Devarim 5786: The Good, The Bad, and The Godly

GOOD MORNING! We are currently in the midst of the “Three Weeks,” which span from the Hebrew date 17th of Tammuz through the 9th of Av (this year corresponding to July 2nd through the 23rd). This period has historically been a time of misfortune and calamity for the Jewish people.

These misfortunes began right after the Israelites left Egypt. Immediately after agreeing to a covenant with the Almighty on Mount Sinai, the people sin with the Golden Calf (having incorrectly counted the days until Moses’ return). Moses returns from the mountain and shatters the original tablets of the Ten Commandments.

The following year, on the 9th of Av, the spies return from scouting the Land of Israel and deliver a terrifying report on what would happen if the Israelites entered the land. The assembled nation begins wailing and regretting leaving Egypt. This infuriates the Almighty who condemns the entire generation to perish in the desert over the next forty years – only their children would merit entering the Land of Israel.

Over the course of history, the Jewish people have endured many such tragedies during these three weeks. The 9th of Av is the anniversary of the destruction of both the first and the second Holy Temples in Jerusalem, roughly some 2500 and 2000 years ago respectively. Thus, in these “Three Weeks” we mourn the tragedies that took place over three millennia and specifically the destruction of the Holy Temples and our expulsion from the Land of Israel.

These days are also referred to as “bein hametzarim – in the midst of the distresses,” based on the prophet Jeremiah’s observation regarding the Jewish people: “She finds no rest; all her pursuers overtook her in the midst of her distresses” (Lamentations 1:3).

During this time, various customs of mourning are observed; we minimize joy and celebration by not holding weddings or listening to music. Many also have the custom of not shaving or getting haircuts. These expressions of mourning take on even greater intensity as we approach the 9th day of Av – Tisha B’Av, which is observed as a 25-hour fast day (this year it begins on Wednesday night, July 22nd).

This Shabbat, the one before Tisha B’Av, is known as “Shabbat Chazon – Shabbat of Vision.” On every Shabbat, following the reading of the weekly Torah portion, a section from the Prophets Scriptures (known as the Haftarah) is read. The name Shabbat Chazon takes its name from the opening word of the Haftarah read this Shabbat morning: “The vision of Isaiah son of Amoz, which he saw concerning Judah and Jerusalem” (Isaiah 1:1).

The Hebrew word chazon means a prophetic vision. But the name contains an important paradox: The vision read on Shabbat Chazon is primarily a vision of catastrophe – of corruption, hypocrisy, injustice, and the destruction that will follow. Yet, in later Jewish thought, Shabbat Chazon is associated with another vision: the possibility of seeing, however distantly, a future return to the Land of Israel and a rebuilt Holy Temple. Therefore, Shabbat Chazon stands at the intersection of destruction and rebuilding; a time of both memory and hope; a time of mourning and a commitment to do better in the future.

The Talmud contrasts the mourning of the month of Av with the joy we are enjoined to experience during the Hebrew month of Adar – when the miracle of Purim took place. The Talmud makes a puzzling statement regarding the festive atmosphere of the Hebrew month of Adar: “Just as we reduce our joy when the month of Av arrives, we likewise increase our joy when Adar arrives” (Ta’anit 29a).

Consequently, when the month of Av begins, we are expected to adopt a more somber attitude and to decrease our involvement in joyous activities. Adar, meanwhile, is a month of joy, the month when we celebrate the miracle of Purim; our salvation from the existential threat caused by Haman’s evil decree – calling for the annihilation of the Jewish nation. Because of the joyous nature of the month, we increase our happiness as soon as the month begins.

Naturally, one should feel joy in the month of Adar and mourn the past in the month of Av. However, the Talmud implies that there is a connection – stating that “just as” we decrease our happiness in Av, we increase it in Adar. What is the common factor between the two months? There is actually a very deep connection – and it displays a fundamental tenet of Jewish philosophy.

The Talmud states (Megillah 13b) that the Almighty always creates “the cure” before “the disease.” In the Book of Esther, the protagonist Mordechai saves the life of the king by foiling a plot to assassinate him. This greatly benefited Mordechai later, as Haman’s downfall began when the king was reminded that Mordechai had saved his life, and insisted on rewarding him for it.

But why do we need a cure before the disease? Why have a “disease” at all?

