Eicha

Eicha (“How”), a rhetorical question that conveys boundless grief, is the word that opens the book of five laments over the destruction of Jerusalem and its Temple, the fall of the Kingdom of Judah, the deaths of many of its inhabitants – young and old alike – by sword and by famine, and the mass exile to Babylonia in 586 BCE. The laments of the book emerge from the heart of darkness, from the depths of despair, and the reader cannot help but identify with the bitter fate of the people in those distant days. The trauma of destruction demanded a response that adhered to the theological framework of reward and punishment,
and to the belief in divine justice. The calamity that befell Israel was not random, nor the result of mere weakness: it was God who punished His people. Yet this very belief also held the seeds of hope: the One who grew angry and punished could also forgive and restore the nation to its former glory, especially if the people internalized the lesson and repented.
The appeal to God for mercy attests that hope is not yet lost. The expectation of divine compassion is at times accompanied by calls for vengeance upon the enemies. This very appeal for revenge entails, in a way, the partial release of God from responsibility for the catastrophe: the God who shifts from Israel’s foe to its loving protector will avenge the destruction wrought by Israel’s enemies.