Reflections on Tish’a Be’Av and looking outward

At an Eicha reading a few years ago, some people brought up the plight of Palestinians at the hand of the state of Israel, and the plight of communities of color in the US at the hands of police. Afterward, a friend pushed back on bringing these issues up in that context: we have all year to focus our energies outward on issues of justice for the world, so on Tish’a Be’Av we should focus our energy inward and sit with the very real grief and trauma of our own people’s history.

This wasn’t something I’d thought about before, but I liked it. So much of the Jewish community’s focus on social justice is rooted in the idea that because we were victims and no one stood up for us — כִּי־גֵרִים הֱיִיתֶם בְּאֶרֶץ מִצְרָיִם — when we see others being victimized we must stand up. In order for that to retain its power, we have to take time to step back and remember, feel — even in post-war America — our own generational trauma.

This year felt different. Since October 7, too much of the mainstream Jewish community has been focusing almost exclusively on the very real violence and trauma inflicted on Jewish civilians in that attack. This has left very little room for even acknowledging the ongoing horrors being meted out daily by the Israeli military (which somehow claims to do so in the name of Jewish safety, and with continued support from mainstream Jewish organizations elsewhere) on the civilian population of Gaza.

In a community that is refusing to see what “their side” is doing, maybe Tish’a Be’Av is exactly the right time to draw attention to it. So yesterday afternoon I participated in a small vigil organized by a new (or at least new to me) organization called Halachic Left. We wore black, sat on the ground holding signs quoting Eicha and saying things like “When you read Eicha, do you see Gaza?”, handed out a Tish’a Be’Av reader, and sang kinot.

Many of the signs were quoting scripture in Hebrew, so it wasn’t immediately obvious to an onlooker what point we were trying to make. And even when someone figured out that it likely had to do with Israel because it was Hebrew, it wasn’t always clear to people what side we were on.

This led to some amusing interactions, including a thumbs up or two from passing pedestrians and a “fuck Israel” from a passing car. But the funniest was the guy wearing dog tags in support of the Israeli hostages^[1]. Since he cares about Israel and hadn’t yet figured out what we — a bunch of Yarmulke-wearing Jews — were about, he initially showed support. Then, as he continued reading some signs, turned full nope-hand Drake before walking away.

The goal of the vigil was to draw other observant Jews’ attention to the parallels between the suffering of Jerusalem described in Eicha and the suffering caused by Jerusalem in Gaza today. I don’t know that we achieved that given the apparent demographics of who walked by, but it was an interesting experience nonetheless.

As for whether I would make a regular habit of participating in Halachic Left events, I don’t know. My general tendency is to try to keep my religion and politics separate, which, for the most part, means going to shul for the good parts while ignoring the constant background noise of Zionism. I try not to let my political beliefs define my relationship to Judaism, but, sadly, in light of current events, others are compelling me to speak up more.