Tisha B'Av
"You Comfort Me in Vain"
A Clarification of the
Connection Between Pesach and Tish'a be-Av
Rav Elyakim Krumbein
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"'Satisfy me with maror (bitter herbs)' - This refers to the
first day of the festival of Pesach, the day on which we eat
[the Paschal sacrifice] 'on matzot and maror'; 'Satiate me
with wormwood' - Just as you satisfied Me on the first night
of Pesach, so should you satiate Me on the night of Tish'a be-
Av, with wormwood. Hence the night [of the week] on which
Pesach begins is the same night [of the week] as Tish'a be-
Av." (Eikha Rabba 3:5, and also the beginning of 18).
The midrash is commenting on the fact that Pesach and
Tish'a be-Av always fall on the same day of the week.
Although the Beit Ha-Levi concludes in his responsa (Derush 2)
that "there seems to be no practical difference as to which
day it falls," the midrash nevertheless appears to indicate a
qualitative connection between the two. This question is
discussed further on in the Beit Ha-Levi, Derush 4, as well as
in the commentary of the midrash on the spot. Let us take the
midrash a step further and add our own contribution.
| The Significance of the Maror on Pesach Night |
In both the Written and the Oral Law, we make a
distinction between the Pesach sacrifice as commemorated in
Egypt and the Pesach sacrifice of all future generations.
Which of them is the "real" Pesach? A superficial
consideration of the two would lead us to the conclusion that
the real Pesach was that of the Exodus, the sacrifice in the
merit of which - according to the well-known midrash - our
forefathers came out of Egypt, while the Paschal sacrifice of
all future generations is simply a commemoration of that first
Pesach. However, this perception contradicts the explicit
wording of the text: "And you shall tell your son on that day
saying, 'Because of THIS God did for me when I came out of
Egypt'" (Shemot 13:8) - i.e., "in order that I should fulfill
His commandments, including this Paschal sacrifice, this matza
and this maror" (Rashi). From here it would appear that the
whole purpose of the exodus from Egypt was in order that the
Paschal sacrifice should be offered throughout the
generations.
A strong proof for this view can be brought from the
unique combination of history and halakha which characterizes
the episode of the exodus from Egypt as described in the
Torah. It is specifically at the point where the drama
reaches its peak that God sees fit to command the nation with
the tiniest details, not only those pertaining to their
immediate task - their own Paschal sacrifice - but also those
pertaining to the Paschal sacrifice for all generations. For
Bnei Yisrael it was a time of entirely new experiences and
great tension; they were required to undertake an operation
the likes of which had never been imagined. Could God not
have found a more relaxed and appropriate time for
instructions which in any case had no bearing on that moment
itself?
This question certainly makes sense, but only if we
assume that Pesach for future generations is nothing more than
a commemoration of the Pesach in Egypt. If, however, we look
at the situation in light of the expression "because of
THIS..." then there is no more natural and obvious place than
here for God to command the nation with regard to Pesach for
future generations. It is essential that Bnei Yisrael
understand their redemption and its purpose. Moreover, were
it not for the commandment regarding Pesach for future
generations, there would have been no way of understanding the
Pesach in Egypt itself.
What passed through the minds of those Hebrew slaves upon hearing the command to sacrifice the Pesach? They were
certainly familiar with the festive sacrifices - le-havdil -
offered by their pagan neighbors. The majestic celebrations,
the joy of the masses, the feeling of security and stability
of a nation sovereign in its own land - all this they observed
among the Egyptians, and despaired. Now, Moshe Rabbeinu
appears in front of our forefathers with the news of the
command - a festival for God! A festival for Israel! But
how? Without an altar? Smearing the blood on the entrances
to their clay houses? Some type of underground activity ("No
man shall go out from the entrance of his house")? In haste?
With all their bags packed? The Pesach of Egypt could not
have been commanded without a full disclaimer of any hint of
mockery of the downtrodden slaves. The true festival is ahead
of us, in the future, in Eretz Yisrael, and "ba'avur zeh"
(because of this) - for the sake of that future - you are
leaving. What is required of you today? A demonstration of
your faith in that future. You will celebrate the Pesach
today, in a foreign land, under the whips of the overlords, in
unbearable conditions, because you await the future redemption
and long for it - and I shall consider it as though you
celebrated the Pesach in all its halakhic details and with all
the appropriate majesty.
To what can this be compared? To the command of the
prophet Yirmiyahu: "Place markers for yourself, make for
yourself road-signs" (31:20). On our way out of Israel and
towards our exile we were commanded to place markers and road-
signs in order that the way back would be easily recognizable.
