From October 7 to 17 Tammuz

Our calendar is beginning to bulge with days that have become so notorious that they are simply known by their dates. “9/11,” of course. “January 6.” And “October 7.” Days that live in infamy because of the awful events that happened on them.

Jewish tradition has long had a few of these as well—commemorations that are just known by their dates on the calendar. The 17th day of Tammuz is a minor fast day that falls this year on Tuesday, July 23. According to the Talmud (Ta’anit 26a-26b), 17 Tammuz is associated with historical tragedies for the Jewish people. Some of these calamities can be seen as “preludes” for disasters that would fall on the 9th Av, exactly three weeks later:

…חֲמִשָּׁה דְּבָרִים אֵירְעוּ אֶת אֲבוֹתֵינוּ בְּשִׁבְעָה עָשָׂר בְּתַמּוּז
,בְּשִׁבְעָה עָשָׂר בְּתַמּוּז נִשְׁתַּבְּרוּ הַלּוּחוֹת
,וּבָטַל הַתָּמִיד
,וְהוּבְקְעָה הָעִיר
,וְשָׂרַף אַפּוֹסְטְמוֹס אֶת הַתּוֹרָה
.וְהֶעֱמִיד צֶלֶם בַּהֵיכל

Five terrible things happened to our ancestors on the 17th of Tammuz…

1. The tablets were shattered (by Moses upon seeing the Golden calf; Ex. 32:19);
2. The Tamid/daily sacrifice in the Temple was cancelled (by the Roman authorities);
3. The city walls of Jerusalem were breached;
4. The Roman general Apostemos publicly burned the Torah;
5. And an idol was placed in the Sanctuary of the Temple.

It's that third item that cuts to the quick this year. It’s not difficult to imagine the carnage of the “breaching of the walls.” After all, we saw it with our own eyes on October 7, nine-and-a-half months ago, when Hamas terrorists tore through the Israeli villages and kibbutzim in the western Negev, murdering and raping their victims, setting fire to the towns, and seizing hostages, 120 of whom are still being held prisoner in Gaza.

Last week, I visited the ruins of Kibbutz Nir Oz. Of the 427 residents of that community, one in four were murdered, wounded, or taken hostage on October 7, 2023, that cursed Simchat Torah. Nine-and-a-half months later, the kibbutz is a ghost town—desolate and frightening. And like a prehistoric insect embalmed in amber, Nir Oz is frozen in time. Broken glass still carpets the ground, the walls remain ashen, children’s toys litter the floor—and the sukkah is still standing.

It was brutal to be there, and I struggle to post this here. But it’s essential that we keep sharing the images and telling the stories of what happened in Nir Oz (and Be’eri, and Kfar Aza, and all the other devastated towns, and at the site of the Nova music festival), so that the world can bear witness.

Images are more powerful than words (at least they’re more powerful than my words), so I’ll share this as a photo-essay of what I saw at Nir Oz last week. The images are devastating, but important. Please note: I’m posting this from a laptop computer, and the photos are neatly arranged on my screen—my apologies if the formatting is messed up on phones or iPads.

The entrance to the main building at Kibbutz Nir Oz today.

Some of the destroyed homes of the kibbutz:

The Hadar Ochel / communal dining hall and kitchen of the kibbutz:

The kindergarten classroom of Nir Oz:

The sukkah is still standing, in shambles, nine months after the festival (“the Season of our Joy”) ended:

And the rage and resentment against this government’s failures - in preventing the attack and in bringing the hostages home - is palpable everywhere:

This sign, posted outside one of the scorched homes, says, “Netanyahu: My family’s blood is on your hands!”, and is signed by the residents.

A few more images from the houses of the kibbutz, include the burnt house of Oded Lifshitz, an octogenarian journalist and lifelong activist for peace between Israelis and Palestinians, now one of the hostages.

The names that are on everyone’s lips in Israel are those of the Bibas family of Nir Oz. Their family of four - parents Shiri (age 32) and Yarden (age 34), and their children Ariel (age 4) and Kfir (age 9 months) - were kidnapped and remain hostage in Gaza today. Shiri’s parents Yossi and Margit Silberman were murdered on Oct. 7. Kfir Bibas has now lived more than half of his life as a hostage to the Hamas terrorists. The scene at the Bibas home is devastating:

The Bibas family mailbox, with four labels that read “hostage.”

THIS is why we’re fighting this just war. THIS is what is at stake when we say “BRING THEM HOME.” It pains me to post these pictures here, but the world must know about what happened here and elsewhere on October 7.

The view through the fence at the border of the Kibbutz, with Gaza just beyond.

The flag flying half-mast at the entrance to the kibbutz.

Kohelet Speaks

We awoke on Shabbat morning to emergency alerts on our phones about the terrorist assaults in Israel: the massacres, the kidnappings, the missiles, the bloodthirsty sadism of Hamas. It was the 50th anniversary, to the day, of the Yom Kippur War—when the Arab nations launched a coordinated surprise attack against Israel on the holiest day of the year. The timing was lost on no one.

The kidnappings—they’re preoccupying me more than anything. The perversity of seizing over 100 elders, teenagers, and children—and dragging them across the border for the most hideous sort of cruelties. The ghastly social media videos of terrorists celebrating the display of their humiliated captives, which remind me of the old photos of southern lynchings and the celebratory smiles of the Klan and their allies.

