Posted on 08/14/24
It’s the day after. We are post-Tisha B’Av. What to do, how to feel?
Last night, my friend told me that her Tisha B’Av was beautiful—an oxymoron, but so true. However, she was disappointed because Moshiach had not come. The same thing happened this morning with another friend, whom I caught up with on her way to work. I told them both to get their dresses out; it 'ain't over yet. The key word being “yet.” I’m still hopeful that he’s really on his way. Soon. And isn’t that the message of Tisha B’Av? Hope!
My friend took challah yesterday with a tefillah for Mashiach, and I told her, “Nu, you’ll give Moshiach the challah, and I will give him the soup!” (Pre-Pesach article on BJL).
I can only speak from my own experience, but I think the general feeling of Tisha B’Av 2024 was one of meaning and yearning. Real yearning. It’s been a rough year. We’re still at war, and our hostages are not yet where they should be. The list of tzaros is still there, if not growing. We want a new vision so badly, one that includes Hashem in it and His vision.
At our Seudas HaMafsekes, as our lips were dry with ash and egg, one of my children asked, "Will it be hard to do mitzvos when Moshiach comes?" My husband said, "No, it will be easy and so clear." I added that it will be like someone switched on the light, and everyone will be wanting to do mitzvos! That gave us all pause for thought.
Monday afternoon, when I was taking my daily walk—my hisbodedus—I was mentally preparing for Tuesday. Really, throughout the whole Nine Days leading up, I was preparing, almost climactically, for the saddest and most difficult day of the year. I was thinking about a very difficult situation someone was in, how heavy it is for such a young person to bear that difficulty. I guess my head was with my dirty dishes in the sink waiting to be washed, as the image I conjured up was that of a sponge soaking wet to the point that it just drips water when holding it without squeezing it.
We have been squeezed. Our tzaros and tza’ar are to the point that they are just dripping out. We all so desperately want it to end, but not just end; we want the Beis HaMikdash and the Avodah. We want not just the nobility of being Mamleches Kohanim V’Goy Kadosh, we are eagerly yearning for that responsibility. I say that because this whole year has been a demonstration of our love and return to that Avodah. Look at all the videos and clips posted of people from all walks of life putting on tefillin, excited to wear tzitzis, crying over new candlesticks. Our children are asking about mitzvah observance. My preschool children have been singing their lungs out as never before. Our college students and young professionals who don’t have the education of mesorah are clamoring for that, so proud of being a Jew. Our people are connecting to their grandparents and illustrious history of yore. This is yearning.
On the one hand, it hurts because we want it so much, but on the other hand, this is so beautiful and comforting to witness as it demonstrates that we are slowly getting there to B’Rov Am Hadras Melech. Actions speak louder than words. The precursor for that is Min HaKoach el HaPaol. The Koach is there. It is being harnessed and used as our zechusim for NOW.
Late yesterday afternoon, as Tisha B’Av was coming to a close, my husband heard Rabbi Hopfer ask during Mincha if a Navi needs simcha to receive nevuah, how could Yirmiyahu author Eicha? Good question! And the answer is even better. The ability to hold pain and joy does not preclude each other. One can still hold pain and still be happy, and so he was able to write. This is how we live our lives. It is not a paradox, rather a balance of human emotion. This is what we sing in the Shir Hama’alos before benching, from Tehillim. Dovid Hamelech, the one who bore witness to all those emotions, writes HaZorim B’Dimah, B’rina Yiktzoru, and in another kapitel, Hafachta Mispedi L’machol li, Pitachta Saki V’tazreini Simcha. I once heard this explained as the same sackcloth that held sadness will be opened and pour out joy.
Erev Tisha B’Av morning found me, and coincidentally, a bunch of my fellow preschool morahs in Seven Mile Market. We had not seen each other, and so many of us were happy to bump into one another and at the same time recognize that summer is ending and we will soon see each other regularly. I declared that if Moshiach comes, I will teach preschool in the Holy Land.
I am still waiting for that deal to come through. Until then, I will cook that chicken soup, keep my dress fresh, and wait with my broken heart that is slowly healing with the pride that Am Yisroel Chai.
Here’s to Geula!