Remembering the Pain, Believing in the Ending: October 7, Eicha, and Tisha B’Av

After October 7, many of us reached a point where the pain became too overwhelming to watch, read about, or even think about. Yet when we stop confronting tragedy, we risk forgetting—not only what happened, but also the people whose lives were lost or permanently changed.

In this powerful Tisha B’Av reflection, Rabbi Adam Sabzevari explores the difficult responsibility of remembering. Drawing connections between October 7, the sin of the spies, the destruction of the two Batei Mikdash, and the haunting words of Megillat Eicha, he explains why Jewish mourning is not merely about events from thousands of years ago. It is an opportunity to reopen our hearts, experience the pain of the Jewish people, and honestly examine what we can improve within ourselves.

The episode also reflects on encounters with wounded Israeli soldiers and bereaved families, reminding us that national tragedy is not an abstract idea. Nevertheless, Eicha does not end in despair. It concludes with a plea for return: “Hashiveinu Hashem eilecha venashuva—Bring us back to You, and we will return.”

The message is ultimately one of hope: For Am Yisrael, the story will have a good ending. And if the ending is not yet good, then the story is not yet over.

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Transcript

I remember that after October 7, at the beginning, it was a complete shock. We were watching everything—the videos, the news, and every new piece of information.

After a week, two weeks, and then a month, I reached a point where I could not watch anymore. I could not think about it anymore.

Baruch Hashem, I was across the world and was not personally under threat that day. I could only imagine what it was like for the people who were under threat and for those whose families were directly affected.

Eventually, you reach a point where you no longer want to think about it. Thinking about it creates so much pain that it can feel healthier to stop.

The problem is that when we stop thinking about something, we begin to forget what happened.

Thousands of people have died—not only on that one day, but throughout the many attacks that Israel has endured. When we forget, it is a disgrace to the memory of those who were lost.

The destruction of the Beit HaMikdash occurred on Tisha B’Av, but our Chachamim tell us that this was not the first tragedy to take place on this date.

The first event occurred when the spies returned from exploring the Land of Israel while the Jewish people were still in the desert. They came back with a negative report about the land.

On that night, the people decided that they did not want to enter the Land of Israel. They said, “We are going to die there. It is not worth it. We would rather remain in the desert or return to Egypt.”

They rejected the Land of Israel.

Because they cried that night and rejected the land, Hashem declared that future times of destruction and pain for the Jewish people would occur on that date.

When the first Beit HaMikdash was destroyed on Tisha B’Av, and then hundreds of years later the second Beit HaMikdash was destroyed on the same date, we understood that this was not a coincidence.

Just as the tragedy of the spies was connected to our actions, we must also look inward when considering the destruction of the first and second Batei Mikdash.

We are about to read Megillat Eicha. As we do, I encourage you to keep in mind what I mentioned about October 7.

October 7 is difficult to think about. But when we stop thinking about it, we begin to forget. We move on, and then we risk making the same mistakes again.

Once in a while, we must return to the pain. We must think about it and allow ourselves to feel it—to bring ourselves to tears to whatever extent we can.

Even though we do not want to think about it, we are obligated to do so because something is missing. This night is specifically designated as a time for us to remember the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash and all of our national tragedies.

For those of us who witnessed the events of October 7, it is striking how many of the descriptions in Megillat Eicha resemble things that occurred on that day.

Megillat Eicha was written by Yirmiyahu—Jeremiah—during the period surrounding the destruction of the first Beit HaMikdash. He warned Am Yisrael that if we did not correct our ways and improve our actions, we would lose what we had.

The destruction of the Beit HaMikdash was only one physical part of the tragedy. There were also murders, massacres, captivity, and people being taken away as slaves. The text describes women being abused and taken advantage of.

It is frightening to recognize how similar these descriptions are to events that we witnessed thousands of years later.

We can feel the pain. We do not want to feel it, but we must.

That is what we do on this night. We cry, we feel, and we open our hearts.

I remember visiting Tel HaShomer during one of the solidarity trips. We met a man who had lost a leg. He told us the story of how his wife and son had died.

We then entered another room and saw a soldier without an arm. We saw another soldier without a leg. We saw people who were suffering tremendously—and these were the people who had survived.

When thinking about those who were killed, we could not help but cry.

It can be difficult to relate to something that happened thousands of years ago. But we have Megillat Eicha before us so that we can read it, feel it, open our hearts, and understand that we are still missing something.

We do not yet have our ideal state, and we continue to pray for it.

Megillat Eicha also teaches us not to simply blame the enemy. We do not say, “It was the Babylonians. It was them.”

Instead, we look inward.

We do not blame God, and we do not focus only on blaming our enemies. We examine ourselves and try to improve our actions because we understand that tragedy carries a message and a lesson for us.

The book contains many graphic and painful passages. If you have the blue Artscroll, the English translation begins on page 1273. If English is easier for you, it is completely acceptable to read the English rather than the Hebrew.

The most important thing is that you read it, understand it, feel it, and take it to heart.

Megillat Eicha contains deeply sad passages. Some sections are carefully structured, while others feel almost completely disorganized, reflecting the chaos of destruction.

Toward the end, however, the book moves in a more hopeful direction.

Although we acknowledge that the destruction came because of our actions, we also cry out to the Ribbono Shel Olam and say, “It is enough.”

We recognize that we acted improperly. We look inward, and we want to return to Hashem.

“Hashiveinu Hashem eilecha venashuva—Bring us back to You, Hashem, and we will return.”

I would like to conclude with a story told by Rabbi David Fohrman.

When he was young, his father was a wonderful storyteller. They would often take walks together, and his father would tell him stories as part of their routine.

One time, his father was telling him a particularly frightening story. Rabbi Fohrman was still a young boy, and he became scared.

His father noticed and interrupted the story. He said, “David, do not worry. At the end of the story, there will always be a good ending.”

David responded, “What if there is not a good ending?”

His father answered, “Then it is not the end of the story.”

For Am Yisrael, there will always be a good ending.

There may be tremendous suffering along the way, but we are already witnessing the return of the Jewish people with our own eyes. We have returned to the Land of Israel—something that, only a century ago, many people could not have imagined.

We have returned to Jerusalem and to Eretz Yisrael. We pray that very soon we will also experience the return of the Beit HaMikdash, speedily in our days.

We will now read the five chapters of Megillat Eicha. In the Artscroll, the English translation begins on page 1273. In the siddur, it begins on page 54.