The elegy or kinot literature of Tisha B'av encompasses a vast body of material. If one follows the instructions of the Shulchan Oruch and recites kinot until half the day has passed one can get a broad perspective on Judaism's view toward tragedy. This only works if one not only reads but learns and understands the poems. The poems themselves are a course in our national calamities.

As one would expect the elegies deal first with the destruction of the two Temples. But then we have a veritable catalogue of Jewish disasters. We have poems about the Roman martyrs, the Crusades, and Church sponsored book burning. The Sefardic rite has poems about the Spanish expulsion. Kinot have recently been added about the Holocaust. It would seem that there are no specific criteria for inclusion. If there is a criterion it is the stature of the poet. They are famous Jewish scholars. There is one kinah that we seemed to have been instructed to include. In Chronicles II XXXV:25 it states, "And Jeremiah lamented Josiah." But we don't have the elegy. A gaping void in the text that our Sages felt the need to fill. There is a midrash that the fourth chapter of Eichah was the lament composed by Jeremiah for Josiah. Nevertheless whether we have Jeremiah's poem or not, we must first investigate the nature of the incident.

Josiah is considered one of the great spiritual leaders of Israel. When he ascended the throne of Judah at the age of eight, he found a kingdom steeped in idolatry. As he became aware of his religious heritage during the eighth year of his reign, he began a spiritual revival or reformation. By his eighteenth year in power, he had destroyed all the centers of paganism; all visible signs of idolatry were gone. In that year the entire nation celebrated Pesach with a fervor not witnessed in many centuries (the verses state that the Pesach celebration was the best since Samuel 400 years earlier).

At the height of his reign's spiritual accomplishment, fate intervened. Necho the Pharaoh of Egypt decided to wage war with Babylon. The route from Egypt crossed Eretz Yisroel. Necho assured Josiah that he meant him no harm ("What have I to do with you, king of Judah? I do not march against you this day, but against the kingdom that wages war with me."). Josiah decided to prevent this crossing, and he was "heedless of Necho's words from the mouth of God." According to our tradition the "mouth of God" reference is to Jeremiah, who warned sternly against this adventure.

Josiah met the Egyptian hordes at Megiddo. The Judean army was overwhelmed and Josiah was pierced with 300 arrows. Then was the great mourning of Jeremiah and the entire nation. The worst was yet to come. The successors of Josiah were vassals of Egypt, and "did what was displeasing to the Lord." That combination made the country both spiritually and physically weak. The tragic result came twenty-two years later with the conquest by Babylon and the destruction of the Temple. Why did Josiah ignore the warnings of Necho and, even more surprising, of Jeremiah? By both spiritual and temporal logic this was folly. Our Sages give the following answer. In the blessings given by Hashem at the end of Vayikra it states, "and no sword shall cross your land." Not only did Josiah take the prophecy literally, but he also felt the time of blessings had arrived. The reformation was complete. Perhaps he considered himself the messiah.

Now, with background complete, we can look at the kinah. The poem was written by Eliezer HaKalir, perhaps our nation's greatest liturgical poet. There is some controversy over when he lived, but it was minimally 1400 years ago. This poem like many of the kinot is in alphabetical order. Each verse beginning with one of the twenty-two Hebrew letters. Throughout I will refer to lines by their initial Hebrew letters.

The elegy begins with praise for the religious accomplishments of Josiah. It recounts his becoming a ba'al teshuva at a tender age, and credits him with being the greatest idol fighter since Moshe Rabbeinu. But in 'daled' we have the first of two references (the second is in 'mem') to Jews hiding idols behind their doors. This is significant for two reasons. One, that this was especially obnoxious because of the sanctity of the mezuzot. And, secondly, this hidden behavior fooled Josiah. It also showed the still fragile nature of his reforms. Josiah went to war without the spiritual credit he believed he had.

Next the poem turns its attention to the Egyptians. The Nile dwellers trans-Israel journey sparks an ironic twist. These normal bad guys of biblical story are cast as representatives of God's will. Necho even says as much in his plea to Josiah not to attempt to block their march. In verse 'tet,' we hear the "bad ones are called good." The Egyptians come off pretty good when compared to the duplicitous behavior of the average Judean.

The alphabetical portion concludes with a touching scene of the death of Josiah with Jeremiah at his side, listening to the zadik's last words. With his dying breath Josiah proclaims his faith in God's justice. In a display worthy of Shakespearean tragedy, we have Josiah, pierced with 300 arrows, declaring (these guys knew how to die), "God is the Righteous One; I rebelled against His utterance." Jeremiah slowly lowers a convulsing Josiah, curtain, applause. The corniness aside, this is important. Part of the Tisha B'av experience is to reconcile with disaster. This midrash-based incident is to remind us that the truly pious can accept God's judgment, no matter how painful.

The elegy concludes with a sort of postscript after the alphabet has been exhausted. Many believe that this is the main message of the composition. It states: "For twenty-two years Hashem suspended the destruction of the Temple, because they eulogized him with a lament of the twenty-two letters." In other words, the Egyptians could have gone straight to Jerusalem and destroyed the Temple then and there. The hiatus which could have provided a reprieve was bought through the agency of our mourning. Another important Tisha B'av lesson, our mourning and lament have a profound effect. We stay the Divine Hand, and, hopefully, inspire our souls. Catharsis is a pedagogic device.

Even though I accept all the ideas I have enumerated from our poem, 1) all calamities are a direct result of sin, 2) the importance of accepting Divine decree, and 3) our elegiac efforts are beneficial, I believe there is another overriding message. Destruction, debacle, disaster is a phenomenon beyond simple punishment. Sin results in retribution; catastrophe has another source. The worst sin one can commit against himself and Hashem is betraying one's role and place in Jewish destiny. Destruction is destiny denied. Mordechai relates this to Esther, "perhaps you have attained royal position for just such a crisis." Esther heeded and salvation resulted. She intervened and victory was snatched from the jaws of defeat. Josiah was informed by Jeremiah what his role was, and he muffed the assignment. Josiah intervened and snatched defeat from the jaws of victory. We don't have the benefit of a prophet nearby to inform us of our role. We must muddle through as best we can. But everyone must be constantly cognizant of the fact that everyone has a role to play in this ultimate drama. We must be ever on call to deliver our lines, by being the best people we can. By doing our best to make our will coincide with Divine Will we put our building stone in the ever building Temple. We're not so much concerned with a sin here or a sin there; we're concerned about Jews opting into the panoply Jewish history. When a critical mass of hard working individuals have put their stones in place the Temple will appear -- seemingly miraculously. A miracle earned with much sweat. I think that's the message of our poem; I believe that's the lesson of Tisha B'av.

Comments, ideas, questions? Send Rabbi Walk a note at:rwalk@yhol.org.il

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