It’s well past midnight on this motzei Tisha B’av. I’m lying here in bed feeling very uneasy.
My mind is circling in many directions but I keep going back to two simple words. Two words that are burning a hole in my soul and threatening to topple my faith.
These two simple yet haunting words are, “Now what?”
The past three weeks of mourning, which got progressively more intense, with the culmination of the last 24 hours are all over.
The mourning period is over.
The crying is over.
Our limitations we kept are all lifted.
The many links to all the speeches and slides are all expired.
Yet here we are, still stuck in the darkness.
We’re still haunted by those heartbreaking photos of the hostages.
We’re still living in fear over the dire situation in Israel.
Many of us are still hurting, struggling and suffering in our own personal galus.
This year more than ever, we were all silently hoping for the day to finally become a Yom Tov. For our difficulties and pain to finally end. For the world to finally shine with the brilliant light of truth and beauty.
Yet here we are.
Still here.
Honestly, I feel disappointed and perhaps a bit rejected.
Something I’ve learned over the years is to know that the answer to most questions is that “we don’t know”.
We don’t know why there’s tragedy.
We don’t know why innocent children die young.
We don’t know why October 7th happened.
We don’t know why the cancer centers and rehabs-both physical and emotional are full to capacity.
As hard as it is to accept that, there’s a certain level of peace that comes along with it.
If we believe we’re capable of knowing, the fact that things don’t make any sense can be so hurtful. However, knowing that I can’t and won’t ever be able to know, brings along a certain level of peace. Me, a finite human being can’t possibly comprehend an infinite creator. At the same time, it’s this very infinite creator who is running the world and is capable of watching over every single one of us regardless of the worlds events.
So I ask, where did all the crying, mourning and davening go?
Where did all the “Ani mammins” go?
Was this all for naught?
How can this all be?
I’ve heard from many that they’ve been feeling as though Hashem has been calling them home. In one’s home, we blindly trust our father. We know He has our back and although at times things don’t seem right, we know he loves us and is doing His best for us. This is the ultimate trust and connection we can have.
Perhaps in this last generation before moshiach, Hashem wants us to connect on levels we’ve never experienced and have complete blind faith.
Perhaps the confusion and disappointment many of us are feeling tonight is all a catalyst to help us reach higher.
Blind faith dictates that precisely when we’re feeling so let down, so disappointed and rejected, we raise our eyes heavenward and say in the most simplest of terms, “I trust in You.” It’s this trust that brings us to the highest levels of connection and unity.
