Anyone familiar with a Jewish wedding has to be shocked by the reading from this week’s haftorah. The prophet Jeremiah declares bleakly to the people in God’s name: “Then will I silence, in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem, the voice of joy and gladness, the voice of the bridegroom, and the bride: for the land shall be desolate (7:34).”
Jeremiah’s words made sense in his time. He lived in a tumultuous age when the Assyrian empire declined and the Babylonians arose. Israel was defeated by the Babylonians and went weeping into exile. There was no joy in the streets of Jerusalem. It was a time of loss and deep despair.
So it is very strange that we quote the prophet at a wedding! What do we sing as we chant the sheva brachot, the seven blessings? “Again will be heard in the cities of Judah and the streets of Jerusalem, the voice of joy and gladness, the voice of the bridegroom, and the bride.”
We take the despair of the prophet and with a phrase, turn it to hope. There is an even more famous example of this reversal in Ezekiel. In chapter 37, the famous vision of the dry bones, Ezekiel pronounces, “Avdah Tikvateinu” – we have lost our hope. That phrase may sound familiar. The second verse of Hatikva, the national anthem, begins, “Od lo avdah tikvateinu” – we have still not lost our hope. Once more, the words of the prophet are turned from anguish to inspiration. We know that better days will come and we refuse to be dispirited.
In these difficult days when we fight a rising tide of hate, there is an impulse to believe that our efforts are in vain and our future bleak. But every time we sing at a wedding, each time we rise for Hatikvah – indeed each time we seek to transform enmity to acceptance and hatred to love – we are practicing the wisdom of our tradition. As the Psalmist taught us thousands of years ago, “In the evening there will be weeping, but joy will come in the morning (Ps. 30:5).” Take heart – there shall be joy in Judah and laughter on the streets of Jerusalem.
