Chapter 5 is the final lamentation concluding the Book of Eicha. Here, the Jewish people turn directly to the Holy One, blessed be He, with a plea: remember. Not a remembrance of punishment, but a remembrance of what once was, so that from it the full depth of the fall may become evident. We will go through the verses in order, together with the explanations of the commentators and the Midrashim taught concerning them.
זְכֹר יְהֹוָה מֶה־הָיָה לָנוּ, הַבִּיטָה וּרְאֵה אֶת־חֶרְפָּתֵנוּ׃ - Remember, Hashem, what has befallen us; look and see our disgrace.
The *Lechem Dim'ah* explains: "Remember, Hashem, what has befallen us" - Master of the Universe, remember the good we enjoyed in the past. And consequently, out of that remembrance, "look and see our disgrace" - see how far we have fallen, how many levels we have descended, what a precipitous fall from a high roof to a deep pit. We have already explained that the expression *habatah* denotes gazing from afar: even from a distance, without having to approach closely, our disgrace is readily noticeable - so glaringly obvious has it become.
Our Sages state in *Eicha Rabbah*: At the time the Beit HaMikdash was destroyed, the Holy One, blessed be He, said to Yirmiyahu: I am like a person who leads his son to the wedding canopy, and he dies beneath his chuppah - yet you do not know how to weep. Go and summon Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov, for they know how to weep. This is utterly astonishing: who among us knew how to weep like Yirmiyahu? After all, he authored these lamentations, and he witnessed the destruction with his own eyes! And this is considered not knowing how to weep?
This is explained based on what was said concerning Naomi: "Do not call me Naomi; call me Marah, for the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me." To what can this be compared? To a person who was immensely wealthy, commanding vast estates, luxury vehicles, private planes - everything one could ever wish for. At a certain point, his fortunes declined, and from being immensely wealthy he became merely well-to-do. Later, after further collapses in the stock market and real estate, he became an ordinary homeowner, nothing more. He sank further and further, until he was reduced to a crust of bread, dependent on the soup kitchen. And there, at the soup kitchen, he got into a quarrel with someone, and the director barred him from entering. He tried pulling strings, having someone intercede, just to be allowed in to eat lunch.
That day, an acquaintance encountered him and asked: "Are you so-and-so? The famous magnate? Look at what you had - fleets, ships, airplanes... where did it all disappear? Where have you ended up?" He replied: "What are you talking about? Today I am not crying over ships and airplanes. I am crying so they will let me into the soup kitchen to eat lunch. Over what was, the wellspring of my tears has long run dry; that is history, who even remembers it? I only remember what I had yesterday - that yesterday I could still eat lunch here, and today they won't even let me in."
Later troubles cause earlier ones to be forgotten. This is what Naomi told those who wondered: "Can this be Naomi?" - after all, she had been immensely wealthy, departing in grand carriages and with mules. She told them: Do not call me Naomi; do not remind me of the pleasantness of ten years ago. That has long been forgotten and I do not aspire to it anymore. Call me Marah - in comparison to yesterday, today is already bitter for me, and about this it is fitting to lament, for "the Almighty has dealt very bitterly with me."
We see from this that the power of habit dulls every emotion. Habit causes us to forget the good state we once enjoyed and grow accustomed to the harsh reality in which we find ourselves. This is a faculty that the Holy One, blessed be He, created within man: "You neglected the Rock Who begot you (*Teshī*)" - *teshī* denotes the power of forgetfulness, as in "I forgot (*nashītī*) goodness." Through the power of forgetfulness, a person also forgets the good circumstances he once had, and thus he does not remain in perpetual depression. For if at every given moment all our troubles stood before our eyes, who could live? And if a person remembered at every moment that he is destined to depart this world, who would be able to function? It is Hashem's kindness that He created us with the capacity to forget. And incidentally, how does the verse conclude? "And forgot the God Who bore you" - I created forgetfulness within you so that you might forget troubles, yet you use it against Me, to forget Me? This matter was discussed at length in the discourses on Parashat Ha'azinu.
