Nothing So Whole as a Broken Heart
Words of Wisdom with Rabbi Efrat Zarren-Zohar
This Dvar Torah was written by Rabbi Efrat Zarren-Zohar, Executive Director of CAJE Miami.
here’s a well-known story (apocryphal or true, we’ll never know) of Napoleon riding by a synagogue on Tisha B’Av (which falls tomorrow night through Sunday) and hearing wailing and crying from within. When he asked an aide what was going on, he was told the Jews were mourning the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem 2,000 years before.
His response: “A nation that cries and fasts for over 2,000 years for their land and Temple will surely be rewarded with both.”
I heard that story for the first time at Camp Pembroke, the Jewish girls camp I attended from ages 9 to 19.
And the main question that I remember thinking about the story at the time was: Why were they crying so loudly that Napoleon could hear them from outside!?!
(I was from the Boston area. People in the Northeast emoted quietly!)
No one I knew wanted to rebuild a Temple with animal sacrifices, so if we observed the day, it was to review the terrible things that have happened to the Jewish people on this date and throughout history.
Since then, I’ve attended several Orthodox services on Tisha B’Av and even there, I don’t recall ever seeing or hearing people cry.
Yes, sitting on the ground or low stools.
Yes, chanting Eicha / Lamentations by candlelight in a dark room with mournful voices.
But I never saw or heard anyone actually cry.
This year I’ll be in Israel (G!D willing) on Tisha B’Av.
And this year, it’s likely that I will be crying.
Probably not loudly — I’m still from Boston after all.
But now, I myself finally feel why it was easy for Jews throughout the centuries to cry, to wail, to mourn, to lament.
Maybe it’s just the maturity of adulthood, but I think it’s something more.
October 7th and the outpouring of antisemitism that has followed have shaken our faith in humanity.
The continued evil of Hamas has shaken our faith that peace is even possible.
The craven politics of the Israeli government and the seeming sacrifice of the remaining hostages reminds me of the Talmud’s description of how Jews behaved in the lead up to the Temple’s destruction and the loss of Jewish sovereignty.
And the starving Gazans featured in picture after picture, article after article… No matter who’s at fault, it’s a disaster and it’s heartbreaking.
The Kotzker Rebbe, R' Menachem Mendel Morgensztern (1787-1859), teaches that there is nothing so whole as a broken heart.
One of my rebbes, Rabbi Yitz Greenberg, explains the Kotzker: We need to let our hearts break open to be truly whole.
I know how mixed up it is to be sitting in a synagogue in the sovereign State of Israel in 2025, after Israel has vanquished Gaza, Hezbollah, and Iran, and be so very sad.
But right now, in this moment, the present feels compressed by the decidedly heartbreaking past and the potentially heartbreaking future.
I’m using all of the mindfulness training I have been practicing to desperately stay in the present, with less than successful results (obviously).
For the first time in my life, I get why the Jews were wailing from inside the synagogue so loudly that Napoleon could hear it outside.
And for the first time, I too may very well be crying as they did.
Because my heart is broken and the world seems broken and my beloved State of Israel looks broken and my Jewish ideals are broken.
And then, on the 10th of Av, I’ll pick myself up, and like my forbearers, I will once again find the strength to carry on with our collective mission...
