As the pyramids did for the Egyptians, certain Israeli rental contracts include assurances about the afterlife. Using something called a “Messiah Clause,” the contracts stipulate that, in the event of the coming of the Moshiach, or Jewish redeemer, the lease “may be immediately terminated at the will of the landlord.” Relying on the concept of the “Ingathering of the Exiles,” the clause guarantees owners living spaces when, upon the Messiah’s arrival, zealous and happily redeemed Jews flock to the Holy Land and quickly overpopulate it.

Most renters faced with the clause nonchalantly sign, shrugging off its fruition as a remote possibility at best. Others feel safe to sign owing to the months-long occupancy grace period they are guaranteed in the event of eviction. Still, some, facing leases with more urgent eviction terms than their neighbors, are disquieted and disturbed by a lack of consideration that seems incongruous with an era that will, presumably, be characterized by global peace and Jewish unity.

Putting aside the particulars of each contract, the overarching concept invites legal scrutiny because, of course, the world has a long history of false messiahs. After all, for the Jews, Jesus — the accepted savior of a global majority — is one such false redeemer. So what happens in the event of a dispute over a messiah’s authenticity? Enter the contractual specification that the redeemer be recognized by a Jewish majority.

Despite the relative novelty status of the Messiah Clause, preparing for the End of Days and Messianic Era is a time-worn Jewish tradition. Many behaviors, as well as the worldviews that motivate and inform them, center on one’s faith in “reward in the world-to-come.” 

Several Israeli organizations have been founded around Messianic Era preparedness. The Jerusalem-based Temple Institute, acting on faith in the imminence of the Messianic Era, aims to “restore Temple consciousness” through a number of educational and practical efforts, including the fabrication of Temple-ready vessels and the raising of a red heifer, the ashes of which are necessary for the biblical-level purity that allows for complete Temple grounds access and altar usage.

In an even more concrete step and in partnership with the Third Temple Academy, in 2009, the Temple Institute opened a field school for the training of Kohanim, or priests, and Levites in Temple service. Demonstrations of the daily service, enacted in strict accordance with biblical prescriptions, were made at the school’s opening in 2013. What’s more, in 2015, the school performed an authentic re-enactment of the Passover sacrifice, the first such demonstration in 2,000 years.

Of course, fervor around the Messianic Era is not reserved for the Jewish community. Since the dawn of religion, practitioners of various traditions have engaged in mostly intellectual and spiritual preparations for the afterlife, and American Evangelicals, in particular, focus intently on preparedness for the rapture. Nonetheless, the Jews’ preparations and the Messiah Clause, in particular, bear a uniquely tangible — and fascinating — quality. 

What does it imply, exactly, to seek roots and permanent habitation according to the legal dictates of this world while simultaneously imagining and anticipating its end? What does it mean to contractually obligate anything in advance of an era that may be characterized by utter apathy to the current world order? I’m uncertain as to whether it’s a confounding or gorgeous convergence of total faith in things unseen and frenzied reliance on pen-and-ink, but it seems to represent an intersection belonging to the profoundly faithful among us.

The fact is, with only biblical prophecy and the conjecture of religious leaders upon which to rely for sketches of the next world, the level of zeal surrounding the associated legal and spiritual preparations is astonishing. Perhaps it’s all a safety net, just in case the scriptural forecast ends up being correct, but what a statement of faith, nonetheless. 

Ben Franklin once said, “The way to see by faith is to shut the eye of reason,” but perhaps, in the crowded streets of Jerusalem, there’s room for both.