Let us return to the parable's lesson. As long as we were in the Holy Land, the Shechinah rested among us; before our very eyes, we saw that the Holy One, blessed be He, was with us. A fly was never seen in the slaughterhouse; no woman ever miscarried; the column of incense smoke rose straight like a pillar; the Showbread was removed hot on the day it was taken out, eight days after being baked; and people witnessed open miracles in the Beis HaMikdash. We enjoyed immense closeness to God and a lofty spiritual stature. Over such a fall, we should be lamenting and weeping endlessly, without pause. But because we were engulfed in the suffering, the gradual decline dragged us down, until today our chief concern is arguing with the manager of the soup kitchen to let us in. Remembering our past wealth? Who even thinks about it?
What is needed here? An outsider. Someone who was not present during the stages of the fall, who did not experience the slow deterioration that made us forget our former good state. An outsider experiences the shock all at once: I remember you ten years ago in your office, with seventeen clerks, running factories, surrounded by wealth - and suddenly I see you at the entrance of a soup kitchen, having an animated argument with the proprietor! He cannot fathom it; he experiences deep shock, and his grief is immense.
This is what the Holy One, blessed be He, said to Yirmiyahu: You accompanied them from their peak to their current state - starving, in a condition where "women in Zion were ravished," as we will see later in the verses. These are horrific things. Today, their entire desire is simply to have something to eat in the morning, and that is what you are crying over. That weeping is not enough; you cannot mourn for them as is fitting, because you were with them along the way. Someone is needed who was not with them, who remembers them from that earlier time. Therefore - go and call Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov! They saw their original glory; they saw them at the pinnacle of their stature. Now, seeing them in such degradation, the weeping will be genuine - mourning worthy of someone who has plummeted from the highest roof into the deepest pit.
And this is what we say: "Remember, Hashem, what has befallen us" - remember the greatness and honor we once possessed, the close bond we had with You through the Beis HaMikdash and the sacrifices. And now, "look and see our disgrace" - see how low we have been cast down, to the depths of the pit. For us, it is difficult to remember; we are living through it, and therefore it is hard for us to mourn and weep as we should. But You, Master of the Universe, remember the days of old. We are ruled by forgetfulness and habit; You are not. Therefore, remember what we once had, and through that, look and behold our disgrace, have pity and mercy, and redeem us with an eternal redemption.
נַחֲלָתֵנוּ נֶהֶפְכָה לְזָרִים, בָּתֵּינוּ לְנׇכְרִים׃ - Our inheritance has been turned over to strangers, our homes to foreigners.
In its simple sense, the Jewish people describe their horrific situation: the land that was our inheritance is now inhabited and ruled by strangers, and our homes have been handed over to foreigners.
The sefer Ahavas Tzion offers a homiletic interpretation, suggesting that this verse presents cause and effect: "Our inheritance has been turned over to strangers" - why? Because "our homes are to foreigners." We descended to such a low that the Jewish home came to resemble the home of a non-Jew. Its Jewish character is unnoticeable; it is not apparent that an observant person lives there, and it is wired into all the latest media and technology. And if one eats like a gentile, drinks like a gentile, sleeps like a gentile, and watches what a gentile watches - what difference remains between them? Because "our homes are to foreigners," this caused "our inheritance to be turned over to strangers." In Egypt, by contrast, as long as the Jewish people did not change their names, language, and dress, this preserved them and made them worthy of redemption. But when we become a cheap imitation of the nations, then inevitably, our inheritance is turned over to strangers.
The Lechem Dim'ah cites the words of Chazal in Eicha Rabbah: Yirmiyahu refers to Jerusalem as "our inheritance"; Yeshayahu calls it "the house of our holiness and our glory"; and Asaf comes and says, neither our inheritance nor the house of our holiness and glory, but rather, nations have entered into what is Yours - "nations have entered Your inheritance." Seemingly, what distinction are Chazal pointing out here? Ultimately, they are all referring to the very same place - the Beis HaMikdash!
