Al Eileh Ani Bochiayah – A guide to how you can channel the pain of galus on Tisha B’Av and Beyond
Tisha B’av is a rough day, no doubt about it. Between the heat, the length, the limited distractions, and the severity of it in terms of getting a heter not to fast, it is probably the least favorite day on many of our calendars. And it’s therefore understandable that for many of us, the objective of the day is to get through it, to survive relatively intact until we can eat, shower, and party. Understandable yes, but also a shame. This is a day to focus on our collective grief as a nation, to feel the pain of the churban, the pain of a tumultuous galus. If we want to finally experience the geulah shelaimah, we need to first feel this pain. As a wise woman asked me recently, “How can one focus on golus while living in a brand new palace in Lakewood/Toms River and enjoying every modern convenience?”
Visualize the Splendor
It’s hard to be sad over something we’ve never known. In order to fully appreciate the tragedy of the destruction of the Holy Temple, we have to get a deeper appreciation for its beauty. In his sefer, “Glory and Ruin,” Lakewood resident Rabbi Elchonon Hoberman paints a picture of a glorious era, of exalted avodas Hashem and deepened connection and clarity. The video presentation, Journey through the Beis Hamidkash, takes one on an audiovisual tour through the majesty of the Beis Hamikdash and gives a breathtaking view of what we are truly missing. One can use such a medium, or learn the sources that describe some of the wealth of what we are missing today, to begin to appreciate the magnitude of our loss.
- The unadulterated joy of the simchas beis hashoevah
- The majesty and nobility of the kohen gadol on Yom Kippur
- The awe and the trepidation of the Yom Kippur Avodah
- The beauty of the daily Avodah
- The purifying and cleansing nature of Korbanos
- The majestic singing of the Leviyim
- The unity and exultation of thousands of Jews being oleh regel together
- The sense of purpose, mission and absolute clarity afforded by the direction of Nevi’im, giving us Hashem’s word directly, in contrast to the murkiness that characterizes galus, leaving to guess what Hashem wants from us in every given situation, and then second-guess.
- Learning about the majesty and then using our imagination to visualize that era, will leave us longing for those times again like never before.
Internalize the words of Eichah and the Kinnos
I haven’t attended the kinnus program for women and girls in years, but I vividly remember the emotions it aroused when I did participate. You sit on the floor and hear from local mechanchos as they go through many of the kinnos, describing the background and translating them. It’s hard not to be moved to tears by the powerful descriptions of desolation, destruction, torture and death. Between the words of Eichah and the words of the kinnus, if you close your eyes and just try to picture the actualization of the words you are saying, you can feel the grief pulsating from each word.
The images paint a heart wrenching picture
- Of a once proud nation groveling for bread
- Of compassionate mothers consuming their own children out of desperation
- Of a shattered people quivering in fear
- Of a blazing temple and exulting enemies
- Of streams and streams of broken people in chains headed for exile
- Of utter desolation, copious tears, and unspeakable loss
Followed by millenia of of continued torture and oppression.
The language itself, with its many references to bitter crying is enough to evoke tears in many.
Whether you are sitting at home or in shul on Tisha B’av night, take the time to go through Eichah and the kinnus not only as something to say, but as something to feel.
Songs of Yearning
If words alone are hard to internalize, try the intense medium of song.
As a mother of young children, I do find it hard to strike the balance of being there for my children all day on Tisha B’av as a happy, comforting presence, while still feeling the sadness and longing of the day. I want to impress upon them what is missing, without burdening them with a sorrow that is still too heavy for their small shoulders to bear.
Often, I reconcile this by spending Tisha Bav morning singing with them songs of sorrow, songs of longing. Have an unofficial kumtzits where you sit together and sing all of the songs of galus and geulah,not only singing the words but singing them with heart and with feeling until they truly penetrate.
