Tuesday, July 24, 2007
Today is the saddest day on the Jewish calendar.
There. Mimi the robot has repeated the designated Tisha B'Av slogan.
This is all getting a little monotonous.
Year after year.
No eating. Sit on the floor. Do this. Don’t do that. Our Temple was destroyed.
Yesterday, with the fast approaching, I was bothered that I left my Crocs at work. I got home, looked at my non-leather-shoe options, and let out a loud, “aaaaauuugh!”
And this morning, I slammed my finger in my bedroom door.
It hurt real badly, and I cried. Hard.
Yesterday, I was not overly bothered by the approaching fast.
And during the reading of Eicha last night, I did not shed a tear.
Today, all I feel are my missing Crocs, and a slightly swollen finger.
Yet, today marks a day that meant destruction, exile, and estrangement for a nation constantly desiring closeness with G-d.
As Jews, we're meant to contemplate the meaning and feel the reality of the loss.
But, admittedly, I feel a little detached.
I see no ashes, no fire ascending to the sky.
I am hungry, but not for G-d’s Palace.
This heart does not ache in longing for what’s been lost.
And now I am forced to pause.
My eyes are wet.
My honesty right now is the first thing to pierce my heart all day.
And, as someone constantly striving to be in tune, my insensitivity is smacking me in the face.
Talk about a loss.
Today, when the whole world mourns what’s missing in Jerusalem, I really mourn what’s missing inside of me.
Today, I grieve because, after thousands of years of soul-numbing exile, my Crocs and aching finger cause me more distress than the absence of the Bais Hamikdash.