The Blessing of the Curse

By Chaplain Captain Yitzchok Landa, USAF.

In the last edition of The Jewish Veteran, you read the D’vrei Hashomrim by Rabbi Doniel Kramer in which he provided thoughtful insights and observations about Pesach and the broken middle matzah.
Kramer pointed out that Pesach is an excellent opportunity to reconnect lost, disillusioned, or uneducated Jews with their heritage. What about Tisha b’Av?

Is there a way to connect those same individuals with the period of mourning, observed by Jews worldwide for centuries, which builds in intensity during the summer, beginning on the 17 of Tammuz (July 6, 2023) peaking on the Ninth of Av (Tisha b’Av, July 27, 2023)?

For too long, teachers and outreach directors have given up on programming for the Ninth of Av. It’s not fun, there is no intuitive attraction, and it appears to be unappealing. For many estranged Jews, the Tisha b’Av experience is precisely the kind of thing that repelled them from their heritage in the first place.

This is exactly why it is so important to use and understand the power and mission of this vital part of the Jewish calendar.

The traditional narrative of negativity surrounding the Ninth goes something like this: “Why does Judaism insist on romanticizing its own historical suffering? Why do we dwell and simmer in the pain of the past, broken-hearted over a building?” Invariably, such contemplation leads to: “Well, why did the Jewish people suffer so much, anyway? Where was G-d in the Holocaust?”

In truth, the message of this period of mourning is quite the opposite.

Certainly, we all feel the need to commemorate and memorialize that which is important to us. Recent losses are felt more acutely. The Department of Defense, the State of Israel, and many Jewish communities recognize the significance of Holocaust Remembrance Day, and mark it solemnly.

In truth, all our losses deserve equal recognition. The value of one life lost is infinite and can never be appropriately honored. The distance of time may dull our sensitivity, but it does not diminish the value. Were we to fittingly commemorate all of the litany of suffering inflicted upon us in our history, our calendar would be one large smudge of black ink.

Instead, we cram it all into one day. One day for all the suffering and pain to be mourned and marked. Traditional Judaism does not mark Holocaust Remembrance Day (for which the day of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising was chosen) but instead, marks it on the Ninth of Av.

We were never a people to stew in suffering, nor will we fail to honor the past. We mark it, but limit it to this day, leaving the rest of the calendar forward-looking and joyous. Why this day? The Ninth of Av was the cause of all the suffering that followed. It encapsulates the peak of our personal and communal spiritual illness, and the terrifying treatment of divine surgery that followed.

But there’s so much more. There is an underlying joy in the Ninth of Av.

The historical oppression of the Jewish People, our ancestors and siblings, all encapsulated in the Ninth of Av, has purpose and meaning. That purpose and meaning is a privilege not to be missed, and this is the real Jewish interpretation of suffering.

The parable is told of a young lamb, wandering with his mother and the rest of the flock through pastures. A shepherd and his sheepdog lead, providing peace and security.

The flock enters a forest, and the little lamb is separated from his mother and the others. He looks up, realizing he is lost and alone. Dark clouds gather and powerful thunderstorm kicks up, adding to his fear. Night falls, and animals of prey begin to prowl. Our little lamb listens to the howling wolves and snarling mountain lions and is paralyzed with terror.

Suddenly, in the darkness, he feels a blow. A familiar one that he has felt before! It is the staff of the shepherd, driving him back home! The sheepdog is barking at his feet as well. Can you relate to the warm flooding feeling of relief that fills the lamb at these sharp sensations?

This is the meaning of the wonderous words of the Psalm 23, recited at most military funerals, “Even as I walk in the valley of the shadow of death… your rod and your staff console me.”

This is Jewish suffering. It is what keeps us together, keeps us true, and keeps us whole. If we could reach those ideals without it, the little lamb would never get lost. But our history is long and treacherous. What will ensure our survival? What will keep us dedicated to our national goals of spirituality, spreading blessings, and perfecting the universe for the benefit of all mankind? It is the sharp, directive rap visited upon us, orchestrated from above, through the blow of our enemies.

Israelis often say that the best way to destroy their country would be to leave it alone. They are only half-joking. We have endured for thousands of years not despite oppression but because of it. Like a grape, when we are squeezed, we improve. We recommit to our ideals.

Jews do not romanticize suffering. We mourn it. Every individual loss is indescribably tragic. We honor it appropriately and move on. But we know that as a people, the standard to which we are held keeps us sharp. Perhaps, if our enemies would cease and desist, they would indeed succeed in getting us to destroy ourselves.

But they never will, and neither will we.

Volume 77. Number 2. 2023