Here are some of the songs from our song list:
- Ani maamin in all of its various tunes
- Al zeh hayah daveh libeinu
- Av harachamim
- Al Eilah ani bochiyah
- Zeidim helitzuni
- Al naharos bavel
- V’liyerushalayim
- Banei, heichan atem
- Rachem bichasdechah
- Es tzemach dovid
- I am an ancient wall of stone
- The little bird is calling
- Prayers of Peace – Mendy Wald
And more…
Viewing our pain through the galus lens
The bottom line is, no one is a stranger to pain. Though we have it good, compared to so many previous generations, most of us struggle plenty. When we come to terms with the fact that every challenge today is a result of the galus and that for all of the doctors and all of the therapists and all of the band aids in the world, the only true solution to our struggles will arrive with the coming of Mashiach, then perhaps the yearning can begin.
Aside for the more obvious struggles – the illness, the grief, the abuse, the alarming rate of growth and normalization of anti-semitism, remember the more subliminal, but also painful, struggles afflicting our generation. The pain of disconnect, the pain of confusion and dearth of focus and clarity, the pain of disillusionment, the pain of loneliness and isolation. Of the few things we know with certainty about yemos hamoshiach, one of them is the absolute clarity with which we will serve Hashem and live our lives. We will be clear on our mission, our focus, on the differentiation between wrong and right. In every way you feel darkness in your world, channel that sadness into the pain and sadness of galus, and yearn for the day when the light will be turned on in our world.
If your struggles are Baruch Hashem not of the greatest magnitude and you are therefore hard pressed to yearn for Mashiach to bring an end to our suffering, perhaps your avodah would be to work on empathy. Look at the problems around you: your grieving neighbor, your struggling niece. Close your eyes and try to feel their pain, empathize with their crushing burden and beg for Moshiach to come and their load to be lightened. So many don’t need any help feeling the pain of the galus, because pain is their daily companion. When you empathize to the point of feeling a glimmer of their pain, you will have accomplished two things: an increased ability to yearn for the geulah, and an active step toward becoming part of the solution that will get us there: increasing ahavas yisroel.
Minimize the Gashmiyus
It is no question that our generation has been blessed with an abundance of materialism, and as mentioned before, it is hard to feel the galus while clad in designer clothing and residing in six bedroom mansions with marble floors and granite countertops. And yet, it is not for me, nor anyone aside for our leaders and mentors really, to determine for others what is “too much gashmiyus.” My simplicity is another’s luxury, while another’s essentials can be absolutely extravagant for me. And the ascetic lifestyle is not necessarily one that Hashem desires of us; after all He gave us this world to take part in and enjoy. But one thing we can all do to make galus relevant to our lives, in our way and on our own level, is make the decision to limit one aspect of gashmiyus in our lives. One small thing that we abstain from, as a reminder that we are in galus. When R’ Shalom Mordechai Rubashkin was released from prison on Chanukah, many stories came pouring forth of people, regular, ordinary people like me and you, who denied themselves certain comforts for the duration of his imprisonment – not sleeping with a pillow, not eating sweets, etc. in an endeavor to be nosei b’ol. His family mentioned time and again how incredibly touched they were by these gestures. We can possibly extrapolate from here how touched, so to speak, Hashem would be, by seeing our own joy and materialism incomplete for as long as His shechinah is in galus. Again, nothing too significant so as to be impossible to maintain, or even to leave you feeling so deprived, but something that comes up enough that every time you forego this little pleasure, you remember why you are doing so.
In Daily Practice
The truth is, in order to really feel the loss and the pain of the churban, and true yearning for the geulah, we don’t even have to take on anything extra. All we have to do is focus on what we are already doing, infusing all of the myriad ways we remember galus with enough kavanah that we are actually feeling what we are saying and doing.
There are many ways this is manifested in our regular lives. Here are some of them:
Breaking the glass at weddings: Even at our time of greatest joy, we take a second to remember the churban and that no joy is truly complete for as long as we are in galus. In reality, the breaking glass is usually drowned out by the elated “Mazal Tov!” that resound on its heels (pun not intended), but we can try, for a flash, feel the pain and the brokenness, before allowing the heady joy to overtake us again, then we have transformed the broken glass from a signal to the band to launch into its merry song back to its roots as a zecher l’churban. There is more symbolism at weddings as well: the breaking of the glass at the tenoyim, placing ash on the chosson’s forehead, the recitation (or singing) of “im lo a’aleh es yerushalayim” at the chupah.