The Lechem Dim'ah and the Yafeh Nof explain: Yirmiyahu says that we must lament that the gift the Holy One, blessed be He, gave us has been taken away - You gave us an inheritance, and it was taken. Yeshayahu comes and says: This is not merely an inheritance; it is the place where our fathers praised You. The bond is far deeper, far more sentimental. It is not like a field I owned somewhere that was seized, but the place where our ancestors stood and praised the Master of the Universe. Then Asaf comes and says: Even that is not enough. The primary lament is that this place belongs to the Master of the Universe Himself - "nations have entered Your inheritance." The main focus of our mourning is that the Name of the Holy One, blessed be He, was desecrated among the nations.
Even if one laments the loss of the place where our fathers praised Hashem, that is still merely one's personal connection to the place - a holy aspiration, yet not the highest level. The highest level is when a person grieves over the exile of the Shechinah, weeping over the pain of the Holy One, blessed be He. Then, one does not mourn over one's own heritage, but over the desecration of the honor of Heaven - that a gentile entered into the Beit HaMikdash and felt as though he had pierced [a euphemism] himself, as the Gemara relates regarding Titus who pierced the Parochet and blood emerged, which the Sages expressed euphemistically and with reverence as if he had pierced the Master of the Universe. What a disgrace, what a desecration of the Name of Heaven! Compared to this, "our heritage has been turned over to strangers" is secondary beside "nations have entered Your inheritance; they have defiled Your holy Sanctuary" (Tehillim 79:1) - that this place, the ultimate venue for the manifestation and revelation of the Shechinah, was desecrated. How greatly the honor of Heaven was degraded - this is what is truly worthy of lamentation.
The work Evel MiShnayim explains: Scripture calls the Land of Israel an "inheritance" (nachalah), because we truly inherited it - a nachalah is an heirloom passed down, and we inherited it from our forefathers, Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov. And "turned over to strangers" (nehaphchah) denotes an overturning, doing the exact opposite. When it is in the hands of strangers, it is, as it were, inverted, for its natural state is to be in the hands of Israel, and once it was handed over to strangers, its very nature was overturned. Not only that, but this inversion of its nature is expressed in the fact that it withholds its produce, yielding not even one-thousandth of what it previously brought forth.
Regarding this it is stated, "and your enemies who dwell therein shall be desolate upon it" (Vayikra 26:32), which the Ramban explains is good news for us: the Land will not give of its fruit to our enemies, and consequently, they will not continue to remain in it. And when the time comes to return, one finds wandering fellahin claiming it belongs to them, even though they never truly settled it nor succeeded in establishing anything here. Why? Because the Land of Israel remained like a widow awaiting the return of her husband - like a widow, but not an actual widow. The Land yearns for the return of the Jewish people, and when Am Yisrael arrives: "But you, mountains of Israel, you shall shoot forth your branches and yield your fruit to My people Israel, for they are soon to come" (Yechezkel 36:8). On this verse Chazal comment that there is no more revealed sign of the redemption than this - when the mountains of Israel begin to yield their fruit, something they never did for all the nations that occupied them over two thousand years.
The Ramban testified during his visit to the Land that they traveled a vast distance without seeing a single tree. The author Mark Twain visited here and described its state: a land under a curse, rife with malaria and swamps, devoid of trees and greenery, a desolate place. Yet a century later, one can hardly recognize it. By virtue of what? "Our heritage has been turned over to strangers" - when it was in the hands of strangers, it was overturned, completely inverted from its true essence.
Furthermore, "our houses to foreigners." The enemies were not satisfied with seizing the land alone; they took the houses as well, and the Land, instead of nurturing us, nurtures foreigners within it. In this, it altered its nature even further: as long as we dwelt in it, the Land suffered from an innate revulsion to sin, for when the Jewish people stray from the path, "the land shall not spew you out when you defile it." Yet when the gentiles arrived and settled in it, it ceased to resist: the nations dwell in tranquility, and the Land does not spew them out. Not only did it not expel them, it absorbed them. And this is what arouses the greatest anguish of all.
The work Kol Yaakov explains: The Land of Israel is not like all other lands. As for other nations, take a gentile from here and place him there, and there is no great difference. Sancheriv came and mixed up the nations, and nothing fundamentally changed in the world; whether someone is Scandinavian or Canadian makes little difference. But the Land of Israel possesses unique qualities tailored specifically to the Jewish people. It is like a bespoke garment: if someone else tries to wear it, it simply will not fit. It requires the exact person for whom it was tailored according to his precise measurements and build. Chazal comment on the verse, "He stood and measured the earth" (Chavakuk 3:6) - the Holy One, blessed be He, measured all the lands and found none like the Land of Israel. No other land possesses the unique spiritual qualities necessary for the perfection and spiritual elevation of the people of Israel.
