Apparently, the origin of Barak Obama's popular campaign slogan, 'Yes, we can!' dates back much further than his 2008 presidential campaign. Some say Obama 'borrowed' the slogan from his supporter, Deval Patrick, the first African-American governor in Massachusetts history, who rode the slogan to the governorship in 2006. The slogan
While desperation emerges as the dominant theme of the evening and morning of Tisha B'Av, teshuva takes over as the primary goal of the afternoon.
has also been traced back to a translation of the slogan of The United Farm Workers, – "Sí, se puede" (Spanish for "Yes, it can be done") which was first used by UFW leader Cesar Chavez in Phoenix, Arizona during a protest fast way back in 1972. Former Philadelphia Phillies second baseman Dave Cash remembers how he came up with "Yes, we can," the battle cry that launched the beleaguered franchise on the best run in its history, while Barack Obama was a just a teenager in 1974. And children of the last decade who grew up watching the public television show "Bob the Builder" know that the title character uses that same phrase to fire up his team.
But perhaps 'Yes we can' goes back even further. I believe its origin is Biblical.
Tisha B'Av, the annual 25 hour fast day that commemorates the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem on the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av, begins this Monday evening. Tisha B'Av is known as the saddest day in Jewish history. Over time, Tisha B'Av has also become a Jewish day of mourning not only for the Temple, but for later tragedies throughout Jewish history as well. Regardless of the exact dates of these events, for many Jews, Tisha B'Av is the designated day of mourning for them, and these themes are reflected in liturgy composed for this day.
But one specific tragedy which is attributed to Tisha B'Av predates the Temple by centuries. In the Torah, (Numbers Ch. 13-14) we read how Moses sent twelve spies to scout out the land of Canaan before the Israelites would enter and settle it. When they returned from their mission, only two of the spies, Joshua and Caleb, brought back a positive report, while the others spoke disparagingly about the land. The majority report caused the Children of Israel to cry, panic and despair of ever entering the "Promised Land". The Talmud (Ta'anit 29a) teaches that the night when the Israelites cried because of the negative report that the Spies brought back was the ninth of the month of Av (Tisha B'Av). G-d said, "You cried for no reason; I will give you a reason to cry on this night for generations." For this, they were punished by G-d that their generation would not enter the land. Because of the Israelites' lack of faith, G-d decreed that for all generations that this date would become one of crying and misfortune for their descendants, the Jewish people.
But, in the midst of the spy's negative report, Caleb attempts a rallying cry: "We should go up and take possession of the land, for we can certainly do it." (Numbers 13:30) One can sum up Caleb's position in just three words: 'Yes, we can!' But in the very next verse his position is attacked by his fellow scouts, "We cannot attack those people; they are stronger than we are." In other words, 'No, we can't!'
The Israelites believed the negative report and cried all that night. Even Joshua and Caleb's final plea which included the statement, 'The land we passed through and explored is exceedingly good!' fell on deaf ears. The 'Yes we can' attitude of Caleb and Joshua was simply no match for the 'No, we can't' majority.
But, interestingly enough, in the practical observance of Tisha B'Av, many things change after "chatzot" (midday). It is at this point where we are permitted to rise from our mourning position on the floor and sit on comfortable chairs and benches. Whereas tefillin are not worn at the morning service, as they represent a sign of joy, they are donned for the afternoon prayer. The decor of the synagogue also improves considerably at this point: the "parokhet" (ark-covering) is returned to the ark, the lights, which we dim with the onset of Tisha B'Av, are turned back on.
A dramatic change occurs in our liturgy, as well. At shacharit, we read the Torah's prediction of exile and for the haftara, we read - usually in the doleful, "Eicha" melody – Jeremiah's painful, prophetic depiction of the destruction. At Mincha, we return to the standard service conducted on all "ta'aniyot tzibur" (public fasts) and read the comforting account of G-d's having forgiven Israel for the golden calf and the famous "thirteen attributes of mercy," by which we have the opportunity to earn atonement and favor despite our sinful past. The haftara, too, speaks of the encouraging prospect of teshuva (repentance) and G-d's insistence that anyone from any background has the ability to change and win the Almighty's grace. Additionally, most communities insert the special "nachem" paragraph at mincha, expressing our longing and desire for G-d's comfort.
All these differences between the two halves of Tisha B'Av reflect a fundamental change of focus at midday. The first half of Tisha B'Av is about mourning; the operative word is "eicha" - "how could this happen?!" We sit on the floor in hopelessness and despair; capable of nothing else than thinking of what we had that has now been lost. There is no comfort or any reason for optimism. But while desperation emerges as the dominant theme of the evening and morning of Tisha B'Av, teshuva takes over as the primary goal of the afternoon. Tisha B'Av suddenly becomes akin to any other fast day. We focus not on hopelessness, but on the prospect of return, restoration and rebuilding. Now we can rise from the floor and ask G-d to comfort us, promising to do our share - sincere introspection and repentance.
Today, just a mere 62 years after the miraculous establishment of the modern state of Israel, as we contemplate the second half of Tisha B'Av when our focus shifts from mourning to optimism and possibilities, the words of Theodor Herzl, "If you will it, it is no dream." ring true even more.
The Talmud relates that the cause of the destruction of the Temple was baseless hatred. Before we can think about a rebuilt temple we have to mend the foundations of our own society. We need to treat one another with love and respect. That's the structure we need to work on. That is the edifice we need to build right now.
Can such a 'building' really happen?
Well, in the words of Bob the Builder: "Can we build it? Yes we can!"