Zecher L’churban on the wall: This is an answer to the question I posed in the introduction. Every home owned by a Yid has one common factor: no matter how grand, mansion or hovel, they all have (or should have!) a zecher l’churban, a bare patch on the wall that is meant to remind us that Hashem’s Home is still incomplete. If your home does not yet have a zecher l’churban, speak to your Rov about making one, and if it does, think about what it represents for the second that it takes you to pass it by as you go about your day.
Shemoneh Esrei: The daily amidah is full of yearning for the geulah. You can feel it in R’ei na v’onyei-nu, T’ka b’shofar gadol, Hashiva shofteinu, V’lirushalayim ir’cha, Es tzemach Dovid, R’tzei, V’sechezena eineinu*, and even in the final yehi ratzon that wraps it all up, sheyibaneh Beit haMikdash bimheirah v’yameinu. *I included these words even though they are part of the brachah of R’tzei because I wanted to highlight them in their poignant imagery, let our eyes behold Your return to Yerushalayim.
Other Tefillos: In bentching, we beg Hashem to rebuild Yerushalayim and to have mercy on His city, His Home and his people, we plead with Him to send us Eliyahu Hanavi with good tidings and merit us with the days of moshiach. We all bentch if not daily then almost so, all we need to do is tune into the words that we are already saying. While most women don’t say it, the karbanos in the beginning of davening and pitum haketores at the end invoke the longing for the avodah that once was. And toward the end of Shacharis, the culmination if you will, is the heartfelt addendum to aleinu, “ve’al kein nekaveh lichah,” where we ask Hashem to speedily allow us to see the Glory of His might, to establish the entire world under His rule.
Tikun chatzos: Tikun Chatzos today is not even found in many siddurim, but you’d be surprised that there are still people among us who make it a habit to sit on the floor at chatzos halaylah to recite it and lament over the churban while the rest of the world sleeps.
Other ways many are noheig to remember the churban in their daily lives: not listening to music while we eat, besides for seudas mitzvah, not listening to music as we are falling asleep, not wearing all of our jewelry at once, saying al naharos bavel before bentching during the week, not keeping a knife on the table during bentching, lest we become so distraught when we say uv’neh yerushalayim that we stab ourselves chas v’shalom.
Cry because we cannot cry
If after all this, you still have a hard time connecting to the loss that we are currently mourning, you are not alone. This disconnect brings to mind the famous story that occurred at the end of the Six Day War, when the Kosel was again, through tremendous open miracles, in Jewish hands. After close to two decades of being barred from the holiest of sites, Kllal Yisroel’s reunion with our Wall was an emotional one. The soldiers who came to liberate the kosel from Arab hands looked upon it with awe, and many approached it, embracing the Wall and sobbing emotionally. Two secular soldiers hung back, feeling somewhat distant. They hadn’t been raised with an appreciation of the makom hamidash or of anything sacred. The poignancy of the moment apparently wasn’t lost on one of them, though, and he burst into tears. His friend turned to him and said, “Why are you are crying?”
The fellow soldier looked sadly at his friend and said, “I am crying because I don’t feel the need to cry.”
If we are not aroused enough to cry, we should remember that it is also a madreigah to cry because we cannot cry.
Postscript
Now that you’ve finished reading this and are feeling sufficiently sobered, let me add this disclaimer for those of us who need to hear it: As much as we need to mourn the loss of the Beis Hamikdash, we have to know the limitations to that as well. We are not told to increase our sadness in the month of Av, but rather to decrease our joy. That is because a Yid is never supposed to be without joy, not even during this painful time. Yes, our joy is diminished, but not forgotten. We must not get consumed by the pain, lose ourselves in depression or become overwhelmed with grief, but rather to know what we are missing and to feel the pain of that loss so that we can take the steps we need to take to reclaim that loss, some of which are so eloquently outlined in this week’s Kaleidoscope. Ours is not to wallow in the darkness, but rather to yearn for the light. Even as we sit on the floor in mourning, we must retain the hope and the joy that comes with the promise of better days ahead.
May this Tisha B’av be the very last one that we observe in mourning, and may our collective grief over the churban this year and pledge to truly embrace each other and eradicate sinas chinam from our midst be the final catalyst to bring about the geualah shelaimah our people have been seeking for so many years already.
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