I still remember the scent of damp stone and clay in the schoolhouse where I first heard Daniel speak. I was a scribe’s apprentice, barely thirteen, with ink-stained fingers and a head full of questions. Babylon – the great empire – was all I’d ever known. The Hebrews had been there for generations after King Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king who conquered Jerusalem, destroyed the Temple – our holy place of worship – and forced us into exile.
But Daniel was different from the other elders. He had walked with kings, interpreted dreams no one could understand, and carried a quiet strength that silenced a room. His voice, when he spoke, wasn’t loud—but it held weight.
That day, something had rattled him.
“I saw them in a vision,” he said to the group gathered by candlelight. “Four great beasts rising from the sea—each one different. One like a lion with eagle’s wings. Then a bear. Then a leopard with four wings. And the fourth…”
He paused then, staring into the flame.
“The fourth was too terrible to compare to any living thing. With iron teeth, it crushed everything beneath it. Ten horns…and then, a little one with eyes and arrogant words.”
I didn’t understand it. Not then. But I remember the room going silent.
“Each beast,” Daniel explained, “is a kingdom. The lion is Babylon. The bear, another that will rise after. The leopard—swift, with many rulers. And the last…”
He looked at me. Right at me.
“It will be worse than them all.”
I tried to keep writing, but my hand shook. Babylon had conquered many lands. We thought it would never fall. But Daniel said it would—and so would the ones after it.
“But then came the One like a son of man,” Daniel continued, his voice changing. “He came before the Ancient of Days—G-d Himself. And to him was given authority, glory, and an everlasting kingdom that will never be destroyed.”
Everyone exhaled, as if we’d been holding our breath.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay under my mat, staring at the stars through the wooden slats of the roof. Could it be true? The pride of Babylon, the endless rule of kings—it all seemed so strong, so real. But if Daniel’s vision was right, it was only dust waiting to fall.
Years passed. Kingdoms rose: the Medes and Persians came just as Daniel said. I watched the bear replace the lion. By the time the leopard—the Greeks—swept through with Alexander, I had children of my own.
But I clung to what Daniel said about the fourth beast. Rome was rising, cruel and iron-toothed.
Still, I held onto the end of the vision: one kingdom that would never fall.
That hope—the promise of G-d’s final justice—lit a fire in me. I no longer feared the rise and fall of kings. Because I knew who held history in His hands.
I was just a scribe’s apprentice once. But Daniel’s vision taught me to see beyond empires—to trust in a kingdom yet to come.
I still remember the scent of damp stone and clay in the schoolhouse where I first heard Daniel speak. I was a scribe’s apprentice, barely thirteen, with ink-stained fingers and a head full of questions. Babylon – the great empire – was all I’d ever known. The Hebrews had been there for generations after King Nebuchadnezzar, the Babylonian king who conquered Jerusalem, destroyed the Temple – our holy place of worship – and forced us into exile.
But Daniel was different from the other elders. He had walked with kings, interpreted dreams no one could understand, and carried a quiet strength that silenced a room. His voice, when he spoke, wasn’t loud—but it held weight.
That day, something had rattled him.
“I saw them in a vision,” he said to the group gathered by candlelight. “Four great beasts rising from the sea—each one different. One like a lion with eagle’s wings. Then a bear. Then a leopard with four wings. And the fourth…”
He paused then, staring into the flame.
“The fourth was too terrible to compare to any living thing. With iron teeth, it crushed everything beneath it. Ten horns…and then, a little one with eyes and arrogant words.”
I didn’t understand it. Not then. But I remember the room going silent.
“Each beast,” Daniel explained, “is a kingdom. The lion is Babylon. The bear, another that will rise after. The leopard—swift, with many rulers. And the last…”
He looked at me. Right at me.
“It will be worse than them all.”
I tried to keep writing, but my hand shook. Babylon had conquered many lands. We thought it would never fall. But Daniel said it would—and so would the ones after it.
“But then came the One like a son of man,” Daniel continued, his voice changing. “He came before the Ancient of Days—G-d Himself. And to him was given authority, glory, and an everlasting kingdom that will never be destroyed.”
Everyone exhaled, as if we’d been holding our breath.
That night, I couldn’t sleep. I lay under my mat, staring at the stars through the wooden slats of the roof. Could it be true? The pride of Babylon, the endless rule of kings—it all seemed so strong, so real. But if Daniel’s vision was right, it was only dust waiting to fall.
Years passed. Kingdoms rose: the Medes and Persians came just as Daniel said. I watched the bear replace the lion. By the time the leopard—the Greeks—swept through with Alexander, I had children of my own.
But I clung to what Daniel said about the fourth beast. Rome was rising, cruel and iron-toothed.
Still, I held onto the end of the vision: one kingdom that would never fall.
That hope—the promise of G-d’s final justice—lit a fire in me. I no longer feared the rise and fall of kings. Because I knew who held history in His hands.
I was just a scribe’s apprentice once. But Daniel’s vision taught me to see beyond empires—to trust in a kingdom yet to come.