Someone once asked: "Why do you praise the Land of Israel so much? Have you ever visited Switzerland?" The response was: "Have you visited Switzerland in the winter?" The man admitted, "To be honest, I went in the summer." He was told: "I would advise you to go in the winter, and find yourself snowed in inside a house with two meters of snow outside. Is that a place where one can truly live? For half the year, life comes to a standstill." True, there are periods of thawing snow, pleasant weather, and crisp air - all well and good. But what other place contains both desert air and snowy mountains? The Land of Israel contains Switzerland - one can visit Mount Hermon - and it also contains the Sahara Desert - one can travel to the Negev or Eilat. To claim that a place is pleasant for a brief season is not enough. In London, the weather drizzles constantly, a truly gloomy atmosphere; there is no need to promote Europe. Certainly, the Land of Israel would be a thousand times greater if we improved our ways, but even today - even if one finds a pleasant place to visit for a week a year (without entering here into the halachic question of traveling abroad for vacation) - one cannot claim that such a place is better than the Land of Israel. The Torah testifies that the Land of Israel is the place best suited for Am Yisrael, tailored precisely to the measure of the Jewish people.
Not only that, but the Dubno Maggid explains: our life in the Land is like the soul within the body, or like the peel to the fruit. When the soul is elevated, the body is elevated along with it, becoming like the Holy of Holies. When a holy person touches an object, he sanctifies it; when a holy person acquires something, he elevates it. Regarding the field of Ephron, Scripture states when Avraham Avinu purchased it: "And the field of Ephron was established (vayakom)" (Bereishit 23:17), which Chazal interpret to mean that it experienced an elevation (tekumah) - an object that serves a tzaddik becomes elevated. It was once merely the land of Ephron, a man of an evil eye, lowly and debased; but once it passed to Avraham, it became elevated and holy. Similarly, when the Sages note, "Rabbi Elazar sat upon this place," the place itself is elevated.
One of the great Torah leaders of Israel once stood in prayer in a synagogue in Europe, and following his prayer, he remarked that he had never experienced such a prayer in his life. They told him: "The Vilna Gaon stood on that exact spot one hundred and fifty years ago when he passed through our town, and we have a tradition that he prayed right there." And that great sage, a century and a half later, was able to perceive it. When a holy person touches a physical reality, he sanctifies and elevates it, as the Mesillat Yesharim teaches: when a person elevates himself, he ascends and elevates the entire world with him.
The people of Israel and the Land of Israel are a match such that when we elevate ourselves - the Land is elevated as well. When we fulfilled the will of Hashem - grains of wheat were like kidneys. Who can fathom such a thing, a grain of wheat the size of a kidney? Grapes where eight men were needed to carry a single cluster. When the people of Israel arrive, the Holy One, blessed be He, brings forth such fruits for them. It emerges that the connection between the people of Israel and the Land of Israel is not merely the connection of a nation to a geographical location, where people sought a comfortable place and found it. That is how it is among the nations. Our connection is like that of a soul to a body. Therefore, when the soul deteriorates - just like a body that ate something bad and needs to vomit, so too the Land feels that something within it is tainted, and it vomits out its inhabitants.
Through this we can understand what is written in Tehillim. First come verses in praise of the Land: "Hashem loves the gates of Zion more than all the dwellings of Jacob; glorious things are spoken of you, O city of God, Selah." Then King David says: "I will mention Rahab and Babylon to those who know Me; behold Philistia and Tyre, with Cush: this one was born there." These nations - Rahab, Babylon, Philistia, Tyre, Cush - their relationship with their inhabitants is merely "this one was born there." What is your connection to the land? It is my homeland; I was born there. An essential, spiritual bond? None. Had he been born somewhere else, finding that place appealing, he would have felt connected to that other place. He has no intrinsic soul-connection indicating that this is uniquely his place, other than simply "he was born there."
