I don't feel sadness when Eicha (the book of Lamentations) is read. I don't understand the words. The melody does not reach me as other melodies do.
I don't know how to meditate deeply on what it means to be without the Temple when I am caring for my three young children.
I am not trying to question the Rabbi's. I am not trying to challenge the status quo. I am trying to figure out where my place is. Why am I so resentful every year when Tisha B'Av comes?
It's not the fasting. I fast on Yom Kippur and feel no resentment. It's not the other restrictions. It's that it feels so wrong to be instructed on how and when and what to feel.
Today you shall be sad.
But I am sad so many days. When I feel discord and hatred between Jews, I mourn. When I see humans acting without humanity, I mourn. When I face the world I am passing along to my children, I mourn.
So how am I to make myself feel those things on one day? My feelings come organically. They are not manufactured.
Again, I am not asking for a rewrite of Jewish law. I am saying that I don't feel in harmony with it.
So for tonight's blog I leave you and myself in discomfort. I have no conclusions. Only the feeling of not standing on solid ground. And perhaps today, the day when the Temple crumbled, that is exactly where I need to be.
1. The gray unknown, where questions don't need answers
2. The courage to be there
3. Picking wild blueberries an mulberries with the kids
4. The sun will rise tomorrow