Mourning to Dancing, Waiting and Hoping

There have been many times in my career when I’ve officiated at a brit milah ceremony in the morning and a funeral in the afternoon. Sometimes sorrow and joy come together in powerful and unexpected ways.

Every year around this time, sorrow and joy meet by design.

Two weeks ago, we commemorated Tisha B’av, a day of painful remembrance: “On the Ninth of Av it was decreed upon our ancestors that they would all die in the wilderness and not enter Eretz Yisrael; and the Temple was destroyed the first time, in the days of Nebuchadnezzar, and the second time, by the Romans; and Beitar was captured; and the city of Jerusalem was plowed, as a sign that it would never be rebuilt” (Talmud, Ta’anit 26b).

And then last week, just six days after our mourning, came joy—the 15th day of the month of Av is a time of celebration. According to Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel, there were no days as joyous for the Jewish people as the 15th of Av. Why? At this time in days of old, members of the different tribes of Israel were permitted to marry one another. At other times throughout the year, apparently one would be required to wed within the tribe. But on this one day, a young man from the tribe of Dan in the north of Israel could marry a maiden from the tribe of Benjamin in Judea. It’s not simply a time when a couple might come together to build a new family. It’s a time when a diverse and sometimes disparate group of people come together as one.

These two days are polar opposites.

Tisha B’Av is about disunity, discord and division. According to the rabbis of the Talmud, the Second Temple was destroyed on account of sinat chinam (senseless hatred). From their perspective, it wasn’t the Romans or power politics. It was our own internal divisions that led to our downfall.

Tu B’Av on the other hand is about harmony, amity and union. The distinct and varied tribes of Israel come together in love. On this one day we come to the collective realization that all of these petty divisions are simply ridiculous. We are b’nai Yisrael, the People of Israel, sisters and brothers whose best and perhaps only hope for redemption can be found in one another.

One of the sages of the Talmud (Taanit 31a) views this moment in a messianic, redemptive way. Rabbi Elazar who lived soon after the destruction of the Second Temple and saw firsthand just how divided the Jewish people was, imagines a moment in the distant future when all Israel will come together for a celebration, a dance of the righteous as he so beautifully puts it. He likely was imagining a wedding dance, a giant hora in which all Israel circles bride and groom, hand in hand. And at that joyous moment, Rabbi Elazar imagines us all singing the words of the prophet Isaiah: “This is the Eternal for whom we waited. We will be glad and rejoice in God’s salvation” Isaiah 25:9.

It’s so achingly beautiful to me. A circle of unity. No one in front and no one behind. The circle can always be expanded to make room for one more. No one need be left behind. No one forgotten. There is a place for each and every Jew.

But the time for the realization of such a vision has, sadly, not yet arrived. And one especially significant Hebrew word in that verse from Isaiah hints at this. The root for this “waiting” for the Eternal is the same one that forms the word tikva, hope.

In times such as these when we see Israel and the Jewish people so deeply divided, we imagine a future that will culminate not in division or destruction but rather in joy, unity and love. This is our tikva, this is our hope. And while we know it will take time and demand patience, we will not wait passively or silently for it. We will work for it urgently and passionately, reaching out to each other in love, celebrating each other’s simchas and standing hand in hand at moments of sorrow.

Mourning to dancing.

A great circle of life and love.