One of my favorite scenes from the Amazon Prime show The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel revolves around the holiday of Tisha B’Av, which fell this past week from Monday to Tuesday evenings. Midge’s family is gathered at a resort in the Catskills, oblivious to the occasion, but her sister-in-law, a delightfully sincere yet comical recent convert, is determined to observe the day to the letter, fasting from sundown to sundown, sitting on the floor and reading the kinot mourning prayers. Exasperated by her husband’s family’s complete disregard for Tisha B’Av and tired of watching other people eat their fill over meals, she eventually blurts out, “It’s a day in remembrance of the destruction of the First and Second temples, but I guess no one else gives a s**t!” The family proceeds to argue about something else, as if she hadn’t even spoken, and she throws her eyes up to the ceiling and pouts, “These were important f***ing temples!”
Over the years, Tisha B’Av has taken on greater significance, encompassing the Bar Kokhba Revolt of 135 CE, the expulsion of Jews from England in 1290, the Alhambra Decree of 1492 that forced Jews out of Spain, and the deportation of the residents of the Warsaw Ghetto to the death camp of Treblinka in 1942, each of which presumably took place around the 9th of the Hebrew month of Av. Still, as this episode of Mrs. Maisel points out, this holiday holds varying degrees of importance for today’s Jews, depending on their traditions and community expectations. As far as I am aware, few of us at TBD are actively marking it on our calendars. As much as we respect collective memory and probably make a point of including some aspects of it in our lives, Tisha B’Av is a bit of a downer, and many of us are far too aware of current dangers and tragedies to spend much time thinking about past ones.
This Tisha B’Av, however, has been making headlines around the world, as people wait uneasily to see how Iran and its proxies will respond to the assassination of Hamas leader Ismail Haniyeh on August 4th in Teheran. Like many people, I found myself watching the headlines, fearful that some new calamity would join the ranks of Tisha B’Av remembrances. Unlike Jews living in Israel, I have another country, and I have the luxury of trembling from afar. Few (if any) of us have known suffering on the level of people living in Israel today, and we can only guess at the scars and trauma of people existing under constant threat. We can only imagine the terror of children in bomb shelters, the uncertainty of the displaced, the visible and invisible scars of people who have lost limbs, family members, homes… A friend of mine who travels to Israel frequently recently told me that “their resilience, their determination and their sense of purpose is really astounding.” It is awe-inspiring that existential fear and trauma can breed solidarity and strength. And yet…
When will enough be enough? When will humanity stop bringing tragedies upon itself? Will there ever be a time when we will look back at suffering and loss as a thing of the past, or will the list of tragedies continue to grow? If, as George Santayana famously wrote in 1905, “Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it,” does that mean that remembering the tragedies of history will protect us in the future? For the Jewish people, does remembering the times when we have been persecuted help us to better cope with antisemitism today? Or does it simply add to collective trauma?
As much as I would love to have answers to these questions, the only thing that I feel certain of in all of this is the following: Just as mitzvah goreret mitzvah, suffering breeds more suffering. If remembering the destruction of the temples and the expulsion and/or murder of Jews throughout history helps us to lead our lives with more compassion for others, to respect their unique experiences and traumas, then it serves a powerful purpose. We stand on the shoulders of generations of giants, people who have used remembrance, education, compassion, prayer, and a healthy dose of humor to ease their own suffering and to make the world a more just, inclusive, and loving place. As we remember the destruction of years past and witness the fresh pain inflicted on innocent victims in the world today, may we use all that we have learned as a people to continue building a better world, with room for everyone in it.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rebecca Abbate
