Mourning, resilience and inspiration: Tisha be'Av in the shadow of 7 October

For more than two decades now, my routine on the night of Tisha Be’Av has seen me take a gentle walk down the hill to Jerusalem’s Old City. There I typically find a quiet spot to read Eichah/Kinnot and ponder their sobering content. Some years I’ve made it as far as the Kotel itself – though more recently I’ve tried to avoid it, finding the mass-singing (and even dancing) jarring and out of touch with the atmosphere of the day.

There are so many occasions better suited for singing and inspiration, I ask myself, shouldn’t Tisha Be’Av be one day dedicated to silently contemplating more somber thoughts?

Paradoxically perhaps, I think the opposite is true this Tisha Be’Av – which comes in the midst of the darkest year in recent Jewish history. A year in which I’ve found myself standing alongside hostage families at tearful prayer gatherings desperately looking for encouraging words of support and visiting the site of the horrific Nova massacre. The collective misery and mourning has dwarfed anything that I’ve previously experienced.

The words of Eichah have, for the first time in our generation, become a reality before our eyes rather than a poetic historical depiction. When we add into the mix the heavy atmosphere hanging over Israel right now as media and security experts predict and play through potential scenarios of impending Iranian and Hizbullah strikes, this Tisha Be’Av must offer a strong element of resilience and inspiration alongside the traditional mourning.

This year of all years we cannot hide from tragedy. But by placing it in the context of the long history of Jewish suffering from which we have grown stronger and rebuilt – as the excellent accompanying video attempts to do – allows us to take away a message of comfort and support.

If I do make it all the way to the Kotel this evening, I will try to dwell on the more positive teaching of the famous Jewish sage, Rabbi Akiva (Makkot 24). Upon finding his colleagues in tears over the destruction of the Mikdash he did not seek to deny the enormity of the loss. Instead he was able show them a bigger picture within which the immediate loss was part of a historical process which would lead the nation forward spiritually towards redemption.

As we sit with our Eichah tonight and contemplate the renewed relevance of its words, we pray for a Rabbi Akiva figure to inspire us, unite us and point us towards that better future we all yearn for.

הֲשִׁיבֵ֨נוּ יְהֹוָ֤ה | אֵלֶ֨יךָ֙ וְֽנָשׁ֔וּבָה חַדֵּ֥שׁ יָמֵ֖ינוּ כְּקֶֽדֶם:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KjwrV0wG9E0

Also posted on Facebook, here.

Agunot, Sanhedrin and Tisha be'Av

When we assess the impact that thousands of years of exile have inflicted on our nation, our thoughts are immediately drawn to the weighty toll of human suffering and to the loss of sovereignty over our land. What we often ignore is the grave damage which has been wreaked on the Torah—the national treasure of the Jewish people. In fact, we have become so accustomed to the Torah in its stunted exilic form that we are unable to appreciate the extent to which our relationship with it has been defined by the stagnation of halachah. The passage of over 1,500 years without a functioning Sanhedrin has led us to revere the halachic status quo to such an extent that descriptions of the court’s legislative powers, and suggestions of how these may once again be employed at an unspecified future time, are likely to provoke considerable discomfort and even whispered claims of heresy.

In the legal system envisaged by the Torah, the court was empowered to maintain and update Torah law. It was charged with doing so in a way which would maximise its relevance and applicability to each generation. This outcome was to be achieved not only by enacting various forms of rabbinic decree but also, more significantly, by drawing upon the extensive expertise and wisdom of the court’s members to legislate details of Torah law.

In a lengthy discussion on the repercussions of exile threatened in the tochachah, Rabbi Meir Simcha of Dvinsk (Meshech Chochmah) describes the dynamic role performed by the Sanhedrin of innovating (in accordance with the rules transmitted to them) in order to ensure that the Torah was suited to guide each generation according to its needs. Quoting Rambam's introduction to Mishneh Torah, he laments that one result of exile was the consequential diminution of Torah scholarship, and total loss of the Sanhedrin which therefore necessitated the fixing and recording of the Oral Law. Since the close of the Talmudic era, however, no Beit Din has had authority to issue binding national rulings or innovate any matter of Torah law. This inability to legislate, Meshech Chochmah continues, has led to a questioning of the Torah's continued relevance and application in a modern era, and is an inevitable result of the exile predicted in the tochachah.

On a theoretical level, Rambam cautiously raises the possibility of the reintroduction of a national Sanhedrin which would have the power to revisit halachic determinations of the Talmud as well as the ability to legislate in order to address some of the challenges posed to Judaism in the modern world:

It appears to me that if all the sages of the Land of Israel consent to appoint dayanim (judges) and grant them semichah (ordination), they have the legal status of musmachim and they can judge penalty cases and are authorized to grant semichah to others [thus restoring Biblical ordination]… However, this matter requires a final decision. [Hilchot Sanhedrin 4:11]

It is difficult to advise exactly how a new Sanhedrin should go about its task. On the one hand, two millennia of stagnation have left the halachic system with a long list of pressing needs, from resolving the anguish of agunot to clarifying and legislating details of Shabbat restrictions—particularly as they are to apply in a modern Jewish state. On the other hand, however, if even the Amoraim were willing to restrict their creative legislative powers out of recognition that their knowledge was inferior to that of earlier generations, would dayanim on a newly-formed Sanhedrin be expected to be similarly circumspect? In his introduction to Mishneh Torah, Rambam acknowledged that the decline of Torah knowledge was not limited to the era of the sages. Even in his own era:

