1. The Days Surrounding Tisha B’Av: From Mourning to Comfort
This week’s Torah and Tea coincides with the days leading up to Tisha B’Av—the ninth of Av, a time of national mourning for the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash—the Holy Temple. Tisha B’Av begins Wednesday night, but already from Wednesday afternoon, certain restrictions on Torah study and other activities begin. Today, Tuesday, is almost the last opportunity to learn Torah before these restrictions set in.
The period of the Three Weeks intensifies as we approach Tisha B’Av, with the mourning becoming more severe and stringent. However, immediately following this difficult day comes Shabbos Nachamu—the Shabbos of comfort. The contrast is striking: while the Three Weeks are marked by increasing sadness, Shabbos Nachamu ushers in consolation and hope. Additionally, just a few days later is the 15th of Av (Chamishah Asar B’Av), which is considered a day of great joy.
The lesson here is profound: even in times of challenge and pain, we must seek out the positive and recognize that difficulties can serve as springboards for future growth and blessing. Often, it’s hard to see how present hardships will lead to future benefit, but our tradition encourages us to look deeper.
2. Rabbi Akiva’s Perspective on Destruction and Hope
The Talmud relates a story about several rabbis traveling toward Rome. As they approached from afar, they heard the sounds of celebration and revelry coming from the city. Witnessing this, the rabbis began to cry, while Rabbi Akiva laughed.
The others questioned Rabbi Akiva: “Why are you laughing?” He responded by asking them why they were crying. They explained that seeing Gentiles who worship idols living in peace while the House of Hashem lies in ruins was too painful to bear—how could they not cry?
Rabbi Akiva explained that he saw things differently: if those who go against Hashem’s will enjoy such prosperity, how much greater will be the reward for those who fulfill His will! He found positivity even in what appeared negative because he looked beyond the surface.
This exchange highlights a deeper question: why did Rabbi Akiva ask them why they were crying? The destruction itself was not new; Rome had long been powerful. What pained them now was not just loss but public shame—a desecration (chilul Hashem) of Hashem’s name and that of Israel. It’s one thing to suffer defeat; it’s another to be humiliated before the world.
3. The Deeper Pain: Public Shame and Desecration
The rabbis’ tears were not only for physical destruction but also for the added agony of public disgrace. When people see Israel suffering while their enemies prosper, it appears as though Hashem is powerless or indifferent—a source of deep humiliation for both Hashem’s name and His people.
This is akin to being struck publicly rather than privately—the embarrassment compounds the pain. The rabbis were not simply mourning Rome’s power or their own suffering; they were grieving over this intensified shame and desecration.
Rabbi Akiva recognized this extra layer of pain but saw within it an even greater promise for redemption. The more severe our suffering and humiliation, he reasoned, the greater our eventual elevation will be when redemption arrives.
4. Rabbi Akiva’s Optimism: Seeing Good in All Circumstances
Rabbi Akiva was known for his saying: “Kol mah d’avid Rachmana l’tav avid—everything that Hashem does is for good.” Sometimes we see this good immediately; other times it becomes clear only later.
A famous story illustrates this principle: Rabbi Akiva traveled with a donkey, a rooster, and a candle. Denied entry into a city, he slept outside where his donkey was killed by a lion, his rooster eaten by another animal, and his candle blown out by wind. That night bandits attacked the city—had his animals or light remained, he would have been discovered. In retrospect, each loss was ultimately for his benefit.
This outlook goes even deeper regarding national tragedy: Rabbi Akiva saw not only consolation after loss but actual goodness within destruction itself—a perspective requiring profound faith.
5. The Fox at the Kodesh HaKodashim: Prophecy Fulfilled
A third episode deepens this theme further. When Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues ascended to Jerusalem after its destruction, they tore their garments upon seeing the ruins—a halachic requirement still observed today at the Western Wall (Kotel). Then they witnessed a fox emerging from what had been the Kodesh HaKodashim—the Holy of Holies—a place where even priests could not enter except on Yom Kippur.
The sight caused everyone else to cry anew over this ultimate desecration: not only was there destruction but wild animals now roamed where holiness once dwelled! Yet again Rabbi Akiva laughed.
The others asked him why he could laugh at such devastation. He explained that two prophets had spoken about Jerusalem: Uriah prophesied its utter ruin (“Zion shall be plowed like a field”), while Zechariah foretold its future glory (“Old men and women shall yet sit in Jerusalem’s streets”). Until seeing Uriah’s prophecy fulfilled so literally—a fox exiting from within holiness itself—Rabbi Akiva wasn’t sure how fully Zechariah’s words would come true. Now he knew that just as punishment reached its extreme fulfillment so too would comfort arrive in full measure.
The analogy is like plowing a field: breaking it up more thoroughly allows for better crops later on. The depth of our suffering signals an even greater redemption ahead.
6. Lessons for Our Generation: Finding Comfort Amidst Exile
This message resonates especially after generations marked by intense suffering—from exile to Holocaust and beyond. Sometimes it seems impossible to find any positive aspect amid such darkness.
Yet Rabbi Akiva teaches us that even when pain reaches unimaginable depths, we must hold onto faith that an equally immense blessing awaits us in return. Our task is to seek comfort even in hardship and trust that every descent paves the way for an ascent far greater than what came before.
7. The Joyous 15th of Av: Countering Destruction with Unity
The 15th day of Av (Chamishah Asar B’Av) follows closely after Tisha B’Av. According to the Gemara, it ranks alongside Yom Kippur as one of Israel’s greatest holidays due to several joyous events associated with it.
The final reason given by the Gemara may seem puzzling at first: on this day they stopped cutting wood for use on the Mizbeach—the altar in the Temple—because after mid-summer wood would no longer dry properly or remain free from worms due to changing weather conditions.
This cessation marked both an end point (completion) for those involved in preparing wood all year long (a cause for celebration) as well as symbolizing unity among Israel—since providing wood enabled everyone to bring offerings regardless of means or status.
The Rebbe explains that just as Tisha B’Av marks destruction rooted in baseless hatred (sinas chinam), so too does Chamishah Asar B’Av represent its antidote through acts fostering communal unity (like donating wood). Contributing wood enabled all Jews to participate equally in Temple service—a powerful act of charity bringing people together.
8. Siyumim During These Days: Transforming Mourning into Celebration
This idea finds practical expression today through making a siyum—a celebration upon completing a tractate of Talmud—even during these somber days (in permitted ways). Just as finishing cutting wood was celebrated on Chamishah Asar B’Av, so too do we mark spiritual accomplishments during times otherwise associated with mourning.
I am personally completing Tractate Megillah today with my class following this shiur—a fitting way to bring light into these days leading up to Tisha B’Av. May we merit soon not only individual siyumim but also a collective “siyum” on exile itself—transforming these days into true holidays filled with joy rather than sorrow, speedily in our days with the coming of Mashiach!