אֱלִי צִיּוֹן וְעָרֶיהָ/ Eli Tzion
It was Simchas Torah. My daughter’s birthday. I went to visit my parents and my mother showed me an article in the ‘Chicago Tribune.’ It said that Netanyahu had declared war and that 250 people were dead. It claimed that 2000 people were wounded. That over 100 had been taken prisoner.
I couldn’t fathom this. I grew up with Gilad Shalit as a prisoner. That was one person, and we spent so much time agonizing over his welfare and praying for him. But this was more than 100 people. All taken hostage.
I’ll admit my first thought was selfish. I was glad it wasn’t my children. These weren’t my babies.
The holiday ended. I turned on my phone. It got so much worse.
I watched in horror as it became clear that Megillas Eicha, the Book of Lamentations, had come to life.
Our youth had been cruelly murdered.
Our children and babies had been kidnapped.
Our women had been raped.
Verse after verse came to mind. What was unfolding was biblical in scope. And this was happening right after Rosh Hashana, after Yom Kippur, after so many of us had prayed fervently to be sealed in the book of life. Over 900 people were dead.
How could this be?
I don’t understand the death cult that is Hamas. I don’t understand how a person livestreams the murder of a grandmother to a Facebook page. I don’t understand the kidnapping of children. The murder of toddlers. The rape of women. I don’t understand how our culture has become so complicit in dehumanizing Israelis that people who are intelligent, educated and (I hope?) compassionate can somehow view these actions as justified, as a form of resistance.
It feels like Tisha B’av. It feels like I’m living through a pogrom. I can donate money, I can pray for the soldiers (my students) who have been called to serve, I can say Tehillim, but none of it feels like enough.
My whole mind is screaming: why?
I was in Israel in 2005 during the Disengagement. I saw the orange ribbons, the statements of יהודי לא מגרש יהודי. And I thought to myself, “I hope this helps. I hope when we give back Gaza, they will be able to build a thriving economy, and we will be safe.” I remember how terrible it was to read that Palestinian looters had stripped Gaza’s greenhouses, ruining fledgling efforts at rebuilding that economy. They were ruining their own prospects. And of course, when Hamas came into power, they made the situation even worse.
Anyone with a soul has compassion for the plight of the Palestinians stuck in Gaza. But nothing, nothing, justifies what Hamas did on Simchas Torah. They turned Simchas Torah into Tisha B’av. Today, and yesterday, were days of national mourning. There are 900 funerals to plan. 900! How do you plan 900 funerals? And their actions were unspeakably cruel. Barbaric. The acts of biblical enemies. The acts of Amalek of old, who looted and burned Tziklag, and kidnapped David’s wives and the Israelites’ children, both sons and daughters.
The only song I have heard in my head, over and over, on a consistent loop, is Eli Tziyon. This is the song we sing on Tisha B’av. It’s a haunting dirge. And it feels like Tisha B’av. Like a never ending Tisha B’av.
Mourn for Zion and her cities, like a woman giving birth, like a maiden wrapped in sack-cloth for the husband of her youth Mourn for the palace that was abandoned like a sheep’s negligence of its flock, and for the entry of God’s blasphemers into her holy sanctuary. Mourn for God’s exiled servants who beautifully sang her songs, and for their blood that was spilled like the waters of her rivers. Mourn for the chatter of her dancers whose silence fills her cities, and for the assembly that was destroyed and the abolition of her Sanhedrin. Mourn for the daily sacrifices and the redemption of her firstborn, and for the desecration of the Temple vessels and the altar of her incense. Mourn for the babes of her kings, noble children of David, and for their beauty that was darkened at the time of the removal of her crowns. Mourn for the glory that was dispelled at the time of the destruction of her Holy of Holies, and for the oppressor who tormented her whilst girding her in sackcloth. Mourn for the wounds and the many blows that struck her sainted ones, and for the smashing on the rock of her young children. Mourn for the joy of her haters who rejoiced over her downfall, and for the torment of her pure and noble citizens. Mourn for the sins that caused her to deviate from the true path, and for her numerous congregations, which were tarnished and blackened. Mourn for the voices of her abusers as her rising corpses mounted, and for the jeering mobs within her holy courtyards. Mourn for Your name which was desecrated in the mouths of those who stand against her, and for their prayers which they cry out to you, heed and hear her words.... Mourn for Zion and her cities, like a woman giving birth, like a maiden wrapped in sack-cloth for the husband of her youth -Piyyut found at this link on Sefaria