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Tzipiyah.com
Inspiring Jewish Pride through Relevant Judaism
About Tzipiyah.com
Tzipiyah.com aims to inspire the Jewish world, presenting inspiring original writing from a varied team of Religious Zionist contributors. Read More...
(Sweet)
Why cry about a building long ago destroyed? Why mourn and weep about events clouded in the mists of folded centuries?
Why sit on the hard floor, lament in earnest, fast waterless under the baking Yerushalayim sun?
Why march in hundreds around the walls of an ancient city many times expanded and outgrown, why declare with broken hearts the desolation of a city that thrives and throngs and pulses with vibrant life?
How can I cry for the deathly silent city, when its mourners flock about me, and raise a great noise heavenwards with their concentrated mourning?
How can I lament destruction of a built city, fossil revived, miracle to behold and touch and live?
How can I cry for the slaughter of my people when we teem in heavenly-directed harmonious purpose, in our very crying?
The answer?
(Bitter-sweet)
The answer is the difference between is and could be.
Between concrete and dreamstuff, between what we grasp in our hands today, and what we stretch and yearn for for tomorrow.
(Bitter)
The sadness in me burst forth on the Ninth of the Fifth, when I saw people who, for all their beautiful dedication, were not touched by the sorrow of loss and pain for what we are missing, for what has been taken from us, for what has not yet been returned to us.
My sadness swelled when I saw through the outside, and into the inside, of what we have here as a nation, and what we are so sorely lacking.
My sadness grew when I was reminded of what our enemies have done to us, in the Holocaust, in Chevron in 1929, in our very Holy Land all these years, and in Gush Katif and Northern Shomron. The echoes of the Holocaust ruffled the pages of my Tanach as I read Eichah.
“O G-d, why will You forget us forever, abandon us for so many long days?”
Our Temple is not yet rebuilt; our children torn from their homes and gardens and towns and lives; enemies from inside and from outside plan and plot our destruction every day. Eichah is still so bitter, the screams are still so fresh.
So many of our dear brothers and sisters still remain closed-eyed, distant from themselves, from G-d. We don’t know who we are, we don’t know what we have to do. The jarring pains of childbirth start to shake us from our lengthened slumber, and we blink and begin to take our bearings, to find our feet, to shake off the dust and shackles of foreign ideas and people, to be truly free to G-d.
(Forwards with courage and hope)
We have work to do. We have many people to awaken. Don’t forget the bitterness in the bitter-sweet.
The fight is not yet over. The Redemption is not yet complete.
We cannot settle for just a wall; we want a complete, beautiful building of harmony, love, tranquility, and perfection of the world.
We cannot settle for half, when we know that we will never be complete until we have the whole.
We cannot settle for mediocre, when we cannot exist without total achievement of our holiest goals and dreams.
Dear friends, we cannot allow ourselves to settle for anything less than everything we’ve been promised by G-d, everything we’ve dreamt of for thousands of years.
Not now; not now that we’ve come so far…
Why cry about a building long ago destroyed? Why mourn and weep about events clouded in the mists of folded centuries?
Why sit on the hard floor, lament in earnest, fast waterless under the baking Yerushalayim sun?
Why march in hundreds around the walls of an ancient city many times expanded and outgrown, why declare with broken hearts the desolation of a city that thrives and throngs and pulses with vibrant life?
How can I cry for the deathly silent city, when its mourners flock about me, and raise a great noise heavenwards with their concentrated mourning?
How can I lament destruction of a built city, fossil revived, miracle to behold and touch and live?
How can I cry for the slaughter of my people when we teem in heavenly-directed harmonious purpose, in our very crying?
The answer?
(Bitter-sweet)
The answer is the difference between is and could be.
Between concrete and dreamstuff, between what we grasp in our hands today, and what we stretch and yearn for for tomorrow.
(Bitter)
The sadness in me burst forth on the Ninth of the Fifth, when I saw people who, for all their beautiful dedication, were not touched by the sorrow of loss and pain for what we are missing, for what has been taken from us, for what has not yet been returned to us.
