Yael Shahar

Tisha b’Av: The “Bermuda Triangle” of Jewish History

Tisha b’Av is a kind of “Bermuda Triangle in Time” for the Jewish people. Most people know that both the First and the Second Temples were destroyed on that day. That would be enough to qualify this day as a day of misfortune. But what is less known is how far back it goes.

Cycles of history

The story begins with the flight from Egypt. The people of Israel had received the Torah and were poised to enter the Land. However, they were fearful and uncertain. After all, they had been slaves. They had suffered every kind of degradation and humiliation. If ever there was a nation with “learned helplessness” this was it. So they asked Moshe to send representatives of each tribe to check out the land they were to enter, size it up, and report back.

The representatives set out and came back 40 days later with their report—it was a beautiful and fruitful land, but was populated by giants! Its people were fierce and hostile and would easily wipe out this pitiful band of freed slaves. Well naturally, this interpretation was colored by their own state of mind. “The enemy you flee from is larger than the one you fight.” Not the last intelligence failure based on the misinterpretation of information.

But the result was that they lost faith entirely, in themselves and in God. The Torah relates how the people wept all night on hearing this false report, and a terrible gloom spread over the whole camp. So they lost the chance. They were told that the entire generation would remain in the desert for 40 years, one year for every day that the scouts had surveyed the land, and that none of that generation would survive to enter the land. The task of reclaiming the land would fall to those who were born in the desert and raised in freedom.

A midrash on self-fulfilling prophecies

The midrash—the expression of the dreamstate of our people—relates that because the Children of Israel wept without cause, God declared that He would make that day a day for weeping. “You wept in vain. I will establish this date for you as a time of real weeping for all generations.” (Taanit 29a).

That day was Tisha B’Av.

And sure enough, this prophecy has been borne out. It seems as if just about every calamity ever to hit us has either started on Tisha b’Av or has taken a turn for the worse on that day—a Fourth Dimensional Bermuda Triangle.

But that’s not the end of the story. There is also a prophecy that Tisha b’Av will one day be a day of joy and celebration. Another midrash has it that the mashiach will be born on Tisha b’Av.

Now midrashim are like little seedpods that hold seeds of truth within them, which can only blossom when planted in the mind and heart of the listener.

Our initial reaction to the story of the Generation of the Desert might be: How could it have been otherwise? How could anyone expect them to believe in themselves after what they’d been through? Something happens to one who is enslaved, especially if he is enslaved from a young age: he comes to distrust his own strength to do anything. But he also cannot trust anyone else. He says, if I cannot help myself, no one else will help me. I must do nothing that risks revealing my weakness, for the weak do not survive. A free man may say, God will help me. But a slave too often feels himself enslaved at the will of God. He feels the hand of God in every blow and every cold blast of wind. He does not expect any mercy from God.

Someone in that position cannot undo by an act of faith what experience has beaten into him. He can be rescued amidst incredible wonders (the Parting of the Sea, or the rebirth of Israel in our day), but how can he trust? Perhaps all this is just the raising of hopes in order to dash them when it is all taken away again. Perhaps we are being rescued now only to be made an example of.

The irony was that their failure and its consequences did, in fact, become the example. Their fears became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

Failure has its own lessons

The chance that the generation of the desert were offered—to trust that God would make up in miracles what they lacked in strength—was something that they could not believe in, simply by virtue of their past. It was a test that they could not pass.

And yet, while that same generation was not capable of entering the land, having been degraded by slavery, they were nevertheless seen as worthy of rescue. More importantly, they were the ones who received the Torah! They were the ones whose “na’aseh v’nishma” (We will do and we will hear) signed the Covenant. Those words sing in our blood to this day. Perhaps such words could only have been uttered by people who had experienced an aspect of God that we would prefer not to see, and thus knew what it was they were entering into and all its consequences.

Perhaps this is part of what their example was meant to show: that we can fail at a test—even fail spectacularly—and still be worthy of redemption. The Torah was not given to those who had the strength and trust to conquer the land. It was given to those who had been made to understand the consequences of failure and so could accept it with open eyes.

The birthday of the Mashiah

There is a thread running through all of our history, and while each Tisha b’Av finds us at a different place, they are not separate events. We believe that all Jews, past and future, were present at Sinai. So in a sense, all of us are of “The Generation of the Desert”. For us, Tisha b’Av has a very personal and immediate meaning. Everything that happened during this terrible exile would not have happened without this; it was the first catastrophe in a long defeat, of which the shoah was the culmination.

And yet…These events are linked and have meaning. They were meant to allow us to perform our task to the nations and also to shape us as a people. The tests that we are facing now, and so far have managed to pass, are the same ones that faced us at those other calamitous junctions. The test of making this Land our home, which we failed that first Tisha b’Av, we have now passed. The test of holding onto our faith against all odds and not being lured into imitation of the nations, which we failed in the time of the First Temple’s destruction, we have now passed. The test of maintaining national unity in the face of external threat, which we failed at the time of the Second Temple’s destruction, we have now passed… And the list goes on.

This doesn’t mean that we’ve safely reached the high ground; there’s still quite a way to go yet. But it does mean that we can look back on all this terrible history and say that it was not in vain.

It also means something else—and I think this may be part of what that midrash was hinting at when it said that Mashiach will be born on Tisha b’Av. It’s that if we can see some meaning in all this history, not only with the eyes of the mind, but also with the eyes of the heart, then we reach a state of acceptance. There is a phrase in Hebrew for this state; it is called Tsiduk HaDin, acceptance of Judgment. There are whole worlds hidden in these two words, which can be explored only by the heart. But the essence is that we transcend this existence full of present and past calamity and pain, where there are no answers, and reach another place, where there are no questions.

About the Author
Yael Shahar has spent most of her career working in counter-terrorism and intelligence, with brief forays into teaching physics and astronomy. She now divides her time between writing, off-road trekking, and learning Talmud with anyone who will sit still long enough. She is the author of Returning, a haunting exploration of Jewish memory, betrayal, and redemption.