The Torah notes that even when we are dispersed, God will return us to Him: “then the Lord your God will bring back [v’shav] your captivity” (Deuteronomy 30:3).
Interestingly, the term used here is not v’heshiv, which literally means God will “bring back” your captivity; rather, it is v’shav, which literally means that God “will return with” your captivity. In other words, God dwells with us in our suffering. When we return, God returns with us.
Martin rubble / dpa via AP
A Torah scroll is written at New Synagogue in Erfurt, Germany. Martin rubble / dpa via APNote the sentence in Lamentations marking the destruction of the Temple. God is described as “withdraw[ing] His right hand in the presence of the enemy” (Lamentations 2:3). On its face, this means that God stepped back from helping us as the Temple was destroyed.
The Midrash, however, reverses this argument, asserting that after the Babylonian exile, Jews – as described in the “Al Naharot Bavel” psalm – mangled their fingers so they were unable to sing songs with instruments as demanded by their plunderers (Psalms 137:4; Rashi, Kiddushin 69b). In solidarity, if you will, God mangles His fingers – “withdraw[ing] His right hand” (Pesikta d’Rabbi Kahana 17:5).
Thus, as my son Dr. Dov Weiss points out, the rabbis of the Midrash depart from the literal meaning of the Psalms, interpreting the text not as reflecting God’s abandonment of the Jews but rather His empathizing with His people. From this perspective, as the Midrash notes, in the very next sentence of the “Al Naharot Bavel” psalm, God rather than Israel (or along with Israel) proclaims “Im eshkachech Yerushalayim” (If I forget you, O Jerusalem [may my right hand be forgotten]; Psalms 137:5, 6).
The idea that God stands with us and experiences our pain is also found when one is mourning a personal loss. When leaving someone sitting shivah, we recite the formula “Hamakom yenachem etchem” (May God [the Omnipresent] comfort you). But suppose there is only one mourner? Should we use the word otcha or otach (singular) rather than etchem (plural)? My preference is to retain the plural subject, as one never sits shivah alone. God feels our loss and sits with the bereaved.
Hence, when reciting Kaddish, we begin with the words “Yitgadal, v’yitkadash,” which means “may God become great, and may God become holy.” With the death of a human being, with a family in bereavement, God, as it were, is saddened – He is not fully great and holy. Thus, these words are in the future tense. The Kaddish may be interpreted as our way of comforting God. At this moment, You are not fully great and holy, but one day You will be.
A beautiful poem speaks of God’s promise to all individuals that He will always be with them. An individual dreams and sees their life journey, always with two sets of footprints – their own and God’s. But during the most difficult times of their life, the two sets of footprints become one. The individual asks God why He seems to have abandoned humans during the troubled times only to be told that, when only one set of footprints is visible, God was carrying them.
Candle lighting:
Nitzavim-Vayelech parsha
September 8 at 7:15 p.m.
