Ha-Kalir’s Kinot – Poetry and Theological Narrative

Zvi Grumet

One of the transformative practices of R. Yosef Dov Soloveitchik was his annual study and explanation of kinot on Tishah Be-Av at the Maimonides shul in Boston during the 1970s and early 1980s. Beginning in the morning, he would deliver a thematic shiur followed by a recitation of the kinot with in-depth explanations, which lasted through minhah in the late afternoon. This was a significant departure from the regnant practice in most shuls in which the congregation mumbled through the extensive collection of elegies with a rare interruption of an explanation, a mournful tune, or a discussion of which ones to skip.^[1] R. Soloveitchik’s practice was copied and adapted by many, notably R. Jacob J. Schacter, primarily during his tenure as Rabbi at The Jewish Center in NYC, but afterward as well in a variety of other venues. In recent years, many organizations offer shiurim broadcast via the internet throughout the day.

The relative neglect of the study of kinot amongst the masses is likely the result of multiple factors. For sure, the fact that their Hebrew and poetic construction is difficult renders them fairly inaccessible. Compounding that is that they are recited only once during the year, and usually fairly quickly at that, not leaving much opportunity for reflection.^[2] Even more, as will be discussed below, the kinot often assume intimate familiarity with Eikhah as well as with a broad swath of midrashim referenced throughout. Finally, the kinot themselves were often looked upon with a pariah status. These were, after all, the prayers of destruction and mourning. Why would anyone want to invest in studying them when they would, please God, become irrelevant in the near future with the arrival of the Messiah? R. Soloveitchik repeatedly noted that kinot were traditionally printed without covers and on cheap paper, and rather than being saved after Tishah Be-Av, were put into the genizah from which they would be pulled out, if necessary, in the following year.

In light of that, Rabbi Abraham Rosenfeld’s volume, The Authorised Kinot for the Ninth of Av,^[3] was revolutionary. His translation and commentary made the kinot accessible to the English-speaking masses. People could understand, and not merely recite, what they were reading. The fact that it was published as a hardcover book was no less revolutionary, as it changed the way people related to the entire collection.^[4]

Still, the kinot are difficult to understand. Below, I’ll explore how the poetry of the kinot, particularly those by the master paytan R. Elazar Ha-Kalir, make them challenging to unpack. Then, I’ll show that if one takes a step back from the poetry, the kinot composed by Ha-Kalir, when read in sequence, suggest a theological narrative of the mourning on Tishah Be-Av that helps provide greater meaning. 

Kinot as Poetry
One reason the kinot are unintelligible to many is because they are often written as midrashim to biblical texts, primarily, but not exclusively, to Eikhah itself. Without knowledge of the original text, it is difficult to follow or appreciate the kinot. Below are two examples of the midrashic nature of kinot and their intricate poetry.

Many of the kinot open with the word eikhah and follow an alef-bet structure for their twenty-two stanzas (corresponding to the twenty-two letters in the alef-bet), and are built on the structure of the first four of the five chapters of the book of Eikhah. The first example of this focuses on the kinah beginning with Eikhah ashpato patu’ah ke-kever,^[5] which takes this patterning to an extreme. Each stanza consists of four lines, the first three of which have a double alef-bet, yielding a total of six alef-bet patterns. Each of those six corresponds to one of the six alef-bet structures in the book of Eikhah – one in the first chapter, one in the second, three in the third, and one in the fourth. In fact, each of the words in the kinah beginning with the representative letter of the alef-bet is actually the same word which appears in the corresponding line in Eikhah. This means that the first alef word of the first line in the kinah is identical to the first word of the first line of the first chapter in Eikhah (the word eikhah), the second alef word is identical to the first word of the first line of the second chapter of Eikhah (also eikhah), and so on. This continues for each of the letters, so that this entire kinah is interwoven with every single verse of Eikhah. The fourth line of each stanza opens with the first word of the corresponding verse in the fifth chapter of Eikhah, which also has twenty-two verses but is not structured on the alef-bet, so that, for example, the first word of the fourth line of the third stanza of the kinah, yetomim, is the same as the first word of the third verse in chapter five.

The second example is considerably different. The kinah opening with Eikhah tifarti mei-rashotai hishlikhu^[6] also has twenty-two stanzas and follows the alef-bet structure, but it is built on the second chapter of Eikhah. In addition, while the first word of each stanza follows the alef-bet, the second word follows a reversed alef-bet, starting with tav and working its way back to alef, so that the combination of the first two words in each stanza form an at-bash pattern. The content of the kinah links it directly to Vayikra 26, which includes both the blessings for following God’s word and the curses that come from disobedience (the tokhahah). The twenty-two stanzas of this kinah are divided into two distinct halves easily split by a pattern generated by the at-bash structure. The first pair of letters are numbers 1 and 22, the second pair are numbers 2 and 21, in which the leading letter is from the first half of the alef-bet and is followed by a letter from the second half of the alef-bet. Exactly halfway through, there is a natural switch, in which the leading letter is from the second half of the alef-bet and is followed by the letter from the first half. Thus, this first half of the kinah closes with the stanza whose letters are kaf (#11) and lamed (#12), while the second half of the kinah begins with a stanza whose letters are lamed (#12) followed by kaf (#11). In an extraordinary display of the interplay between content and structure, the content of the first half of the kinah focuses on the section of Vayikra 26 which contains the blessings, while the content of the second half, in which the alef-bet structure seems to be “led” by its second half, focuses on the section containing the curses.

