No matter what, we still live in hope

Back in the mid-’90s, a Jewish advertising executive in New York came up with an idea. Imagine the Jewish awareness and pride that might result in the prestigious New York Times prominently listing the weekly Shabbat candle-lighting time each week?

He got in touch with a Jewish philanthropist and sold him on the idea. It cost almost $2000 a week. But he did it.

And for the next five years, each Friday, readers would see “Jewish women: Shabbat candle-lighting time this Friday is …”.

Eventually the philanthropist had to cut back on a number of his projects. And in June 1999, the little Shabbat notice stopped appearing. From that week on, it never appeared again.

Except once.

On January 1, 2000, the paper ran a millennium edition featuring three front pages. One had the news from January 1, 1900. The second was the actual news of the day, January 1, 2000. And a third front page, projected future events of January 1, 2100.

This fictional page included things such as a welcome to the 51st state – Cuba – as well as a discussion as to whether robots should be allowed to vote. And so on.

But there was also one more thing. Down on the bottom of the 2100 front page was the candle-lighting time in New York for January 1, 2100. Nobody paid for it; it was just put in by The Times.

When the production manager of The New York Times – an Irish Catholic – was asked about it, his answer was right on the mark. He explained: “We don’t know what will happen in the year 2100. It is impossible to predict the future. But of one thing you can be certain, that in the year 2100 Jewish women will be lighting Shabbat candles.” And right he was. For no matter what else happens worldwide, Jewish practice continues.

I once heard another story on a similar theme, albeit hopefully one that will not come to pass. While we are told that Moshiach was born on Tisha b’Av, regarding the vexed question as to when we will see the Moshiach arrive, an oft-cited view states that this world will last for no more than 6000 years, by the end of which time the messianic era must have begun. One day, two elderly Jews sitting in one of the shtieblach of Jerusalem were bewailing the fact that so much is wrong with the world. “Es vet zein gut” – “it will be good” says one. “It is already 5786, we are in the last days before Moshiach.” His friend thinks for a moment. “You are right,” he says, “but that still leaves a long time before he comes.” In true Jewish form, both sigh together.

And then the friend suddenly says: “Oy veh!” And he asks the unthinkable: “What if, chas veshalom – God forbid – Moshiach doesn’t come even then?” Animatedly they try to imagine the unimaginable scene. It is the final Rosh Hashanah eve of the millennium. The shule is full and despite the absence of any sign of the messianic arrival, the talking and arguing reaches crescendo pitch. And then it is z’man – nightfall, time for Maariv, the millennium is over and still no sign of Moshiach. What happens? The gabbai “klaps – bangs” on the bimah to bring the crowd to order – and the chazan begins the familiar High Holy Day tune of “Borchu”. For nothing interferes with the continuity of Jewish practice.

We have just experienced Tisha b’Av. In the midst of the mourning that characterises this tragic date, we traditionally also followed certain festive customs during the services, just because of the aforementioned tradition of hope amidst the despair as on this very day the Moshiach is born – clearly a cause for celebration. Sadly, we still await concrete  evidence of any developments in this regard, despite so many years of promise. 

The Beit Hamikdash has not been rebuilt and reports from Yerushalayim seem to imply that even the physical churban is actually continuing before our eyes, as relics of the past are being damaged by illegal works on Har Habayit, the Temple Mount. So disappointed we may be, but what do we do?

The answer is very simple – we carry on in hope. With Tisha b’Av past, we immediately turn our minds to the period of repentance, the High Holy Days. Just six days later was Chamisha-Asar b’Av, the day of rejoicing with a gematria (number value of the letters of its name) equal to that of the traditional High Holy Day wish, “Ketivah vachatimah tovah”. 

Soon the sound of the shofar will once again be heard across the land; the hustle and bustle that characterises Judaica shops and food outlets will intensify. And as we look to the future, we hope that at least this year, there will be “shalom al Yisrael”, peace in Israel, and everything good.

Shabbat shalom, 

Yossi

Yossi Aron OAM is The AJN’s religious affairs editor.