The 9th of Av within October 7th: Opening up our Memory to find our Narrative
It won’t be hard for an already sad Jewish people to get into the mood this Tisha B’Av, the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. Jews will bring all their baggage from the October Seventh period with them to the ninth day of the Jewish month of Av, which commemorates a bundle of past Jewish tragedies—from the destruction of the First and Second Temples to the 1492 Spanish Inquisition. These events are stored in intergenerational Jewish memory not merely because of their magnitude, but how they were woven into Jewish practice and identity in the new narrative born in the aftermath of each tragedy.
The fast day demonstrates why and how the Jewish people transform a collective crisis into a collective memory. In the aftermath of October Seventh, conflicting voices are already competing to write the first draft of how this period will be remembered, each drawing on different interpretations of the Jewish present and past as their foundation. The voices that prevail now will shape the narrative that emerges in “The Day After.”
Jewish collective memory binds contemporary Jewry together, serving as the foundation for a shared social identity. As neuroscientist Yadin Dudai wrote in his scientific study of collective Jewish memory, a set number of past Jewish memories and their interpretation together make up the Jewish people’s contemporary narrative and its various sub-narratives.
The shock of a new Jewish crisis represents the collapse of the narrative; the previous story that the Jewish people told themselves about ‘who we are’ and ‘what keeps us safe’ no longer holds in the new reality. A narrative-less Jewish people must then navigate the crisis using their intergenerational collective Jewish memory as a guide towards hope.
In the chaos of the Warsaw Ghetto, Yitzchak (Antek) Zuckerman, the lead youth educator and organizer of underground resistance activities, understood this. In 1940, he published the Yiddish anthology, Payn un Gvure (“Pain and Heroism”), which drew from the lows of Jewish history— from the Crusades, and medieval Blood Libel accusations, to the Chmielnicki Pogrom, and World War I— and their impact on the Jewish soul and the Jewish self-defense efforts they inspired. This practical teaching manual, Zuckerman wrote in his memoir, was more fundamental than food or weapons to the young fighters’ success.
Since October 7th, Jews instinctively interpret the present through the past, opening up our Jewish memory box in light of the present. The Israeli sketch show “The Jews are Coming” tragically captured this in a skit linking the attack to historical pogroms—showing that “Never Again” can, in fact, happen again. But the Jewish memory box contains more than traumas—it holds principles of strength and resilience drawn from every historical low and high. How we harness and interpret these memories from within the crisis is what gives access to these principles.
Sociologist Eviatar Zerubavel explains that during crises, Jews activate dormant collective memories, filtering new events through existing frameworks while adapting their identity narratives to fit emerging realities. Neuroscientist Daniela Schiller’s research demonstrates how this works within the intergenerational family. Focusing on her own Holocaust survivor father’s experience, Shiller discovered that through a process of reconsolidation, when a painful memory of fear is retold and rerouted, it can be disentangled and rewritten into a source of strength. Future generations who receive the seemingly cemented memory of pain can also choose to “reconsolidate” their ancestor’s memory – transforming it from an inherited trauma to inherited gift. This gift is then passed down.
The first draft of a new memory is generated from within the crisis. This draft is the framework for the new narrative born in its aftermath. The new narrative weaves in the now-crystallizing memory of the increasingly-distant crisis; its interpretation of the memory allows for new principles to be extracted from it. In this process, institutions or authorities are given responsibility for holding and transmitting the memory to future generations. When the next generation is compelled to open up their memory box, they will gain access to this new principle developed in the last crisis, along with all of the others stored within intergenerational Jewish memory.
Take the Destruction of the Second Temple—the Ninth of Av’s defining event. The catastrophe shattered temple-centered covenant theology, leaving survivors without their foundational story. From the wreckage, a new narrative emerged—one that preserved Jewish dignity in exile, without temple, without homeland. This narrative crystallized in Eicha, the book of lamentations, which diagnosed the crisis and prescribed prevention. The lesson became dogma: destruction came from baseless hatred—sinat chinam—within the Jewish people. The antidote became principle: ahavat yisrael—love your fellow Jew. Most crucially, new guardians emerged—rabbis replaced priests as the keepers of memory and meaning.
With much out of our control, Jews retain complete agency over how we remember in the present and interpret our past. This power – on full display during the Ninth of Av – offers a path toward a tikkun (repair)—transforming collective Jewish memory from a source of pain and division into one of strength and unity.
Those interested in continuing the conversation are welcome to join “Tisch B’Av: When the Story Cracks: Writing our way to the Tikkun” on Thursday, July 31, online and in-person at ANU- Museum of the Jewish People, where we will ask the question with leading authors, “In the Aftermath of October Seventh, what new story will emerge? And who will tell it?” Go HERE for information and to book your spot (at no charge).
