He says, “Be still, and know that I am God. I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted in the earth” (Psalms 46:11)
It is evening, and the lovely garden is darkening. The delicate green leaves, which just a short while ago were shimmering in the sunlight, now glisten in the moonlight. White roses climbing up the garden’s trellis sparkle with a soft glow. A carpet of dusk blankets both the heavens and the earth. Thick gray clouds are covering a gloomy sky, their edges bathed in white enchantment, in the softness of magical moonlight.
As in a dream, a soft white glow from the window illuminates the darkness of our living room. The sound of Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata wafts in the air, floats out the window to the skies and then back again. In stark contrast to the deepening blackness of the piano, moonlight glistens off the white keys, and a little girl is softly playing music. Her father enters, is about to turn on the lights, but then, thinking the better of it, continues on his way.
Let us forget, for a while. Let enchantment prevail. That light may enter even on the darkest of nights.
Was it only a short while ago, or perhaps already decades ago, that my father’s family was destroyed, our nation threatened with extinction. But now, by the mercy of God, here we are, in a haven of calmness. Silence fills the air, even the birds have quieted their song. Moonlight lights the peacefulness of a home, whose tranquility replaced Life’s previous horrors. And we enter the world of music, of enchantment, where a small child is serenely playing the Moonlight Sonata.
A feeling of almost palpable yearning fills our hearts. For a time of peace, of tranquility, of otherworldliness. For a time when we, as Man, will return to our intrinsic nature, which is Divine. When peace will surround us, not only in the quiet of our homes, but in the tranquility of our world. The notes float on the air. An endless hope, an eternal prayer for Redemption. With the knowledge, that Life could be, should be, one day will be, different.
We are now in the month of Av. The month known as “Menachem Av”, when, as a father, God comforts us. We are reminded in the parashah before Tisha B’av, of God’s protection of His people. “And in the desert, where you have seen how the Lord, your God, has carried you as a man carries his son, all the way that you have gone, until you have come to this place” (Deuteronomy 1:31).
In the parasha which follows Tisha B’av (Va’etchanan) we are again reminded, that God watches over His people. “For what great nation is there that has God so near to it, as the Lord our God is at all times that we call upon Him?” (Deuteronomy 4:7)
Soon it will be Tisha B’av. Together with our fasting and remembrance of the past, our cries, our prayers for our nation today will fill the air. The heavens will be pierced by a call, a prayer, for mercy, for consolation, for deliverance. For the return home of our beloved, our hostages and soldiers, in safety. For the healing and renewal of our lives, in peace.
We will soon read, ”The Lord spoke to you out of the midst of the fire, you heard the sound of the words, but saw no image, just a voice” (Deuteronomy 4:12).
As in our cardinal prayer the Shema, which translates as “Listen” or “Hear”. Perhaps, the first step toward Redemption is just to listen, for the footsteps.
We will call out, and wait. And toward the end of the day, we will wash the floor in anticipation.
As Tisha B’av draws to a close, a vision of hope will whisper its insistence to our souls. We keep the curtains open, to allow the moonlight and the light of beauty to enter our homes. The music of children, the purity and hope, as a dream, at once forgotten, at once retrieved.
“..and your children, who on that day did not know good and evil they will go there and I will give it to them, and they will possess it” (Deuteronomy 1:39).
Something within us yearns to return to the land of childhood, where war was a thing of the past, its tragedy heroically overcome, and a beckoning future of brightness lay before our eyes.
And now. The music lingers, echoes. A dream, a promise. As we mourn on Tisha B’av the tragedies of our nation, as we bear the sadness not only of the past, but also the unbearable pain of the present… can we keep the hope alive? Can we keep the music within us, as a reminder?
A call, a cry, for beauty, for serenity, for Life.
It is dark outside. It is dark inside. And from far away, or from days gone by, I hear the sounds of a melody. At once elusive, at once within reach.
“For You will light my lamp; The Lord my God will enlighten my darkness”
(Psalms 18:29)