Our Parsha opens with the words of תּוֹכְחָהּ – admonition, Moshe Rabbeinu relayed to Bnei Yisrael before they entered Eretz Yisrael. Rashi notes that each of the locations named in the opening pasuk reveals an incident in which Bnei Yisrael angered Hakadosh Baruch Hu, and these past sins were relayed to Bnei Yisrael through hints rather than overtly calling them out. There are several explanations as to why Moshe Rabbeinu chose that method.
As we all know, if Mashiach does not redeem us by next week, we will once again sit on the floor and mourn the destruction of the Batei Mikdash, the second of which was taken 1945 years ago [calculated according to the year 5773]. Chazal refer to the day of Tisha B’Av as Mo’ed, based on the words of Megillat Eicha: קָרָא עָלַי מוֹעֵד לִשְׁבֹּר בַּחוּרָי (Eicha 1:15). It is referred to by this name not because it will ultimately be transformed into a festive day together with the other fasts – as we do not see the same Mo’ed rules with regards to omitting Tachanun applied to Shiva Asar B’Tammuz – but rather because of those particular words bemoaned by Yirmiyahu. Chazal say it is a מועד של בכי – a holiday of tears, quite the opposite of the holidays familiar to us and the celebration that marks them.
Shlomo HaMelech famously presents a list of times and occasions in our lives. They include (Kohelet 3:4): עֵת לִבְכּוֹת וְעֵת לִשְׂחוֹק עֵת סְפוֹד וְעֵת רְקוֹד׃ A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance.
The Targum interprets עֵת לִבְכּוֹת as the time a family weeps over the loss of a loved one. Rashi explains it differently and says: בתשעה באב עת לבכות – the time to cry is on Tisha B’Av. That is the day Bnei Yisrael cry and mourn the Churban.
בָּכוֹ תִבְכֶּה בַּלַיְלָה וְדִמְעָתָהּ עַל לֶחֱיָהּ אֵין־לָהּ מְנַחֵם מִכָּל־אֹהֲבֶיהָ כָּל־רֵעֶיהָ בָּגְדוּ בָהּ הָיוּ לָהּ לְאֹיְבִים׃ She weeps sore in the night, and her tears are on her cheeks: among all her lovers she has none to comfort her: all her friends have dealt treacherously with her, they have become her enemies.
The Gemara discusses the crying of Bnei Yisrael, its origins, and its significance (Sanhedrin 104b):
These two cries, why? Rabba says that Rabbi Yocḥanan says: One over the destruction of the First Temple, and one over the destruction of the Second Temple. And why “at night”? This indicates the crying is related to what took place at night, in response to the report of the spies: “And all the congregation lifted up their voice, and the people cried that night” (Bamidbar 14:1).
Rabba says that Rabbi Yocḥanan says: That day they heard the spies’ report was the eve of the Ninth of Av. Hakadosh Baruch Hu said: You cried an unwarranted cry, and so I will establish for you a reason to cry for generations.
This is the night Hakadosh Baruch Hu determined we would cry, and the root cause – namely, the sin of the spies – is brought up by Moshe Rabbeinu, at length, once again in our Parsha. There are a few pesukim in his monologue that I would like to expand on and use as a springboard to gain a deeper understanding of Tisha B’Av and our tears. The first relates to the voices of Bnei Yisrael (Devarim 1:34):
וַיִּשְׁמַע ה’ אֶת־קוֹל דִּבְרֵיכֶם וַיִּקְצֹף וַיִּשָּׁבַע לֵאמֹר׃ And the Lord heard the voice of your words, and was angry, and swore, saying,
Chazal focus on the word קוֹל, asking why it is necessary, and why we’re told קוֹל דִּבְרֵיכֶם rather than כָּל דִּבְרֵיכֶם. The Midrash says (Lekach Tov 1:34), it was not the words of Bnei Yisrael that Hakadosh Baruch Hu heard, and which sparked their punishment, but rather the sound of their tears on that night.
Siach Tzedek, written by my rebbe, Rav Tzvi Dov Karelenstein, asks a wonderful question. From the above explanation – and supporting pesukim found in the books of Yeshayahu and Yirmiyahu – it would appear the crux of Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s anger was linked to the crying of Bnei Yisrael. They cried for no reason and would thus be given a reason to cry for generations. The Mishna says (Erchin 3:5):
It is apparent that one who utters malicious speech with his mouth is more severe than one who performs an action. As we found that the sentence imposed on our ancestors in the wilderness was sealed only due to the malicious speech disseminated by the spies, as it states: “...yet they have tried Me these ten times and have not listened to My voice”.
