A unique and prestigious residential project in now being built in Mekor Haim Street in Jerusalem.
Another Nine Days have come and gone, and we gratefully give a sigh of relief knowing that these days of deprivation – no meat, no swimming, no showering, no music, culminating in a 25 hour fast – no food or water – are finally behind us, and the rest of the sun-drenched summer is there for us to enjoy.
Within days, the tragic realities which the Nine Days represent are relegated to a distant storage bin in our warehouse of memories, to be dusted off in 12 months’ time, when the next Nine Days come around. That is the way human beings operate. Unpleasant happenings are quickly discarded if they do not affect us directly. People go to hospitals, funerals, to shiva houses, and they genuinely feel awful about the specific situation, but the adage “out of sight – out of mind” holds true. We go on with our lives as soon as we walk out the door.
During the week of Tisha B’Av, we mourn the destruction of the Temple and centuries of tragedy and exile, but for many, it is more of an intellectual exercise. We acknowledge the ruinous event that happened so long ago, but I sense that for many, we are basically paying a shiva call – we are upset, even tearful, but just for a moment. The loss of the Bais Hamikdosh doesn’t really affect our day-to-day lives, at least not in America, not for the current generation of Diaspora Jews. We come and go as we please, without fear, hesitation or restriction. The only thing stopping a person from living la vida dolce are his/ her self-imposed limitations.
I find myself disturbed by my own lack of awareness of how terrible galut is – cushioned by a comfortable and relatively safe North American lifestyle. However, when I say galut, I am including a pre-Moshiach State of Israel. Today, Israel lacks peace and harmony from both within, as religious and secular factions bicker and fight over economic and cultural issues, and externally, as fanatical Muslim factions fueled by blood-lust murder, maim and mutilate indiscriminately.
And of course, there is the predictable, self-righteous indignation from hypocritical international governments who condemn, censor and criticize Israel for employing self-defensive measures. Israel is “damned if they do - and damned if they don’t.”
I try to rectify my “head in the sand” oblivion by taking a time-out every day and reading The Jerusalem Post and Arutz Sheva on-line. Almost daily, a smiling, “eyes brimming with life” photo of a young soldier, or that of a child, or a young mother, or a man eager to take care of unfinished business, look out at me. And accompanying the photo is an age, and a mention of a status – son, daughter, fiancee, spouse, father, mother, grandparent – and a description of how he/she came to a premature and violent death.
And because we are all related, I often see someone I know, or that I feel I know. Sometimes there is a passing resemblance to my own kids, or a friend, or colleague. Or maybe because I know that their dreams and goals and aspirations were the same as mine. And it becomes personal – and real.
The next day, there is the follow-up photo of grieving relatives, their faces exploding with grief as they fall on the coffin in a desperate try to get in one last hug, before the physical essence of their loved one disappears underground.
And for a few minutes, I see and feel the churban. I understand its horror and I finally experience Tisha B’av on an emotional level. Until I click off the web-site. And let my sugar-coated reality rescue me from grief. Until the next day. For like a bitter pill that must be taken daily, we must experience a brief taste of Tisha B’Av on a regular basis, so that we will reach out to our Heavenly Father with genuine tears, and hasten the ultimate Redemption.
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The plan’s goal is to provide supportive housing to 200 individuals with disabilities by the year 2020.
Despite being one of the fastest-growing Jewish communities in the U.S. – the estimated Jewish population is 70-80,000 – Las Vegas has long been overlooked by much of the Torah world.
She was followed by the shadows of the Six Million, by the ever so subtle awareness of their vanished presence.
Pesach is so liberating (if you excuse the expression). It’s the only time I can eat anywhere in the house, guilt free! Matzah in bed!
Now all the pain, fear and struggle were over and they were home. Yuli was safe and free, a hero returned to his land and people.
While it would seem from his question that he is being chuzpadik and dismissive, I wonder if its possible, if just maybe, he is a struggling, confused neshama who actually wants to come back to the fold.
I agree with the letter writer that a shadchan should respectfully and graciously accept a negative response to a shidduch offer.
Alternative assessments are an extremely important part of understanding what students know beyond the scope of tests and quizzes.
Your husband seems to have experienced what we have described as the Ambivalent Attachment.
The goal of the crusade is to demonize and hurt Israel.
The JUMP program at Hebrew Academy was generously sponsored by Evelyn and Dr. Shmuel Katz.
A young lady in her early 20’s, “Sarah” was redt to “Shlomie” a boy from her home town who learned in an out-of-town yeshiva. The families know each other well, which in today’s shidduch scene is a big plus – since it was therefore unlikely the kids would “fall in” due to misinformation and misinterpretations.
They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, and that is precisely what almost always happens in situations where a reference knew someone had serious but hidden emotional issues, but did not reveal the information to the person making inquiries.
Time never stood still for anyone – why would I be the exception? In my hubris, I thought that somehow I would live forever – and I suspect we all have secretly felt that way, even though we know it’s a fantasy.
One can argue that forgetting something on a regular basis is a sign of advancing age and it’s time to for a neurological evaluation, but based on the number of young people who need to replace a lost smart phone (too bad it’s not smart enough to warn its owner that that they have become separated – or is there an app for that too?), I safely can say that losing “stuff” cuts across the generations.
For quite a few days in late December, Toronto was transformed into a breathtaking – literally and figuratively – frigid winter wonderland, where every twig, leaf, car door, and outdoor wire and cable was totally encased in ice. When the sun shone the landscape was blindingly brilliant as if billions of diamonds had been glued to everything the eye could see.
Outside is a winter-white wonderland replete with dazzling trees, wires, and sidewalks seemingly wrapped in glittery silver foil. It’s quite lovely to look at, which is about all I can do since I’m stuck indoors. Icicle-laden tree branches are bent and hunch-backed by the frozen heaviness of their popsicle-like burden, and the voices squawking from the battery-operated transistor radio I am listening to are warning people not to go out since walkways and roads are extremely slippery, and there is real danger from falling trees.
The necessity of speaking up when you “have a hunch” applies even more when it comes to shidduchim. One little girl did just that – she said something – and I was fortunate enough to be in town for the very joyful, lively wedding that resulted from her speaking up.
Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/sections/magazine/a-daily-dose-of-tisha-bav/2004/08/25/
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