Tonight and tomorrow. Sad day.
I’ll be sitting shiva.
For the Temple. In Jerusalem.
That I lost 2000 years ago.
I’ll sit on low chairs. Not eat. Not drink. Not make small talk.
I didn’t know the Temple, much.
I’ve heard about it, though.
Seen the ruins. Heard about the miracles. Prayed for its return.
Cried, for the sorry state we find ourselves in today. In spiritual disconnect and confusion.
Hard to mourn, for that which you never had.
That just makes it sadder.
To distract myself with blogging would be wrong.
I want to dwell on my shiva, not be distracted from it.
My fellow Jews, we are one family. We all sit shiva together.
We need each other, for comfort and support.
Can’t afford to hate… to gossip… to vilify.
If we were sitting shiva for a person, would we, could we fight, while burying our loved one?
People do.
*Sigh.*
I pray for the return of my loss.
A rebuilt Temple.
A rebuilt Jerusalem.
A rebuilt relationship.
Between us and God.
Between us and each other.
Between us and ourselves.
Amen, may it be so.
I think of my father, who is one of the kindest, most loving, most giving men I have ever been blessed to know. I think about kicking him out of my house, as we kicked G-d our Father out by listening to the spies on Tisha B'Av so many years ago, and I am absolutely horrified. How could I have done this? How could we as a people have done this?
This is how I can connect to what happened so long ago, and feel the shame and the profound sadness. I know not everyone was blessed with a wonderful father, but it helps me, and it gives me the strength and resolve to do what I can to rectify my egregious error.