Why we still mourn after 2,000 years

I am writing this in my post-fast semi-comatose state, stomach full and sated. It was a pretty draining day of fasting and reflection. I sat on the floor for most of the night reading about the history of the 9th day of Av, the destruction of both of the temples and all the sorrowful things that occurred on that day. We have a pretty dismal history.

I tried to answer a question that I posed to myself: how am I supposed to feel about this day? Am I supposed to make myself physically sad? Am I supposed to force myself to watch sad and boring documentaries about the holocaust and try to feel something? Is there something wrong with me if I let this day pass without having thought about it at all?

So I read. I read the sad history, I read how the Jews disregarded the words of the holy prophets time and time again, about how they sinned, how they fell right into the waiting arms of the enemy. It hurt me. It made me mad. Why could they not have just listened? Why couldn't they have been good people? Do the right thing, keep the Bais Hamikdash, don't go into exile. They started a downward spiral which has lasted some 2,000 years and still goes on today. It directly affects me. But how?

There is a famous story told about Napoleon Bonaparte. He was walking in the streets of Paris when he heard wailing and the sounds of people lamenting, coming from a synagogue. He turned to the person he was with and asked, "Why are they crying?"

The other answered, "They're mourning over the destruction of their Temple."

"When was it destroyed?"

"Almost two thousand years ago."

Napoleon then declared, "A nation still mourning after so long will be eternal. They will return to their land and rebuild their Temple."

Excerpt from an article on Chabad.org.

We know the story of Yakov and how he mourned the death of Yosef for 22 years. He couldn't forget, he couldn't move on, because he wasn't mourning a loss. He was mourning something that was missing. For someone who has lost a child to death, it is easier to move on than a parent who has no idea what fate befell their child. That is true pain, to never really know.

I would love to say that "I believe with perfect faith in the coming of Moshiach every day". I wish. I hope. I pray. I ask. I cajole. I wonder. I think about it every day, I say the words every day, "Please G-d send us Mosiach now". I try to believe every day that he is coming. But it is so hard. It doesn't feel real. Our sad Galis existence feels like reality. This is all I've ever known.

We know that Hashem is compared to our groom and we are the bride. We made a mistake. We sinned. We 'cheated' on Hashem. We left him. And yet He has never left us. He waits for us with open arms ready to accept us again with all our faults and sins.

Our love for Hashem and His for us is unconditional love. There is no reason for it. It just is. We are way past the point of 'show us what you can do for us and we will love you.'

It makes no sense. We as a nation went through so much suffering. We were in galus way longer than we were not. Do we hate Hashem? Have we abandoned him? From the dephs of hell do we cry out, "G-d, why have you forsaken us??". From the burning fires and the gas chambers came the crys of 'Shema Yisroel Hashem Elokeinu Hashem Echad'. Because we have not forgotten and never will.

The Baal Shem tov tells a story of a father who hid from his child because he wanted the child to look for him. The child finally gave up and started crying because he couldn't find his father. An old man passing by told the child, do not cry, your father is right there behind the curtain. He is hiding because he wants you to find him. He wants you to look for him. Do not give up.

We are told that Hashem is hiding because He wants us to find Him. He wants us to make a place for Him in our hearts; in our homes. He wants us to think about Him every day and never give up hope until the final redemption.

It hurts so much. It is so frustrating. It will never get easier. We will never wake up one day and be happy that we are in Galus and we cannot even fathom what it was like to go to the Bais Hamikdash and feel Hashem's presence so close and tangible.

How can we feel such conviction and faith for Hashem and Moshiach one second and the next second we are sinning in the worst possible way?

Galus is explained away as a dream. None of this is reality. In a dream many crazy things can happen. People and places and time period mesh together to form one kaleidoscope of events that have nothing to do with each other and make no sense at all. When it becomes too much or too scary we wake ourselves up. I once woke up in middle of the night gasping for breath, having no idea what woke me up.

We are in Galus. We need to wake ourselves up. We must understand that although our circumstances right now seem okay and normal and we are not suffering and we don't feel Galus tangibly- this is not it. This is not what we were brought here for. The very fact that we think we are okay shows how very much we are lacking.

Can we explain our belief? Can we explain why we love, why we still hope and pray after 2,000 years? Can we explain this seeming craziness to an outsider? They don't get it. It looks like G-d abandoned us and we continue to pray.

But we know that He never really left. And no, maybe we cannot explain it, to anyone or even to ourselves. But we know it and we feel it.

And we pray with all our hearts and souls that this Tisha Ba'av will have been our very last in Galus, and that this dream will finally be over.