As the restrictions of the three weeks take effect and prohibit
joyous occasions, we brace ourselves for the further limitations of
physical pleasures ushered in on Rosh Chodesh Av. The nine days
themselves pale in stringency in light of the restrictions of erev
Tisha B'av itself.
What were Chazal seeking to accomplish with this graduated
course of ascetic denial? The Rav (Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik)
likened this period to an inverse pattern of aveilut (mourning), an
analogy that serves to define technically the progress of mourning
stringencies. However, we must still consider the function, the
raison d'être, of these customs.
In Taanit (30b) it says, "Those who mourn for Jerusalem will merit
to see it in its joy." This idea is derived from a verse in Isaiah
(LXVI:10), "Rejoice with Jerusalem and be glad for her, all you who
love her; join in her jubilation, all you who mourn for her." Our
mourning is intended to bind us to Jerusalem and its destiny --
indeed, to become participants in Jerusalem's history. And what is
it that we are mourning? More precisely, what is the lesson of
engaging in behavior that makes us consecutively sad, suffering,
and inconsolable? What vision may be dimly grasped through our
veil of tears? What concept permeates my mind as I perceive the
Temple burning?
I think we can begin to find the answer by examining the elegiac
poems our sages have prepared for us to both recite and study on
Tisha B'av. The kinot were written by great scholars and,
emotionally, they serve to sharpen our grief while cognitively
deepening our understanding. A wide range of kinot describe
historical events and spiritual longing. (These are two sides of the
same coin that -- together -- contribute to a major aspect of the
day: the profound sense of loss, a desolation so overwhelming that
it defies conceptualization. Thus, the kinah based on the phrase,
"Remember, Hashem, what we had," intimates that only God Himself
can fully grasp the spiritual legacy we must struggle to regain.).
Other kinot focus on the many aspects of the destruction of the
two Temples. I want to focus on two of the latter type that were
composed by Eliezer Kalir, a great talmid chacham and poet whose
life is shrouded in mystery.
These two kinot (numbered 18 and 19 in most editions of kinot, but
20 and 21 in the Rosenfeld edition), while not the most famous,
illustrate the intent of the kinot and Tisha B'av itself. The first
kinah alternates lines -- the odd-numbered ones beginning with the
words "You said," and the even-numbered with the plaintive
question "and why?" This irony laden kinah juxtaposes Hashem's
promises with the tragic reality of Jewish history and expresses an
attitude that can only be classified as outrage. You, Hashem,
promised us well-being and distinction and, in fact, fulfilled many of
these promises. But then historic reality shifted dramatically and
we became a reviled and profaned nation whose land and holy
places are defiled. True, there are more graphic kinot, but this
kinah proclaims both our incredulity concerning our situation and
our anger. The very word "eicha" -- so prominent in the day's
liturgy -- may be rendered, "How could You, Hashem!"
What gives us the right to make such blasphemous charges? Here I
return to the position of the Rav, who said that this period mirrors
all stages of mourning, the first of which exempts the mourner from
many mitzvot and gives latitude in pronouncements about Divine
justice. The Rav maintains that on Tisha B'av one has the duty to
"indict" Hashem for the vast panoply of Jewish suffering. One of our
jobs on Tisha B'av is to think long and hard about Jewish history
and vent our pent-up rage both viscerally and intellectually.
That is the last kinah of this form. The second kinah introduces a
very different tone. Here the lines alternate with the first phrases
of the following verse from Daniel (IX: 7): "With you, Hashem, is
the right, and the shame is on us to this very day, on the men of
Judah and the inhabitants of Jerusalem, all Israel, far and near, in
all the lands where
You have banished them, for the trespass they committed against
You." This verse, so prominent in our prayers of confession and
repentance, expresses a radically different attitude. Unspeakable
things have befallen us, but we deserved them. These two kinot
form the seam in the kinot recitation. Herein we stop cataloging
the Creator's "crimes," and begin contemplating our own
considerable shortcomings. We recount the miracles wrought on
our behalf, and our subsequent duplicity. After this point in the
kinah service, there are yet many tragedies to enumerate and
hopes to express (particularly in the beautiful "Zion" poems of
Yehudah Halevy), but a corner has been turned. Our anger spent,
we focus the spotlight on our historic selves. Tisha B'av grants
emotional catharsis and psychological growth as we work through
disbelief, anger, and finally acceptance of
responsibility.
Thus, the historical and theological analysis of the day brings us to
a momentous conclusion. Although Jewish history is awash in blood
and tears, it is a burden we ourselves must bear and do bear
because there is a righteous G-d. Now we understand that the
three weeks, nine days, and Tisha B'av represent an educational
process in which we grow to appreciate the depth of loss, to
accept national responsibility, and ultimately to
believe in ourselves and our historic relationship with Hashem. We
accept our responsibility for the destruction and our capacity to
reverse the process and generate the rebuilding. Only those who
truly understand the destruction can understand the renewal. And
they alone will rejoice.
There is one more idea I want to share with you. A famous Midrash
states, "Every generation that doesn't build the Temple is reckoned
to have destroyed the Temple." The Sefat Emet explains that the
merit of every generation brings about a small amount of building of
the Temple and the building is going on through all the generations
of the exile. Every generation is judged on its efforts in this
enterprise. So, too, every individual is judged as one who either
supports this undertaking or hinders it. Let us hope that our
discomfort is linked to this grand scheme of placing our brick in its
proper place.
I pray that our attempts to understand the incomprehensible
devastation will bring us the resolve to further the renewal.
