22 Jul TEARS FOR YERUSHALAYIM

This Shabbos, Rosh Chodesh Menachem Av,
marks the beginning of the Nine Days,
concluding with Tisha B’Av. It is a period of
mourning for the destruction of the Beis
HaMikdash. A time to remember what we
once had. A time to daven that we merit to see
it once again.
“V’l’yerushalayim ircha, b’rachamim
toshuv…, And to Yerushalayim Your city,
may You return in compassion, and may You
rest within it…” (From the daily Amidah)
“Uvnei Yerushalayim ir hakodesh b’mheirah
b’yameinu, Rebuild Yerushalayim, the Holy
City, soon in our day….” (Birchas Hamazon)
Every day, we daven for the Holy City of
Yerushalayim. In every Amidah, in every
Birchas Hamazon, we ask HaShem to enable
us to see it once again in its splendor and
glory.
Prayers that are on our lips, but do they enter
our hearts? Are our souls truly yearning for
Yerushalayim? How many of us truly shed
tears for Yerushalayim?
The year was 1920. The British government

appointed Sir Herbert Samuel as the first High
Commissioner of Palestine. Sir Herbert visited
the Holy Land. He met with Christian and
Muslim leaders, and made an appointment to
visit Rabbi Yosef Chaim Sonnenfeld zt”l,
Chief Rabbi of Yerushalayim.
The meeting was scheduled to take place at
the rabbi’s small, simple basement apartment
in the Old City. To enter, one had to descend a
long flight of steep stairs. The rabbi’s students
pleaded with him to temporarily relocate his
residence in order to give Sir Herbert a more
favorable impression. Rabbi Sonnenfeld
declined, but made a small “indulgence” by
acquiring a new tablecloth in honor of his
guest.
On the day of the visit, Sir Herbert was
escorted to the Old City by a tight ring of
security. There were huge crowds and a large
media presence to report on the event. As Sir
Herbert descended the stairs and entered the
apartment, he greeted the rabbi with what he
thought to be a joke…. “The Rabbi couldn’t
find himself an apartment deeper in the earth?”
Rabbi Sonnenfeld’s reaction was to open a
shuttered window revealing a street-level
view of the Old City.

Tears began to stream from the
rabbi’s eyes, as he said in a pained
voice: “As long as the dwelling place
of my beloved G-d lies in ruins, my
home need not be any better than
His.”
The rabbi’s profound and heartfelt
words left Sir Herbert in awe. Visibly
moved, he suddenly found himself
speechless. Sir Herbert just turned
around and silently left. When he
reached the street, reporters
surrounded him, firing questions
about the meeting, but Sir Herbert
remained silent.
I am reminded of a story my mother,
the Rebbetzin a”h told me. Once, after
speaking in Yerushalayim, a beautiful young
woman came over and shared her personal
experiences. She was originally from Sweden
and went to Israel for a visit. She fell in love
with the land and its people, and couldn’t
bring herself to leave. After much studying
and preparation, she converted, becoming a
member of Am Yisroel.
My mother was sure that she would be asking
for a bracha to find an appropriate shidduch,
but that was not the case. Instead, she asked
for something else. A
bracha to find it within her neshama to truly
cry for Yerushalayim. To weep for a city in
ruins, to cry for a people surrounded by
enemies, a people in pain.
Genuine tears flowing from a rabbi’s eyes. A
British High Commissioner left speechless.
A convert to Judaism wanting nothing more
than to cry for her people. But where are we?
Do we realize that the hatred of our enemies
that led to the destruction of our Beis
HaMikdash endures to this very day? We
are in the midst of Galus Yishmael, what are
sages say is the last and most difficult of all
exiles. We have been subjected to increased
acts of anti-Semitism, harassment and even
violence. Just recently, in Boulder, Colorado,
Mohammed Sabry Solimian threw

homemade incendiary devices and a flame-
thrower into a crowd which gathered to

show support for the hostages. Despicable
acts that are becoming more commonplace.
More than twenty years ago, my mother
would speak of Europe becoming “Eurabia”,
with the influx of Muslims who openly spew
hatred of the Jewish people. Do we not see it
happening today? France and England,
countries that once were considered safe and
tranquil, have become frightening and
dangerous. On a recent Shabbos, no sooner
than after Rabbi Yehia and Rebbetzin
Batcheva Lahiani of Grenoble, France, left
their home for a Shabbos dinner, they heard
three explosions. Their home became
engulfed in flames, burning it to the ground.
This was not the Lahiani family’s first

experience with a hate crime. As their daughter
Sara said, “First you insult, then you slash
tires, then you try breaking into a house, and
then the house explodes”. But the French
authorities called it “a case of arson”, stopping
short of labeling it as anti-Semitism.
My mother related a story about a soldier who
was a member of the battalion that liberated
Yerushalayim in 1967. The soldiers ran to the
Kotel, and overwhelmed with emotion, broke
down in tears. One soldier, who wasn’t
religious, stood off by the side. He, too, broke
down in tears. When asked why he was crying,
his response was “I am crying because I do
not feel what my fellow soldiers are feeling. I
am crying because I do not have what to cry
about.”
Acheinu kol beis Yisroel, han’esunim b’tzara
U’vashivya. A plea to HaShem for members
of our nation in captivity, in pain and distress.
While it was written many centuries ago, first
appearing during the ninth century in Seder
Rav Amram Goan, it takes on extra meaning
today. About fifty years ago, Abie Rotenberg
put this heart-rending tefilla to song. Since
October 7, this song has been on the lips of
Jews worldwide, often sung in unison
following Tehillim and other public gatherings
for Am Yisroel, for shalom in Eretz Yisroel,
and for the release of the innocent hostages.
It’s time to cry for our people, no matter where
they are. As we are getting closer to Tisha
B’Av, let’s make an effort to concentrate even
more on our tefillos. To shed a tear or two for
Yerushalayim. As we daven, we should try to
visualize a rebuilt Yerushalayim.
We are a nation that has shed many tears. A
nation that has experienced much pain and
persecution. Yet, at the same time we are
nation that sings Ani Maamin – I Believe. A
nation that infuses hope and belief, emunah
and bitachon, into our tears. In that merit, the
day should come soon when our tears of
sorrow become tears of joy.
“Kol hamisabel al Yerushalayim, zoche v’roeh
b’simchasa… Whoever mourns for
Yerushalayim will merit to witness the
rejoicing of its rebuilding.” (Talmud)