This past Saturday night, as a Reform Jewish community we held a service to observe Tisha B'Av, or the 9th of Av. The 9th of Av recalls a series of tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people over the millennia. For more information about Tisha B'Av check out the articles at MyJewishLearning.com on Tisha B'Av.
Our big challenge as articulated by Rabbi Blake, is how do we observe Tisha B'Av as Reform Jews? The destruction of the Temple marked for the Jewish people a radical shift in how they interacted with their tradition. The Rabbinic reformation created a Judaism that was no longer tied to the Temple Cult, and for many Reform Jews today, they cannot even conceive of a world where the Temple operates as it did 2000 years ago.
My answer throughout the evening, and in my teaching was to consider the experience of national tragedy that Tisha B'Av represents. Tisha B'Av represents those moments where our lives are radically changed and marred by severe tragedy. The book of Lamentations in our Tanach is an written lament that describes the tragedy that was experienced in a post 586 BCE world after the destruction of the first Temple. Lamentations Rabbah was created to respond to the tragedy of the destruction of the second Temple in 70 CE. By writing and expressing the pain of the tragedy in a public form, there is some catharsis and the possibility for hope.
Therefore, I shared a variety of texts that described situations that merited a lament. Those moments that as a people, as an individual, or as a smaller community there was a need to stop and reflect, and hopefully move forward after such intense pain. The texts have been reproduced below to spark your own thoughts about experiences that merit lament. Those experiences that are tragic, and yet have some kernel of hope that things might get better.
Laments through the ages
The Hittite “Prayer of Kantuzilis” Circa 1350 BCE
Would that my god might now freely open his heart and soul to me and tell me my fault so that I might learn about it! . . . My god who was angry and rejected me—let the same god care for me again and grant me life! Would that my god who forsook me might take pity on me!. . . See! I, Kantuzilis, thy servant have asked for mercy and humbled myself.
Lamentations 5:21-22 circa 586 BCE
There is None to Comfort: Lamentations Rabba 1:26, (Buber, pp. 61-2), Soncino, p. 96 Circa 70 CE
She has none to comfort her. Rabbi Levi said: Wherever it says, has none (אין לה), it indicates that there would be in the future.* [For instance], and Sarai was barren; she had no child; [Genesis 11:30] but she did have one later, as it is said, And Adonai remembered Sarah [ibid. 21:1]. Similarly, But Hannah had no children [I Samuel 1:2] she did have them later, as it is said, So Adonai remembered Hannah [ibid. 2:21]. Similarly, She is Zion, there is none that cares for her [Jeremiah 30:17]; but she will have one later, as it is said, And a redeemer will come to Zion [Isaiah 49:20]. In like manner you may say, She has none to comfort her; but she will have later, as it is said, I, even I, am He that comforts you. [Isaiah 51:12].
Beliefs by Peter Steinfels New York Times, August 31, 2002
Where was God on Sept. 11 is an inevitable question because Sept. 11 was exceptional, something confronted. Collectively. It is a necessary and valuable question, however, because it asks about something unexceptional where was God yesterday and where is God today? - and too often confronted alone.
Contemporary religious thinkers are acutely aware that there can be no "good" answer about terrible situations just least-bad answers. The least-bad ones encompass more of one's whole experience of life than the others.
In the case of Sept. 11, not a few voices have answered that God was right in the midst of the horror, especially in the heroism and self-sacrifice.
My fatherland. Cut off from me. Torn by war. No Jews on the streets. A place that is defined by uncertainty. A place that the Jews left 60 years ago. Why did they leave? Why did they leave everything behind? Why did you hear calls for Jewish blood? Some say, because of the new Israeli state. Some say, because of the pogroms of 1941, the Farhoud. Some say, the neighbors they had, for 2500 years suddenly became foreign to them. Yet that place still remains a part of our memory. That place, where Jews wrote the Talmud. That place where Jews had been a partner in building a glorious society. That place between the two rivers. Gone was the partnership. Gone into a century of uncertainty. Gone are the happy Jews in a Muslim country. Did my Great Grandfather not serve in the Turkish Army in World War I? Did my Grandfather not help build the railroad system throughout the country? Did my Great Grandfather not invest in the Iraqi economy to help it grow? Where were these contributions when the Farhoud began? Where were the generations of Muslim and Jewish coexistence when the Moussad smuggled Jews to the fledgling Israeli state? Where was our history, our pride in our country? We had hoped that this war would mark a turning point, that the American troops would change our city into a place which was tolerant and safe. Chanukah candles were lit in Saddam’s palace.An American Iraqi Jewish JAG walked the streets of Baghdad, under armed guard, but could not wander on his own. He experienced his family’s history with his own feet.
