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July 14, 2023 (25 Tammuz 5783) To Mourn or Not to Mourn?
Dear Friends, I hope this correspondence finds you doing well and enjoying the summer, which already feels like it is flying by, at least to me. Please join us this Saturday morning for in-person services, which will take place at 10:15am in our sanctuary and be available on our regular Zoom prayer link. We would also like to thank Elaine Lyubomirsky for sponsoring this week's Kiddush in honor & memory of her mother, Sulima Khimishman z"l. While many of us may be traveling and sharing time of leisure, it behooves us to note that, on the Jewish calendar, we are entrenched in a reflective, mournful time of year, often referred to as The Three Weeks. This term refers to the period of time between the Fast of the 17th of Tammuz and our observance of the Fast of Tisha B’Av. During this timeframe, we reflect upon the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. In Hebrew, the period of the Three Weeks is known as “Bein Hametzarim,” or, literally, “Within the Straits,” a name that originates from a verse in the Book of Lamentations and reminds us of the liminality of that historical epoch experienced by our ancestors. During the last nine days of the period, foods traditionally associated with joy, such as wine and meat, are forbidden, except on Shabbat. Bathing is restricted, as are doing laundry and buying or wearing new clothes. All of this culminates in the Fast of Tisha B’Av, a day spent entirely in mourning, by fasting, praying, sitting on stools or on the floor instead of on chairs, and chanting the mournful tune of the Book of Lamentations along with elegies called Kinnot. Please allow me to share some ideas regarding this year’s Tisha B’Av commemoration and its existential place within the domain of mourning, as well as its application in contemporary Jewish religious life. Many would argue that concomitant with the establishment of the modern State of Israel in 1948, mourning on Tisha B’Av is confusing. Why should one lament the ancient destruction of a religious building, given the flourishing, thriving, and miraculous nature of every aspect of Medinat Israel? Am I compelled to mourn or not to mourn? Based on historical and Halachic perspectives, during the period of the Second Temple, citizens of the land, in deference to the destruction of the First Temple, did, in fact, observe Tisha B’Av (see Mishnah Rosh Hashanah 1:3, Bavli Ta’anit13a, Tosefta Ta’anit 3:6, ed. Lieberman). If those ancestors, who were standing in the midst of the Godly presence of the Second Beit HaMikdash, fasted in memory of the First Temple, shouldn’t we do so now, irrespective of national sovereignty? From a current perspective, one could argue that lamenting and fasting over the past loss of sovereignty, which the destruction of the Temples represents, is something that should be reflected upon, given the social, economic, political, military, and religious unrest that threatens to fragment and divide our Jewish State. Perhaps, this year, it is more timely than ever to consider how precarious and precious our Jewish homeland is, especially when considering that it was founded upon the principles of Democracy and true Torah values. In spite of the fact that this is an emotionally muted time of year, we can also see glimpses of the optimistic nature of Judaism in the cycle of ten Haftarot readings that take place between Tisha B’Av and the High Holy Days. During this ten-week period, from the 17th of Tammuz until Rosh HaShannah, the first three Haftaroth are taken from the Book of Isaiah and are called the Haftaroth of Rebuke. Within these texts, we read of our shortcomings as a nation and as individuals. However, for the next seven weeks, we read passages from Jeremiah that are called the Haftaroth of Consolation. Even when we pause for self-reflection and accounting of our souls, even when faced with challenges and mourning, Judaism always allows the experience of our shortcomings and our suffering to ultimately be overcome by messages of hope, redemption, joy, and gratitude. Allow me to conclude with a Tisha B’Av experience from my youth, in memory of a beloved mentor and teacher. Cantor Justin Fromm was originally from Germany and worked in my Shul growing up. Cantor Fromm was incredibly observant, an expert Torah reader, and a man who feared God. As the Bar Mitzvah teacher, he took great pride in the Bimah accomplishments of many students in my high school class. Devotedly, he walked back to the Shul, every Shabbat in the middle of the afternoon, where he stayed for the day in order to teach a Shiur (rabbinic text lesson) to only three students: my friend, Ron, my brother, Joel, and I. When I completed my Bar Mitzvah studies, he presented to me a fully annotated book of the Kinnot. The poems were full of lament and sadness, as the texts painted an impactful image of Yerushalayim’s destruction and anguish. Nonetheless, his personal inscription, delicately hand-written in block letters on the inner cover of the book, communicated to a young teen a religious message I will never forget. He pointed out that the goal of Tisha B’Av was to mourn and feel the pain of others, even our ancient predecessors. He suggested that only by deep empathy and absorbing tragic loss can one fully embrace joy, blessing, and life. The inscription concluded by saying, “May this be the very last time you ever use this Book. Next year, by the merit of your feeling the sadness of our people, and then studying Torah, the Mashiach will surely come, and all suffering will be turned to joy.” Therefore, when pondering the question of “to mourn or not to mourn,” this Tisha B’Av, I will respond by mourning, fasting, and reading ancient texts of despair. Then, I will arise from the floor, knowing that together, in a holy community, we are carrying forward our traditions in anticipation of HaShem’s promised redemption. May Shabbat offer us a taste of that beauty. Shabbat Shalom, Rabbi Eric L. Wasser, EdD, Hon.DM
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