These would serve as a tangible sign that "your hope is not
lost, because you will still return to these your cities"
(Radak). And our Sages commented in the Sifri: "Although I am
banishing you from the land and sending you into exile, keep
yourselves identified with the mitzvot, such that when you
return they will not be new to you" (quoted by the Ramban,
Vayikra 18:25). For the purposes of our argument it makes no
difference whether the Sifri is referring here to all the
mitzvot, in accordance with the Ramban who holds that "the
mitzvot are directed mainly to the dwellers of God's land" (in
which case their observance in exile is in any case only for
the purposes of "identification"), or to those mitzvot which
de-oraita (as biblically mandated) fall away during the time
of the Temple's destruction (but which were declared
obligatory by the Sages for our time, for the duration of the
exile). Either way, our devotion to the Divine command and
our faith in the future are expressed in our observance of the
mitzvot under impossible conditions, during the periods of
destruction and exile. In this respect we follow in the
footsteps of the generation which left Egypt, which
"celebrated" the Pesach in the shadow of their slavery, but
with an unshakable faith that their modest actions would be
amplified in the future by their descendants, in the full
commemoration of the Pesach for all generations. They were
redeemed in the merit of this faith.
With this in mind we are able to resolve a substantial
problem with regard to the mitzva of maror, which - according
to the Torah - is connected to the Paschal sacrifice, which
must be eaten "on matzot and maror:" How do we explain the
combination of the eating of the Pesach, symbol of redemption,
together with the symbol of the bitterness of slavery? And on
what basis did Hillel take this a step further, expounding
that the maror must literally be eaten in the same mouthful as
the Pesach?
We must remember that for our forefathers in Egypt, the
maror symbolized the eternity of their faith: We are in exile,
the taste of the maror is still in our mouths, and
nevertheless we celebrate the Pesach! The same is true of
Pesach for all future generations: the maror symbolizes the
thread connecting every Paschal sacrifice to the Pesach of
Egypt. Each Pesach started then, in the fiery furnace; it was
there that the seed was planted, and today we are enjoying its
fruit. The Pesach of future generations is the explanation of
Pesach in Egypt - its inevitable conclusion.
In summary: The combination of the maror and the Pesach
declares that faith in the future is victorious over the
depression of the present; it is indeed possible to taste the
redemption in the very grains of the maror.
| A Perversion of the World Order |
In order to see the connection between Pesach and Tish'a
be-Av, we must first clarify one issue pertaining to the
portions of the Torah dealing with rebuke of the nation. Our
nation has, during its long existence, become very familiar
with the experience of the decline from the heights of joy to
the depths of despair. But there is one specific point which
seems to highlight the tragedy; a point which is exemplified
by a comparison of the parallel curses in the two Torah
portions of rebuke. In parashat Bechukotai we read, "And I
shall make your heavens like copper and your land like
brass... and your land will not give forth its produce, and
the trees of the land shall not give their fruit." In
contrast, in Sefer Devarim we find, "The field shall give
forth much seed but you will reap little, for the locusts will
destroy it. You shall plant vines and work at them, but wine
you shall not drink and you shall not gather, for the worms
will eat it." Why is the second scenario so much more
terrifying than the first? Because the first describes the
total removal of blessing and its replacement with curses (no
rain, no produce), while the second describes a situation
where there is a potential for blessing, but it is wasted -
there is produce, but it is eaten by the locusts. Further
examples: the leading away into exile as described in Vayikra
is absolute, while in Devarim it is executed in stages - the
head of the family remains on his land in order to try and
stave off the catastrophe. Once, his house resounded with
children's laughter; now, "your children are given to a
foreign nation, and your eyes see it." The stranger, who once
accepted our authority, now assumes a position "higher and
higher above you." In Vayikra we are told, "And you shall
consume the flesh of your children," but Devarim emphasizes
the fact that it is specifically "the soft-hearted and
delicate man," the epitome of gentleness and humanity, who
will carry out this horrifying act. In short: the crux of the
tragedy is not in being led off to exile, but rather in life
at home becoming a nightmare; not when the reality changes to
a point where it becomes unrecognizable, but rather when it is
easily recognizable, when just beyond the perversion and
violence we can still make out the outlines of the same world
which once showered us with its good and its blessings.