The Hittite “Prayer of Kantuzilis” Circa 1350 BCE
Would that my god might now freely open his heart and soul to me and tell me my fault so that I might learn about it! . . . My god who was angry and rejected me—let the same god care for me again and grant me life! Would that my god who forsook me might take pity on me!. . . See! I, Kantuzilis, thy servant have asked for mercy and humbled myself.
Lamentations 5:21-22 circa 586 BCE
כא הֲשִׁיבֵנוּ יְהוָה אֵלֶיךָ ונשוב (וְנָשׁוּבָה), חַדֵּשׁ יָמֵינוּ כְּקֶדֶם.
| 5:21 Turn to us Adonai, and we will return, renew us as in the days of old. |
כב כִּי אִם-מָאֹס מְאַסְתָּנוּ, קָצַפְתָּ עָלֵינוּ עַד-מְאֹד. {ש}
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5:22 Unless You have utterly rejected us And are exceedingly angry with us.
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There is None to Comfort: Lamentations Rabba 1:26, (Buber, pp. 61-2), Soncino, p. 96 Circa 70 CE
אין לה מנחם. א"ר לוי כל מקום שנאמר אין הוה לה, ותהי שרי עקרה אין לה ולד )בראשית י“א:ל‘(, והוה לה, שנאמר וה' פקד את שרה )שם בראשית כ“א :א‘(, ודכוותיה ולחנה אין ילדים )ש"א שמואל א' א:ב‘(, והוה לה, שנאמר כי פקד ה' את חנה וגו' )שם שמואל א' ב‘:כ“א(, ודכוותיה ציון היא דורש אין לה )ירמיה ל‘:י“ח(, והוה לה, שנאמר ובא לציון גואל )ישעיה נ“ט:כ‘( ובא לציון גואל, אף כן את אומר אין לה מנחם, והוה לה, שנא' )ישעיהו נ"א:י“ב( אנכי אנכי הוא מנחמכם.
She has none to comfort her. Rabbi Levi said: Wherever it says, has none (אין לה), it indicates that there would be in the future.* [For instance], and Sarai was barren; she had no child; [Genesis 11:30] but she did have one later, as it is said, And Adonai remembered Sarah [ibid. 21:1]. Similarly, But Hannah had no children [I Samuel 1:2] she did have them later, as it is said, So Adonai remembered Hannah [ibid. 2:21]. Similarly, She is Zion, there is none that cares for her [Jeremiah 30:17]; but she will have one later, as it is said, And a redeemer will come to Zion [Isaiah 49:20]. In like manner you may say, She has none to comfort her; but she will have later, as it is said, I, even I, am He that comforts you. [Isaiah 51:12].
Beliefs by Peter Steinfels New York Times, August 31, 2002
Where was God on Sept. 11 is an inevitable question because Sept. 11 was exceptional, something confronted. Collectively. It is a necessary and valuable question, however, because it asks about something unexceptional where was God yesterday and where is God today? - and too often confronted alone.
Contemporary religious thinkers are acutely aware that there can be no "good" answer about terrible situations just least-bad answers. The least-bad ones encompass more of one's whole experience of life than the others.
In the case of Sept. 11, not a few voices have answered that God was right in the midst of the horror, especially in the heroism and self-sacrifice.
A Lament for Baghdad by Rabbi David Levy, December 2011
My fatherland. Cut off from me. Torn by war. No Jews on the streets. A place that is defined by uncertainty. A place that the Jews left 60 years ago. Why did they leave? Why did they leave everything behind? Why did you hear calls for Jewish blood? Some say, because of the new Israeli state. Some say, because of the pogroms of 1941, the Farhoud. Some say, the neighbors they had, for 2500 years suddenly became foreign to them. Yet that place still remains a part of our memory. That place, where Jews wrote the Talmud. That place where Jews had been a partner in building a glorious society. That place between the two rivers. Gone was the partnership. Gone into a century of uncertainty. Gone are the happy Jews in a Muslim country. Did my Great Grandfather not serve in the Turkish Army in World War I? Did my Grandfather not help build the railroad system throughout the country? Did my Great Grandfather not invest in the Iraqi economy to help it grow? Where were these contributions when the Farhoud began? Where were the generations of Muslim and Jewish coexistence when the Moussad smuggled Jews to the fledgling Israeli state? Where was our history, our pride in our country? We had hoped that this war would mark a turning point, that the American troops would change our city into a place which was tolerant and safe. Chanukah candles were lit in Saddam’s palace.An American Iraqi Jewish JAG walked the streets of Baghdad, under armed guard, but could not wander on his own. He experienced his family’s history with his own feet.
There is progress in Baghdad; there is hope for the future. There is progress; there is free voting and free elections albeit marred by violence. There is progress, US Troops have left.
But today only eight Jews remain. Eight Jews in place of thousands. The streets that my ancestors walked down, when will I be able to wander those streets? When will Baghdad be safe again? When will it be safe for me to visit one of my homes?
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