My friends relate: Today Israeli TV is reporting that Hamas has kidnapped a mother with her one year-old and five year-old. Hamas has put out videos on social media of Gazan children beating a 5 year-old kidnapped Israeli child. It is being estimated that well over 100 people are being held hostage.

The brazen evil of the enemy is staggering.

I’m writing now on Sunday morning. The events are unfolding in real time. Israel is the only story that’s being discussed on the news. It’s a nightmare. There are political pundits much smarter and more authoritative than I, so I won’t contribute anything new here.

All I want to relate is what I experienced in shul. Saturday was Shemini Atzeret as well as Shabbat, the culmination of the Days of Awe. It’s supposed to be a day of cumulative joy, a day that reflects on the intimacy that communities have experienced with each other and G-d over the past 3 ½ weeks since Rosh Hashanah (as reflected in the Haftarah reading from 1 Kings 8).

But we also read Kohelet (Ecclesiastes), one of the most astonishing books of the Tanakh. Kohelet is astounding because of its humanness, its profound awareness that faith cannot provide easy answers to the true reality of a world that can be cruel and unjust. Kohelet, more than any other book of the Bible, acknowledges the dissonance between religious faith and the fact that the world can be terrifying.

Knowing that terrorism was ripping through Israel, it seemed to me that the words of Kohelet were on fire. This happens sometimes—the Rosh Hashanah after 9/11 comes to mind—when the words of the ancient text come scorching off the page, filled with resonances that we’d never seen before.

Here are some of the verses of Kohelet that grabbed me. I offer them here for no solace, no comfort, and no radical insights. Simply that they spoke to my soul yesterday and they continue to do so today:

וְשַׁ֣בְתִּֽי אֲנִ֗י וָאֶרְאֶה֙ אֶת־כּל־הָ֣עֲשֻׁקִ֔ים אֲשֶׁ֥ר נַעֲשִׂ֖ים תַּ֣חַת הַשָּׁ֑מֶשׁ
וְהִנֵּ֣ה ׀ דִּמְעַ֣ת הָעֲשֻׁקִ֗ים וְאֵ֤ין לָהֶם֙ מְנַחֵ֔ם וּמִיַּ֤ד עֹֽשְׁקֵיהֶם֙ כֹּ֔חַ וְאֵ֥ין לָהֶ֖ם מְנַחֵֽם׃

I further observed all the oppression that goes on under the sun:
the tears of the oppressed, with none to comfort them;
and the power of their oppressors—with none to comfort them (4:1).

וְאִֽם־יִתְקְפוֹ֙ הָאֶחָ֔ד הַשְּׁנַ֖יִם יַעַמְד֣וּ נֶגְדּ֑וֹ
וְהַחוּט֙ הַֽמְשֻׁלָּ֔שׁ לֹ֥א בִמְהֵרָ֖ה יִנָּתֵֽק׃

Two are better off than one…
For if one attacks, two can stand up to him (4:12).

אֶת־הַכֹּ֥ל רָאִ֖יתִי בִּימֵ֣י הֶבְלִ֑י
יֵ֤שׁ צַדִּיק֙ אֹבֵ֣ד בְּצִדְק֔וֹ וְיֵ֣שׁ רָשָׁ֔ע מַאֲרִ֖יךְ בְּרָעָתֽוֹ׃

In my own brief span of life, I have seen both these things:
sometimes someone good perishes despite their goodness,
and sometimes someone wicked endures despite their wickedness (7:15).

…וְעֵ֣ת וּמִשְׁפָּ֔ט יֵדַ֖ע לֵ֥ב חָכָֽם׃
כִּ֣י לְכל־חֵ֔פֶץ יֵ֖שׁ עֵ֣ת וּמִשְׁפָּ֑ט כִּֽי־רָעַ֥ת הָאָדָ֖ם רַבָּ֥ה עָלָֽיו׃
כִּֽי־אֵינֶ֥נּוּ יֹדֵ֖עַ מַה־שֶּׁיִּֽהְיֶ֑ה כִּ֚י כַּאֲשֶׁ֣ר יִֽהְיֶ֔ה מִ֖י יַגִּ֥יד לֽוֹ׃

…Someone wise, however, will bear in mind that there is a time of doom.
For there is a time for every experience, including the doom;
for calamity overwhelms.
Indeed, what is to happen is unknown;
even when it is on the point of happening, who can tell? (8:5b-7)

…גַּם־זֶ֖ה הָֽבֶל׃ אֲשֶׁר֙ אֵין־נַעֲשָׂ֣ה פִתְגָ֔ם מַעֲשֵׂ֥ה הָרָעָ֖ה מְהֵרָ֑ה
עַל־כֵּ֡ן מָלֵ֞א לֵ֧ב בְּֽנֵי־הָאָדָ֛ם בָּהֶ֖ם לַעֲשׂ֥וֹת רָֽע׃

And here is another frustration: the fact that the sentence imposed for evil deeds is not executed swiftly, which is why people are emboldened to do evil (8:10b-11).

And of course:

עֵ֥ת מִלְחָמָ֖ה וְעֵ֥ת שָׁלֽוֹם׃

A time for war and a time for peace (3:8).

Pray for the safe return of the hostages.

Demand justice.

Support the victims. (Some prominent Tzedakah organizations are already mobilizing on the ground: IsraAID, the Joint Distribution Committee, and more.)

Refuse to tolerate equivocation and “both sides-ism” in the media. Failure to retaliate would be immoral: it would allow evil to flourish unchecked.

Call your Israeli friends and let them know that we are doing these things.

And may G-d have mercy on us all.