9th of Av

The saddest day of the year. The day we mourn the destruction of the first and second Holy Temples which once graced Jerusalem. In the past I found it challenging to mourn something I'd never seen, never visited, never experienced. So year after year, in between my prayers, I would read about the Holocaust and listen to testimonies of survivors with blue tattoos on their arms. Some years I added lamentations from those expelled from Gush Katif in a misguided attempt for peace. There were also the years I read eulogies of our precious soldiers who gave their lives to defend me. I knew if we had not lost our Holy Temple none of these tragedies would have happened and I was able to mourn. This year, I don't do any of those things. I just look at the news and I weep. I cry for Avinatan and the other hostages and all their loved ones. I cry for the bereaved families, the ones I know and the ones who are just names to me. I cry for those who have been forced from their homes by warfare. I cry for the wives, mothers, sons, daughters, grandparents, and husbands who long to have their soldiers home. I cry for myself. But I refuse to despair. There have been too many miracles, too many prophecies coming true. So, I turn my crying into tears of hope. Hope that indeed we will end the hatred and the bloodshed and serve HaShem with full hearts. I am certain the prophecy of Isaih that we will read this afternoon is getting closer every day. I will bring them (the Jewish people) to My holy mountain, and I will gladden them in My house of prayer; their elevation offerings and their feast offerings will find favor on My Alter, for My House (the Third Holy Temple) will be called a house of prayer for all the people. Isiah chapter 56, verse 7