Parents sometimes censure their children and even punish them. But why would a parent want to inflict misery and suffering on his or her own child? The reason, of course, is that the parent feels that it is in the child’s best interest to do so. For example, if a child reaches a hand out to touch a hot stove and the parent slaps their hand away, the child may start crying. The parent does not enjoy inflicting such pain on their child, but he will do it because he understands that it is necessary to protect and teach the child. While the slap may sting in the moment, the child will learn from it and know not to touch a hot stove in the future.

God too relates to us as a parent relates to his child. The Torah tells us, “For as a man chastises his child, so too your God chastises you” (Deuteronomy 8:5). Thus, we must understand that in the story of Purim God was not only the “hero” who saved us from Haman’s wicked machinations; He played the role of the “villain” as well. Just as our salvation came from the Almighty, our desperate plight was also His doing.

This is the significance conveyed by the fact that God creates the “cure” before the “disease.” By doing so, it is revealed that it is He Who brings about every calamity, and the purpose of the calamity is to change us. Sometimes, the only way to motivate a person to improve himself is to shake him out of his complacency with suffering – like smacking someone who is lost in incoherence (or mesmerized by the bright red shining stove). The decree of annihilation by Haman was necessary in order to prompt the Jewish people to make the changes they needed to make.

So too in our times terrible suffering was visited upon our people in order to wake us up, to make us realize that assimilating into non-Jewish society would not provide us with comfortable lives but rather would lead to the utter destruction of the Jewish nation.

During the Holocaust, every person with Jewish blood was targeted for destruction, regardless of how deeply he had become entrenched in the society around him. The suffering was beyond horrendous, but it brought home the realization that the Nazis were seeking to rid the world of any person with even the slightest ancestral connection to the Jews – and that led people to ponder the very purpose of being a Jew.

Out of the ashes of the Holocaust a resurgent Jewish nation was built in America and the Land of Israel was reclaimed as a Jewish homeland under Jewish sovereignty.

More recently, the horrors of October 7th caused many to reflect on the meaning of being a Jew. To this day, I give a bi-weekly class that began shortly after those tragedies. I jokingly refer to the thirty young men who attend as October 8th Jews. Intense suffering is a deeply painful, dreadful means of conveying a message, but it was clear that God had decided that in order to spur the Jewish people to change it was necessary for their entire existence to be shaken in that incredibly devastating fashion.

Now we understand why the Talmud links the increased joy of Adar with the decrease we experience in Av. In truth, the events of the two months are closely connected. Just as we celebrate living through Haman’s decree in Adar, we must also commemorate our expulsion in Av. Had we remained in Israel for much longer, continuing our acts of idolatry and other perversions, it would have led to the end of the Jewish people. In order to save us, God destroyed His Holy Temples and expelled us from the land.

We thus celebrate the very foundation of the link between Adar and Av – the fact that our experience of near-annihilation led us to make crucial changes within ourselves. It is true that our lives were spared, but even more important is the fact that we gained a better understanding of ourselves, a better recognition of who and what we are meant to be. They are the means through which we will become the type of people that God wants us to be.

The lasting message of Shabbat Chazon is that we must apply a vision – the ability to see beyond appearances; a Jew living in exile can look at a destroyed Jerusalem and envision the future Holy Temple being rebuilt. This is the essence of Shabbat Chazon – we are asked to look forward and imagine the world as it could be.

We must understand that Jewish tragedy is not merely something that happened to our ancestors but a call to examine ourselves. We must recognize that religious behavior without moral transformation is hollow. We must believe that destruction is not the final chapter of Jewish history. We mourn because we remember what was destroyed. We reflect and repent because we understand why it was destroyed. Most importantly, we hope because we have the vision to see that it will all one day be rebuilt.

Devarim, Deuteronomy 1:1 - 3:22

This week we begin the last of the Five Books of Moses, “Devarim – Words.” In English, it is called Deuteronomy (from the Greek meaning “Second Law” – from deuteros “second” + nomos “law”) perhaps because Moses repeats many of the laws of the Torah to prepare the Jewish people for entering and living in the Land of Israel. The book is the oration of Moses before he died. Moses reviews the history of the 40 years of wandering the desert, reviews the laws of the Torah, and gives rebuke so that the Jewish people will learn from their mistakes. Giving reproof right before one dies is often the most effective time to offer advice and correction; people are more inclined to pay attention and to take it to heart.