We’re here again, at the culmination of the 9 Days, Tisha b’Av.
This is a serious day. Bad things happened. But somehow I can’t get myself worked up this year. (I feel kind of like a failure. Ah, guilt.)
I am not sure if this is because my perspective has changed. Now I am living very close to–within missile range–of people* who’d like to take out me, my family, my city, and my country, and I am lucky enough to be alive and well. If I dwell on the living near the edge of safety too much I don’t think that I would be able to leave my house and live my life in any sort of normal fashion.
Living here has changed how I think about world politics, how I think about Jews. It’s still in process. While we mourn what we have lost, at the same time it’s impossible for me not to think about what we have regained–though at grave costs–since the original (and later, second) destruction of the Temple. It is not what the prophets envisioned; it’s not perfection. It too is in process, imperfect, and precarious.
at the kotel in 2010, 43 years after
Just like us.
We are supposed to be striving for that perfect vision, but sometimes the view looks nice from where we are. It is practically blasphemy to be saying so, but I am anyway.
* Not all, by all means. It’s not like living in a hornet’s nest. But there are admittedly hostile governments close by. Imagine if Nova Scotia were gunning for the destruction of New England. Mainers might feel smidge under pressure. I don’t pretend to know what the solution could be or should be. I just don’t know. And it admittedly doesn’t affect my life as much as it could, because of where we live. We’re not on the front lines…except when we are.