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From the Rabbi:
Throughout the year we've discussed numerous times how the Holiday calendar and the Parsha Calendar shed light on one another and paint a rich texture of sacred time. It's almost as if whoever designed the Parsha system was inspired by The Holy Spirit and imbued with prophetic wisdom... Oh wait, that's exactly right, they were! So I guess it's no surprise, but somehow it is always surprising to see such intense synergy that challenges us in all our tender spots and inspires us with opportunity for growth and healing.
This week is no different. Nearly every year, we read Parashat Devarim immediately before Tisha B'av, and read the Haftara from the opening chapter of Isaiah. This passage begins "Chazon Yeshayahu - The vision of Isaiah, and therefore this Shabbat is called Shabbat Chazon, the Shabbat of vision. Not ocular vision that you see with physical eyes but spiritual vision which tells us inwardly there's more to life than what our eyes see. Our spiritual vison which tells us if we continue on the path we're on it will lead us away from God and away from ourselves. It reminds us we have an inner vision for ourselves and the world, and we need to actively pursue it or we'll perish in our own iniquity.
Even more striking is the confluence between Devarim and Tisha B'Av. As we know, the origin story of Tisha B'av is the story of the 'sin of the spies', the Divine declaration of exile and the death of the entire generation (save a few) who would perish without seeing their vision fulfilled. This episode becomes the archetype of covenantal setback which is echoed in the destruction of the Temple and the exile of Am Yisrael from The Land. Not surprisingly, as we enter the Book of Deuteronomy, one of the first stories Moshe recounts to us is the story of that very episode. Not just to them that were there back then, but to us anew every year.
Unlike in Parshat Shlach where those events are narrated in the third-person, here we hear Moshe Rabbeinu's version of the story from his perspective. Largely the events are identical, but there's one line in Moshe's retelling so striking that it colors the Tisha B'av experience all through the ages to this day. So many of us are still struggling under the weight of this wound, and it's the primary ache in our hearts every year during this time. (Deut 1:27)
"You sulked in your tents and said, “It is out of hatred for us that Hashem brought us out of the land of Egypt, to hand us over to the Amorites to wipe us out."
God hates us. Our suffering is because we're bad. Our liturgy is full of this. Our suffering is because we are sinful. Or perhaps, Hashem is just a hateful, mean god who turns a blind eye and deaf ear to our suffering.
It's a totally natural response to traumatic suffering to justify it through negative self image. "I was neglected because I'm a bad boy". It's too hard for children to see their parents as suffering broken people and have compassion upon them. Kids can't be the adult in the room for their parents. So instead we posit our parents' righteousness and explain our suffering by internalizing negative identity. So too here. We see a vision of impending doom and we explain it to ourselves as "God hates us". We're bad, we deserve it.
This is a natural response to suffering, but not the only possible one. For the thousands of years we've endured horrible suffering, from Assyrians to Babylonians, Persians, Greeks, Romans, Spanish, Ottoman... you name it, all the way to the Nazis and Hamas. Throughout the generations the urge to abandon ship because it's just too painful has been overwhelming. How many people after the Holocaust cannot reconcile with such a 'hateful God' and chose apostacy, atheism or militarism as alternatives to faith. And who can blame them.
Yet within us also dwells an instinct that knows that it's not true that God hates us. That voice of Moshe Rabbeinu in our Parsha echoes in our hearts and bodies, not condemning us for feeling hated, not telling us we deserve our suffering, but full of healing compassion. Recognizing the wound and holding us through the pain and grief. Tisha B'av since that fateful night in the desert has served as an opportunity to un-learn that childlike mistake. All the rituals of Tisha B'av are about letting pain be pain, letting God be compassionate, and dare I say, letting us commiserate with God's brokenhearted sadness. To remember all the pain, suffering and anguish and rather than turn away from God; to recognize how God has been there compassionately suffering with us the whole time. From the ruins of Jerusalem to the gas chambers to Nova and our soldiers suffering PTSD, God also feels the pain and grief and keeping our hearts open to God's presence is as hard as ever. But that's the key to healing those wounds.
The Ba'al Shem Tov suggests an even more radical approach. It's a well known custom that the month of Av is called Menachem-Av as a way to highlight the second two thirds of the month which focus on nechama, comforting rather than remembering the suffering. The BeShT points out that literally translated, 'Menachem Av' means 'comforting the Father'. More than a memory of wounds suffered by us, Tisha B'av is a day of God's mourning and sorrow, and we are like like a child who now as an adult needs to compassionately help their parents heal, even from the wounds they passed onto us as children. It's upon us to bring solace and comfort to God. To express our never-ending commitment to our relationship with Hashem and resolving all feelings of hatred and resentment in that relationship.
The bar often feels way too high. We're just kids who need our parents' love, how can we be the adult in the room with God? Forgive Hashem for the Holocaust?! Many of us recoil viscerally from just the suggestion. The rational mind cannot hold the notion that God is carrying Trauma. But reading Eicha, the pain of 'She who sits alone' is there staring at us, and that same pain lives in our bodies. On Tisha B'av, sitting on the floor and feeling lonely, if we look deep inside ourselves, is there any other way? We can only have redemption with reconciliation.
Part of the mourning process for our parents is forgiving them and letting go of pain, and by saying Kaddish to help them resolve their life's 'Karma' we become the adult in the room holding them in compassion. This month's mourning is no different. Menachem Av. We must be the ones to comfort our grieving father. In all the pain of exile, the loneliness and neglect, the discord and distress.
The seeds of Mashiach are planted on Tisha B'av and watered with our tears. Let them be tears of compassion, of care and of hope.
Shabbat Shalom
Reb Shlomo
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