Reliving Revelation
This Shabbat is precious. This Shabbat is Shabbat Nachamu, the special Shabbat of comfort and consolation that follows the collective mourning of Tisha B’Av, which we observed just one week ago.
In my mind, Tisha B’Av has always belonged to camp. As a camper, I remember the build-up to Tisha B’Av, and how we spent the day: the intense programs about Jewish history, the reading of Eicha, the Book of Lamentations, and the fasting. I remember feeling that Tisha B’Av seemed to be one of the most important days on the summer calendar– bigger than Shabbat, more emotional than a typical day at camp, and perhaps most memorably, the day that began the perennial, and all too rapid countdown to the end of camp. Tisha B’Av, was, in so many ways, at the center of my experience as a camper. An usual landmark in an eight week stretch of camp time.
But what I remember most from observing Tisha B’Av at camp for all of those years, was always what came after, what came next.
When Tisha B’Av ended, there was always a palpable sense of joy around camp. And not just because we could finally eat. When the requisite 25 hours was up, we would quickly daven the evening service, and then would conclude with a beautiful and slow havdalah– the kind that somehow manages to stop all time. And then, we would sing, and run as fast as we could to the dining hall. And in an instant, all of the mourning and discomfort of the day fell away, making room for the kind of joy that comes with being back in your happy place, surrounded by your best friends, in a place unlike any other, that can only exist when so many particular things converge.
But I always felt sort of strange about this transition. Why, after lamenting the destruction of the Temples in Jerusalem, after learning year after year about the countless tragedies that befell the Jewish people on Tisha B’Av; why weren’t we more cautious in our reentry? Why were we so quick to jump back into joy? Why was it so important that we move so quickly beyond the grief?
This Shabbat, we are sitting in the same kind of “what’s next” moment. Parshat Va’Etchanan is almost always read on Shabbat Nachamu, the first Shabbat after Tisha B’Av. And while this special Shabbat draws its name from the opening verse of our Haftorah portion, it also bears an important connection to the Torah portion, one that goes beyond the coincidences of the calendar.
Two critical things happen in this week’s Torah portion, and each lends itself to a sense of renewal, of realignment, and unity for the Israelites. The first, is the repetition of the Ten Commandments. And the second, is the introduction of the Shema prayer.
As Moshe continues to wind down his tenure, he gives a series of speeches to the Israelites, each one summarizing their journey, lifting up both the highs and lows of their time together in the desert. And in our portion, that speech revolves heavily around the revelation at Sinai.
In Deuteronomy chapter 5 we read:
Moses summoned all the Israelites and said to them: Hear, O Israel, the laws and rules that I proclaim to you this day! Study them and observe them faithfully! Our God יהוה made a covenant with us at Horeb. It was not with our ancestors that יהוה made this covenant, but with us, the living, every one of us who is here today. Face to face יהוה spoke to you on the mountain out of the fire— I stood between יהוה and you at that time to convey יהוה’s words to you, for you were afraid of the fire and did not go up the mountain—saying:
Moshe sets the stage, in an attempt, perhaps, to recreate the drama of revelation. The fire, the sounds, the awe, the trembling, the almost hallucinatory experience of standing at Sinai for the first time, and encountering the Divine for the first time. And then a repetition of the Aseret Hadibrot, the Ten Commandments, ensues. We receive the laws a second time; we are given the gift of experiencing revelation for a second time. The commandments as they are given in this week’s Torah portion, are more fully developed, and seem to address the realities of the Israelites evolution into an organized, religious community. The basis for these essential laws remains the same, but they are expanded to reflect the needs of the people at this particular moment in their collective lives.
And then in chapter 6 we are introduced to the text of the Shema:
שְׁמַ֖ע יִשְׂרָאֵ֑ל יְהֹוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵ֖ינוּ יְהֹוָ֥ה ׀ אֶחָֽד׃
Hear, O Israel! יהוה is our God, יהוה alone.
The Shema is the cornerstone of our religious and liturgical experience. Our collective call to unity, our collective affirmation of monotheism. It reminds us of our sacred obligations to one another, and is itself a call to action: to unify, to build, to grow into communities and relationships that value, perhaps above all else, the power of connection, both human and divine.
Now, receiving revelation for a second time, reading the text of the Shema, those two moments would be significant at any time of year. But, they are especially poignant when read on Shabbat Nachamu. On this Shabbat, our invitation to stand again at Sinai, our invitation to declare our commitment to community, those are the things that remind us of the work that comes after a day like Tisha B’Av. It’s almost as if the calendar, our tradition, refuses to let a week go by without a reminder for how it is that we rebuild after the kinds of destruction we mourn on Tisha B’Av. That rebuilding community, standing together around the base of the mountain, having an experience that is simultaneously private and shared, of praying together with the kind of trust that things will get better– those are the building blocks of our reentry, of our renewal. Those are the things that make it possible to go on, even when it seems most overwhelming, most exhausting, impossible. Those are the things that bring us the most pure and essential kinds of comfort.
In the introduction to Creating Sacred Communities, Rabbi Angela Buchdahl, Senior Rabbi at Central Synagogue in New York says the following:
There are so many people who haven’t yet been turned on to what Judaism can do for their lives. I feel this deep sense of mission to share with them that your life would be more grounded and meaningful, you would have less anxiety, you would be more connected, if you found not only Judaism, but a Jewish community…we are seeing waning levels of engagement in religion all over North America. I know that joining a sacred community is actually the antidote to all the things that people are talking about: the levels of anxiety and depression and isolation and loneliness and even illness. I’m not saying that this is the only thing, but communal life is, to me, maybe the most powerful thing we can do for the things that are ailing our society most of all.
This year, I am thinking about Tisha B’Av at camp differently. I’m thinking about how the immediate reentry into the fullness of our sacred community was likely not a pedagogical oversight, but something that was created intentionally, by design. That my counselors, and teachers at camp were guided by our tradition, in proclaiming that community is the remedy to the mourning, and the disconnect that Tisha B’Av reminds us of.
The Israelites are looking ahead to their future in the Land of Israel. We are reflecting, looking back on our history. Parshat Va’Etchanan stands between these two perspectives and affirms the one thing that has always been true: Community is perhaps that one thing that stands the test of time.
Shabbat Shalom!
Rabbi Abramowitz
