The Real Reason We Mourn on Tisha B'Av

Tisha B’Av is the day the Jewish People mourn the destruction of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. Why mourn something lost 2,000 years ago?

I think the answer can be summed up in three words: Distance. Waiting. Rebuild.

Distance

I recently received an email from a man who had listened to my online course on marital harmony called, How to Talk to Your Spouse About Anything.

He wrote: “My wife went out of town for two weeks to take care of her ailing parents…and to tell you the truth… I felt really relieved. It was quiet. No complaining. No tension. I just enjoyed the peace and quiet.”

Another email I got was from a woman whose husband is working at a start-up company. She wrote: “My husband is too busy for me. Not because he doesn’t care. He works hard. He gives. He does so much. But emotionally…there’s no bandwidth left. Even when he listens, he’s not really there.”

Two depictions of distance and lack of connection.

Sometimes, you’re like the husband enjoying the respite. Tisha B’Av comes, God doesn’t have a home in this world, and part of you enjoys the quiet. No obligations, no temple, no constant awareness of His presence. Some breathing space.

After all, who wants all the responsibility that closeness requires? It’s comfortable in exile.

And perhaps God feels like the discarded wife, waiting, longing, saying, “It’s been a few thousand years and you’ve gotten busy… Busy with work. Busy with life. Busy with endless distractions.”

The greatest devastation that occurred on Tisha B’Av isn’t the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem. It’s the spiritual distance that brought the destruction in the first place.

The Talmud teaches that the Second Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred. Jewish observance became devoid of love and connection.

The Beit Hamikdash, the Holy Temple, is called a bayit—a home. Homes are built on loving relationships. When the relationship fractures, the broken home reflects the spiritual reality.

So now what? Let me share a story.

The Waiting

My husband and I recently went away overnight. Nothing fancy; just one quiet night by ourselves. No kids or interruptions.

Driving home the next day, we hit major traffic. My husband glanced at Waze and said, “Look—it’s almost over.”

That little red line showing the traffic was almost at the end.

Tisha B’Av is uncomfortable. There is no app or Waze telling you, “Redemption in four minutes.”

Years ago, you had no clue how long you were going to sit in traffic You didn’t know if you had five minutes left or fifty. You just sat there, uncomfortable and waiting.

Today, the discomfort is solved. “I can handle an extra five minutes of traffic.”

Cold? Adjust the temperature. Hungry? Order food for delivery. Bored? Scroll, scroll, scroll.

While I love convenience, I wonder if all our solving has made us less able to sit inside discomfort.

Tisha B’Av is uncomfortable. There is no app or Waze telling you, “Redemption in four minutes.” You don’t know how long this “traffic” will last—collectively or personally. So you wait.

But you can make the waiting purposeful. The uncertainty of waiting puts you at a crossroads. You can throw up your hands and do nothing or you can make meaningful choices in this time. You often feel this discomfort when dating, waiting to get pregnant, waiting to buy a house. The list goes on. You can complain in discomfort or you can grow in discomfort. Like the lobster outgrowing its shell, discomfort urges you to grow, if you make a positive choice during that time.

Growth happens when you stop treating the waiting as an interruption to life and view it as the work itself.

Growth happens when you stop treating the waiting as an interruption to life and view it as the work itself. Waiting invites you to practice trust instead of control, patience instead of complaining, and gratitude instead of resentment. Those choices reshape you.

When the Jewish people were wandering in the desert, the Clouds of Glory protected them. When the cloud moved, the Jewish people knew it was time to travel. The cloud stopped, and they stopped.

The decision to stay or go wasn’t up to them. There was no pre-planned schedule. Just the choice to trust God. And somehow, learning to live inside that uncertainty shaped them into a people ready to receive the Torah.

Years before I got married, I received an invaluable piece of marriage. “If you want marital harmony—which is code for getting along with anyone— you need one crucial sentence: You have to learn how to bear the discomfort of the moment.”

Marriage is beautiful and can be euphoric. It’s also uncomfortable at times.

Your spouse may misunderstand you. He or she may say something offensive or insensitive once in a while (not talking abuse here, but the normal, day to day interactions that take place amongst two people who live together long-term). Growth comes from embracing the discomfort. You learn patience, humility, and restraint instead of reacting.

Redemption begins long before the Temple is rebuilt. It begins by learning to respond to uncertainty with trust, to discomfort with growth, and to waiting with purposeful choices.

Rebuild

If you’re like me, sometimes you look around and think: There’s too much hatred. Too much division. Too much estrangement. How will the world ever heal? How will the temple ever be rebuilt?

You need to remember, it’s not up to you to finish everything; focus on doing your small part.

You never know which brick completes the building.

That may be one phone call, one apology, one time choosing not to speak negatively. It may be one invitation to someone new, one genuine conversation with your spouse.

You never know which brick completes the building.

Every time you close some of the distance, you rebuild. Every time you choose connection, you bring the temple closer.

So this Tisha B’Av ask yourself: Where in my life is there distance waiting to be rebuilt?

Brothers who don’t speak, parents and children who’ve stopped trying, friends who drifted apart. Spouses living side by side like roommates, but are emotionally worlds apart.

Take the step and add your brick to the edifice.

Because Tisha B’Av isn’t only about mourning what we lost. It’s also about becoming the kind of people who can build it again. Eliminate the distance and rebuild the closeness.

May we merit to see the rebuilding of the temple, speedily in our days.