May we only celebrate simchot together...

Last Thursday was Tisha B'Av, the day on which, due to the motion of the Hebrew calendar against the western calendar (or vice versa, of course), so many tragedies befell the Jewish people. I was one of the readers out of the scroll of Lamentations on Wednesday night, and I was quite surprised at how moved I was by the rebuke offered therein, and that emotion took me through the fast I endured and through the next day.

I think it's critical to point out that Tisha B'Av is not about beating ourselves up over how terrible we are or have been; I think it's key that the three Haftarot of Reproof that precede Tisha B'Av are followed by seven Haftarot of Consolation. That we are consoled for twice as long as we are reproved demonstrates Judaism's attitude toward redemption: no matter who you are or what you've done, there's always hope. There's always the chance to make amends and to make a change in your life; by making a change in your life, you can change the lives of others. That's powerful, powerful stuff, and all it requires is a willingness on the part of the individual.

Even better, you don't have to be particularly religious--or even religious at all--in order to believe that yes, you can make a difference in your own life. I hope it doesn't seem too trite, but just a little acknowledgement that life is pretty damned cool can be enough to drive my days into better places, enough to help me to see the beauty and splendor around me; I remember that every moment I have another chance to add to the world.

As if to cement that thought in my mind, Friday morning came, and along with it, a baby-naming. Friends had a newborn girl to add to the covenant, and as she slept quietly in Eliyahu's chair in front of the bima, wrapped in her mom's tallit, I couldn't help but be moved by the sight. Through the good and the bad, the people keep on growing, buy may we only celebrate Simchot together.