The nine days and actual fast of Tisha B’av leave a large amount of time in which to commemorate and lament upon the loss of the Jewish Temple in Jerusalem. How each individual may spend that time varies; though among all there is a definite sense of defeat. There is the difficult fact to deal with that a huge chunk of our culture was destroyed due to sinat hienam (a hatred of our fellows), our inability to treat other Jews with equality and respect. Most years, some may resolve to do so, though somehow Tisha B’av comes around again and we find ourselves in the same place. This year, however, an anonymous Jewish Syrian community member followed through on those resolutions, and managed to bring the rest of the community along with her.
The seventh day of the nine days leading up to Tisha B’av beheld an extraordinary sight. In a gymnasium of Monmouth University in Deal, New Jersey, Syrian Jewish community members, of many different religious levels found themselves praying together.
“I always had a dream of having the community united,” commented the anonymous community member, “there was no better time to bring us all together in a show of ahavat hienam (a love for our fellows) than in the nine days leading up to Tisha B’av.” Indeed, it was historically ironic and appropriate that members from multiple circles were able to put aside differences for the sake of prayer.
While physically the synagogues of the community are within a few blocks from one another, and our families intertwined, there is undeniably a distance that is felt between members. “No one thinks that we’re all supposed to be exact copies of one another,” said an unnamed co-organizer of the night. “A family has its own unique personalities and types, though that should never stop everyone from coming together.”
The gymnasium did in fact feel like a large family gathering. From every mouth the same Halabi (Allepian) tune seamlessly sang Minha, Arbit, Selihot, and tehilim. No matter what convictions or religious aspiration, the people at the gathering felt as one. When seven community members rose to blow the shofar, the mournful sound penetrated emotional and physical mehisot (boundaries) alike. The nine days symbolize the road to the destruction of our Beit Hamikdash, a pillar of our culture, though that night felt as if little by little, those present were piecing it back together.
The efforts of the undisclosed coordinators did not go unnoticed. Three of the greatest rabbinic minds of our time made personal addresses to those gathered. The former Sephardic Chief Rabbi, Hacham Ovadia Yosef, the current Sephardic Chief Rabbi, Hacham Shelomo Amar, and the Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi, Rabbi Yona Metzger individually expressed their approval via video stream. “You are setting an example,” said Rav Metzger, “for the rest of the Jewish world. If we love each other, we are together. Together, we will keep our tradition strong.”
It was certainly humbling to realize that so many members still see prayer as a priority, and a thing to unify for. “The Syrian Jews have achieved a great thing in America,” expressed Hacham Amar, “they forget unpleasantness and hold together as one, Ke eesh ehad b’lev ehad, (as one man with one heart).”
Perhaps the most important accomplishment of the evening was the children who got to see the inspiring scene alongside their parents. The large gathering of people and exciting atmosphere showed them the importance of prayer and tradition; something that resonates with their parents, friends, and family. There was a point where all the rabbis present stood collectively in the center of the towering stands and looked like pieces of a puzzle come together. When everyone with a prayer text bowed east simultaneously, an overwhelming sense of unity enveloped many present. “This is one of the most moving experiences I’ve ever been a part of,” said an unidentified attendee, “this is a special moment where so many of us can come together as one.”
The night was nothing short of amazing, a glaring proof that through the whirlwinds and years, the Jewish nation can set aside its many differences and once again become whole, if only for that night alone.
“The endeavor may seem superficial to some,” said a community member. “But we need to start somewhere. One night of unified prayer is a definite template to build on.” The anonymous efforts of community members served an idealistic purpose; a night of nameless agenda. It brought each and every faction of religiosity together. As anonymous, unidentifiable, and undisclosed Jews have said for centuries, “B’mhera B’yamienu we will return to Jerusalem.”
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Sally Mizrachi graduated from the Yeshivah of Flatbush and is attending Hunter College.
