Someone on the block arranged a women's reading (i.e. after the main ones were done, so women who had stayed home with the kids could go now) of Eicha (Lamentations) this evening, Tisha B'av. It's amazing how much more of it hits home when one has a child (this chapter is an excellent example). The events of and leading up to the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash and subsequent expulsion are beyond our comprehension, we, a generation who knows intimate details of the Holocaust. It goes beyond that.
Sigh. It isn't supposed to be like this.
Yoav is asleep on his mattress on the floor. I, fasting, am sitting here on the floor too, with the computer propped up on a chair. My daughter is of course wide awake (she slept in her crib after her bath and midnight snack for all of 10 minutes before calling me in and giving me a massive okay-Mom-time-to-play!-grin). She's on the floor too, but less as a sign of mourning than due to gravity. She's busy playing with the box from the toy we bought her earlier this week (that must be why it cost so much money - you get the toy and the box).
We've been sitting on the floor for thousands of years. Thousands of years - a totally ridiculous amount, right? Who can relate to something that happened so long ago?
The answer is - we can. Because it hasn't ended. It just transmogrifies in each generation. Pogroms, expulsions, inquisitions, crusades, wars, holocausts, libels, riots... The bombs landing up north are a continuation of it.
What we're praying for is that this generation - most importantly, our childrens' generation - should see the end of it.