(A kinah, a song of lamentation written over the destruction of Kibbutz Be’eri on October 7th.)
“I am not eating meat this week, and I haven’t gone swimming.” In a programming meeting this week with a member of my synagogue board, I let her know that I am taking the nine days more seriously than ever. The nine days before tisha b’av, the holiday when we mourn the destruction of our temples and other calamities that have befallen the Jewish people, we refrain from activities that bring us joy and pleasure. As we approach the most tragic day in the Jewish calendar, we prepare ourselves spiritually to feel the pain of our ancestors — of destruction, exile, and persecution.
Sometimes, especially during summers in Maine, it can be difficult to hold by these laws. What is a Maine summer without swimming and barbecues? However, this year, it isn’t difficult for me to imagine the terror and regret of previous generations. Our hostages have been in captivity for over 300 days. Israel is bracing for a devastating, multi-pronged attack from Iran and its proxies. And similar to the second temple period, the Jewish people are at one another’s throats. The external threats of antisemitism and war have not led to unity — rather, the various tribes of Israel are consumed with various levels of contempt for one another, creating dangerous levels of spiritual and physical vulnerability. For historically conscious Jews, we are experiencing the worst kind of deja vu. And personally, as a result, I don’t feel like eating sausage or listening to live music. This year, it feels all too familiar and real.
As we approach tisha b’av, we traditionally read haftarot (selections from the prophets) of rebuke on the three Shabbatot leading up to the holiday. This week we will read from the Book of Isaiah. The prophet tells us that as a result of our sins: (Isaiah 1:7-8)
אַרְצְכֶ֣ם שְׁמָמָ֔ה עָרֵיכֶ֖ם שְׂרֻפ֣וֹת אֵ֑שׁ אַדְמַתְכֶ֗ם לְנֶגְדְּכֶם֙ זָרִים֙ אֹכְלִ֣ים אֹתָ֔הּ וּשְׁמָמָ֖ה כְּמַהְפֵּכַ֥ת זָרִֽים׃
Your land is a waste,
Your cities burnt down;
Before your eyes, the yield of your soil
Is consumed by strangers—
A wasteland as overthrown by strangers!
וְנוֹתְרָ֥ה בַת־צִיּ֖וֹן כְּסֻכָּ֣ה בְכָ֑רֶם כִּמְלוּנָ֥ה בְמִקְשָׁ֖ה כְּעִ֥יר נְצוּרָֽה׃
Fair Zion is left
Like a booth in a vineyard,
Like a hut in a cucumber field,
Like a city beleaguered.
Isaiah goes on to compare Israel to Sodom and Gomorrah, and reports that God does not want to hear our prayers or accept our sacrifices. Since our actions are so sinful, their acts of piety reek of unbearable hypocrisy and disrespect.
However, even thought this is a haftarah of rebuke, the prophet also lets us know that there is a way back to God that leads to redemption and security. The prescription is easy to hear, but difficult to follow: (Isaiah 1:17)
לִמְד֥וּ הֵיטֵ֛ב דִּרְשׁ֥וּ מִשְׁפָּ֖ט אַשְּׁר֣וּ חָמ֑וֹץ שִׁפְט֣וּ יָת֔וֹם רִ֖יבוּ אַלְמָנָֽה׃ {ס}
Learn to do good.
Devote yourselves to justice;
Aid the wronged.
Uphold the rights of the orphan;
Defend the cause of the widow.
The English translation belies the intensity of the Hebrew. We are to demand justice, we are to fight on behalf of the widow. In essence, we need to be the voice for those who do not have one, for those who have neither the position or privilege to advocate for themselves. In the ancient world, it was those who did not have men to care and protect them in a patriarchal world. It was those who were the most likely to be overlooked, disrespected, and abused. And yet, Isaiah teaches us, it is only when we prioritize their needs and fight for their rights that we can know spiritual return and physical safety.
In his masterpiece, the Mishneh Torah, Maimonides teaches us how to actualize the prophet’s directives:
If there were many litigants before the judges, precedence should be give to a case involving an orphan to one involving a widow, as implied by Isaiah 1:17: "Judge an orphan, enter in a dispute on behalf of a widow." A case involving a widow receives precedence over a case involving a Torah scholar. A case involving a Torah scholar takes precedence over a case involving a common person. And a case involving a woman takes precedence over one involving a man, because the shame felt by a woman is greater. (Mishneh Torah, The Sanhedrin and the Penalties within Their Jurisdiction 21:6)
When the court system is prioritizing which cases to hear first, preference is given to those who have the fewest resources, power, and regard. Even though the Torah tells us that there is only one law for everyone — the stranger and the citizen alike — not all cases are treated the same way. Maimonides understands that not everyone experiences the legal system in the same way, and that God wants us to ensure fair and swift legal decisions for those most likely to be deprived of justice and equality.
At this moment, few of us have the ability to influence geopolitical dynamics. Iran, Hamas, and Hezbollah do not care about what I think or feel. Nor does Israel’s current government. However, that does not mean that we are powerless. We do have the power to advocate for those with far less power than us: for our captives in Gaza, for the countless children being killed and traumatized in this war, for those who have not been able to return to their homes for months, and may never be able to do so.
Beyond advocacy, we can also just be decent to one another — to quiet the voices of baseless hatred and contempt within our hearts. We can prioritize love for one another over the animosity borne of difference. We can choose to walk away from leaders that peddle in the language of division, and confront corrupt leadership that neglects the needy. We can love and do mitzvahs — we can give others hope. If we can muster the resolve, we can provide an example to others that nurtures healthier communities. God notices all of it, and so do those around us looking for light in a bleak world.
On this Shabbat and in the days leading up to tisha b’av, let us focus not only on depriving ourselves of pleasure, but also doing the work of real return — to one another and to God. Pursuing such a path may not lead to immediate safety, but it is the only path to a truly secure future.
Shabbat Shalom.