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The Three Weeks, Tisha B'Av, and Unconditional Divine Love

This class explores the customs and meaning of the Three Weeks and Tisha B'Av, especially when it falls on Shabbat. It discusses the Rebbe's approach to mourning with hope, the nature of rebuke, projection in relationships with G-d, and the enduring covenant between G-d and Israel.

1. The Three Weeks and the Nine Days

The period we are currently in is known as the Three Weeks, a time of national mourning for the Jewish people, culminating in Tisha B’Av. Within the Three Weeks, there is a more intense period called the Nine Days, which begins with Rosh Chodesh Av. This year presents a unique situation: Tisha B’Av falls on Shabbat. Since we do not fast on Shabbat (with the exception of Yom Kippur—the Day of Atonement), all observances of Tisha B’Av are postponed to Sunday. On Shabbat itself, we eat as usual until sunset, at which point the fast begins. Normally, before Tisha B’Av, there is a custom called seudah mafseket—the final meal before the fast—where one eats simple foods like bread and an egg with ashes as a sign of mourning. However, when Tisha B’Av falls on Shabbat, this custom is suspended out of respect for Shabbat. Similarly, public displays of mourning such as refraining from bathing or wearing leather shoes are not observed on Shabbat itself.

2. The Significance and Order of Fast Days

Among all Jewish fast days, Yom Kippur holds the highest status as a biblical commandment and day of atonement. Next in importance is Tisha B’Av, which commemorates the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash—the Holy Temple—and represents the greatest calamity in Jewish history due to the loss of God’s presence in this world. Most other fasts throughout the year are also connected to the destruction of the Temple, except for Taanit Esther, which commemorates Esther’s fast before her confrontation with Haman and is unrelated to the Temple’s destruction. The severity of Tisha B’Av is reflected in its observances: like Yom Kippur, it begins at sunset and includes restrictions such as not eating or drinking, not bathing for pleasure, and not wearing leather shoes.

3. Mourning Beyond Historical Loss

While it may seem that more recent tragedies—such as those suffered during the Holocaust—would overshadow ancient events like the destruction of the Temple, Judaism teaches that all subsequent suffering stems from that original loss. The absence of the Beit HaMikdash, our exile among nations, and our lack of full sovereignty are seen as root causes for all later troubles. Even with modern independence in Israel, limitations remain: Jews cannot ascend freely to the Temple Mount and must rely on other nations for support and security. Thus, when we mourn for the Temple during these days, we are also mourning centuries of suffering that followed its destruction. Yet this mourning is not meant to be an exercise in depression or despair.

4. The Rebbe’s Approach: Mourning with Hope

The Rebbe offered a unique perspective on these days: while halachic restrictions apply (such as refraining from meat and wine during the Nine Days), he discouraged falling into sadness or depression. Instead, he encouraged finding ways to bring joy even within mourning—for example by making a siyum, completing a tractate of Torah study, which allows for celebration even during these somber days. The Rebbe emphasized channeling our feelings into positive action and hope for redemption rather than dwelling solely on loss. He suggested studying about the building of the Temple from Rambam or reading prophetic visions about its beauty to inspire faith in God’s promise to restore it. A poignant story illustrates this approach: after the Holocaust, some proposed leaving an empty seat at every Seder table to remember lost children. The Rebbe suggested instead filling that seat with a living Jewish child who might otherwise be absent—transforming memory into action and hope.

5. Parashat Devarim: Rebuke with Sensitivity

In this week’s parasha, Moshe Rabbeinu rebukes Bnei Yisrael for their past failings but does so only at the end of his life and often through hints rather than direct accusations. This teaches us how rebuke should be delivered: gently and constructively rather than harshly or publicly shaming others. Moshe’s approach demonstrates that true rebuke aims to help others improve rather than simply venting frustration or putting them down. If one truly seeks another’s benefit, criticism must be offered in a way that can be accepted without defensiveness.

6. Projecting Our Feelings onto God

A key verse discussed this week describes how Bnei Yisrael accused God of hating them when they were afraid to enter Eretz Yisrael after hearing negative reports from the spies: “Because Hashem hates us He took us out from Egypt…” Rashi explains that this was actually projection—they themselves harbored resentment toward God and assumed He felt similarly toward them. This reflects a broader psychological truth: “Kemayim haponim laponim—as water reflects a face back to a face,” so too does one’s heart reflect another’s feelings (Mishlei 27:19). If you love someone, they will likely love you back; if you hate them, they will sense it too. However, unlike human relationships where reciprocity is expected, God’s love transcends our behavior. Even when we distance ourselves from Him or make mistakes, His love remains constant due to His covenant with us.

7. The Covenant: Unconditional Divine Love

God established an eternal covenant (brit) with Avraham Avinu and his descendants—a bond not dependent on mutual interests or good behavior but rooted in essence itself. Human friendships often depend on shared interests or circumstances; when those change, relationships may falter. But a covenant means commitment “for better or for worse,” regardless of circumstance. Similarly, God’s love for Israel is unconditional—like that between parent and child—not contingent upon our merits alone but enduring even through failure or exile. In fact, it is precisely during times of darkness or distance that God’s essential love becomes most apparent. An example from Chazal illustrates this idea: In the Holy Temple stood two cherubs whose posture reflected Israel’s relationship with God—embracing when things were good and turned away when things were bad. Yet astonishingly, at the moment of destruction when one would expect estrangement, Chazal say they were found embracing—a sign that even amid calamity God’s deep love remained present.

8. Genuine Mourning versus External Display

Hasidic tradition places great value on authenticity over external showmanship in religious expression—whether in prayer or mourning practices during these days. True feeling should reside within one’s heart rather than being performed outwardly for others’ approval. A story illustrates this value: A prankster disrupted communal mourning on Tisha B’Av by making light-hearted mischief during services but was later found privately reciting Eicha—lamentations—with deep sincerity outside town. The lesson is that genuine emotion matters more than public display. The Rebbe consistently taught that feeling sorrow alone is insufficient unless it leads to positive action—helping others or working toward rebuilding what was lost—rather than simply wallowing in sadness.

9. Verses Illustrating Divine Love Amid Exile

The class concluded by reading verses describing how Bnei Yisrael accused God of hatred (“Because Hashem hates us…”), while Rashi clarifies that it was their own feelings projected onto Him—God actually loved them all along. Another verse recounts God’s covenant with Avraham (brit bein habetarim): even while foretelling future suffering (“your seed will be strangers… oppressed four hundred years”), Hashem assures Avraham—and us—that His commitment endures through every trial. This knowledge empowers us not only to endure hardship but also to trust deeply in Hashem’s everlasting connection with His people—a connection destined ultimately for open redemption and rebuilding speedily in our days.

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