Hi! I want to share a piece of writing I shared in this Tisha B’Av Anthology. A lot of people have contributed very wonderful pieces of writing.
In the Depths of Me
By Rabbi Emily Stern
One hundred tired people arrive in the desert, and ask themselves, “How will we have enough water to survive? How are we going to care for each other?”
And they go on a quest to study the land. It rains a few times, but each time it
rains, the blessing of rain is wasted by the desert. It would not be absorbed into the dry land. So, they dig and build trellises in such a way that it captures the water. And this water now begins to create lush eco-systems in the land. Now, they have water, and new life.
It sounds like a dream, but it’s true because I am here visiting in this lush desert on a scorching summer’s day. It happens to be the Jewish holiday Tisha B’Av. It’s a day of mourning and fasting for the destruction of the first and second temples in Jerusalem. I am mourning and fasting for this world right now. I sit for much of my day on a small hill with my head down between my legs praying and bothered, water dripping from my forehead. My agitation is subtle but itching me under the surface.
I always felt strongly that someday, the whole earth would be the third temple. It seems too far away from that now to even believe. I am parched and weak. A question comes to my mind, “why is the messiah not here yet?” My brainwaves echo through the sunlit ethers. I hear a voice come back to me. It surprises me, and, at the same time, is comforting because the voice is closer than my own thoughts. It says, “I am here.” “Yes, I’ve read that lovely story,” I say. “The messiah comes today for whoever will listen,(1) but you’re not here. You’re not here on your donkey(2) walking through the streets, not spewing special Torah that enlightens and flips the world on its head (3) like they say you’ll be.” And in that moment, I peer up into a cloud and I see a sad figure. “What’s on your lip? It looks like a blister. Why don’t you have pants? And what is the cloth on your hands? Tell me… what happened to you?”
He has so many wounds.
I watch as he wraps the bandages one by one (4) . “They look sort of like white
tefillin,” I think as he unwraps, then wraps, and unwraps his arm with care.
“Can I help you?” I sit with him on the floor as he is patient with the pain.
“There are some who say you will only reveal yourself to us when we don’t need you anymore, (5)” I recall. “So, I’m sure what keeps you from showing yourself is that there is war, bigotry, pain, and greed that I can’t believe…”
“You don’t need me,” he says. “But didn’t you hear me?” I scream. “There is killing, hunger, terror, and hatred. There’s maniacal need for power, disinformation, manipulation, and apathy! We need you!
And I sit with him, staring into his eyes and I start to cry. I can’t believe I think I
just yelled at the messiah, and I’ve been holding in my sadness for so long. And my mind opens, and his eyes are the first two stars in the dark sky. I find myself right there in the desert again, and Tisha B’Av is about to end. I am poised to take my first drink of water from the wadi waiting for one more star
to be revealed.
Then I remember! They say the messiah is born on Tisha B’Av (6.) “Happy
birthday,” I gasp. “I didn’t get to wish him a happy birthday, and I didn’t get to say goodbye,” I say wistfully to the night. I sink my back into this land they had turned from a wasteland into a lush landscape with just the use of rainwater. I know we have all the answers right here. I feel some rain and I know we don’t have to wait for a new generation to heal the world. And suddenly, in the depths of me, a savior is born.
1 Talmud Bavli Sanhedrin 98a
2 Zecharia 9:9, Talmud Bavli Sanhedrin 98a
3 Zohar 58:388
4 Talmud Bavli Sanhedrin 98a
5 Franz Kafka
6 Eicha Rabba 1:51
