By Rabbi Brent Gutmann

On Monday night, the Jewish world will begin Tisha B’Av, the saddest day on the Jewish calendar. It commemorates the destruction of both Temples in Jerusalem. So too, over time it has become a kind of catch-call day for lamenting and questioning why our people have endured so much suffering throughout history.

Eicha is the Hebrew name for and the first word of Lamentations, the scroll read on Tisha B’Av that recounts the calamity of Jerusalem’s destruction. Although “Eicha” is frequently translated “Alas!,” in actuality, it is a question word – “How?” vis a vis “How she sits alone, a city that was once great?”  These are awful questions our ancestors asked as we relive the Churban – the calamities we have experienced that we still lack adequate answers for.

My colleague, Rabbi David Ingber comments, “‘People of the Book’- more aptly we are ‘People of the Question?’”  In a year when the Jewish people, along with Palestinians and others have experienced terrible pain and sadness, we are asking many questions. What can we learn through the pain of loss? We say pain is a great teacher. What does pain teach?

This week’s Torah portion, D’varim, commences the final speeches of Moses to the Israelites before they take possession of the land and before Moses takes his eternal leave. As Moses the lawgiver recounts for the people and their journey thus far, his own questioning reveals how the people’s burden has worn on him. He asks, “How can I bear unaided the trouble of you, and the burden, and the bickering!” (Deut. 1:11-12) He sounds like an exhausted parent at wits end.

My wife and I remember moments when we were driven to our wits end by a colic baby and in the long nights crying out, “How will I get through this?”  Any parent who knows this place identifies with this cry of desperation – this plea of “Help me!” “God, help me understand the source of my troubles!” “What could I possibly be doing differently to end this suffering?”

The innovated scholar, Dr. Mara Benjamin, depicts faith as something to be nurtured, protected, and grown. She describes the challenges of faith as demanding great attention. She describes the obligations of faith as ‘The Law of the Baby.’ Just as babies require constant attention and more when there are challenges, so does our faith.

Benjamin describes the heartache that can happen when our faith is threatened. She writes, “This Baby had to be woken up throughout the night to eat because she was born small. This Baby responded with great interest to one particular plush toy. This Baby’s imperative was to hold her at a certain angle so she would fall asleep for a nap. The next day, the next week, This Baby no longer responded to that position or to that toy…”  (“The Obligated Self: Maternal Subjectivity and Jewish Thought.” Indiana University Press, 2018.)  A parent’s ultimate concern is for their child. Herein, Benjamin suggests our faith takes effort, especially when it is threatened.

Our world is changing so fast. Steven Colbert recently asked Israeli Historian Noah Yuval Harari “Are we really going through some kind of accelerated change?”  Harari responded, “Every Generation thinks like that, but this time it’s real.” (March 4, 2024).

As we think about the challenges before us, it is easy to get drawn into despair–Eicha! – Why is this happening to me? But Eicha is also the question of victimhood, and for that reason we must be wary of lingering too long with our anxieties. A wise friend told me long ago, “We get the answer to the questions we ask.”  And when we frame the questions well, we can discover in ourselves strengths we didn’t know we have.

Questions can express pain, but they also can evoke imagination. Playwright, George Benard Shaw once stated, “Some people see things as they are and say ‘why?’  I dream things that never were and say, ‘why not?’”  While it is important to ask ourselves “How did this happen?” to process the grief that is before us, we cannot remain stuck on the brokenness.

That relates to the ultimate lesson of our tradition. We may acknowledge our suffering and the brokenness surrounding ourselves, but our truest responsibility is to repair what is broken.

Unquestionably, I have been witness to miracles of renaissance and rebirth since my arrival in Buffalo. I feel a degree of blessing that while certain challenges may persist, we never cease our asking and discovering new ways to work together and support each other. As we ask the right questions to elicit paths for healing and the fortitude to remain focused on our partnership with God.

Brent Gutmann is the rabbi at Temple Beth Zion.