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Tisha B’av is a time of mourning and destruction.  It has been a day throughout our history which we both dread and relish.  On the one hand, every traumatic episode in our 3500 years of national history seems to have roots in this terrible day.  From the sin of the spies in the days of Moshe Rabbeinu to the demise of the Tabernacle at Shiloh in the days of Shmuel, to the destruction of the First Temple in the days of Jeremiah to the Second Temple in the days of Rabban Yochannan ben Zakai… The fall of Beitar and the failed Bar Kochba rebellion in the days of Rebbe Akiva, The Crusades in the times of Rashi and Maimonides, the expulsion from Spain in the days of Yitzchak Abarbanel… and the list goes on.  Our memory of all these tragedies is centered on Tisha B’Av.  

We tell horror stories of parents eating their own dead children out of sheer starvation. Of rabbis tortured and dismembered by the inquisition.  Tales of tyrants and despots doing unspeakable acts of blasphemy and yet God remaining silent even as brothers fought over crumbs of bread in concentration camps and Israeli soldiers forcibly removed Jews from their homes in Gush Katif.  

In the words of Jeremiah, (Lamentations 1:12) “Is there any suffering like my suffering that was inflicted on me, that the LORD brought on me on the day of his fierce anger?”  Nobody has suffered and endured as we have. And frankly, we’re proud of that.  And we should be.  The flipside of the coin is the enormous strength, resilience and faithfulness that we’ve shown for countless generations. Hidden within that strength is the messianic hope, that one day all the tears we’ve shed will cleanse the world of the terrible evils infecting humanity and we’ll return Home to the Garden of Eden.  

And it’s not even all in the past.  As we prepared for this year’s Tisha B’av we saw liberal zionists disillusioned by the acts of the elected Israeli government.  Men and women who’ve fought for Am Israel’s right to be free in our own land now feel oppressed by none other than… us.  Calls  for mass emigration of secular Israelis, a split in the nation of Israel and even civil war.  Although our sages tell us the second Temple was destroyed because of needless hatred, have we ever been more divided than this? The very fabric of the Jewish-Democratic state is being tested, and it hurts extra because it’s right at Tisha B’av which seems all too appropriate.  (Lamentations 3:29) “Maybe there’s hope”.  Maybe.

And then just like that, Tisha B’av is finally over, we gorge ourselves on fruit, juice and muffins, put our leather shoes back on and go about our business like nothing happened.  This year, we’re even turning around right into shabbos.  Who’s got time for catharsis, we’ve gotta make cholent.

Yet just as much as Tisha B’av hurts, there’s a prescription waiting for us which sometimes feels even harder.  Nachamu Nachamu Ami.  My people, comfort one another.  Be there for each other.  

The word Nachem is most often used in the context of comforting mourners. We say to people who have lost a family member, “HaMakom yenachem etchem b’toch sh’ar evlai Tzion V’Yerushalayim”.  Literally HaMakom means The Place.  It’s sort of a strange name for God, but it’s the one we specifically use for comforting the mourners, and the paradigm of loss is framed as mourning ZIon and Jerusalem, a loss of God’s Place.  Why is Pplace the source of comfort?

I think it makes more sense if we translate HaMakom (as some sidurim do) as “The Everpresent” or even “The Presence”.  When we go to a shiva house to comfort a grieving family, what we are essentially saying is “We’re here with you”.  In fact, if the mourners don’t speak we’re not even required to say anything.  Just showing up is doing the mitzvah of bringing comfort. As a community we hold you just by being present.

The first instance of calling God  “The Place” is not obvious at all that it is referring to God.  In the Akedah narrative, as Avraham is on his way to offer Isaac upon the altar we read (Gen. 22:3-4) וַיָּ֣קׇם וַיֵּ֔לֶךְ אֶל־הַמָּק֖וֹם אֲשֶׁר־אָֽמַר־ל֥וֹ הָאֱלֹהִֽים׃  and he set out for The Place as God had told him.  בַּיּ֣וֹם הַשְּׁלִישִׁ֗י וַיִּשָּׂ֨א אַבְרָהָ֧ם אֶת־עֵינָ֛יו וַיַּ֥רְא אֶת־הַמָּק֖וֹם מֵרָחֹֽק׃  On the third day Abraham looked up and saw The Place from afar. 

