We who
live in free and open societies like the United States can find it
difficult to fully appreciate the significance of these events.
Sometimes, though, it is easier than at others.
One summer
almost thirty years ago, my wife, Elana, and I decided to go to Israel. Neither of us had been there for a while, and
each of us had a yen to return. Because
of our work schedules, the only time we had available to take our trip was the ten
days following Tisha B’Av.
Elana was
able to find a flight to Israel with a stopover in Rome. “Why not,” she asked, “spend two days in Rome
before arriving in Israel?”
I was not enthusiastic. I had been away from Israel
for so long that I couldn’t wait to get back. And to take two precious
days from our relatively short trip and spend it in the capital city of the
ancient empire that had destroyed the Second Temple and exiled the Jewish people—that just
seemed to ignore the meaning of Tisha B’Av, and its commemoration of our loss
of national sovereignty. On the
other hand, this was an easy way to spend a little time in Rome, where I had
never been.
I reluctantly
acquiesced.
And so, we
began Tisha B’Av that year by sitting on the floor with our community, chanting
from the book of Eicha (Lamentations), and we concluded it by boarding a plane for Rome. We
arrived the next day, exhausted. Dragging our feet from place to place, we walked around the city to acclimate ourselves to the new time
zone. My heart wasn’t entirely in it.
We found
ourselves in the Vatican, gazing uncomprehendingly at one impressive work of
art after another. As I was looking at
one particular inscrutable statue, lamenting that we hadn’t signed up for a
tour, I began to notice a Hebrew inscription on it. That piqued my curiosity. What did it mean? Why was it there?
Then I had
an odd sensation: I felt as though I
were hearing an explanation of the inscription, in Hebrew! I must be having
an auditory hallucination, I thought. It
must be because I haven’t slept. But
then I realized that a group of tourists had walked alongside me, and that their
leader was pointing at the statue and describing its Hebrew inscription in Hebrew! It turned out that these tourists were
Israelis. We tagged along a bit. Suddenly, it occurred to me: even though we weren't yet in Israel, our trip to Israel had already begun.
There was
more to come.
The next day, Elana and I toured the Roman Forum. We walked around the Arch of Titus, built to commemorate the Roman victory over Judea.
According
to tradition, for almost nineteen hundred years Jews had refrained from walking
under the Arch and the first group of Jews to walk publically and purposefully under the Arch
was a group of Israeli soldiers, following the declaration of the state of
Israel in 1948. With this in mind, we approached the arch and looked up at the famous bas-relief of the Roman army (more
precisely, their slaves) carting off the treasures of the Temple to Rome.
I noticed
some Hebrew graffiti nearby: “Am Yisrael Chai” -- “The People of
Israel is (Still) Alive”.
What a
privilege—a privilege denied to Jews for almost two thousand years -- to
be able, after seeing that arch and contemplating the Roman victory it
celebrated, to travel to a free, sovereign, Jewish state.
That
evening, we went to the Caracalla Baths to see an opera.
Coincidentally,
the opera company was performing Verdi’s Nabucco
(Nebuchadnezzar), based in part on the Biblical story of the conquest of Judea and
the destruction of the First Temple by the Babylonians. At one point in the third act, actors playing
Hebrew slaves who had been exiled from Judea to Babylon filled the stage. The men were wearing large cloaks resembling tallitot. Slowly and deliberately, the slaves began to
sing the famous “Chorus of the Hebrew Slaves,” or “Va Pensiero:”
Fly, thought, on wings of gold;
go settle upon the slopes and the hills,
where the sweet air of our native land
smells so fragrant and mild!
Greet the banks of the River Jordan,
and Zion's toppled towers...
Oh, my country, so beautiful and lost!
Oh, remembrance, so dear -- and yet so painful!
Golden harp of the prophetic seers,
why do you hang mute upon the willow?
Rekindle the memories in our hearts,
and speak to us of times gone by!
Mindful of the fate of Jerusalem,
play us a sad lamentation.
Or, with the Lord's inspiration,
help us to endure our suffering.
Fly, thought, on wings of gold;
go settle upon the slopes and the hills,
where the sweet air of our native land
smells so fragrant and mild!
Greet the banks of the River Jordan,
and Zion's toppled towers...
Oh, my country, so beautiful and lost!
Oh, remembrance, so dear -- and yet so painful!
Golden harp of the prophetic seers,
why do you hang mute upon the willow?
Rekindle the memories in our hearts,
and speak to us of times gone by!
Mindful of the fate of Jerusalem,
play us a sad lamentation.
Or, with the Lord's inspiration,
help us to endure our suffering.
I felt
goosebumps. What an amazing evocation of the destruction! What a powerful coda to Tisha B’Av!
I had known
that in Italy Va Pensiero is an unofficial
national anthem. But that hadn’t prepared me for what happened then. When Va Pensiero concluded, the entire
audience stood up and insisted on an encore, right then and there.
And so the
cast and the orchestra – joined by many, many members of the audience – went
ahead and performed Va Pensiero yet
again with tremendous energy.
(To get a sense of what that
felt like, take a look at the following video.
It is an excerpt from a Rome Opera Company performance of Nabucco under
the direction of Riccardo Muti. The
video begins with the ninety seconds of
applause that followed the singing of Va
Pensiero at that performance. At
that point, as you’ll see, Mr. Muti speaks about the significance of the piece,
and then, at 2:30, he begins to lead the chorus, orchestra and audience in a
slow, stately, encore performance:
(If the video link above is missing, click here.)
What an affirmation
of the enduring power and universal significance of the Biblical story—our story!
Elana and I
left for Israel the next day. And the
trip was wonderful. But I have to admit,
it was made even more wonderful by what had preceded it.
Besides
convincing me that my wife is always right, I learned an important lesson. We never know when, where or how our
appreciation of the meaning of the destruction of the Temple and our exile from
the Land of Israel is going to be triggered.
Fasting on Tisha B’Av is certainly one important way to achieve this. Travelling to Israel is certainly another. But there are others as well.
Maariv on Tisha B'Av, including the chanting of Eichah (the Book of Lamentations), will take place at Temple Aliyah on Monday evening at 8:30 pm. On Tuesday evening, Minchah will be recited at 7:30 pm.
Maariv on Tisha B'Av, including the chanting of Eichah (the Book of Lamentations), will take place at Temple Aliyah on Monday evening at 8:30 pm. On Tuesday evening, Minchah will be recited at 7:30 pm.
P.S. I can't resist. Watch the following video to see an unusually choreographed but stirring
rendition of Va Pensiero performed in
Hebrew by the Israel Opera Company on Yom Haatzmaut in
2010. Read along with the Hebrew subtitles!
(If the link above is defective, click here.)
