The summer of 1992 my family spent a few months in Israel, and I remember sitting on the floor of a synagogue in the Baka neighborhood of Jerusalem on Tisha b’Av. All the lights were off and lit candles, some on the floor throughout the crowd and some around the periphery of the room, set a certain mood with their dim light. It’s my first memory of Tisha b’Av, and the somber nature of that night, with people singing songs in hushed voices and chanting the book of Eicha with its sad melodic trope, made an impression on me. Woven into the sadness of loss was a type of comfort, a hope that emerged from being together, from acknowledging grief, from seeing how to build anew together.
In Israel, our homeland that has seen so many different types of triumphs and losses, Tisha b’Av encourages and allows for truly delving into that which is lost. This year, I’m hearing from so many Israelis - friends and relatives and public figures - that the threats to Israel’s democracy and judicial system loom large this Tisha b’Av, forcing all to think about what could be lost. And yet, every Israeli I’ve spoken to has emphasized the power of being at protests, ones attended by hundreds of thousands of Israelis. Even in anger, the energy and passion at the protests have been exhilarating. These moments of tremendous community building have brought not just the comfort of community but also a sense of hope at what can be built together, even out of shared grief.
The tradition teaches that the Mashiach, the messiah, will be born on the 9th of Av. That is to say that the coming of a messianic era, the belief in better times ahead, emerges from the depths of grief. This is not just an expression that it can’t possibly get any worse so everything ahead must be better, it’s an acknowledgement that it is through the grappling with deep pain and loss we may be able to find redemption. In fact, one of the names that the Talmud attributes to the messiah is Menachem, which means comfort. Even in the midst of destruction, there is comfort, there is hope and repair.
But that is only possible when we come together even in grief and loss. If we let our sadness isolate us, whether it is individual or communal sadness, we can’t reach that place of connection which often leads to hope. This is what I’ve felt on Tisha b’Av in the past, or truly in any moment of pain, and I think this is what people in Israel are experiencing now. One midrash teaches that the word mashiach משיח is shorthand for מביא שיח/meivee siach, ‘brings dialogue.’ Building up from loss is possible when we engage with others. Weaving back together the fabric of a destroyed society is possible when we work together, when we find community, when we’re willing to talk about the hard stuff.
Tisha b’Av marks communal losses. It asks us to think about the ways that our society has been broken, and the ways that we can be menachem one another, the ways we can comfort each other. We cannot do that alone, we can only rebuild if we join together. I hope you’ll join us on Wednesday evening at 8PM for our annual Tisha b’Av commemoration.
