It is not good for humanity to be alone.
לֹא־טוֹב הֱיוֹת הָאָדָם לְבַדּוֹ
Loneliness is the first aspect of creation judged to be bad by God. Yet it is this deep sense of loneliness we are called to experience on Tisha B’av. אֵיכָה יָשְׁבָה בָדָד – How lonely sits the city once great with people.
I’ve spent most of this summer in a hospital, as a chaplain intern. I have spent the last few weeks sitting with people in some of their most difficult moments – learning of a devastating diagnosis, waiting in fear before a life-changing surgery, and getting the news of a loved one’s death.
As a chaplain, I am rarely called upon to fix something. I cannot make a diagnosis, administer medication, or perform surgery. What I can do is share in their grief, sadness, and pain. I sit and cry with patients who have lost their children. I listen to all of the wonderful gifts they brought to the world. I don’t offer words of comfort, but make space for the fullness of their loss. I can ensure that they don’t have to be alone.
Eicha itself is full of images suggesting that Hashem has abandoned us, that we are alone in our suffering. אֵין מְנַחֵם לָהּ – there is no one to comfort Jerusalem. Yet our tradition insists that we are never alone. According to Eicha Rabba, God shares our grief “The Holy One blessed be He summoned the ministering angels and said to them: ‘A flesh and blood king, when a relative of his dies and he mourns, what does he typically do?’” The angels answer, “He walks barefoot … He rends his purple garment … He sits and weeps.” Several of the examples provided directly mirror our halachot of mourning. In the depths of our grief and despair, God cries with us.
As queer people, many of us are intimately acquainted with deep pain, sorrow, and isolation. We may have lost relationships that were once important to us, or felt isolated from communities that we loved. But even when we feel alone, isolated, Hashem sees our pain. God weeps with us, joining us in the depths of our sadness.
Observing Tisha B’av is a rejection of our modern culture of toxic positivity. We are not meant to try to smile and keep our chin up no matter the circumstances. We can’t try to skip through the experience of sadness, anger, or grief. We have to allow ourselves to experience it fully.
This year in particular, there is so much grief weighing on our hearts. I am still mourning the losses of October 7th and its aftermath. I am still angry about the hostages who were murdered before they could be redeemed. I still feel helpless with regard to those who are still in captivity, and the ravages of the war. I feel scared when I see the legislative attacks on the LGBTQ+ community in America. I mourn the losses that I have experienced as our country and our communities have become increasingly divided and polarized. I know that each of you – LGBTQ+ people, parents, teachers and educators, Rabbis, and allies – are holding your own individual losses and grief.
The Three Weeks, culminating in Tisha B’av , give us a container for our grief, a roadmap for how to experience sadness rather than dismiss it. Perhaps knowing that we aren’t sitting alone will give us space to experience the full intensity of our grief.
Sara Singer
Director of Marketing and Communication