately. He preferred to write vayikar, the same term used when Hashem appeared to Bilam—a term that implies a casual, almost accidental encounter. But Hashem insisted on vayikra—a deliberate, personal, compassionate calling. As a compromise, Moshe wrote the word with a miniature alef, whispering humility into a moment of Divine love.

But this isn’t just about Moshe. It’s about us.

We live in a world of hester panim, where the Presence of Hashem often feels distant or hidden. Life can seem like a series of chance events. Coincidences. Randomness. Vayikar.

But the truth—the hidden truth—is that behind the curtain of randomness is a loving, compassionate Vayikra. Hashem is always calling. Always guiding. We just don’t always hear it.

The Zohar teaches that the letter aleph is a symbol of Hashem’s oneness and the Divine light in the world. In exile, that light is diminished—a small alef. But in the time of Geula, the alef grows. The light returns. The mikra becomes a kri’ah. The hidden turns into the revealed.

The small alef of exile becomes the radiant alef of redemption.

Geula is not just a change in world events—it’s a shift in perception. It’s the moment when we realize that what seemed like chance was, in fact, a loving call. That Hashem was never far. That He was always guiding us—with compassion, with purpose, and with love.

And maybe, just maybe, the journey toward Geula begins when we look at our lives, see that small alef, and recognize that even in the quiet, even in the dark, Hashem is calling.