Akiva, You’ve Comforted Us

עקיבא נחמתנו

The Gemara in Makkot describes how Rabbi Akiva and other Jewish leaders were touring the horrific destruction of Yirushalyim and the Beit Hamikdash. As the great leaders of the Jewish people came across the total demolition of the Holy City they ripped their clothes in mourning. As they approached the location where the Temple once stood, they started crying. All except Rabbi Akiva; Rabbi Akiva was laughing. In shock, they challenged our great Rabbi, how dare he laugh. And Rabbi Akiva responded, I laugh because from here things can only improve. Until the point of total destruction there was always a possibility that things could get worse. Now, as I look at the horrible things that occurred to my people, I can laugh. From here, things can only improve. From here we can only start working towards the prophecy, עוד ישבו זקנים וזקנות ברחובות ירושלים, the elders of our city will one day return to sit and relax in the streets.

To him they responded, עקיבא נחמתנו עקיבא נחמתנו. You have comforted us, Akiva, you have comforted us.

The resilience of Rabbi Akiva is astonishing. This was a man who saw 24,000 of his students get murdered by the Roman Empire and he laughed. He picked himself up and trained five new students, five students who would grow to become some of the most influential leaders the Jewish people ever had. This was a man who saw the total destruction of the Jewish homeland, and he laughed. Instead of despair, he rose to join the leaders of the Great Rebellion to follow.

The formula is also expressed in how we mourn for the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash every year. In general, an Avel sits for seven days of intense mourning, followed by three weeks of moderate mourning, followed by 10 months of only some mourning. The mourning process slowly decreases as the pain of losing the recently deceased slowly falters. During the Three Weeks we do the opposite. In the communal response to mourning, we first have Three Weeks with minimal mourning, followed by the Nine Days of increased mourning, followed by Tisha BaAv, a day set aside specifically for intense mourning. Perhaps, stranger still, our mourning immediately begins decreasing halfway through the day. We stand up from sitting on the floor and sit on regular seats. We don our tallit and tfillin. Right at the point where the Beit Hamikdash begins to burn. And then, we read נחמו נחמו עמי, the prophet comes to console the people of their loss.

Until the end, we pray, we beg and we cry for the worst to not occur. Once done, however, we immediately pick ourselves up and prepare to move on. That is the story of the Jewish people. Time and time again, when tragedy struck, we got up and moved on. After the Holocaust, the Jews got up and just a few short years later established the State of Israel. When we look at the total destruction, we laugh.

However, it is not so simple. Even in the description of the episode by the Gemara, Rabbi Akiva does not immediately laugh. When they tear their clothes upon seeing the destruction of Yerushalyim, Rabbi Akiva does not laugh, he tears with them. Only subsequently, when seeing the Beit Hamikdash destruction did he laugh.

Tonight, let me attempt to follow the same formula.

I am terrified.

When I heard of the terrible things that happened I called my grandmother. I was terrified as she told me of how on a day when all of the cousins got together, over fifty of us. One by one, every person of eligible age was called to return to their unit. First my brother, then my cousin, my other cousin, my recently married cousin. Finally my uncles, each with little kids at home, got called one by one as the Chag table’s seats slowly emptied.

I was terrified when I initially, selfishly, took a sigh of relief that my brother had not yet completed his basic training so he would not be in combat. I was terrified when I heard they expedited his unit’s training so they could serve.

I was terrified when I heard the base that my cousin served at a month prior was overrun by Haamas, where they mercilessly killed non-combat soldiers, 18- and 19-year-old girls. I was terrified when I heard my cousin, barely 20, was called to return to serve in the same place her friends had a day early been butchered.

I was terrified when I heard that Sean raced back to Israel to join his unit as they went from house to house fortifying the cities that had been infiltrated.

I was terrified as the number of dead climbed from 700, to 800, to 900 to now well over 1,000.

I was terrified as I heard the number of captives Haamas has captured and are holding now in Gaza.

But even in utter destruction עקיבא מצחק, Rabbi Akiva laughed. And finally on Wednesday, I laughed as well.

On Wednesday I laughed because my mother told me that when my brother was sent to his base without time to pack underwear and told my mother he needed underwear, he got so many pairs he had no where to put them all.

On Wednesday I laughed because when my mother was talking to my brother and he mentioned something about not having a towel and my mother said she’ll ask how to send it to him, he begged her not to. “If people find out we need towels, we will have no room to store our weapons.”

On Wednesday I laughed because the clueless neighborhood ladies chat near where my mother lives, in their sweet innocence, desperately trying to help, franticly posted on the chat begging someone to drive to Edison to bring a drone to JFK that Israel desperately needed for the war effort.

On Wednesday I laughed because I saw video clips of soldiers listing all the things they needed, while laughingly showing the boxes upon boxes of supplies that they had received.

On Wednesday I laughed because when we sent the money we had collected to the organization that had requested our assistance told me they were so overwhelmed with donations they did not know what to do with the money and offered to return it. (We instead sent it to other organizations that still were collecting).

On Wednesday I laughed because the mayor of Mount Vernon called me to offer her support. To give me her cell phone number and ensure that we know that if we ever needed anything she would do whatever she can to support us.

On Wednesday I laughed because I saw a soldier recently sent to his base, two days before he was supposed to get married, get married on base surrounded by friends who were all singing and dancing around him.

However, even while laughing I am scared. Even while laughing, I stand as Rabbi Akiva did with a tear in my shirt.

Even while laughing, I am scared of how many more casualties we will have during this war.

Even while laughing, I am scared of what will happen to the captives.

Even while laughing, I am scared of what will happen to our brave soldiers.

Even while laughing, I am scared as to what hate crimes this will inspire.

Even while laughing, I am scared of losing the strong support we currently have as this war continues.

And so tonight, even while laughing, we gather together to daven together. To respond as Jews always have. To storm shaari shamayim and beg from God to end this quickly. And from us, as we hear more and more of what is happening, recall, עקיבא נחמתנו עקיבא נחמתנו.