Kinot as Theological Narrative
The intricate poetic artistry displayed in both of these kinot is obviously lost in any translation. What they have in common is that they are both the product of the great paytan, R. Elazar Ha-Kalir. Ha-Kalir authored many, but not all, of the kinot. The standard printed editions of the kinot interweave non-Ha-Kalir kinot with those written by Ha-Kalir, resulting in the sense that the kinot are a collection of poems and elegies written over the course of time and compiled in some random order – which is an additional factor that causes difficulty in trying to understand the kinot.^[7] But when we separate the layers of the kinot and leave the ones written by Ha-Kalir, what emerges is not a collection of poems but a thematic story, with a progressive development of the ebb and flow of Ha-Kalir’s grappling with the hurban.

That struggle begins, as does Eikhah, with denial and anger. The speaker is overwhelmed by the questions of how God could have done this—or allowed this to happen—to His people, to his Temple, to His city. It includes expressions of disbelief, graphic descriptions of desolation and suffering, accusations of betrayal and violation of the covenant, and challenges for God to act. The tone shifts at some point to self-reflection, acceptance of responsibility, acknowledgment of guilt, and remorse. Toward the end there is one final shift to God’s consolation. It is these shifts and the flow of Ha-Kalir’s kinot in the order printed which we will explore.

Many of the kinot have an extra closing stanza signature in which Ha-Kalir signs his name in an acrostic. That signature line provides two additional components – sometimes it serves as the introduction to the next kinah and sometimes it serves to capture the themed idea. Both of those components are designed to establish the unity of the collection, either literarily or thematically.^[8] In the second-from-the-left column of the chart below are the closing lines of the Ha-Kalir kinot; the numbers in parentheses are the page numbers in the Rosenfeld edition. In the right column is its function in the overall arrangement of Ha-Kalir’s kinot. Note – the shading of the sections reflects the three major sections within the collection and the shift that takes place.

The literary links bind one kinah to the next, sometimes with a single opening word, other times with a refrain, and eventually with a broad theme. The thematic links tell a story. It begins with Israel’s cries, usually pointing a finger of blame at God. Although audacious, it follows the theme of the opening chapters of Eikhah itself, which challenges God with the question of, “How could you do this?”^[11] That visceral cry of pain begins to shift to a theological one, with the cry of pain morphing into the question of what happened to God’s covenant with Israel. Those pleas and complaints are all rejected by God – Israel has not done any reflection on their role in bringing about the hurban, and until they take some responsibility for their actions, they are not yet ready to be comforted. Israel hears that message and begins to take responsibility. In a series of kinot broadcasting the language of Daniel 9:7-18, Israel confesses its sins and takes responsibility, sparking a double mourning for the Temple, one by Israel and the other by God mirroring theirs. The kinot written by Ha-Kalir climax with a series of kinot closing with God’s comforting words to Israel and Israel’s acceptance of that comfort.^[12]

The pivot point in this drama, the moment in which God is moved, is the kinah which describes the pleas of the shepherds and shepherdesses of Israel before God (Az ba-halokh Yirmiyahu al kivrei avot, 135). One by one, Yirmiyahu, Avraham, Yitzhak, and Moshe present their case before God as to why He should have mercy on His people, and each is brushed aside as God finds an appropriate retort. When the women who birthed the twelve tribes appear, however, God has no retort.

Leah, beating her breast, sobbed bitterly; her sister, Rahel, wept for her children; Zilpah was bruising her face, while Bilhah wailed with both hands uplifted in grief. “Return to your resting place, O perfect ones, I will surely fulfill your requests.”

There are many possible interpretations of what, according to Ha-Kalir, changed the course of God’s approach. It seems, however, that there is a confluence of two factors – the petitioners and the nature of the petition. The prior four figures – Avraham, Yitzhak, Moshe, Yirmiyahu – are men, and their pleas before God are based on justice. “If I suffered X, then certainly You should be able to …” These four women, however, don’t actually have arguments. They present themselves, women, ambassadors of the womanly rahamim (compassion), from its etymological source, the rehem (womb). God’s justice cannot argue with rahamim. It is rahamim which reverses God’s refusal to comfort Israel.^[13]

Ha-Kalir’s brilliance as a poet, building kinot on the literary foundations of Eikhah, weaving biblical and midrashic texts, and using form to express his content, is extraordinary. The exquisite poetry, however, has blinded most readers to the broader religious, emotional, and theological flow of Ha-Kalir’s work.

