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July 23, 2004
Should we still be mourning?
While Jews experience losses and there is danger, we can have
hope.
LESLI KOPPELMAN ROSS SPECIAL TO THE JEWISH BULLETIN
Most modern Jews find it difficult to relate to the ancient tragedy
we commemorate on Tisha b'Av (the ninth day of the month
of Av, this year coinciding with July 27), the destruction of the
Temple and Jerusalem (in 586 BCE and again in 70 CE). For one thing,
we have a more contemporary, far more gruesome destruction to contend
with, with its own day of mourning – Yom Hashoah, Holocaust
Remembrance Day. Perhaps more basically, few Jews desire a return
to the rituals of Temple life, and the fact that we have regained
sovereignty lessens, for many, the commemoration's import.
Yet anyone who doubts the continuing relevance of this fast day
needs look no further than recent events and the current situation
of the Jews in the world.
To put them in context, consider for a moment the multitude of additional
disasters that, amazingly, also took place throughout history on
this one date – a sad pattern of our life among the nations.
(And reason, no doubt, that the more removed in time from the initial
cause of the observance, the more stringent and numerous the Jewish
people's mourning practices became.) On the ninth of Av occurred
the 1190 slaughter of the Jews of York (England), the 1290 decree
by King Edward that all Jews be expelled from the country, the 1305
imprisonment of France's Jews and imposition of a one-month deadline
to leave the country, the 1492 expulsion of Spain's Jews, the ghettoization
of the Jews of Rome in 1555 and of Florence in 1571, the expulsion
from Mantua in 1630 and Vienna in 1670, the beginning of a two-week
pogrom in Padua in 1684, the 1929 Arab attack over access to the
Western Wall, the start of deportation from the Warsaw Ghetto to
Treblinka in 1942....
Less than two months after Tisha b'Av 2000, the Palestinians launched
their second intifada. Terrorist tactics and the rhetoric of hatred
and censure of Israel by much of the world jolted Israelis and Diaspora
Jews to the reality that our homeland could again be lost; until
recently, thoughts of the possibility of another destruction were
not uncommon. Now, after almost four years of violence, with strategic
victories on their side, Israelis no longer feel an existential
threat. Yet the eruption of anti-Semitism in country after country,
from government offices to the streets, threatens Jewish life around
the globe.
When we mourn the destruction of God's ancient earthly abode –
which is what the Temple represented – we mourn not only an
ancient physical loss, but an ongoing and certainly contemporary
reality. Our place among the nations is still a contentious one;
there are still those who would destroy us, eliminate us from the
world entirely. We may have regained our independence, but we have
been unable to establish peace over Jerusalem or Israel, let alone
the universal peace that guarantees a life of dignity, self-sufficiency
and mutual respect to all. We have not effected a spiritual reconciliation
to accompany our renewed sovereignty over the land, nor have we
been able to achieve unity (regardless of the United Jewish Appeal
slogan, "One People") that the Temple, as a national symbol
and gathering place, promoted. Until we arrive at the quality of
life promised in the prophetic vision of restoration, there is reason
to grieve.
That doesn't mean we should spend the day weeping and moaning as
Jews of past centuries often did. In fact, in their determination
of how to best observe the day embodying national disaster, the
rabbis sought to incorporate appropriate expressions of loss while
affirming the traditional Jewish faith that out of tragedy comes
possibility, out of exile comes redemption, a pattern intrinsically
hopeful. (So they claimed that the day of the Temple's destruction
is also the day of the Messiah's birth.) The sustaining lesson we
learned through catastrophe (after catastrophe) is that in the aftermath
of tragedy – an unavoidable part of an imperfect life –
we move forward, perhaps in a different manner, but guided by the
same values toward an unchanging goal.
Mourning not for the sake of grief, but to focus on identifying
what is wrong and determining how to right it, turns the experience
into a cathartic and constructive one. That is the purpose of the
day: to momentarily retreat from the imperfect present, the imperfect
world, to step back and indulge in dissatisfaction with it, and
then step forward and take action that will lead to positive change.
Tisha b'Av allows us to experience loss for what was and what might
have been, individually and collectively. If used well, it can help
us create what can be, personally and communally.
For example, among the conditions the rabbis cited as having brought
down the Temple (there were many, some with uncomfortable resonance
in our own time: neglecting to educate the children, prevalence
of murder and incest, desecration of the Sabbath, standing idly
by the perpetration of evil, etc.), senseless hatred is the most
often cited. In those times, even the position of spiritual leadership,
Kohain Gadol (High Priest), went to the highest bidder.
In our communities and institutions today, is the situation much
different than it was at the end of the Second Temple? Who gets
the greatest honors in the synagogue, the top positions on organization
boards? Should we be pressing to add requirements for character,
and maybe scholarship, so that along with the necessary financial
leadership we have the intellectual, spiritual and moral leadership
models and direction critical for long-term success?
Rabbi Levi Yitzhak of Berditchev, the Chassidic master, said that
we cannot expect to achieve the "rebuilt Jerusalem" of
our collective dream until we eliminate from among ourselves those
destructive forces that devastated Jerusalem. All of them (idolatry,
adultery, murder, hatred, ignorance) represent turnings away from
the Jewish way of life.
The widely cited Chinese character for crisis – combining the
symbols for both danger and opportunity – echoes the leitmotif
of Jewish existence (out of exile, redemption) and sums up the history
and meaning of Tisha b'Av. In past generations, emphasis was on
the danger, because the Jews continually suffered loss and persecution.
Never before the modern era, because of the political and cultural
environments in which they lived, could the Jews act on the hopeful
aspect of crisis. While we still grieve our tremendous losses, and
recognize the danger both within our divided community and from
outside enemies, we can seize the opportunity to take bold, positive
steps forward.
This article is adapted from The Lifetime Guide to the Jewish
Holidays: Abundant Ways to Bring the Joy, Meaning and Relevance
of Celebration into Your Home and Heart Year After Year by Lesli
Koppelman Ross (Jewish Legacy Press, 2003).
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