I Miss You, Hashem
It’s hard to cry and mourn over something that happened 2000 years ago, even if what happened was significant and devastating. Many of us have a hard time bringing ourselves to tears on Tisha B’Av, and wonder what we are doing wrong in our attempt to connect to Tisha B’Av in a meaningful way, and to merit to truly mourn over Yerushalayim.
There are two ways to connect to Tisha B’Av. The first, and lower level, is through צער, pain, and second, and highest level, is through אבילות, mourning, which is different than pain.
Connecting to pain doesn’t take much effort – it is all around us. Part of the avodah of Tisha B’Av is feeling the pain that the Jewish people have gone through from the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash until this very day. Every form of pain is connected to Tisha B’Av, including the tragedies our nation has experienced as a whole, and the challenges and pain of an individual Jew who has gone through hardship. Another form of pain we can focus on is spiritual pain – from our personal struggles to connect to Hashem and Yiddishkeit, to the spiritual distance of so many millions of our brothers and sisters around the world.
An even higher form of experiencing pain is השתתפות בצער השכינה, joining in the pain of the Shechina. As the Ramchal writes in Mesillas Yesharim, “One should constantly feel real pain over the exile and the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash, because of the fact that this caused the honor of Hashem to be minimized, and one should yearn for the redemption, since through it Hashem’s honor will be elevated.” A Yid who loves Hashem, and knows that He runs every single aspect of the world, will be bothered that Hashem’s honor is being trampled. When the King is exiled we have the greatest opportunity to show Him our loyalty.
Hashem, I love you, and I am bothered that You are not recognized universally as the Creator of the world. I know that you guide every single thing that happens in the world, and it pains me to see people attribute things to chance or luck or nature. I know that You are infinitely good and merciful, and everything You do for us is always only for our own good, and it hurts me that Your presence is concealed, and that we see bad and evil in the place of kindness and mercy. I yearn for the day that the world is filled with Your honor, and every creation will know that You are its Creator, and every living thing will call out that Hashem is King!
But the highest form of avodah on Tisha B’Av is to mourn. What does it mean to mourn? Does it mean to be sad? How can we be sad? It is forbidden for a Yid to be sad! Sadness is the superpower of the klipos, the gift of the yetzer hara, and the gateway to despair and sin!
If we believe that everything Hashem does is for our good, how can we possibly have an obligation to be sad?!
The answer is that to mourn is not to sit in sadness – it is to express to Hashem that we miss Him. When a parent sends his child to study Torah in a faraway place, he’s not sad, but he misses his child. When we mourn over the death of a loved one, we aren’t sad for the neshamah of the deceased, which is in a place of pure good, but we miss them terribly!
Hashem, I miss You terribly! My heart aches for closeness to You. Since the Beis Hamikdash was destroyed, You’ve been concealed and distant, and it can be so hard for me to find You sometimes! I yearn for the Beis Hamikdash so that I will forever feel Your closeness and love. I long for the day when I stand with my people in the courtyard of the Beis Hamikdash, feeling the energy of a family united, serving You with love and closeness and joy!
This Tisha B’Av, if we aren’t standing together in the courtyard of the Beis Hamikdash, let’s dedicate some time for quiet contemplation, to think about these ideas, and to express to Hashem directly and in our own words: Hashem, I miss you.
This article was found in Nekuda Tova Issue 1.