Yesterday, a day after Simchas Torah, a day after war broke out, I returned to Megillas Eichah

Five in the morning, and I can’t sleep.

I sit and stare through my bedroom window, at my quiet Beit Shemesh street below, knowing that just a few minutes’ drive away, another family undoubtedly lies awake, too. The family of a young man who grew up in my neighborhood, a young soldier killed in this latest and cruelest of Israel’s wars.

I heard about the death late last night, right after listening to a shiur in my Nach Yomi program.

A shiur about Megillas Eichah.

I’m a little off schedule with my daily Nach chapter. I should have read Eichah during Succos, but it seemed remarkably inappropriate to read about the Churban after a day of joyous celebration in Yerushalayim. So I went ahead to the next sefer — Koheles. Not exactly cheerful, either, but it’s the megillah Chazal designated for Succos.

So yesterday, a day after Simchas Torah, a day after war broke out, I returned to Megillas Eichah — and suddenly, overnight, remarkably inappropriate had become remarkably appropriate. I returned to the description of Yerushalayim of 2,000 years ago, alone, its streets empty — and it led me to the description of Yerushalayim today, its residents staying inside, close to shelters and safe rooms.