Sometimes my congregation wonders when personal time and work time differ. Sometimes it isn’t clear. Sometimes I do things that are “rabbinic” for the greater good or because as a rabbi I am asked to do so, I feel called to. This is one of those weekends.
Tisha B’av is the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. We mourn the destruction of both Holy Temples, the expulsion of the Jews from England and then from Spain. Personally I mourn the death of my mother-in-law which also occurred on Tisha B’av.
Traditionally this is a day marked with fasting, not wearing leather, singing dirges in low tones on low stools. Since the founding of the State of Israel, some of that has seemed less mournful. Sometimes there are other things we also mourn: the Holocaust, Hiroshima and Nagasaki, climate change, various incursions and intifadas in modern day Israel. Some years I think why are we still mourning; it has no relevance. Then every year there is something that makes me continue the tradition.
This is one of those years.
Part One:
Shabbat suspends the 3 weeks of mourning. Nonetheless the Shabbat before Tisha B’av is called Shabbat Hazon, the Sabbath of Vision. This past week we saw the mass shootings in El Paso and Dayton, 7 killed and 46 wounded in Chicago and the first and I hope only murder of the year in Elgin. How could I not, as we move into Tisha B’av, as we read the words of Isaiah, talk about violence.
Part Two:
My husband and I attended a service at a neighboring synagogue. The premise was to read parts of the Book of Eicha and then a discussion group of “From Victimhood to Victory: The Dilemma of Suffering and Forgiveness.” It was a rich evening of exploring how working the 12 Step Program from Alcoholic Anonymous can help people overcome personal trauma and not feel like a victim.
Part Three:
I was asked to preach at Rogation Sunday, a Sunday in the Episcopal Church set aside to bless the soil, water and seeds. In some places you actually bless the tractors. The priest, Don Frye, a good friend wanted me to talk about our connection to the land and our responsibility as caretakers of Creation to partner with G-d to live out the covenant. Many have made the connection between climate change, the burning up of the earth and mourning for those Temples that burned. I was happy, yes, even on Tisha B’av, to bring a message of covenant, partnership and responsibility. It was a very meaningful morning. (And I am very appreciative of the daisy plant I received since Margaret means daisy pearl.)
Part Four:
My husband came to me sometime last week and asked if I knew about this event in Kankakee about refugees and Tisha B’av. It seemed like the appropriate way to mark his mother’s yahrzeit since his mother had done so much around refugee resettlement. In fact all of the Kleins have, coming out of our uniquely Jewish experience. I tried not to laugh. I was on the planning committee and had a small speaking part. Because really, where else would I be on Tisha B’av, a holiday dedicated to mourning how we as a people became exiled.
Turns out Kankakee is further than we thought and we were late. But we ran into lots of friends and colleagues from the wider Jewish community. There were tears as stories were told of unspeakable tragedies forcing other immigrants to leave their countries, the homelands, the land of their birth, the parents home (hear the echoes of Abraham and Sarah? It was deliberate!) and came to this country some of who have faced unspeakable tragedies here. But speak them we must. I hear the most haunting was Rabbi Maralee Gordon chanting some of those stories in Eicha trope.
I spoke briefly. Said that my family has worked on refugee resettlement for decades and that I have a Guatemalan son-in-law that was airlifted off a football field in 1983 and a Cambodian nephew rescued from the killing fields. They are both American citizens now. And they are the lucky ones.
For me, the most uplifting and affirming was singing Hashiveinu which comes out of Eicha/Lamentations and is central to the Torah service and to the High Holiday liturgy.
Turn us back, turn us back, O LORD to You
and we will return,
renew, renew our days as before.
Then I blew shofar with four other shofar blowers.
That’s the spirit in which I return from Kankakee, ready to prepare for the High Holidays. (In truth that preparation is already underway, way underway.)
We turn now to Tu B’av and are reminded that the solution of sinat chinam, baseless hatred is ahavat chinam, baseless love. Love your neighbor as yourself. Love the sojourner. Don’t stand idly by while your neighbor bleeds. Love.
(The words of this weekend’s d’vrei Torah will be available shortly. But first rest.)