The Happy Eichah

By: Yochanan Gordon

Rabbi Chaim Zimmerman of Skokie, Illinois, a nephew of Reb Boruch Ber Leibowitz of Kaminetz and one of the Torah giants of his generation, once delivered the keynote address at the Skokie Yeshiva Dinner by opening with the following humorous anecdote.

Aleinu, Asher Yatzar, and the mamzer each came before Hashem with a complaint.

Aleinu said, “By the time people recite me they’re already stuck in traffic on the way out of shul.”

Asher Yatzar lamented, “I’m recited after leaving the bathroom? Is that a fitting setting for such a beautiful tefillah?”

And the mamzer cried, “I occupy such a humiliating standing in Klal Yisrael through no fault of my own.”

Hashem reassured each of them. To Aleinu He said, “I will place you at the climax of the Yamim Noraim davening.” To Asher Yatzar He said, “I will begin one of the sheva berachos beneath the chuppah with your very words.” And to the mamzer He replied, “You’re absolutely right. I’ll make you president of the shul.”

I know many wonderful shul presidents who certainly don’t fit this joke, and Rabbi Zimmerman was clearly making a point about someone in particular. But I begin with this anecdote for an entirely different reason.

It suggests that tefillos have feelings.

If Aleinu and Asher Yatzar could feel slighted by the circumstances under which they are recited, how must Eichah feel?

The first time the word Eichah appears in the Torah is as “Ayekah” after Adam and Chava ate from the Eitz HaDaas. Since then, however, the word has become almost exclusively associated with tragedy. We sit on the floor and chant it to one of the saddest melodies in Jewish liturgy. Even when the word appears in Parashas Devarim, it receives the mournful trop of Tishah B’Av.

Poor Eichah.

Apparently, I’m not the only one who felt this way.

The Tzemach Tzedek, the third Lubavitcher Rebbe and grandson of the Alter Rebbe, authored an entire kuntres on Eichah in which he reveals a positive and joyous interpretation of every verse in the Megillah.

At first glance, this seems impossible.

Eichah is the national lament over the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash. How can one possibly transform it into a song of redemption?

But Chassidus has done this before.

The Alter Rebbe was known to reveal the blessings hidden within the Torah’s curses. To the point that his son, the Mitteler Rebbe, famously remarked, “When my father read the klalos, all I heard were berachos.”

Such is the power of a Rebbe—not to deny darkness, but to reveal the light concealed within it.

Yet if these teachings have been preserved for us, they cannot merely be stories about great tzaddikim. On some level they become our avodah as well.

The obvious question, however, remains.

If Yirmiyahu’s Eichah is expressing the profound pain of destruction and exile, how can the Tzemach Tzedek legitimately interpret those very same verses as expressions of redemption and joy?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe addressed this question in a maamar delivered before Parashas Devarim in 5731 (1971).

Chazal teach that Moshe Rabbeinu was shown every future generation. The Midrash relates that seeing the generation immediately preceding the coming of Moshiach contributed to Moshe’s unparalleled humility. The Rebbe explained that Moshe perceived the extraordinary Torah, mitzvos and mesirus nefesh that would flourish precisely at the height of galus, despite the unprecedented concealment of that generation.

With this, the Rebbe explained the relationship between Yirmiyahu’s interpretation of Eichah and that of the Tzemach Tzedek.

Yirmiyahu’s Eichah had to come first.

There is a level of G-dliness that can only be attained through the concealment of exile. There is a yearning, a thirst, and an intimacy with Hashem that emerge specifically from the darkness of galus and cannot be duplicated in a world of open revelation.

This is alluded to in the verse in Tehillim:

Tzama lecha nafshi, kameh lecha vesari, b’eretz tziyah v’ayeif bli mayim. Kein bakodesh chaziticha, lirot uzecha uchvodecha.

The Alter Rebbe interpreted the words kein bakodesh as halevai bakosesh—“Would that in redemption I should experience the same longing for Hashem that I experienced in exile.”

The intensity of thirst born from concealment produces a depth of attachment that revelation itself cannot.

This, the Rebbe explained, is the bridge between Yirmiyahu and the Tzemach Tzedek.

Yirmiyahu mourns the loneliness and concealment of exile.

The Tzemach Tzedek reveals where that loneliness ultimately leads.

The pain of galus is real. Yet it is precisely that pain that gives birth to a deeper relationship with Hashem than could otherwise be attained. Yirmiyahu’s interpretation, therefore, is not contradicted by the Tzemach Tzedek’s. It is its prerequisite.

With the Rebbe’s explanation in mind, I’d like to suggest an additional allusion in the very word that stands at the center of the Tzemach Tzedek’s interpretation.

The opening verse of Eichah reads: Eichah yashvah badad.

The word badad means alone.

It occurred to me that bad’ad also be an acronym for b’chol derachecha da’ehu—“Know Him in all your ways.”

The Lubavitcher Rebbe explained elsewhere that the word da’ehu should be understood in the same sense as v’hadam yadah et Chava. It is not merely a call to know Hashem intellectually, but to experience an intimate relationship with Him.

At first glance, however, the verse itself is puzzling.

If a person were living in a constant state of spiritual inspiration—standing, so to speak, in the Kodesh HaKodashim on Yom Kippur—there would be little need to command him, b’chol derachecha da’ehu.

The very words b’chol derachecha imply something altogether different.

They refer to the ordinary roads of life, to the places where Hashem’s Presence is concealed, where holiness is not immediately apparent, where life feels mundane, spiritually dry, and, at times, profoundly lonely.

Perhaps that is precisely why this allusion is hidden within the word badad.

The Torah employs the same word regarding the metzora:

Badad yashav m’chutz l’machaneh.

On the simple level, the metzora is physically isolated from the camp.

But perhaps there is a deeper message as well.

The Torah is teaching us that even when a person finds himself m’chutz l’machaneh—outside the camp, disconnected, distant, or existentially alone—that is not a departure from b’chol derachecha da’ehu. It is one of the very “ways” in which the verse is speaking.

The loneliness itself becomes the place where one is called upon to discover intimacy with Hashem.

The word badad, then, is not merely describing exile.

It may also contain its antidote.

Bad’ad— b’chol derachecha da’ehu.

The cure for existential loneliness is not necessarily the removal of loneliness, but the discovery that even there, perhaps especially there, Hashem is inviting us into a deeper relationship with Him.

Perhaps this is another way of understanding the Tzemach Tzedek’s joyful reading of Eichah.

He was not denying the loneliness of exile.

He was revealing what that loneliness was capable of producing.

There is a remarkable custom recorded about the holy Rizhiner Rebbe.

In Rizhin they would occasionally make lighthearted pranks even on Tishah B’Av. Once, when someone entered the beis midrash, a chassid on the second floor dropped a lasso, and they mistakenly hoisted none other than the Rizhiner Rebbe into the air.

Realizing what they had done, the chassidim were horrified and begged his forgiveness.

Instead of expressing anger, the Rizhiner lifted his eyes Heavenward and exclaimed, “If Your children can no longer appreciate the mourning of Tishah B’Av, then remove it from them altogether.”

Perhaps that is the deepest message of the Tzemach Tzedek’s Happy Eichah.

Not that we should mourn less.

Nor should we ignore the pain of exile.

Rather, we should uncover the Divine intimacy hidden within it.

May we finally merit to experience the day when the loneliness of badad gives way to the oneness of redemption, when the tears of Eichah are transformed into everlasting joy, with the coming of Moshiach, b’mihera b’yamenu amen. n

Yochanan Gordon can be reached at [email protected]. Read more of Yochanan’s articles at 5TJT.com.