Dvarim: We Cannot Solve Eicha, We Can Solve Badad

This week, Shabbat Chazon, we focus a great deal on the similarity between the book of Eicha and the painful Echa exclaimed by Moses. 

The word Eicha can be meant as a question, but it does not have to expect an answer. 

In the book of Shoftim, after the near destruction of the tribe of Benjamin, the Jewish people exclaim, “Eicha!!” How did things come to where they have? 

The rabbis draw a similarity between the word Eicha asked after the destruction of the Temple and the word “Ayeka?!” God directs at Adam after Adam has committed his original sin. 

So, too, at the beginning of Deuteronomy, Moses exclaims, “Eicha!?!” How can I do this all alone? 

Yet there is another great similarity between the Eicha of Moses and the Eicha of Jeremiah. Moses cries in pain: “Eicha Esa Levadi?!” how can I do this all alone?! Jeremiah, too, declares, “Eicha Yashva Badad?! How has she dwelled all alone?!” 

Many synagogues have the custom of reading these words of Moses at the turn of Eicha. “And I said to you at that time, saying, ‘I cannot carry you alone….How can I bear your trouble, your burden, and your strife all by myself?” (Dvarim chapter one) 

While the pain Moses went through leading the Jewish people alone is relatable and even painful, it is hard to compare it to the pain of Tisha Be’Av. Some commentaries say this pain of Moses refers to what takes place in the book of Exodus (chapter 19) where Moses is judging everyone alone. Yitro, Moses’s father-in-law, sees the pain Moses is in and tells him he will not be able to carry this weight alone, at which point Moses appoints other judges. Other commentaries suggest that this Eicha of Moses refers to an episode in the book of Bamidbar in which Moses says he can no longer bear the weight of the Jewish people’s complaints, at which point God tells him to appoint seventy elders. Either way, neither of these cases seems like a tragedy. Why do we compare our pain of Eicha–exile, slavery, destruction, and mass casualties, to the small troubles of Moses? 

Perhaps the best answer to this can be found in a parable. There was once a large institution whose leaders were always quarreling, fighting, and making poor decisions. They finally decided to approach a wise and successful business leader in their community, who would contribute significantly to their now struggling institution and be the final word, resolving their many debates. 

In the beginning, it worked very well. The businessman joined the board, donated generously, and when they had a dispute, he ruled on it. Gradually, the fights among administrators got more frequent, and they came to their new board member more often. They came again and again with more petty and more small fights until finally, caring for his valuable time, the board member told them he had to resign. Without his talent and contributions, the fights got worse, and the institution closed down. The tragedy of Moses’s Eicha is not his own; it is a tragedy for the Jewish people. Our fighting, bickering, and division are tragedies we must learn to overcome and prevent. 

Over the past year, we have seen many Jews declare Eicha; how have we come here? How has a country with the strongest military in the Middle East failed to stop the horrors of October 7th? How has this powerful army yet to have been able to free more than one hundred hostages? How have small and clownish terrorist organizations created by renegade teenagers, Hamas and Hezbollah, become such formidable military forces that they can displace entire cities and regions inside Israel? These are important questions that need to be dealt with inside the IDF and among Israel’s strategic thinkers. 

Yet for Jews of the diaspora, the question Moses has been asking is in many ways, harder to answer. Eicha? How has antisemitism been allowed to rear its ugly head here in the United States? How have co-workers, employers, and leading social figures so cowardly thrown us under the bus? Where are the allies who stood with us and said never again? This eicha is asked by so many Jews from elementary school to high school, college, and in the workplace. How have we become the outcasts–Badad? 

Unlike heads of the military leaders in Israel, the answer to this Eicha is not in our control. We are not responsible for the moral failures and poor character of antisemites. We are not responsible for their enablers either. While we cannot fix the Eicha, the how, we can fix the Badad, the loneliness. Now is our time to make sure no Jews feel isolated and alone. The less likely they are to be close to Judaism, the more likely they are to feel alone. Let us make sure that every Jew on a college campus, in school, or in the workplace knows that we are there for them. Let us reach out, make ourselves visible, and join together in song. Let us make sure we eat together, celebrate together, and yes, put our differences aside. 

There is a beautiful story Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik shares about his visit to Kibbutz Kinneret, a symbol of secular Zionism. When he arrived for his visit, Rabbi Soloveitchik was surprised to discover that the Kibbutz had kept a Kosher kitchen. When he wondered aloud what brought them to keep a Kosher Kitchen, they shared with him the story of Rav Kook’s visit in 1912:

“In 1913, Rav Kook, reborn Israel’s first chief rabbi, took a tour visiting the kibbutzim of Ein Harod, Degania, and Kinneret. When he arrived at Kinneret, it was Friday evening, Erev Shabbat. Rav Kook went into the non-kosher dining room with two loaves of challah and a bottle of wine. He said kiddush, ate challah and retired for the night. While he was in the dining room, lights were turned on and off, and, on the kibbutz the next day, every Shabbat restriction was violated. But Rav Kook did not react to any of this.

On Motzei Shabbat, Saturday night, he danced with the kibbutzniks. When Rav Kook took leave of his hosts on Sunday morning, he left them with these words: lehitra’ot, ve’lechol beyachad se’uda achat”  That same day, all the plates in the kibbutz were thrown out, and new kosher plates and cutlery were introduced.” (As shared in the Jerusalem Post)

The only request Rabbi Kook made of the folks on the Kibbutz was to eat together in the shared dining room at least once a day. Interestingly, later historical research shows how ceasing to eat in a shared dining room was the chief reason for Kibbutz shared life to dissolve. 

Now more than ever is the time for Jews to eat in our shared dinning room. It may be metaphorical dining rooms, it may be physical dining rooms, but it is our responsibility to make sure we do.