"I called to my beloved ones (me'ahavai); they have deceived
me" (Eikha 1:19)
In light of the above, we may explain the strange words
of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai in the midrash on the pasuk, "I
have called to my beloved ones (or 'endearers'), they have
deceived me." He explains that the "me'ahavim" referred to
are specifically the genuine prophets, "who endear me to God:
'they have deceived me' - they deceived me by saying,
'separate teruma and ma'aser.' As if there is any teruma and
ma'aser applicable in Babylon! Rather, they say this in order
to endear me to God. This is what Yirmiyahu refers to when he
says, 'Place markers for yourself' - remain identified by the
mitzvot by which the Jews were previously identified."
Here again we are confronted by the same wonderful
concept which we examined above. What "deception" can there
possibly be in this beautiful idea which expresses our faith
in and devotion to the Torah, despite everything which befalls
us? It seems that when we look at the situation from the
perspective of the destruction, we are incapable - and
unwilling - to see in the command to "place markers for
yourself" anything more than a bitter illusion. Teruma and
ma'aser outside of Israel? Shaking of the lulav on the seven
days of Sukkot - "and you shall rejoice before the Lord your
God" - on the rivers of Babylon? Can there be any greater
perversion? It is perfectly clear to anyone with eyes in his
head that the entire observance of Torah is built on one
central assumption: that the nation of Torah is dwelling in
its land. Who on earth dreamed up the absurd idea of Torah
observance, communal life, even the mitzvot which pertain
specifically to Eretz Yisrael - all continuing in exile?
Could any right-minded Jew seriously believe, as the prophets
claimed, that such a situation would "endear" us to God?
Surely, if we were genuinely beloved to God, then we would
still be there, in Eretz Yisrael, instead of sitting here and
playing "make believe." Such a situation is nothing but the
expression of melancholy of a young bride whose husband has
left her, and who continues to beautify herself in his honor
as though nothing has happened.
In fact, were it not for the stubbornness of those
"endearers," claims Israel, the destruction would yet be
somehow bearable. We would then be able to distance ourselves
spiritually from those mitzvot, considering them as
inapplicable until the coming of Mashiach, and that would be
that. But the "endearers" will not give up. For some reason
they feel compelled to take the once glorious Torah and to
squeeze it and twist it to make it fit exile as well, and then
to make us keep it. The result is that we are reminded every
day anew of what could have been, of our glorious past, which
now peeps at us through the pathetic mask of "make yourself
markers." It is in vain that the prophets comfort us with
their visions of the future, with their promises and their
oaths. The reality is that God has cast us away from before
Him. We cannot share their view that by placing markers for
ourselves it will be possible to "live the dream," because we
believe that as the years go by, our lives and our history
become one great illusion.
Just as the experience of the destruction forces us to
view the command to "place yourself markers" differently, so
does the prototype of that view - the Pesach of Egypt. Once
we ate the maror in order to identify with the heroic faith of
our forefathers in Egypt, which attained its justification and
its realization in the celebration of the Pesach in the
Temple. But now the Pesach of the Beit Ha-mikdash, too,
appears to have been a passing euphoria, and meantime the
Pesach of Egypt - observance of the mitzvot under difficult
conditions - has become the dominant situation for all
generations. For the weary nation of Israel only absolute
redemption can justify the old understanding of Pesach in
Egypt - as a road-sign for the future. At this stage the
Pesach of Egypt appears as nothing more than yet another
example of the gloomy scenario which plays itself over and
over - a perverted observance of the beautiful Torah which
exists only in the dreams of seers. The maror was supposed to
be the basis for the Paschal sacrifice, but Tish'a be-Av gives
it a new perspective: the sacrifice has disappeared, but the
maror remains. The maror of Pesach joins the maror of Tish'a
be-Av, and the two together embody the expression, "Satisfy Me
with maror, satiate Me with wormwood."
"Hold this, and from this, too, do not allow your hand to
falter" (Kohelet 7:18)
We have presented above two points of view regarding the
issue of "place yourself markers" - the traditional and
generally accepted view of the prophets, and that of Knesset
Yisrael as we believe it to be expressed in the words of Rabbi
Shimon bar Yochai in Midrash Eikha. We subscribe to the first
view, just as we try as a general rule to see all the events
of our times in an optimistic light. However, on Tish'a be-
Av, at least, we have to examine things realistically.
Specifically for us - we who have merited to return to Eretz
Yisrael - this is crucial. Otherwise we are bound to spend
our whole lives using concepts such as "the beginning of the
dawning of our redemption," etc., without noticing that what
we have merited is in fact only the "markers;" a shriveled
version of how things really should be. It is specifically
because we have merited to see many of the signs of redemption
that we have to feel the full pain of the question: Where is
the content that should exist here? May we soon merit a full
answer.
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