The Saddest Day of the Jewish Calendar Feels Newly Relevant

T here’s a long-running debate among observant Jews about whether it is appropriate, in Jewish law, to establish days of mourning and fasting to commemorate individual calamities that have befallen the Jewish people. Certain events — the Holocaust chief among them — are so catastrophic that the State of Israel, after considerable discussion, instituted national days of remembrance that now carry religious significance for many observant Jews. But Jewish religious authorities have always recognized that the bar to establish a day of mourning must be high. If Jews were to commemorate each and every national tragedy on its anniversary, the calendar would soon become overrun with them — days not dedicated to mourning would become the exception.

The many tragedies of Jewish history are therefore all commemorated on a single day — Tisha B’Av, the ninth day of the month of Av on the Jewish calendar. The saddest day of the year, its observance includes 25 hours of fasting, prayer, and mourning. Tisha B’Av began yesterday at sundown and continues until nightfall later today. And this year, the day is imbued with meaning as it has not been for decades.

The chief event commemorated on Tisha B’Av is the destruction of the two ancient temples in Jerusalem, both of which occurred on the ninth of Av (the First Temple in the sixth century b.c.e., the Second Temple in 70 c.e.). In commemoration and mourning, Jews across the world read the book of Lamentations as the fast day begins. Every Tisha B’Av before this one, it was always tough for me to relate to Lamentations. It spoke of a bygone world I did not know: Jerusalem and the Jewish people frightened and in shock.

No longer. As the words of Lamentations, chanted in their sorrowful and subdued melody, echoed in synagogues across the globe last night, I can only imagine that most listeners were thinking the same thing I was: This feels familiar, even close.

Here are the opening two verses of the book — it speaks of Jerusalem in the aftermath of its destruction in 586 b.c.e.:

Alas! Lonely sits the city once great with people! She that was great among nations, is become like a widow; the princess among states, is become a thrall. Bitterly she weeps in the night, her cheek wet with tears. There is none to comfort her of all her friends. All her allies have betrayed her; they have become her foes.

And only a few verses later:

Her infants have gone into captivity before the enemy. . . . Jerusalem recalled in her days of woe and sorrow, when her people fell by enemy hands with none to help her; when enemies looked on and gloated over her downfall.

To connect with these words is no longer even remotely difficult. Jews have been acutely aware every day since October 7 that “infants have gone into captivity before the enemy.” No one needs to be reminded.

This year’s observance of Tisha B’Av is for many Jews and Israelis, then, the first day since October 7 in which commemorating the tragedies of that day will constitute a center of Jewish rites, liturgies, and readings. After finishing the book of Lamentations, as on every Tisha B’Av, we recited a series of Hebrew kinot, or liturgical elegies composed across millennia and commemorating tragedies down through the annals of Jewish history. This year, my synagogue inserted a new elegy, kinat be’eri. It is named, of course, after Kibbutz Be’eri, one of the communities on the Gaza border that were decimated on October 7. Yet its meaning is double. The Hebrew word be’eri means “my well,” and the elegy begins with the line, “Alas! My well has turned into my grave.” It ends also with the word be’eri, this time with a hint of hope: “And from the wellsprings of Your mercy heal my brokenness, and my eye that pours forth will water my well.”

Ending on a note of hope is fitting. The rituals of Tisha B’Av, like those of other Jewish commemorations, demand that those observing not lose hope amid the sorrow. As the fast day progresses, the acts of mourning become less severe. Until midday, one sits only on the floor or a low stool. From midday on, one sits in a chair, one’s strength and confidence partially restored. Similarly, the recitation of the book of Lamentations ends with the entire congregation chanting a final verse in unison: “Take us back, O Lord, to Yourself, and let us come back; renew our days as of old!”

This year, Jews have many reasons to feel sorrow and fear — more than there have ever been in my life, at least. Yet there are always reasons for hope, and despite the deep sadness of the day, the texts, liturgies, and rituals of Tisha B’Av decidedly remind us of that fact. It’s a lesson not only for Jews but for all those who empathize with the Jewish people and the struggles they have faced this year. Thank God those individuals are numerous, especially in the United States. As Tisha B’Av ends this evening, Jews will travel — as they have always done — from sorrow to gladness, from worry to hope, with renewed dedication and inspiration. From that, one hopes, the West might draw inspiration of its own.

You can listen to kinat be’eri, performed by the Jerusalem Orchestra East West in the original Hebrew, below (here are the lyrics in English for those interested):