At first reading, it doesn’t seem to mean God at all, it means Jerusalem.  The altar Abraham built in Jerusalem was at the same spot as Noach had built his altar.  And Cain before him.  In fact our tradition tells us it was the very spot from which Adam was formed of the dust of the Earth.  That place is THE PLACE where people go to meet God.  That’s why the Temple is there.  The mitzvah of going to the Beit Hamikdash is just like visiting a mourner.  You just need to show up and be present.  We always pray towards that same spot, because we know God will meet us there.  Not only that, when Avraham is summoned by God to go to that place, what does he say?  Hineni.  I’m here.  I’m present to you.

Tיis Is the first Hineni in the Torah.  The first time someone responded to Gםd’s inquiry to Adam – to all of Humanity, (Gen. 3:9) “אַיֶּֽכָּה Where Are you?”  Notice that question is the same letters, the same word really, as Jeremiah opens the book of Lamentations which we read on Tish’a B’av.  אֵיכָ֣ה Aicha.  Where are you God that we’ve come to this?  We need you to show up and let your presence be felt.  So, how does Hashem show up for us?  As Hamakom. Not a presence within a place, but as Place, as Presence itself. And centered in Jerusalem.  Can you imagine if we forgot where Jerusalem is?  If that Place so precious to Mankind was totally forgotten?  That would be a whole level worse than Tisha B’av.  Part of the power of mourning Jerusalem is that we feel the void in our hearts because God has left his Place, but we still know where that place is.  And that’s where we direct our hearts in prayer.

Shabbat Nachamu invites us to be present to Hashem.  It always falls on Parshat Va’etchanan, “I prayed to Hasham at that time”.  But the word Chanan for prayer doesn’t mean saying words.  Chen means connection. Feeling the presence of an Other.  By us being present in time through prayer, we can tune in to God’s Presence in Place.  By showing up for one another we can bring comfort to the pain of the great rift in Israeli society.  We are still together. 

Shabbat Shalom.

Rabbi Shlomo Schachter

One of the joys of Torah is in joining the multiple generations of analysis, critique, debate, and dialogue that unfold through its written and oral transmission. It speaks to different ways of knowing what the law is, how it works, and why we do things the way we do.

It is both satisfying and challenging to experience the Torah’s breadth. Each of us has our own way of understanding and applying the lessons of the sacred texts. For those who relate best to ideas and logic, the legal parts stand out. For those who relate best to stories, the narrative parts are most effective. For those who learn best by doing, the rituals and customs bring Torah to life concretely.

A common thread running through the laws, the narratives, and the customs is that everything is questioned. Nothing is to be taken for granted. If there is a contradiction, we must resolve it, never making moral or ethical compromises. The law, narrative, and customs work as a unit. Here is where we find the beauty and transcendence of an ornately illuminated Ketubah, a family favourite melody at the Seder, and the magic moment when we uncover the Challah on Shabbat.

Much of this is out of sync with how things work in the world at large. We live in a time when conflicting narratives merely compete. People and their political movements wage wars in the courts, in the media, and in all manner of public and private pursuits. That is a lost opportunity of tragic proportions; competing narratives could be seen as opportunities to reflect, synthesize, and make peace. This can be applied to any number of current issues ranging from judicial reform, to Diversity Equity and Inclusion remedies for social problems, to discourses on public health practices during the pandemic.  

Waging war often leads to a fatal lack of critical thinking. Or, as Michael Corleone put it in The Godfather, “never hate your enemies, it affects your judgment.”

Torah is full of examples of how to ask questions, make meaning from stories, and arrive at practical, measurable outcomes. It is a transparent method of critical problem-solving. One of the most emotionally reassuring elements of this method is its self-critical nature. For example, the books of Shemot (Exodus), Vayikra (Leviticus), and Bamidbar (Numbers) devote many chapters to the construction and rituals of the Temple. Those involved in the construction and operation of the Temple are subject to strict accountability via laws, procedural audits, and heavy financial requirements. Accountability fosters confidence and faith.

The narratives of the prophets tell the story a different way. They hold the people to a strict ethical and legal accounting of the culture surrounding the Temple. For example, the first Book of Shmuel (Samuel I) critically exposes the insincerity of Temple administration. Shmuel’s mother, Chanah, is barren. She beseeches Hashem in prayer, she speaks  על לבה from her heart, yet the High Priest, Eli, accuses her of being drunk. Eli, the custodian of Israel’s religious institutional core is so estranged from sincere worship that he concocts an uncritical narrative. This is essentially an expedient political move. The Talmud pulls no punches in critiquing the ploy. It regards Chanah as the paradigm of prayer, whose lips move silently, while her heart shouts and sobs with emotion. 

