“At every moment, the Holy One, Blessed be He, roars like a lion because of the exile of His children.” (Berachot 3a)

Does G-d cry?

Rebbe Nachman shares a poignant parable about two lovebirds who were torn apart from each other and exiled to distant islands. Separated by a vast and endless sea, the birds were desperate to reunite and cried bitterly for each other, day and night.

The birds cried with such heart-wrenching longing that anyone who heard their sorrowful song could not help but weep. The birds’ voices were so haunting that men who lived far away stopped their work to listen, their hearts breaking in unison with the birds’ pain. The lovebirds’ cries echoed across the waters, stirring a profound sadness in all who heard them, awakening a deep, collective grief. Everyone who heard the cry of the birds was brought to tears… whether or not they knew why.

This is the story of the Shechina and Yisrael, separated in exile. The Shechina, often called Imma Ila’ah, the Heavenly Mother, is constantly weeping for her lost children. According to Chazal, these tears are the source of all sadness in the world. All of our personal grief, no matter the cause, is an outgrowth, an echo of this greater cry.

The little bird is calling

We see this painful separation of the Shechina and Yisrael in the mitzvah of shiluach hakein, sending away the mother bird. At first blush, this mitzvah seems to be a simple act of kindness – in order to spare the mother bird the pain of seeing her young taken, we first send her away.

But the Zohar explains the deeper dimension of this mitzvah. When the mother bird is sent away, she cries out in pain. The angel appointed over the birds turns to G-d and asks:

“Doesn’t it say that ‘His compassion is on all of His works’? So why must this bird be driven from her nest?”

G-d gathers the other angels and says, “This angel is pleading for a bird. Is there no one among you who will plead for My children Israel, for the Shechinah whose nest in Jerusalem has been destroyed, and for the children who are scattered in exile under harsh rulers?”

Then G-d declares, “For My sake I will act,” and compassion is awakened for the Shechinah and for Israel in exile.

The mother bird’s anguish reflects the pain Shechinah who was sent from Her nest, longing to return. Like the lovebirds torn apart, the cries of the mother bird and the Shechina express the same reality: the sorrow of separation and the deep yearning to reunite.

You’re the Shechina to your baby

After spending a few days with a newborn, you quickly learn that not all cries are the same. Some cries are for hunger, others for discomfort, and others for tiredness. And then there’s another cry, one that is softer, deeper somehow, and more profound.

This is the cry for connection. A cry that expresses a deep longing for presence. For security. For the world to feel safe and complete. For mother.

In modern psychology, this is understood as attachment, the innate bond that forms between a child and their parent, which provides the child with a secure base from which to explore the world. When that attachment feels threatened or broken, the baby’s cry is a raw protest against separation, a desperate call for closeness and reassurance.

Chazal speak of a similar spiritual reality called emunah peshutah, often translated as “simple faith.” This is not an intellectual belief we come to with our brains. It’s a primal, heartfelt trust that we come to with our hearts. It’s a conviction rooted in the deep knowing that Hashem is always there to protect and comfort. Emunah peshutah is the soul’s natural state of reliance, like a baby’s trust that their mother will return. That no matter what happens, they are never truly alone in the world.

We’re meant for each other

On Tisha B’Av, we are like a baby, and our Mother has stepped out of sight.

The Shechina feels distant, exiled, and separated from us, Her children. It’s not just that we miss G‑d, it’s that He misses us, too. Our cries and His cries are two halves of the same yearning, echoing back and forth across the vast sea of exile. Our tears are the pain and longing of the Shechina.

Rabbi Shais Taub explains that this pain is not simply tragic- it reveals something essential about who we are.

“Galus is very awkward for a Jew,” he says. “We’re not built for it. We’re built for geulah.”

Galus feels wrong because it is wrong; separation was never meant to be our natural state. All dysfunction, all brokenness, is rooted in this state of exile.

But there’s a strange gift hidden in this pain. The longing itself changes us. Just as a baby’s cry strengthens their bond with their mother, teaching the baby that their voice matters, our cries in exile are building the vessels that will one day hold redemption.

When geulah comes, we will see how everything we went through, every tear we shed, gave us the ability to see Hashem with greater clarity. All this time, it was building the capacity to experience Hashem in a way we never could have without the pain.

That’s why, as soon as Tisha B’Av ends, the men leave synagogue and say Kiddush Levana. The symbolism is powerful beyond measure: we bless the moon, which represents the Shechina – small and diminished now, but destined to shine fully again.

Just as the moon waxes and wanes, the Shechina appears hidden in exile yet is never truly gone. By blessing the moon, we’re naming our deepest hope: that the Shechina will be restored to Her fullness, reunited with Her children, and the world will glow with Her light again.

Through the gates of tears

The sages say, “The gates of tears are never locked” (Eicha Rabbah 1:51). Even when other gates are closed, tears slip through and unlock the heavens.

Tears are not signs of weakness or defeat – they’re a sign that we care enough to keep reaching out. Tears open up space for reconnection and healing.

Just like your baby’s tears prompt you to reconnect, to hold them and to soothe them, our tears will bring the Shechina back to this world. When we allow ourselves to feel and to yearn, we draw the Shechina back to her nest and bring about the final redemption and ultimate, eternal comfort.