Tisha B’Av (and Devarim): Time to Stop and think!
Tisha B’Av, the 9th of Av, is the Jewish calendar’s saddest day, marked by the destruction of both Temples, exile, and centuries of loss. We fast, chant Kinnot, and sit in mourning to confront our collective pain. Yet, Tisha B’Av is not merely grief—it calls us to renew our love for G-d, His covenant, and one another, with the hope of transforming this day into joy (Rambam, Hilchot Ta’anit 5:19).
As a teenager, I found Tisha B’Av overwhelming. Lost in its rituals—fasting, mournful Kinnot about the First Temple’s fall and the Second Temple’s destruction by sinat chinam (baseless hatred)—I struggled to see its relevance. I didn’t understand the Kinnot—they felt ancient, poetic, and distant. I couldn’t study Torah, and instead was handed pages of sorrow I couldn’t connect to. Over time, I realized Tisha B’Av urges us to rise above the minutiae and focus on our covenant with G-d and our unity as a people.
Rabbi Sacks encapsulated this:
“The beauty of Judaism is that it did not become traumatised by tragedy. Despite their suffering, Jews did not let themselves become defined by it. They mourned on Tisha B’Av and the other specified fasts but did not allow the rest of their days to be darkened by grief. They set limits to sadness.”
By distilling our pain into one day, we mine its lessons to strengthen our bonds with G-d and each other.
A Day to Reflect and Renew
This theme of internal discord is not new. In fact, the Torah itself foreshadows it in Parshat Devarim, read just before Tisha B’Av. Moshe laments:
איכה אשא לבדי טרחכם ומשאכם וריבכם
“How can I bear your troubles, your burdens, and your strife all by myself?” (Devarim 1:12)
The word Eichah here echoes the opening of the Book of Lamentations, linking the Torah’s narrative to the sorrow of Tisha B’Av.
Rashi explains that these terms—טרחכם, משאכם, ריבכם—are not just logistical burdens, but emotional ones: complaints, contentiousness, and suspicion. He describes a people who are quick to argue, to assume the worst, and to speak with cynicism. This is not just about what we say, but how we say it. The tone, the attitude, the constant friction—these are as corrosive as the content of our words. In fact, they may be more dangerous. Our internal politics, often Machiavellian in nature, can mirror the very behaviors that led to our national tragedies.
Moshe’s cry is not just administrative—it’s a lament over a community fractured by mistrust and negativity. This verse reminds us that the seeds of destruction often lie not in external threats, but in the way we speak to and about one another.
The Path of Covenant and Love
When we take a step back from the minutiae and detail, we consistently return to the principles that lie behind our faith and that are at the root of our diversion from it—our relationship with G-d, His requirements of us, and our relationship with our fellow man or woman. Looking back at the most basic requests from G-d helps us understand where this sadness emanates from.
For this, we don’t need anything sophisticated—we can look at the most important prayer we have—first the Shema—and second the greatest principle of the Torah, according to the Rabbi who witnessed the pain of the destruction of the Second Temple.
Love G-d and Honor His Covenant
ואהבת את ה׳ אלהיך בכל לבבך ובכל נפשך ובכל מאדך
“You shall love the Lord your G-d with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your might.” (Devarim 6:5)
This love, written at the beginning of the Shema prayer, as the Rambam describes (Hilchot Teshuva 10:3), is an all-consuming devotion, shaping every thought and deed. As the sentence says—all our heart, soul and might—all our resources. Do we do this? Truly? Many of us (and I am speaking of myself) try to live according to G-d’s way, but do we truly seed our love into the relationship—especially as we grow older and focus on other relationships, and other false gods such as money, lust, and power?
As with other relationships, time breeds familiarity and it can lead us to take our eye off the key point of all.
The Shema goes on to say in the 2nd paragraph
“If you listen to My commandments… I will provide rain… But if your heart turns away… the heavens will close.” (Devarim 11:13–17)
Love demands action. The covenant requires performing mitzvot with intention, even when their full meaning eludes us. G-d sets it out clearly—there is a quid pro quo, or as others would say, no free lunch. For the awesome benefit of the covenant we hold dear with G-d, we have responsibilities.
These responsibilities are to G-d and to our fellow men and women. Both.
Love One Another
ואהבת לרעך כמוך
“Love your neighbor as yourself.” (Vayikra 19:18)
Rabbi Akiva, who saw the Temple’s ruins, called this the Torah’s core. He saw perhaps more than anyone the way baseless hatred tears us apart—he saw it with the destruction of the Temple and the death of his students. Perhaps this is why he saw this verse as arguably the greatest principle of the Torah.
Perhaps also, the Torah’s use of לבבך above—with its doubled letter—hints at a doubled heart. Rashi teaches that this alludes to our internal struggle: the good and bad inclinations (yetzer hatov and yetzer hara), emphasizing that we must love G-d with all parts of ourselves incuding overcoming our negative influences. But maybe, as a friend of mine thought, it could also be said that the heart beats not only for G-d, but for others. That we love G-d not in isolation, but through our interconnectedness, our shared struggles, and our collective heart.
There are many commandments—613—and thousands of pages of detail, but the injunction not to learn Torah on Tisha B’Av brings us back to focus on the tremendous sadness of the day and the hope that we can be better in the future (and, to be honest, in the very immediate present, where we are so at danger internally—not to mention externally).
Rabbi Akiva’s Hope: Love as Redemption
In the Talmud (Makkot 24b), Rabbi Akiva visited the Temple’s ruins. A fox emerged from the Holy of Holies; his colleagues wept, but Akiva laughed. If the prophecy of destruction (Micah 3:12) was fulfilled, he said, so too will redemption (Zechariah 8:4–5). What is that prophecy?
It is not a prophersy of power and loud celebration…
“There shall yet be elderly men and women in the squares of Jerusalem… and the squares of the city shall be crowded with boys and girls playing.”
This vision—elders at peace, children in joy—embodies love: a community bound by compassion and faith. Akiva’s “Love your neighbor as yourself” is the covenant in action, where every Jew is cherished.
Tisha B’Av Today: A Call to Return
Tisha B’Av gathers our pain into one plea from Eicha 5:21:
השיבנו ה׳ אליך ונשובה חדש ימינו כקדם
“Take us back, O LORD, to Yourself, and let us come back; renew our days as of old.”
This cry demands action: to love G-d with devotion, honor His covenant through mitzvot, and love each other as Akiva envisioned. By rising above the weeds of division and routine, we can prevent further tragedy and hasten the day when Tisha B’Av becomes a festival of joy.
It may sound hugely simplistic, but sometimes we need to create space to see the big picture. And it doesn’t matter what type or shape of Jew you are—I believe we could all learn a message or two on Tisha B’Av.