Speaking negatively about Eretz Yisrael appears to be graver than even Cheit Ha’Egel, where Moshe was able to daven on behalf of Bnei Yisrael and spare them from being wiped out. That punishment was deferred, instead playing out over the course of history as a small component in every punishment we’ve received since. The sin of the spies, however, was met with immediate and firm punishment. None of the spies (except Yehoshua and Kalev) or the people who followed them were allowed to enter Eretz Yisrael, and their punishment was locked. The Gemara (Erchin 15a) goes on to point out that their act of speaking lashon hara was graver than any physical act, as evidenced by the recording of their death:
They died in a plague and were characterized exclusively by their act of speaking lashon hara against Eretz Yisrael and Hakadosh Baruch Hu (who they claimed was not powerful enough to conquer the local inhabitants).
Siach Tzedek asks a wonderful question. The initial understanding from the pesukim and Midrash is that the focal point of Hakadosh Baruch Hu’s anger was connected to the crying of Bnei Yisrael, whereas the Mishna and Gemara have the speaking of lashon hara as the impetus. Tears are not mentioned at all in that second source. Which of these two causes is it? An answer to this question can be found in the words of David HaMelech (Tehillim 106:24-27):
Moreover, they despised the pleasant land, they believed not his word: but murmured in their tents and did not hearken to the voice of the Lord. Therefore, He lifted up His hand against them, swearing to overthrow them in the wilderness: to cast out their seed also among the nations, and to scatter them in the lands.
The 40-year exile the generation of the spies received in the desert was a result of their speech and its ramifications. There is no mention of any crying or tears.
Siach Tzedek layers on one more question before bringing forth his main idea. The Gemara (Ta’anit 30a) brings forth the order in which Rabbi Yehuda bar Ilai ate his final meal before the commencement of Tisha B’Av:
This was the custom of Rabbi Yehuda, son of Rabbi Ilai. On the eve of the Ninth of Av, they would bring him stale bread with salt, and he would sit between the oven and the stove. He would eat his bread and drink a jug of water with it and would resemble one whose deceased relative is laid out unburied before him.
Such a person, sitting in front of their deceased family member, has no appetite regardless of when they last ate. The last thing they want to think about is food. They sit on the floor, in the least respectable and comfortable place in the house, and they weep. Examining his custom, one can quickly see where our current Seudah Mafseket customs originate, but how did he himself develop them? What precedent was he following?
The answer Rav Karelenstein brings is based on the Midrash (Yalkut Shimoni, Shelach) which depicts how the spies returned from Eretz Yisrael and persuaded Bnei Yisrael to accept their damaging report and rebuff Eretz Yisrael. Each spy targeted their own tribe and demoralized their fellow tribesmen one tent at a time, up to the point where everyone in the family burst into tears. The weeping was contagious, as its sounds quickly spread from tent to tent, sometimes without the one crying even grasping why they started shedding tears. In no time, the entire camp was wailing in unison! It is impossible to fathom the sound of five million people all crying hysterically. Those tears – בְּכִי שֶׁל חִנָּם – were what triggered tears that would be for לְדוֹרוֹת. On the night of the 9th of Av each year, everyone slated to die in the desert would dig a grave and lay down in it to sleep. In the morning, Moshe Rabbeinu would declare, “צְאוּ מִקִּבְרֵיכֶם – step out from your graves,” and everyone would follow his command. Everyone except for the 15,000 chosen (by Hakadosh Baruch Hu) to die that year. This routine repeated itself the following year, albeit with 15,000 less people digging their graves. And so on, and so on, until the 40th year when the entire generation was no more. Just imagine what took place annually on the 8th of Av, when Moshe would announce that graves should once again be dug. The people knew full well that 15,000 people were about to not wake up and not climb out. What did they do? They said goodbye to one another! Each man had 60-plus children who each needed to be blessed and consoled; each had a wife; each had parents; each had siblings. Imagine all the emotional goodbyes and all the tears that were shed on that evening.
וַיִּבְכּוּ הָעָם בַּלַיְלָה הַהוּא – They had initially cried pointlessly and shamefully; now they were given a legitimate, and painful, reason to weep en masse. The Midrash says they wept as though a family member had collapsed and died in front of them – which is essentially what took place each year, in each tent, as the 9th of Av drew near. The seuda Rabbi Yehuda bar Ilai ate prior to his fast was exactly that, modeled after the mourning of these families in the desert.
Chazal tell us that when Bnei Yisrael went into exile, they reached נְהַר פְּרָת – the Euphrates River, before finally being able to sit down and weep. עַל נַהֲרוֹת בָּבֶל שָׁם יָשַׁבְנוּ גַם־בָּכִינוּ בְּזָכְרֵנוּ אֶת־צִיּוֹן׃ By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat, sat and wept, as we remembered Zion.
