Tisha B’Av is almost upon us. Once again, it seems that we will spend 25 hours lamenting the loss of the Beit Hamikdash — the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. For the 1,954th year straight, we will grapple with the fact that the once-most-splendorous-place-in-the-world, which G-d refers to as His ‘footstool on earth’, is a place of ruin. The golden dome that sits atop the Temple Mount is but salt in the national wound we have borne for almost twenty centuries. 

Frankly, it’s a difficult day for many people to embrace, for a variety of reasons. 

Being almost two millennia away from the tragedy of the destruction makes it difficult to relate to. How does one mourn the loss of something they never knew? 

The Kinnot (poems of lamentation) are long, and written in a cryptically poetic fashion. 

It’s hot out, making fasting that much more of a feat. 

There’s no coffee. 

* * *

This year, we have a particular challenge. With the war now in its tenth month, we are worn down. We are weary of death, and of tragedy, and of crying. We work hard to keep our minds from perpetually focusing on the sadness and pain which invades both our daily routines and our ever-present news cycle. 

We don’t want to mourn any more. Not right now.

* * *

So what do we do?

There’s a temptation to simply get through the day, checking our watches and phones frequently, and repeatedly asking what time the fast is over. 

We can do better than that. Because that would be robbing ourselves of the opportunity to appreciate what a different world we would have, if we could restore that warmth, closeness and meaning to our lives. 

We are taught that G-d Himself is in pain over our exile. Imagine how it might feel for us to ‘do something for Him’, for once. To alleviate His pain, considering all He does for us.

To come home to Him.

Good mourning can be a good start.

So what makes for good mourning? The answer for each individual is a personal one. 

Some people can sit and study the Kinnot, decipher their allusions, and plumb the meaning of the day. 

For many, the explanatory Kinnot available via the internet and in Shuls can open new vistas of understanding and appreciation. These are usually accompanied by moving stories, which can’t help but open our hearts. 

You’ll find some groups in the cemeteries, at the monuments and the memorials, especially places like Yad Vashem. Our personal routine is to hear Eicha atop Herodian, which was the next Jewish stronghold to be conquered by the rampaging Romans, following their destruction of the Beit Hamikdash. The reading is followed by a tour of the site by my son Arky. He movingly explains that from the high vantage point of the mountain fortress, those who had taken refuge there would have been the first people outside Jerusalem to witness the flames engulf their beloved Temple. He imagines that they may then have sat down on the tile floor of their synagogue — the very place where we had just recited that mournful scroll — and tearfully recited Eicha as a group for the very first time in history.

Others find inspiration in the Tisha B’Av-themed movies, replete with stirring speakers and powerful lessons, which are also available in abundance online and in Shuls. 

Some will circumnavigate the walls of the Old City of Jerusalem, somberly reflecting on its beauty, its storied history and its loneliness. 

Many will be at home, finding meaning in stolen moments of prayer, while tending to those too young to appreciate the day. 

* * *

Good mourning. It has lots of shapes and forms.

For those of us who are not permitted to fast due to health concerns, the challenge of appreciating the day is magnified. Again, each person can find their niche of expression. 

One such mode occurred to me a few years ago. There is an opinion that if one washes for bread on Tisha B’Av, they would add the Nacheim prayer in Birkat Hamazon following their meal. Nacheim is the prayer generally said only once a year — in the afternoon prayer on Tisha B’Av. It begs G-d for the comfort of His glorious return to His home in Jerusalem, and a final relief from the suffering of those who mourn its destruction. 

I always found the idea of having a full meal — complete with bread — on Tisha B’Av to be puzzling. Granted, one might need to eat to sustain their health. But a formal meal? Why would anyone do that?

Then one day it dawned on me. While it may be inappropriate to be indulging in Haagen-Dazs or other treats on this day, for me to eat a tuna sandwich is neither celebratory nor indulgent. And it actually allows me to make Tisha B’Av even more special, by reciting Nacheim twice instead of just once. 

It transforms my very act of eating into a part of my service of the day. 

* * *

To each, his or her own way of finding meaning.

So how do we deal with the fact that we are war-weary, and it’s hard to imagine willfully inviting sadness through our front door? Don’t fight it. 

Use it. 

We are all in pain right now. We should express it. Channel it. Make it central to our observance of the day. Contemplate the searing losses we have all felt this year, and heighten our appreciation of the multitude of past calamities which we commemorate on Tisha B’Av. 

* * *

This year, we all have the ability to find our own path. To make this day our special time. To turn the day from one of dread and watch-glimpsing, to one of appreciation and growth. 

Good mourning to all.