A Sad Milestone

On 22 Menachem Av, the last Kaddish for martyrs of the Simchat Torah massacre was said. The timing of the 11-month period for saying Kaddish, in this year’s Jewish calendar, was particularly poignant. The end of the period fell out in Av, the month when we commemorate some of the saddest occurrences of Jewish history – specifically, on Tisha B’Av (the ninth of Av) and in the three prior weeks.

Yet Av actually contains elements of comfort, as well as sadness: hence the Rabbinic appellation for this month: Menachem Av. Tradition declares that Tisha B’Av is actually called “Mo’ed”, a holiday, and will be celebrated as such after Mashiach arrives.

With the core of Av being mourning, though, Jewish tradition unsurprisingly says that, with the coming of the month of Av, our joy is reduced: “mishenichnas Av m’atim b’simcha.”

As this Jewish year, 5784, is a Jewish leap year (known as a “shana meuberet”, lit. a “pregnant” year), we had an extra month of Adar, the month that overflows with joy. As our sages say, in a mirror image of their statement about Av, when Adar enters, joy is increased: “mishenichnas Adar marbim b’simcha“.

Adar’s joy is, of course, associated with the holiday of Purim. Now, if there is a serious competitor to Purim on the calendar, for joy, it is Simchat Torah. All the more irony that this year, anticipated as especially joyful with its two Adars, was marred by such a tragedy on Simchat Torah — and with the mourning period for that horror expiring in the perennial Jewish “month of sadness”, rather than in the month of Elul.

But again, Av is also a month of comfort. According to Chabad.org, referencing Talmud Makkot 24b, when Rabban Gam’liel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azariah, Rabbi Yehoshua and Rabbi Akiva went up to Jerusalem and reached Har Hatzofim, Mount Scopus, they tore their clothing, a standard Jewish sign of mourning. When they reached the Temple Mount, Har Habayit, they witnessed a fox emerging from the Holy of Holies.

With the exception of Akiva, the Rabbis started to cry. In contrast, Rabbi Akiva’s reaction was: laughter! Rabbi Akiva asked the rabbis, “Why do you weep?” They answered, “A place [so holy] that it is said of it, ‘the stranger that approaches it shall die,’ (Numbers 1:51), and now foxes traverse it – should we not weep? And how can you laugh, seeing a fox emerge from the Holy of Holies?”

Akiva responded, “That is why I laugh: I see the fox, which is the fulfillment of the prophecies of Uriah the Priest (in the time of the first Temple), and Zechariah the son of Berechiah (in the time of the second Temple). Zechariah’s prophecy is dependent upon Uriah’s prophecy.”

“With Uriah it is written: ‘Therefore, because of you, Zion shall be plowed as a field; [Jerusalem shall become heaps, and the Temple Mount like the high places of a forest].’ (Micha 3:2)

In Zechariah it is written, ‘Old men and women shall yet sit in the streets of Jerusalem.’ (Zechariah 8:4)

“As long as Uriah’s prophecy had not been fulfilled, I feared that Zechariah’s prophecy may not be fulfilled either. But now that Uriah’s prophecy has been fulfilled, it is certain that Zechariah’s prophecy will be fulfilled.” (Makkot 24b)

With these words the Rabbis responded to Rabbi Akiva: “Akiva, you have consoled us! Akiva, you have consoled us!” (ibid)

There is a combination of consolation and heartbreak at this eleven-month milestone. Somehow, as a nation, we are enduring – surviving our mourning of the heart–wrenching passing of these 1200 souls. As Israelis routinely say in the face of our many challenges, “ein brayra” there’s no choice. We must continue! With G-d’s help, life goes on.

Kaddish has now been said for the martyrs, by those whose immediate family observe this tradition. Countless members of the broader Jewish family elected, as well, to take on recital of Kaddish, to help the many families who could not fulfill this duty of honor on their own. These souls died sanctifying G-d’s name, and now, in their merit, His name has been sanctified, several times daily, for most of a year.

As a nation, we have taken advantage of the opportunity this year provided, to do extra mitzvot for the merit of those whose lives were cut short. We devoted extra time to study more Torah, to aid in elevating and comforting their souls. We gave additional tzedaka in their merit and did extra acts of loving kindness. Buoyed by these actions, we as a people have now formally moved past the third stage of mourning, the initial eleven–month period of saying Kaddish.

Still, due to the extra Adar of the Jewish leap year, there are two months between the final Kaddish and the Yahrzeit, or Hilula, the anniversary of the passing of those whose lives were taken. We have two extra months, instead of just one, of sad anticipation of the Yahrzeit. Tradition dictates that we stop saying Kaddish, as the victims’ souls do not need us to continue it – that’s the “good news”. The bad news is that we don’t have the comfort of saying it. Thus, we find ourselves with time on our hands, occupied by great sadness, but without a specific ritual to address it.

It seems to me there is poetic justice in this, as the pogrom of Simchat Torah was not just an isolated tragedy, but rather an immeasurable loss for our nation. As many have said, this was our worst communal loss since the Shoah. For all of us who have lived through this time, our lives will never return to how we were before Simchat Torah. We all have more than enough grief to fill the extra month.

I do, however, feel strangely fortunate to have taken on a tradition passed to me by one of my very dearest friends. When my mother, a”h, was nifteret, this friend shared that she kept a candle burning for the entire year of mourning for her parents. I decided to emulate her tradition for my mother, a”h and then a bit over a year later for my father, a”h, when he passed away.

While the memory of my parents is emblazoned on my soul, I found additional comfort in keeping their candles lit. As we say “ner Hashem, nishmat adam”, the candle of G-d is the soul of a person.

For the past year, since Simchat Torah, I have kept a candle lit in our home for the Kedoshim of Simchat Torah. For me there has been a bit of comfort in this gesture.

May each of us continue to live more elevated lives in their merit. Yehi zichram baruch, may their memories be blessed.