An even broader critique of the institution of the Temple and its insincerity is in the first chapter of the Book of Isaiah. This is always read on the Shabbat before the 9th of Av. This is when we recall and derive lessons from the tragedies of the destruction of both Temples, the fall of Beitar (Bar Kochba rebellion), and other tragedies such as the burning of the Talmud, the Crusades, and the expulsion of the Jews from Spain. Isaiah is harsh in his criticism of temple behavior.  

“What need have I of all your sacrifices?”

Says GOD.

“I am sated with burnt offerings of rams,

And suet of fatlings,

And blood of bulls;

And I have no delight

In lambs and he-goats. 

That you come to appear before Me—

Who asked that of you?

Trample My courts 

no more;

Bringing oblations is futile, 

Incense is offensive to Me.

New moon and sabbath,

Proclaiming of solemnities,

And when you lift up your hands,

I will turn My eyes away from you;

Though you pray at length,

I will not listen.

Your hands are stained with crime— 

Isiah does not mince words. He tells people to stay away from the Temple. He proclaims the Temple useless to those who are otherwise corrupt. He calls the whole institution into question, implying that the Temple is not being run ethically. Nor is it fostering the religious culture that Hashem demands in the Torah. This is self-criticism at its highest. Isaiah seems not merely interested in preserving the institution of the temple. He is also trying to preserve the core values of Torah, even if the Temple is temporarily diminished in the process. 

Isaiah presents his prescription for return, or teshuvah. 

Wash yourselves clean;

Put your evil doings

Away from My sight.

Cease to do evil; 

Learn to do good.

Devote yourselves to justice;

Aid the wronged. 

Uphold the rights of the orphan;

Defend the cause of the widow.

The prophets do not just provide Torah stories. They connect the legal, narrative, and cultural elements of the transparent, critical method of problem-solving writ large.

The most succinct example of this is found in the words of the prophet Hosea. He announces, “חסד  חפצתי ולא זבח- “…I desire goodness, not sacrifice; Obedience to God, rather than burnt offerings.” Institutions often rest on reputation, social history, and the like. Rarely do they offer criticism that exposes internal corruption. The Torah’s catalog of criticism is not random or idiosyncratic, it is a recurrent theme. In Torah, critique is not a tool or tactic. It is a method and a way of life.

The Torah’s critical approach focuses on the Jewish people as a nation. However, a nation is made up of communities, and communities are made of individuals. We must be willing to offer the same criticism of our personal practices, behaviors, cultures, and institutions. A millennium of antisemitism and several centuries of assimilation in liberal democracies have shifted Jewish thinking largely into survival mode. The continuity of our nation is more important than the development of any internal culture or moral ethic of a local community.   

Were the prophets to speak today, what would they say about us? What critical self-reflection would they call for? What ethical imperatives do we need to recommit to? How can we revisit our narrative to reflect the truth? What behaviors need to be reformed the most? The Torah shows us how to approach these questions globally. It is up to each of us, especially during times of introspection and teshuvah, to think globally and act personally.

Shabbat Shalom,

Rabbi Rosenblatt and Dr. Terry Neiman

Dear Chaverim, 

Tisha B’Av (9 of the Hebrew month of Av) is the saddest day on the Jewish Calendar.  It commemorates the tragedies of the sin of the Spies in the desert and the decree of forty years of exiled wandering before entering The Land of Israel, the destruction of both the first and second Temples, the fall of Beitar and the terrible violence following the Bar Kochba rebellion, the Romans plowing under and renaming of Jerusalem as Aelia Capitolina and Judea as Palestina, as well as the expulsion of the Jews from Spain in 1492.  Furthermore, the day has become a day to mourn many other tragedies in our history, including the slaughter of Jews during the Crusades, the burning of the Talmud in Paris in 1242,  the fall of the Mishkan at Shiloh (see I Samuel ch 4), and most recently, the Shoah.  As such there are many mourning practices that are observed on this day and the days leading up to the 9th of Av.  

The Month of Av

Traditionally, we observe some customs of mourning from the beginning of the Month of Av.  This includes Rosh Chodesh itself.  This year Rosh Chodesh Av is Wednesday July 19.

