When the alerts sound
On Friday, we were startled yet again by alerts on our phones warning us about possible incoming missiles to our area.
Except that we weren’t in the area.
We are in America visiting family and enjoying some summer vacation. Honestly, it’s been nice to relax a little. And yet even 6,000 miles away, the alerts still sound on our phones and remind us that all is not right.
The Florida palm trees are beautiful, but ambulance sirens and the acceleration of a motorcycle still make us jump. At every new location, I briefly wonder where the safe room is. In restaurants, I look around for a guard at the entrance. At the synagogue, I take note of all the possible exits.
Two years of living in the shadow of war have definitely left their mark and heightened our sense of vulnerability. But they have also further strengthened our deep bonds and feelings of attachment to the land.
Being geographically distant from Israel has only deepened our sense of connection and concern. Even from a distance our thoughts remain with Israel, and its soldiers and hostages and everything happening there.
Hearing a little bit of Hebrew in a museum makes us jump with excitement. The customer service is great, but when visiting new locations, I miss the natural camaraderie of Israelis. In restaurants, I accidentally respond to the waiter in Hebrew. Saying Hallel in the synagogue, I reflect on the intense, emotion-laden Hallel we recited last month following the war with Iran.
I find that there is an ever-present longing in my heart. A latent awareness that as much as I am enjoying myself something is missing. I can’t fully relax. I’m physically comfortable. Even pampered. But emotionally, I’m not at ease. It surprises me yet again that I can feel this level of dissonance in a country I once called home. A country where I was raised and nurtured for over 30 years. A country that I still very much value and appreciate.
In the midst of this deep sense of longing, it dawns on me that these emotions reflect the essence of this period on the Jewish calendar and the longing it is meant to awaken within us.
It’s the month of Av. Yesterday marked the beginning of the nine days that lead up to the fast of Tisha B’Av. This is the time period during which we most acutely mourn the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash, the holy Temple, that once stood at the center of Jerusalem.
Throughout the year, we reference the loss of the Temple. We mention it in our daily prayers and when we recite the Grace after Meals. At weddings, we break a glass under the chuppah, and in our homes, we leave a section of the wall unfinished. We often pray for the rebuilding of the Temple and hope that God’s Holy Presence will once again dwell in our midst.
But it’s hard to really feel a sincere sense of longing.. It isn’t natural to miss something you never knew.
Once a year, we’re called upon to pause and focus more intently on what we have lost. Subtle reminders—“alerts” woven into the carefree days of summer—implore us to recognize that all is not as it should be..
We are told to refrain from eating meat and drinking wine, not to swim or listen to music. These little changes in our day to day are meant to remind us that something big is lacking in our world. That, at its core, the war we are experiencing also stems from the loss of the Temple.
The loss of the Temple is not just the loss of a physical structure. When we yearn for the rebuilding of the Temple, we are really yearning for everything that comes with God’s presence: stability, peace, justice, kindness, forgiveness, understanding, blessing, and healing. We long for a world that can distinguish between good and evil, between right and wrong and that answers to a higher calling.
We are told that the final redemption depends on us and our actions. Do we pray for it, does our behavior warrant it, do we desire it in a real and deep way?
The subtle sense of longing I have felt all week in America has reminded me of what it means to long, to feel that something is missing, to want something more.
With prayers that the special laws of this week can alert us and awaken us to what is truly lacking in our lives.
Instead of “getting through” the nine days, maybe we can do our best this year to make the nine days really count.