At this time, we have been beset by additional difficulties, everyone feels [financial] pressure, the wisdom of our Sages has become lost, and the comprehension of our men of understanding has become hidden. Therefore those explanations, laws, and replies which the Geonim composed and considered to be fully explained material have become difficult to grasp in our age, and only a select few comprehend these matters in the proper way. Needless to say, [there is confusion] with regard to the Talmud itself…

From the perspective of today’s minimally functioning halachic system, this is a conundrum which we can only dream of grappling with. On a practical level, the far greater challenge would be creating this court in the first place – the disunity and infighting which persists among Jewish communities in both Israel and the Diaspora makes the required unanimity hard to imagine.

As mentioned above, the re-establishment of a Sanhedrin in order to address the many challenges of Jewish law which have arisen in the past 2,000 years would require the acceptance of all sages in Israel. Jewish tradition teaches us that the Second Mikdash was destroyed, and the nation sent into exile, as a result of baseless hatred. It is perhaps fitting therefore that, in order for our nation to repair the damage that exile has inflicted on our system of halachah, we must find a way of uniting to universally approve and empower a body to make new and authoritative rulings on Torah law.

Our reaction to all-too-common scenarios in which halachah is unable to respond to modern challenges – and our witnessing of those suffering as a result – should not be restricted to shrugging our shoulders hiding behind our inability to amend rigid ancient rulings. Until we, as a nation, are prepared to set aside the petty squabbles and superficial differences through which we have become accustomed to defining our Judaism, we will be unable to appoint a new Sanhedrin and Jewish law will remain in its stultified exilic state. For me personally this is an important part of the tragedy of the destruction and exile which we mark on Tishe Be’Av. For agunot it is a tragedy which haunts their every living moment.

As we plead each day in the Shemoneh Esrei: 

“Restore our judges as in earlier times…and remove from us sorrow and groaning”

First posted on Facebook 7 August 2022, here.

Loving others -- only when they are like yourself?

As Tisha Be’Av fast approaches we can brace ourselves for the usual traditional messages about why the Temple was destroyed. The baseless hatred that afflicted ancient Israel and how we must look to love one another more in order to merit redemption. Writing from my neighbourhood in “protest-land” near the Knesset – it seems that Tisha Be’Avs come and go, the messages get repeated, yet we as a nation grow ever further apart.

Over the past year I’ve witnessed first-hand the hatred and poisonous rhetoric which all-too-easily spills over into violence (one of our kids recently chose a bad time to walk down the street…). Even Tishe Be’av itself has seen rival groups scuffling over religious/political matters.

What is particularly striking from speaking to such people is they are typically adamant that achdut (unity) and interpersonal mitzvot are of utmost importance. Shockingly, many compatriots and co-religionists are so single-mindedly stuck in the echo chamber of their communal bubble that they define concepts such as “unity” and “love for the other” only within their own narrow ideological circle. How else can one explain the absurd TV interview from one of this week’s protests in which a woman claimed that “the whole nation is united in opposition to this reform”? (And yes, I have heard parallel absurdities being voiced by proponents of the reform too). Communities, schools and even kids’ summer camps are strictly screened to ensure that, God forbid, one’s children shouldn’t have to mix or converse with people who hold an opposing point of view.

The result is a nation made up of a series of distinct social, political and religious groupings, each of which is becoming increasingly separated and insulated from the others. One speaks to those who identify with religiously observant sectors who are unable to fathom how their secular counterparts might view them and their representatives as indulging in hypocritically pious externalities along with grubby and sometimes even corrupt political machinations. Meanwhile the outright hostility we received initially from some secular Israeli neighbours aghast at the thought of a religious family moving into their building (until we were able to get to know and eventually befriend them) was tragically eye-opening.

An early chapter of Judaism Reclaimed examines rabbinic sources which emphasise how national providence is primarily determined by national unity – to an even greater extent than it is affected by the committal of the three cardinal sins. Yet a prior step before we even discuss “unity” is the recognition that we are part of the same wider group to begin with – that we are all in the same boat even as we may try to steer it in different directions.

Instead of letting Tisha Be’Av become a caricature of the continuing crisis – sitting on the floor among likeminded lamenters sadly shaking our heads at “others” who practice baseless hatred – let it motivate us instead to make a firm commitment. To reach out beyond our comfort zone. To embrace and seek to understand the Other whenever they might cross our path.

Rather than lazily categorising and defining people based upon their political or religious affiliation we can attempt to see them first and foremost as fellow human beings and Jews – albeit ones who possess beliefs with which we may deeply disagree. Rather than thinking (or even shouting) “traitors” “parasites” “fascists” or making disparaging comments about “stupid …ists”, we can strive to see the humanity within people different from ourselves – people who on the whole are devoted friends, loving family members yet who hold a contrasting set of beliefs about how our little country and nation can be improved.

If we are able to collectively succeed in this realignment then we can look forward to a very different 9th of Av experience in years to come. Until such a time we can continue to mourn the destructive divisiveness of the past, safe in the knowledge that we are emulating our ancestors’ faults and repeating their deadly disunity and critical errors in our own modern era.

First posted on Facebook 26 July 2023., here