The Midrash says (Midrash Tehillim 137:1), Nebuzaradan would not let them cry on their exodus from Eretz Yisrael, and anyone caught shedding a tear was ruthlessly beaten. When asked why they could not ease their own suffering through harmless tears, Nebuzaradan replied, “Your G-d is merciful and He will respond to those tears, even returning you to your land.” Thus, Bnei Yisrael were prevented from crying throughout their journey, even as they witnessed family members dropping one by one, dying mercilessly at the sides of the road. And upon reaching the Euphrates, they drank from its harsh waters and even more died. שָׁם יָשַׁבְנוּ גַם־בָּכִינוּ – they sat and wept, both for those who died at that moment, and for those who died on the journey from Yerushalayim but for whom tears could not be shed. They could cry there, as Nebuzaradan no longer feared them being turned around and reunited with Yerushalayim. And, at that point, they cried for the destruction of Yerushalayim as well – בְּזָכְרֵנוּ אֶת־צִיּוֹן.
The Midrash (Eicha Rabbati 3), found in in Otzar HaMidrashim, says that Yirmiyahu and Nevuchadnetzar were childhood acquaintances. Naturally, they did not learn in the same Talmud Torah, nor did they live in the same complex or hang out in the same circles, but they apparently lived in the same neighborhood and knew one another well. Nevuchadnetzar at the time was not mighty and powerful but rather עָנִי וְנִבְזֶה – poor and despised. One day, he encountered Yirmiyahu HaNavi and said, “May the day come when I will be ruler of the world. I would go up to Yerushalayim, burn down the Beit Hamikdash and the entire city, kill many of its inhabitants, and exile the rest to captivity.” This poor and detested child had dreams of ruling the world not so he could reverse his predicament and become rich and honored, but simply to afford himself the opportunity to destroy Yerushalayim. Yirmiyahu saw through Ruach Hakodesh that his words would come true, and responded, “Spare me Yerushalayim.” Nevuchadnetzar said no. Yirmiyahu then asked, “Spare me the Beit Hamikdash,” but to the same response. Yirmiyahu then pleaded, “Spare me the children – the tinnokot shel beit rabban,” but the answer remained the same. Yirmiyahu then concluded, “So what will you spare for me? We are childhood friends. Give me something, at least.” Nevuchadnetzar answered, “When I burn Yerushalayim and the Beit Hamikdash, if you come to the city, whatever you are able to salvage between daytime and nightfall – you can keep.”
The day the Beit Hamikdash was destroyed, Yirmiyahu found himself in Anatot, after being sent on a mission by Hakadosh Baruch Hu to purchase a plot of land belonging to his uncle, Chanamel (Yirmiyahu 32). From afar, he saw the cloud of smoke rising above Yerushalayim, and he recognized the Beit Hamikdash was being destroyed. He began to cry until recalling what Nevuchadnetzar promised him as a child, at which point he hurried off to Yerushalayim but only arrived after the sun had already set. He could not save anything, and cried out (Yirmiyahu 6:4): אוֹי לָנוּ כִּי־פָנָה הַיּוֹם כִּי יִנָּטוּ צִלְלֵי־עָרֶב׃ Woe to us! for the day declines, for the shadows of the evening are lengthened.
Yalkut Shimoni (Yirmiyahu 20:7) describes the events that took place the time arrived for the Beit Hamikdash to be destroyed. Hakadosh Baruch Hu sent Yirmiyahu on a mission because as long as he remained in Yerushalayim, the city could not be destroyed. As soon as he left, an angel descended from heaven, placed his feet on the wall of Jerusalem, and proclaimed, “Let the enemies come and enter the house, for its owner is not inside. Let them plunder it, destroy it, and enter the vineyard, cutting down its vines.” The enemies then entered and deliberated as to how the Beit Hamikdash should be taken down, sitting where Shlomo HaMelech would sit and take counsel with the elders. Four angels suddenly descended, with torches in their hands, and they set the Beit Hamikdash on fire from its four corners. Four corners, so that Nevuchadnetzar could not declare or take credit for initiating its destruction in any one spot. When Yirmiyahu saw the cloud and turned back, he had initially hoped the smoke was from Korbanot, the result of Bnei Yisrael performing Teshuva. But alas, he then saw the large pile of stones where the Beit Hamikdash once stood. Yirmiyahu cried out (20:7): פִּתִּיתַנִי ה' וָאֶפָּת חֲזַקְתַּנִי וַתּוּכָל הָיִיתִי לִשְׂחוֹק כָּל־הַיּוֹם כֻּלּוֹ לֹעֵג לִי׃ You persuaded me, O Lord, and I was persuaded; You overpowered me, and You prevailed. I have become a constant laughingstock; everyone jeers at me.
