This morning, like every morning, I woke up and grabbed my phone. I immediately logged onto my standard set of Israeli news outlets, waiting to see if “the attack” had happened.
Since Israel’s attack killing Hezbollah founding member and commander Fuad Shukr, and the explosion in Iran killing Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh, Israelis have been waiting uneasily for an expected response.
Hospitals are preparing for potential mass-casualty events, blood banks are stocking up, shelters are amassing equipment, and underground parking structures are preparing to serve as makeshift shelters. Israelis are counseled to stay close to home, and reduce non-essential activities.
As much as possible, Israelis are trying to continue life as normal. But today, Israelis are preparing for Shabbat under a cloud of anticipation, worry, and dread.
Dread is defined as anticipation with great apprehension and fear. It is an emotion woven into the fabric of Jewish memory.
Tisha B’Av – the ninth day of the month of Av – represents the most tragic day on the Jewish calendar. It was the day on which both the first and second Temples in Jerusalem were destroyed, the city of Betar was crushed in the Bar Kochba revolt, Jews were expelled from Spain in 1492, and in 1941 this was the day when the Final Solution was approved as Nazi policy.
Tradition also teaches that it was on Tisha B’Av that the spies Moses sent to scout out the land of Israel returned with their report. As Moses reminds us in this week’s Torah portion: “You sulked in your tents and said, ‘It is out of hatred for us that God brought us out of the land of Egypt…” (Deuteronomy 1:27) And so the midrash teaches: “As you wept this day before me, so will I set it for you as a day of weeping for the generations” (Bamidbar Rabbah 16:20).
Imagine yourself in Jerusalem, besieged by your enemies, watching as your holy city’s walls are breached. Imagine yourself in medieval Spain, scurrying around in the weeks before your expulsion. Imagine yourself in Nazi occupied Europe, wondering what will happen next.
So how do we respond to the dread of this moment? The commemoration of Tisha B’Av gives us clues.
Traditionally on the eve of Tisha B’Av, we grieve throughout the evening. We listen to the mournful chant of the book of Lamentations, we sit on the floor, and in the morning we read a series of dirge poems called Kinnot that reflect on the anguish our people suffered in times of trial.
But after mid-day, there is a shift. We get up from the floor and sit in chairs. Tefillin, which are not worn for the morning service, are donned for the afternoon prayers. We move from the darkness of despair into a place of resilience and hope.
When calamity strikes and we face disaster and destruction, we do not throw up our hands in resignation and despair but instead seize the power of hope and faith.
Faith is not the unfounded belief that “everything is going to be all right.” Faith is the understanding that we can summon the inner strength to persevere. Faith is knowing that after the darkness there will be light. Faith propels us forward, inspires us to rise, and galvanizes us with courage to meet the challenges that would darken our hearts with fear and dread.
Rav Kook wrote: “Excessive fear takes away the radiance of a person’s life force and of every living and feeling being. There’s nothing more cruel and evil in the world.”
Over the centuries, even after the most horrible of tragedies, our people responded with determination, with ingenuity, and with remarkable resilience. We never gave into despair. We answered dread with courage and resolve.
This is how our people respond – no matter if tragedy strikes on Tisha B’Av, on October 7, or any day of the year.
May those who will spend this Shabbat under a cloud dread find the faith and courage to persevere, that they may be protected from injury or harm, and that soon they will know only light and peace.
Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Dan Levin
Temple Beth El of Boca Raton
“Pray for the peace of Jerusalem…”
