Today I joined my group of rabbis, a cantor and assorted lay leaders. Out of some desire for separation I walked, a suitcase in tow, from the North Port to the deep south end of Tel Aviv in the mid-day sun. Like in a steamroom, which Tel Aviv resembles, I sweated out the past to ready myself for this solidarity mission.
A good plan, as it turned out. Yesterday, I was enjoying sitting in a park despite the rocket fire. Today, the talk is of the wounded and the orphan, of the struggle and the larger realities. Then we were off to Beit Daniel, Tel Aviv's leading Reform synagogue, for the reading of the very sad Book of Lamintations. Tonight begins the 9th of Av, saddest day of the year, as it marks the sacking of Jerusalem. Lamintations is the poetry observing the event.
The mood is set for us and perhaps the nation as well. Most Israelis care little for the 9th of Av. But this year, the calloused brutality of Hamas, has a bit of the feel of destruction of Jerusalem 2,500 years ago.
The Rabbi tonight called for a time when silence will speak. From her mouth to the ear that always understands the silent prayer.
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