• We abstain from eating meat and drinking wine (or other spirits) except for on Shabbat.
• Unless it is necessary for our profession, men abstain from shaving.
• We do not purchase or wear new clothes.
• We do not celebrate weddings or lifecycle events except for a Bris on the eighth day. 
• We do not listen to music
• We refrain from new luxury products or projects such as building a new deck or pool
• We do not swim or bathe for pleasure, and shower colder than we usually would.
• We generally refrain from laundering clothes except as minimally necessary.

On Shabbat

We do not observe public aspects of mourning on Shabbat.   

• We wear our normal Shabbat garments, we have meat and wine, and even sing the regular Shabbat songs. 
• There are special Haftarah readings along the theme of impending doom which are taken from the prophecies of the coming destruction of The Temple.
• Havdalah should not be made on wine during the first Nine Days of Av.

Before the Fast

The fast of Tisha B’av is considered as weighty and important as Yom Kippur.  Even Pregnant and nursing women are required to at least try to fast.  Anyone with a medical condition which might make fasting dangerous should consult their doctor.  If a doctor instructs you not to fast you are excused from fasting.

• It is wise to begin hydrating yourself several days in advance
• The final meal before the 9 of Av begins should be a full meal with washing over bread.  
• It is customary to conclude the pre-fast meal with a hard boiled egg dipped in ashes. 
• The meal should conclude before sunset (in Vancouver the fast begins at 9:02 PM).  
• Please Note that Mincha begins at 8:40 PM.

During The Fast

• The Five afflictions or Inuyim  

Once the fast begins, there are five categories of prohibited pleasures.  These five categories are the formal actions of the most intense fast days of the year.  On the 9th of Av they are for mourning, and on Yom Kippur they are the agents of atonement and an attempt to live like angels, free from the material needs of this world. They are:

• Eating and drinking is prohibited from sundown to stars-out. One who is ill, pregnant or nursing should consult their Rabbi and doctor to determine if fasting is required or for an appropriate contingency plan. 
• Bathing is prohibited except in cases of obvious and obstructive dirt. More to the point, you can wash your hands after the washroom.  You can also do the ritual washing of your hands up to the finger joints, as well if your hands or another part of the body gets extra dirty.  Sadly, washing the face, or other parts of the body is prohibited. 
• Wearing leather shoes; in cases where one might be exposed to danger and protective footwear is required, should consult their Rabbi to determine the right course of action.
• Marital relations including the “Harchakot.” or measures of separation observed during the Nida period are also observed.   Frankly, this one is too complicated to explain in short or in public. Feel free to inquire further of your Rabbi or Mikveh teacher for more information.
• The use of creams, oils and perfumes is prohibited.  One who has a dermatological issue is likely exempted from this prohibition when using medication, however a consult with a Rabbi is wise. 

• Other Prohibitions
  • We also refrain from extending greetings of even “hello,” or even “ how are you?” on the 9 of Av.  This accentuates our feelings of loneliness, mourning and the importance of courtesy and connection for after the fast.
  • The study of Torah is considered extremely joyous, thus on the 9 of Av we only permitted to study the 9 of Av related material, including descriptions of the tragedies in the Bible, Talmud and Josephus, the Book of Job and as well the laws of mourning. 
• Prayers
  • At night we read the scroll of Lamentations or Eicha in its unique tune.
  • The Curtain or Parochet is removed from the Ark and the lights are dimmed.
  • In the morning, we read the Kinot, the poem/ prayers recounting tragedies.  
  • We do not wear Talit and Tefilin until after midday and repeat the Shema while wearing Tefilin.
• After the fast
  • The Fast ends at 9:42 PM Thursday evening, July 27.
  • We do not have meat or drink wine until Friday morning.   
  • The other prohibitions of the week leading to the 9 of Av are lifted after the fast.  
  • Kiddush Levanah (weather permitting) is typically said after maariv before breaking the fast. 

Tisha B’Av Schedule

Wednesday, July 26

8:40 PM – Mincha

9:02 PM – Fast begins

9:05 PM – Maariv and Eicha

Thursday, July 27

8:00 A.M. –  Shacharit followed by explanatory Kinot 

6:30 PM –  Movie and discussion  

8:35 PM – Mincha 

9:00 PM – “What was lost? Our Sages understanding of exile” With Rabbi Schachter

9:30 PM – Maariv

9:42 PM – Fast ends.  Light refreshments will be served