The Music of Mourning: Tisha B’Av and the Soundtrack of Grief

Tisha B’Av, the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av, is the most solemn day on the Jewish calendar—a time set aside for collective mourning. It primarily commemorates the destruction of both the First Temple by the Babylonians in 586 BCE and the Second Temple by the Romans in 70 CE. But over time, it has become a day to remember a broader history of Jewish tragedy, including the Crusades, the expulsion from Spain and the Holocaust.

These losses are not merely historical events. The destruction of the Temples ushered in the collapse of Jewish sovereignty, the disruption of religious life and the fragmentation of national identity. To mark the gravity of the day, Jews around the world observe a 25-hour fast, similar to Yom Kippur, along with other mourning practices. These include sitting on low stools on the floor; refraining from washing, wearing leather shoes, using perfumes or cosmetics, or engaging in intimacy; reading the Book of Lamentations (Eicha); and limiting Torah study to texts related to suffering and loss.

This year, Tisha B’Av begins at sundown on Saturday, August 2, and ends at nightfall on Sunday, August 3.

But mourning isn’t just ritual—it’s emotional, disorienting and deeply personal. When you’re grieving, it’s not always easy to understand what you’re feeling, let alone articulate it. The pain can be overwhelming, isolating and irrational, as if some greater force is targeting you.

When I experienced the worst loss I could imagine, what anchored me was music.

A melancholy melody can speak where words fall short. Somber lyrics can feel like a mirror, validating your grief and reminding you that you’re not alone. In moments of silence and sorrow, music becomes a form of prayer—a bridge between brokenness and healing.

On Tisha B’Av, as we remember the destruction of the past, we also sit with our present pain. In that stillness, music can be a companion. It won’t erase the loss, but it may help us carry it.

Below is a list of songs that have personal meaning to me—some I’ve leaned on in times of grief, and others that have gained resonance and popularity in the Jewish world after October 7.

Eden Hason – “את חסרה לי” (At Hasera Li) –  “I Miss You”

The song is a heartfelt ballad about deep emotional longing and grief after the loss of a loved one—most likely a romantic partner or close companion. The lyrics are entirely in Hebrew, but Hason repeatedly says “At hasera li” (You are missing from me,) describing a persistent ache and void left by the person’s absence. The line “Ve ha-sipur ha-ze mamshich be’ze she-ein otach / Halacht ve-ba li dichon” (And this story continues by not having you / You left and depression came over me) speaks to a relationship or connection that was cut short unexpectedly, leaving a sense of incompleteness, having to live on without her. While the song predates October 7, it has taken on new emotional weight for Israelis mourning loved ones lost in the Hamas attacks or the ongoing war. Its themes of sudden absence, unfinished stories and quiet, internal mourning make it a song that resonates deeply with collective grief.

HaTikva 6 – “לחזור הביתה” (Lachzor Habayta) – “To Return Home”

This song is about the emotional exhaustion that comes from constantly moving, escaping or searching—and the deep human need to return to a place of comfort, truth and rest. The narrator admits to loving the feeling of escape, of being far from routine, but realizes eventually that freedom becomes empty. He misses the simple things—his bed, the woman he loves and himself. There’s a powerful line where he says, “I love coming home the best / After being out all night / Finding the peace and tranquility that I live in.” It’s a yearning not just for a physical home, but for emotional clarity, spiritual grounding and reconnection with what truly matters. Since the October 7 attacks and the ensuing war, “Lachzor Habayta” has struck a deeper chord in Israeli society and is heard frequently on the radio and in social media posts. “To return home” has become a national longing—for displaced families, for evacuated communities and for the safe return of the hostages. The lyrics now carry both personal and collective meaning, expressing the ache of separation and the enduring hope for healing and reunion.

 Eden Golan – “Hurricane”

Eden Golan performed “Hurricane” in the 2024 Eurovision Song Contest where she came in fifth place. The song is a power ballad about grief, emotional chaos and the longing for someone who’s no longer there. The narrator is caught in the wreckage of a storm—a metaphor for a devastating loss or traumatic event. The imagery throughout is intense: winds, silence, distance. But at its core, the song is about trying to keep going when you’re shattered. The singer is still reaching out, still remembering, still hoping that whoever she’s lost can somehow feel her love. While “Hurricane” is written in poetic, universal terms, many listeners have interpreted it as a not-so-subtle tribute to the victims of the October 7 Hamas attacks, especially the young people killed at the Nova music festival. Eden Golan herself faced controversy and scrutiny in the Eurovision spotlight, and the emotional weight she carried was evident in her performance. The song was originally titled “October Rain”; however, the singer had to rewrite some of the lyrics as Eurovision deemed the original song “too political.” In that context, “Hurricane” became a mourning anthem—for lost lives, stolen innocence and a generation shaped by sudden violence. 

Yuval Raphael – “New Day Will Rise” 

“New Day Will Rise” is a quiet, hopeful song about enduring pain, holding on through darkness and believing in the promise of healing. The lyrics speak to someone in the depths of sorrow—someone who may feel like they’ve lost everything—but gently remind them: This moment won’t last forever. Yuval Raphael, a survivor of the Nova festival massacre,  performed it in the most recent Eurovision song contest and was awarded second place. The song is composed of English, Hebrew and French elements—all parts of Raphael’s identity. Its message of quiet resilience has comforted a grieving public, offering not triumph, but tenderness. For many, “New Day Will Rise” is a way to hold onto faith—not necessarily religious, but emotional: the belief that love survives, and so do we. It’s the kind of song that fits seamlessly into Tisha B’Av—a day of mourning, yes, but also of waiting for redemption.

Jasmin Moallem — “יהיה טוב” (Yihye Tov) – “It’ll Be OK”

“Yihye Tov” is a tender, introspective song about vulnerability, emotional burnout and the quiet hope that things will somehow improve. The narrator isn’t trying to make grand declarations—she’s simply holding space when she feels overwhelmed, tired or lost. “It will be good, don’t be afraid to cry,” she sings, “Everything’s fine, even if you fall apart.” The song doesn’t deny pain or brokenness, it embraces it. Moallem invites listeners to stop performing strength and just feel what they feel. Since October 7, this song has resonated deeply with younger Israelis. Its stripped-down message, “It will be good,” has become a kind of emotional survival mantra. It doesn’t promise answers or fixes. In times of mourning such as Tisha B’Av, “Yihye Tov” is less about faith in a better future, and more about compassion in the present—letting yourself cry, breathe and believe that maybe, eventually, things won’t hurt this much.

See also: A Soundtrack of the Jewish People

Top image: From right to left: Eden Hason; Eden Golan; Yuval Raphael (Credit: InbalAttalCohen, CC BY-SA 4.0; Quejaytee, CC BY 4.0; Arkland, CC BY-SA 4.0).