In fact, a look at the chart above, and particularly at the shaded areas, reveals a striking pattern. Israel’s mourning and challenging go unanswered until they begin to accept responsibility. Precisely at the point that they begin to acknowledge their culpability (#20) there is a shift in the kinot. Dramatically, soon after, their embrace of remorse and contrition is matched by God’s. The close of kinah #26 presents God’s confession, “I have forsaken My house and deserted My inheritance.” This generates the transition into the final set of Ha-Kalir’s collection, focusing on God’s commitment to comfort Israel. Indeed, it seems that the arrangement of the collection is designed to generate movement – not only a literary one, but an experiential one – in which the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem transition from anger, disbelief, and denial to deep contrition and, finally, to God’s comfort. Perhaps the most powerful element of that comfort is the understanding that God, like Israel, takes responsibility for what He did. Israel’s consolation is God’s as well.

[1] One of the exceptions was the practice in some Orthodox summer camps to have inspirational sermons related to the kinot interspersed with the recitation.

[2] In those ways they are similar to the piyyutim about the avodah recited on Yom Ha-Kippurim. The avodah, however, is more accessible than the kinot, as it based on the text in Vayikra 16 and the mishnayot in Yoma, not on more obscure midrashim.

[3] Rosenfeld’s volume was first published in 1965 by I. Labworth and Co. (London). A later edition was published by Judaica Press (NY) in 1979, with the omission of Rosenfeld’s suggestion for an alternate text of the Naheim prayer, which focuses not on Zion sitting forlorn but on mourning those who died to defend it. The controversy over amending Naheim is fascinating, but beyond the scope of this article.

[4] Rosenfeld was preceded by Philip Birnbaum, who published a Hebrew-English edition of the service for Tishah Be-Av evening in 1949 (Hebrew Publishing Co, NY). But Birnbaum’s edition included only the nighttime kinot and, like the traditional kinot, was a booklet, not a hardcover book. R. Soloveitchik found the hard-cover, graphically appealing edition of the kinot to be offensive to the spirit of Tishah Be-Av. Ironically, his own explanations of the kinot were later published as a hard-cover volume as The Koren Mesorat HaRav Kinot (Orthodox Union and Koren: Jerusalem, 2010), ed. Simon Posner. Other hard-cover editions with English translations are published by Artscroll and Feldheim.

[5] P. 113 (kinah 18) in the Rosenfeld edition. Rabbi Dr. Jacob J. Schacter noted that R. Soloveitchik always skipped this kinah.

[6] P. 96 (kinah 11) in the Rosenfeld edition.

[7] The absence of continuity in the book is exacerbated by the common practice to skip certain kinot.

[8] My thesis is based on the assumption that the order of the kinot in our printed editions is the same as Ha-Kalir’s initial intent and that the bridges between the kinot are original. Daniel Goldschmidt, in The Order of Kinot for Tishah Be-Av (Jerusalem: Mossad Harav Kook, 1972), makes the same assumption about the bridges. Others question whether those connecting paragraphs are original and whether the order we have reflects Ha-Kalir’s work or the work of an editor. See Tzvi Novick’s piece at https://thelehrhaus.com/timely-thoughts/i-would-soar-to-the-sphere-of-heaven-aleph-and-i-in-a-tishah-be-av-lament/, particularly n. 5.

[9] Three medieval kinot are inserted here. The first (#23) is one of the versions of the story of the ten martyrs, the second (#24) relates to the Crusades, and the third (#25) recounts the story of the children of R. Yishmael the kohen gadol.

[10] A medieval kinah (#27) relating to the Crusades is inserted here.

[11] Chapter 1 of Eikhah provides an initial foray into the accusations. Apparently speaking in the name of Zion, God sent fire into the author’s bones, spread a net to entrap his feet, made the author desolate (1:13), delivered him into the hand of others (1:14), called an assembly to crush his young men, and trampled the young daughters of Judeah (1:15). The second chapter is even bolder: God brought darkness (2:1), has no pity (2:2), cut down the strength of Israel in Hs fierce anger (2:3), drew His bow like an enemy (2:4), increased mourning in Israel (2:5), laid His meeting place in ruins (2:6), rejected His altar (2:7), and is determined to destroy the wall of Zion (2:8).

[12] Interestingly, it appears that the compiler of the kinot understood this flow, as that final kinah of Ha-Kalir is followed by a series of kinot written by other authors who all conclude their kinot with words of comfort. These include Kalonymous (142),  Menahem b. Ya’akov (143), unknown author (145), Barukh b. Shemuel (148), and Menahem b. Makhir (149). As Yosef Lindell notes, it includes the  yearnings for Zion expressed in the Zionides. See  https://thelehrhaus.com/commentary/shomron-kol-titein-let-the-silent-sisters-speak-and-be-consoled/, at n. 7.

[13] It should be noted that Ha-Kalir’s version of the story is very different from the one which appears in Petihta 24 to Eikhah Rabbah. That version includes other male figures who petition God, and the only female figure is Rahel, who presents a lengthy argument before God.