Editor's note: I haven't posted here in months because I haven't had much to talk about. Until something exciting happens or until some more stories surface, I'm going to try and make a concerted effort to put some of my own thoughts here - as I was inspired to last night.

Tisha B'av has fallen this year on Sunday, August 10th. My father's yahrzeit always falls four days after Tisha B'av on the 13th of Av. This year it will be on Thursday, the 15th of August. Because of the way the calendar worked out this year, it left me with an obligation to lead the congregation in Maariv at the end of the Shabbos erev Tisha B'av. 

I had already done maftir on Shabbos and read the Haftorah in the cantillation of Eichah, having practiced singing the sad notes and understanding the words sufficiently. I had lead the congregation in the Mussaf service on Shabbos, which I always try to imbue with lively singing. That day was no different. Even though it was Shabbos Chazon (The Shabbos before Tisha B'av), it was still Shabbos. It wasn't until that night, that I was to fulfill my obligation to lead the Motze Shabbos Maariv before my father's yahrzeit that I felt overwhelmed. 

As the Rabbi walked up to the ark to shut the wooden doors, hiding the paroches (curtains) as is customary on Tisha B'av, I was reminded that Tisha B'av is a day when Hashem retreats behind his Mechitzah shel Barzell, his iron wall, as tragedy befalls his people. It's our day to weep and show our sadness for both Holy Temples, lost to our own sinfullness. I stood at our Omud at the front of the Shull, looked at the wooden barrier now obscuring our holy ark, thinking of this iron wall and what powerful prayers it must take to penetrate it. I thought about the people standing behind me. There were Rabbis, righteous donors, people with Torah pedigrees reaching all the way back to Har Sinai, and lay leaders who live and breath Torah. And then there was me. Just plain Sid - obligated to lead the evening's prayers by the timing of my father's yahrzeit. So many people in the room that could have done it, and Hashem seems to have arranged the calendar so that it has to be me.

More than ever, I felt very humbled to be standing at our Omud. All I could think was "Who am I to request anything? Are my prayers powerful enough to break through solid iron?"

As I finished up that evening, I knew who I was. For once, I was humble. That's how we should approach Tisha B'av. Humility, it seems, is all we have left. If generations prior to ours - generations with Torah giants like the Chofetz Chaim, the Steipler Rebbe, The Chassam Sofer, et al, couldn't bring Moshiach, what chance do we have? Every generation that passes takes us farther away from Mount Sinai. Yet we can bring Moshiach. Maybe we can't attain their level of knowledge and holiness, but humility is within everyone's grasp. Reach for it and see if Moshiach doesn't come following.