My sadness swelled when I saw through the outside, and into the inside, of what we have here as a nation, and what we are so sorely lacking.
My sadness grew when I was reminded of what our enemies have done to us, in the Holocaust, in Chevron in 1929, in our very Holy Land all these years, and in Gush Katif and Northern Shomron. The echoes of the Holocaust ruffled the pages of my Tanach as I read Eichah.
“O G-d, why will You forget us forever, abandon us for so many long days?”
Our Temple is not yet rebuilt; our children torn from their homes and gardens and towns and lives; enemies from inside and from outside plan and plot our destruction every day. Eichah is still so bitter, the screams are still so fresh.
So many of our dear brothers and sisters still remain closed-eyed, distant from themselves, from G-d. We don’t know who we are, we don’t know what we have to do. The jarring pains of childbirth start to shake us from our lengthened slumber, and we blink and begin to take our bearings, to find our feet, to shake off the dust and shackles of foreign ideas and people, to be truly free to G-d.
(Forwards with courage and hope)
We have work to do. We have many people to awaken. Don’t forget the bitterness in the bitter-sweet.
The fight is not yet over. The Redemption is not yet complete.
We cannot settle for just a wall; we want a complete, beautiful building of harmony, love, tranquility, and perfection of the world.
We cannot settle for half, when we know that we will never be complete until we have the whole.
We cannot settle for mediocre, when we cannot exist without total achievement of our holiest goals and dreams.
Dear friends, we cannot allow ourselves to settle for anything less than everything we’ve been promised by G-d, everything we’ve dreamt of for thousands of years.
Not now; not now that we’ve come so far…
You liked this post? Here is a list of related posts:
- - Mr. Bitter Cheshvan and the World of Concealment by Debbie
- - Yom Yerushalayim Sameach! יום ירושלים שמח! by Zemer
- - Zemer’s Aliyah Files #2: Music in the ‘Three Weeks’ by Zemer
- - There is Still Hope by Florence
- - Rosh HaShana, the Sweet Circle by Avital
- - The Rising Call by Zemer
- - (Mar) Cheshvan by Dan Illouz
August 11th, 2008 at 4:30 pm
You are a very talented writer. Thanks to you, I am now inspired not to settle for half. But I am just wondering if you were addressing a certain feeling you see around you of people settling for half and then responding to it? If so, can you let me know where you feel that feeling is prevalent?
August 16th, 2008 at 5:41 pm
Thanks, Andre I think that there is a strong feeling of 'let's forget about our dreams and ideals, but rather cut back and give away in order to find peace and quiet' — many Jews in Israel feel that the quest for 'peace' is so important that we can and should sacrifice a lot in its name. 'Peace' has unfortunately become a religion of its own here in Israel, which is dangerous and sad. Israelis have understandably had enough of this constant conflict with the Arabs and the so-called 'Palestinians' for many, many years already. They want to finally have peace. And they are willing to do a lot, to give a lot, to achieve this goal of serenity and tranquility. This is clear from government decisions and actions over the last few years, including Rabin's Oslo Accords, which provided the turbulent Arabs with an excuse for the start of the Intifada, and which supplied money and arms to the Arabs to use to kill Jews; including Barak's declared intentions to give away massive amounts of land of Israel; including the infamous Disengagement only 3 years ago; and including Olmert and others' declared intentions of giving away more land of Israel to the Arabs — and all in the name of peace, a peace that is clearly nothing more than a myth or a mirage… our enemies do not care for peace; their declared, explicit intentions are our complete destruction… Such 'political' decisions (they're not just political, they directly affect the lives of every Jew everywhere!) of Israeli political leaders have largely had the support, or at least been free of the vocal protest, of the majority of the Jews living in Israel. Since the Disengagement, however, that has begun to change… Friends, G-d promised us the entire Land of Israel. We're not there yet, but don't let us give up hope, lose sight of the ultimate goal, give in to pressures from outside and from inside, that urge us to give up on our dreams, to give up that which is holy in the name of a bloody, ominous 'peace'… Am hanetzach lo mefached miderech aruka! - The eternal nation is not afraid of a long journey! (Rav Kook)