If I Forget You, O Yerushalayim,....

….may my right hand forget (its skill).  May my tongue cleave to my palate if I remember you not, if I fail to elevate Yerushalayim above the zenith of my joy.

The Midrash Shocher Tov (Midrash Tehillim) taught as follows:

If a man covers his house with plaster, he must leave a small place uncovered as a mourning reminder of Yerushalayim.  If a man prepares all that goes with a feast, he must leave out some small thing as a reminder of Yerushalayim.  If a woman is adorning herself, she must leave off some small thing as a reminder of Yerushalayim, for it is said: If I forget thee, O Yerushalayim, let my right hand forget her cunning.

And the Rama tells us that from the words, if I fail to elevate Yerushalayim above the zenith of my joy, we derive our custom of putting ashes on a chosson’s head prior to the chuppah and the breaking of the glass at its conclusion.

Rav Avigdor Miller z”l, took a very dim view of what has become of the breaking of the glass following the recitation of the Bracha Achrita under the chuppah.  He was of the opinion that rather than induce the intended tear and/or a longing for the Yerushalayim that was, it has been reduced for many years now, if not generations, to nothing more than a signal for mazel tov. 

 And even on those occasions when the music, and the dancing of the chosson/kallah out of the chuppah room are put on hold for a few minutes in deference to the singing of a few possukim from Al Naharos Bavel, it’s more often than not a moment of musical appreciation for the Shwekey et al. rendition of the possukim rather than one of introspection.

The same goes for leaving a part of our dwellings unfinished and the like.  After all, who lets loose with a sigh every time he walks past the unpainted portion of the wall next to his front door?  If one ever noticed it at all it has long since become part of the scenery.  And as for putting ashes on the chosson’s head, their symbolism is more often than not fighting a losing battle with the dominant thoughts that are already residing in the chosson’s head, not to mention all of the kavanah expended on being careful that a stain from the ashes should not trespass on the kittel.

Due to our many sins, the Yetzer Hora has gently nudged us in the direction of the customs that Chazal have bidden us to take on; those that are meant to keep the memory of Yerushalayim alive within us, while ever so subtly drawing us away from their source.

What meaning can these customs hold for us if the well from which they were drawn no longer quenches our thirst?  When we succumbed to the Yetzer’s sleight of hand and stopped reciting Al Naharos Bavel before bentching on weekdays, we tore all of the above mentioned simanim loose from the bedrock upon which they were moored.  No longer tethered to the possukim that spawned them, they ceased to invoke in us that fleeting but wrenching feeling of remembrance and loss that they once did.

The Mishnah Berurah cites the Shelah HaKodesh as the source for reciting Al Naharos Bavel before Birchas Hamazon.  The very same Shelah HaKodesh is not coincidently also the source for our custom to recite Shir Hamalos (Tehillim 126) before Birchos Hamazon on Shabbos, Yom Tov, Rosh Kodesh, and special occasions.  If you feel the weight of obligation to say one of them, as you do with Shir Hamalos, then why not the other?

Nu? 

The Shelah HaKodesh had an off day perhaps when he gave his psak concerning Al Naharos Bavel? 

The Yetzer Hora will encourage us to break glasses and burn ashes haint biz morgen.  He’ll even let us sing If I forget thee, O Yerushalayim…, along with a small choir to the accompaniment of a twenty piece orchestra.  But the last thing he wants is that we should actually read the words.

By the rivers of Babylon there we sat and also wept when we remembered Tzion.

What else is one to think about when reading these words, if not Tzion?  Is there any wiggle room here for ambiguity?  And is there any symbol that can better convey what our feeling should be toward Tzion than the word wept?

And even at the warp speed that’s unfortunately all too de rigueur vis à vis bentching, how does one’s eye glaze over If I forget you, O Yerushalayim, may my right forget (its skill).  May my tongue cleave to my palate if I remember you not, if I fail to elevate Yerushalayim above the zenith of my joy.   

It doesn’t.

And it isn't dry either.