In contrast, "And of Zion it shall be said, 'Each and every man was born in her.'" This is not merely residing in a location, but like a person formed inside another person, like a fetus in its mother's womb. Is it merely present there? No, this is an unbreakable bond between a child and its mother - detach it, and it perishes. For a gentile, "this one was born there" - move him somewhere else, and he simply says, "I was born there and now I live here." But with "each and every man" - take a baby in the middle of pregnancy and sever it, and it loses its vitality. This is the profound connection between Israel and their Land, a union of body and soul, where severance brings the loss of vitality. And how does it conclude? "And He, the Most High, will establish her" - the Land is elevated through the stature of its inhabitants; its inhabitants establish it to reach the status of "the Most High." And if, Heaven forbid, the people of Israel decline - the Land declines and deteriorates along with them.
We see this in the afflictions of houses, a phenomenon that exists nowhere else in the world: "When you come into the land of Canaan, which I give to you for a possession, and I put a plague of leprosy in a house of the land of your possession." There are no such afflictions outside the Land. In the Land, if a person sins, suddenly deep discolorations and afflictions appear on the walls of his house. What happened? The Land is so unique and so attuned to the people of Israel that your spiritual decline produces tangible physical effects upon the walls of your home, not merely an unseen spiritual consequence.
To what can this be compared? The Dubno Maggid offers a parable: A man's arm became paralyzed. He went to a doctor and received medication. The doctor told him: "You will be able to tell later if the medicine helped." He asked, "How?" The doctor answered: "If you receive a blow to your arm and feel a sensation, know that the medicine has begun to reverse your paralysis. A light touch proves nothing, but if you take a hard hit and suddenly feel a dull ache, know that the remedy is working." Some time later, he had an argument with someone who struck him forcefully, and suddenly he felt a dull ache in his arm. He felt immense joy: it hurt, it was unpleasant, and for a moment he was upset by the blow - but I felt my arm! I felt my arm!
This explains the verse: "When you come... and I put a plague of leprosy" - formulated just like "And I will give your rains in their season," in the language of good tidings. Seemingly, the Torah should have written: "If you stray from the path, if you perform misdeeds, there will be a plague of leprosy." But Chazal explain: in truth, it is good news. Only in the Land of Israel does the reality of tzara'at exist; only there do our actions impact the physical realm so directly. And if there is an affliction of tzara'at, it is a sign of being on a high spiritual plane, where the Holy One, blessed be He, hints that something is amiss, and that reality manifests directly upon the walls of one's home.
The proof is that today we no longer have tzara'at. When the wicked multiplied and speakers of lashon hara proliferated, tzara'at ceased. What would you expect, that half the world be afflicted, or three-quarters of the world? Similarly, when murderers multiplied, the Sanhedrin ceased judging capital cases, for it was impossible to execute them all. Strict judgment indicates that we are at a high spiritual level, where strict justice can be administered; but when that level is lost, there is no point, as it is impossible to destroy everyone. It turns out, then, that "and I put a plague of leprosy" is indeed good tidings: you received a blow - a sign that you still have feeling. The Land is capable of feeling your spiritual ailments, and if it feels them, a vital connection remains. This is not a deadened limb; we are still one living body.
And now, see how strangers have entered and consume our Land - "Our inheritance has been turned over to strangers, our houses to foreigners." This disgrace created a state in which the limb atrophies, in which the natural bond of body and soul is severed. That very garment tailored exclusively for us has suddenly turned over to foreigners, and strange faces have arrived. Over this we cry: Master of the Universe, behold and see our disgrace. Look at how far we have fallen and deteriorated. The Land with which we shared a unique union of body and soul, to the point where it felt our every movement - suddenly feels nothing at all, yielding its produce and bestowing abundance upon the gentiles. That is something truly worthy of sorrow and lamentation.
If so, we can no longer rely on our inheritance. Upon whom can we lean? Only upon the Master of the Universe. The Land no longer champions our cause; it no longer shows a somber countenance to our enemies. On the contrary - it accommodates them and does not vomit them out, and this state of affairs could endure for a very long time. We have no one to turn to but You, to save us and deliver us from this distress.