Eikev: Can a Mother Forget?

Rebbetzin Dr. Adina Shmidman is the director of the Department of Women’s Initiatives at the Orthodox Union. She and her husband Rabbi Avraham Shmidman are Rabbi and Rebbetzin at the Lower Merion Synagogue in Bala Cynwyd, Pennsylvania. Prior to her position at the OU, she taught Advanced Placement Psychology as well as Judaic classes in addition to directing the staff professional development program at Kosloff Torah Academy Girls High School in Bala Cynwyd, PA. She previously taught at Hebrew Academy of Nassau County, Hebrew Academy of Long Beach and the Manhattan High School for Girls. While living in Birmingham, Alabama, she was the director of the Knesseth Israel Synagogue Sunday School. Rebbetzin Dr. Shmidman earned a Teacher’s Certificate from Beth Jacob Seminary (BJJ) in Jerusalem. She graduated from Queens College in New York with a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in Psychology and later received a Master’s of Science in School Psychology from the same institution. She also has a Master of Arts in Jewish Education as well as a Certificate in Educational Technology from Azrieli Graduate Institute of Yeshiva University. She received a doctorate in Educational Psychology with a concentration in Learning and Instruction in the area of Literacy from the Graduate Center of the City University of New York. She and her husband are the proud parents of four sons.

Yeshayahu 49:14–51:3

Now that Tisha B’Av has passed, how are we expected to move on from the mourning of the Nine Days? Can mourning be turned on and off like a light switch?

We spend seven weeks reading Haftarot of consolation. Perhaps Chazal understood that genuine comfort cannot be rushed. Just as our national mourning unfolds gradually, so too does our healing. While weddings celebrations have begun, we refrain from initiating court cases because the shadow of the Churban still lingers. If we have truly mourning, consolation cannot come overnight. It must be rebuilt, one step at a time.

That is precisely where this week’s Haftorah begins—not with redemption, but with raw emotion. Zion cries, עֲזָבַנִי ה’, וַה’ שְׁכֵחָנִי, Hashem has abandoned me; Hashem has forgotten me. The progression is striking. To feel abandoned is painful; to feel forgotten is even more so. Abandonment suggests distance. Forgetting suggests that the relationship itself has been lost.

Hashem does not answer with an explanation. Instead, He responds with the strongest relationship we know: הֲתִשְׁכַּח אִשָּׁה עוּלָהּ, מֵרַחֵם בֶּן בִּטְנָהּ? Can a woman forget her nursing child, cease to have compassion on the child she bore?

The Malbim notes that the verse deliberately describes two dimensions of motherhood. “עוּלָהּ” is the nursing infant, wholly dependent on its mother in the present. “בֶּן בִּטְנָהּ” is the child she carried in her womb, recalling a bond that began long before birth. Together, they encompass the deepest attachment a human being can experience. Hashem offer His reassurance:גַּם אֵלֶּה תִּשְׁכַּחְנָה, וְאָנֹכִי לֹא אֶשְׁכָּחֵךְ. Even if such a thing were possible, I will never forget you.

Perhaps this is the purpose of the Shivah D’Nechemta. Healing does not begin by erasing our grief, but by restoring our trust. Before the navi speaks of redemption, he first restores our confidence in the relationship itself. The journey back to Zion begins with the assurance that, even in exile, Hashem has never forgotten His people.

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