Usually when Shabbat ends we use the Havdalah service as not only an opportunity to distinguish the holy (sabbath) from the mundane (rest of the week), but as a send-off of sensory snazziness to get us to the next Shabbat. We smell sweet spices, we fill and drink from a cup of wine of hope, we let the light of the havdallah candle dance around our hands.
Tonight, though, we transitioned out of Shabbat to a sombre day on the Hebrew calendar- Tisha B'Av (the ninth day of the month of Av). This holiday is a day of mourning to commemorate various tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people, in particular the destruction of the two Temples (in 586 B.C.E. and 70 A.D.). On this day people fast, read the Book of Lamentations, and recite mourning prayers.
Tisha B'Av is a marker of exile. There are those that ask, now that Israel exists again as a homeland for the Jewish people, whether we should continue to follow this day (ie Can't we just appreciate what we have and get on with it?). Back at home Tisha B'Av was never big on our calendar, falling as it does in the middle of the summer, and seeming a bit less relevant than some other holidays (i.e. do we really want to return to great big Jerusalem Temple-based Judaism, what with all the animal sacrifices that would ensue, etc., etc.?) Tonight, however, I had the opportunity to reflect on what the history of this day could mean in a contemporary context.
At our Tisha B'Av service tonight our HUC rabbinic interns provided various takes on commemoration for the day. Each resonated with me on a different plane. One way of approaching Tisha B'Av is to consider that while the Jewish people no longer are in exile, there is still much work to be done to ensure a just and compassionate society. A tract from the Babylonian Talmud states that the Second Temple was destroyed due to causeless hatred. One does not have to look far in Jerusalem (and I would say most anywhere, for that matter) to come across some unfounded hatred (there is not enough space here to get into all of the types of hatred, by whom, and against whom). So long as this exists we are still in a state of exile, in a state of still needing to work for a more complete return. This would be true even if we were to eliminate the geopolitical circumstances of Israel. As a Reform Jew I think about how Israel is perhaps the only democracy where not all Jews can practice their religion freely. Here in Israel the various forms of progressive Judaism are relegated to second-class status, as only Orthodox rabbis can perform Jewish weddings, funerals, and conversions, all the while on government payroll (which is almost completely inaccesible to non-Orthodox, let alone female, rabbis).
Quoting from Spiderman, rabbinic intern H.S. noted that "with great power comes great responsibility". Now that Israel exists again as a country, she has the responsibility to live up to her potential. As Henrietta Szold (1860-1945), American Zionist leader of the early 20th century noted: "The future is full fo the gravest responsibilities. We are promised a place in the sun, not to ravage and dominate, but to serve our people, ourselves, the world. Standing in the sun we shall be seen clearly as never before. Our abilities will be on trial before a world full of nations, who will judge us in the light of a glorious past of ideal service to mankind. For Israel, election has never meant anything but obligation. Clearly, rehabilitating a nation is not a pastime. It is a task, a heavy task, a holy task."
After our service this evening a group of us went to the Kotel/ Western Wall, where thousands of people thronged in bittersweet procession to mark the day. The square in front of the Wall was filled with people reading from Lamentations, and others exchanging greetings as they had not seen each other in some time. It was an incredible mix of darkness and light- I managed to make my way up to the Wall itself and was overcome by women communing so strongly with the day that tears fell down their
cheeks and heartfelt lamentation cried out from their lips. Other women were hugging each other, some not having seen each other since the previous Tisha B'Av. I was taken back to another observation of a rabbinic intern at tonight's service: Tisha B'Av is an opportunity to let mourning or pain or darkness 'come out into the open' and occupy a safe space for a day. It takes place in summer, when there is light all around, as a sign that wherever there is light we need to recognize that there are also shadows. The partner holiday of this commemoration would then be Chanukah, the festival of lights that takes place in December. At Chanukah we are reminded that although we are surrounded by the darkness of winter, there is always hope and warmth in light.
Tonight, though, we transitioned out of Shabbat to a sombre day on the Hebrew calendar- Tisha B'Av (the ninth day of the month of Av). This holiday is a day of mourning to commemorate various tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people, in particular the destruction of the two Temples (in 586 B.C.E. and 70 A.D.). On this day people fast, read the Book of Lamentations, and recite mourning prayers.
Tisha B'Av is a marker of exile. There are those that ask, now that Israel exists again as a homeland for the Jewish people, whether we should continue to follow this day (ie Can't we just appreciate what we have and get on with it?). Back at home Tisha B'Av was never big on our calendar, falling as it does in the middle of the summer, and seeming a bit less relevant than some other holidays (i.e. do we really want to return to great big Jerusalem Temple-based Judaism, what with all the animal sacrifices that would ensue, etc., etc.?) Tonight, however, I had the opportunity to reflect on what the history of this day could mean in a contemporary context.
At our Tisha B'Av service tonight our HUC rabbinic interns provided various takes on commemoration for the day. Each resonated with me on a different plane. One way of approaching Tisha B'Av is to consider that while the Jewish people no longer are in exile, there is still much work to be done to ensure a just and compassionate society. A tract from the Babylonian Talmud states that the Second Temple was destroyed due to causeless hatred. One does not have to look far in Jerusalem (and I would say most anywhere, for that matter) to come across some unfounded hatred (there is not enough space here to get into all of the types of hatred, by whom, and against whom). So long as this exists we are still in a state of exile, in a state of still needing to work for a more complete return. This would be true even if we were to eliminate the geopolitical circumstances of Israel. As a Reform Jew I think about how Israel is perhaps the only democracy where not all Jews can practice their religion freely. Here in Israel the various forms of progressive Judaism are relegated to second-class status, as only Orthodox rabbis can perform Jewish weddings, funerals, and conversions, all the while on government payroll (which is almost completely inaccesible to non-Orthodox, let alone female, rabbis).
Quoting from Spiderman, rabbinic intern H.S. noted that "with great power comes great responsibility". Now that Israel exists again as a country, she has the responsibility to live up to her potential. As Henrietta Szold (1860-1945), American Zionist leader of the early 20th century noted: "The future is full fo the gravest responsibilities. We are promised a place in the sun, not to ravage and dominate, but to serve our people, ourselves, the world. Standing in the sun we shall be seen clearly as never before. Our abilities will be on trial before a world full of nations, who will judge us in the light of a glorious past of ideal service to mankind. For Israel, election has never meant anything but obligation. Clearly, rehabilitating a nation is not a pastime. It is a task, a heavy task, a holy task."
After our service this evening a group of us went to the Kotel/ Western Wall, where thousands of people thronged in bittersweet procession to mark the day. The square in front of the Wall was filled with people reading from Lamentations, and others exchanging greetings as they had not seen each other in some time. It was an incredible mix of darkness and light- I managed to make my way up to the Wall itself and was overcome by women communing so strongly with the day that tears fell down their
cheeks and heartfelt lamentation cried out from their lips. Other women were hugging each other, some not having seen each other since the previous Tisha B'Av. I was taken back to another observation of a rabbinic intern at tonight's service: Tisha B'Av is an opportunity to let mourning or pain or darkness 'come out into the open' and occupy a safe space for a day. It takes place in summer, when there is light all around, as a sign that wherever there is light we need to recognize that there are also shadows. The partner holiday of this commemoration would then be Chanukah, the festival of lights that takes place in December. At Chanukah we are reminded that although we are surrounded by the darkness of winter, there is always hope and warmth in light.
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