On his way out of Yerushalayim with his exiled nation, he witnessed the suffering and went to the people and kissed them. Upon reaching Bavel, however, he was given the exclusive option to return to Yerushalayim, and he chose that path, wanting to tend to those who remained behind without a leader. The Midrash says, the people saw him departing and began to wail, “Yirmiyahu, how can you leave us here?” This was also part of their cries at the river’s bank. He unforgivingly replied, “Had you cried like this just once while still in Yerushalayim, you’d have not been exiled! Instead, you ignored all warnings and cry only now.”
Rabbotai, what is the meaning of בֶּכִי בְּצִיּוֹן – one cry in Yerushalayim? How could such a cry help prevent the turn of events and reverse the dreadful fate of the Beit Hamikdash? Bnei Yisrael, filled with devastating tears in the desert, did not manage to shed a single one in Yerushalayim. How can that be? What is the deeper meaning behind this dichotomy?
I’d like to now focus on the destruction of the Second Beit Hamikdash and the involvement, once again, of tears. The Midrash says (Eicha Rabbah 1:23):
Rabbi Shimon bar Yocḥai said: Hakadosh Baruch Hu said to Israel: ‘You wept a gratuitous weeping; ultimately, you will weep a weeping of substance.’ Where did Israel weep a gratuitous weeping? “Moshe heard the people weeping according to its families”. “The entire congregation raised and sounded their voice and the people wept that night”. Where did Israel weep a weeping of substance? Rabbi Aivu said: Once in Rama and once in Babylon. In Rama, as it is written: “So said the Lord: A voice is heard in Rama, wailing, bitter weeping, Rachel is weeping for her children”. In Babylon, as it is written: “By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat and also wept”.
Rabbi Aivu said: Hakadosh Baruch Hu to Israel: “As a reward for that weeping, I will gather in your exiles.” As is written: “So said the Lord, restrain your voice from weeping... there is hope for your future, the utterance of the Lord”.
It is not only punishment that stems from tears, but our redemption, too, will originate from tears. The geulah will arrive because of Rachel’s precious cries for her children. At the start of Creation, we find a pasuk that reflects both our exiles and redemption (Bereshit 1:2): וְהָאָרֶץ הָיְתָה תֹהוּ וָבֹהוּ וְחֹשֶׁךְ עַל־פְּנֵי תְהוֹם וְרוּחַ אֱ-לֹהִים מְרַחֶפֶת עַל־פְּנֵי הַמָּיִם׃ And the earth was without form and void; and darkness was on the face of the deep. And a wind from G-d moved over the surface of the waters.
The Midrash says (Pesikta 34:6), this pasuk conceals the four exiles and final redemption. תֹהוּ is the exile of Bavel; וָבֹהוּ is the exile of Madai; וְחֹשֶׁךְ is the exile of Yavan; and עַל־פְּנֵי תְהוֹם is the exile of Edom. Finally, וְרוּחַ אֱ-לֹהִים מְרַחֶפֶת עַל־פְּנֵי הַמָּיִם represents the Melech HaMashiach. The exiles were prepared from the onset of Creation. The final one would be, and is indeed, עַל־פְּנֵי תְהוֹם – excruciatingly deep in duration and intensity, but it would be followed by Mashiach. And when will the Mashiach be מְרַחֶפֶת עַל־פְּנֵי הַמָּיִם – soaring over the waters? כִּי תִּשְׁפְּכוּ כַּמַּיִם לִבְּכֶם – When we pour out our hearts to Hakadosh Baruch Hu like water.
What rests behind the tremendous power of these tears? What secret of Redemption rests within them?
I’d like to share an idea that is partially based on the Zohar, and partially from my heart which tells me it is correct. I believe that the concept of crying, and a variation of the word בֶּכִי, appears in the Torah a total of twenty times. The first time it appears is in the story of Hagar and Yishmael. After running out of water in the hot desert, Hagar placed her son under one of the bushes and sat off to the side, not wanting to see him die. וַתִּשָּׂא אֶת־קֹלָהּ וַתֵּבְךְּ – she then cried. The next time בֶּכִי appears is when Avraham mourned for his wife, Sarah, and cried over her – לִסְפֹּד לְשָׂרָה וְלִבְכֹּתָהּ. The third time בֶּכִי appears is when Eisav arrives on the scene for his bracha only to learn that his brother, Yaakov, had just left. With the bracha. After receiving a consolation prize, Eisav pledged to take revenge against his brother, and then וַיִּשָּׂא עֵשָׂו קֹלוֹ וַיֵּבְךְּ – he cried. בֶּכִי next appears in Yaakov’s reaction to seeing Rachel for the first time: וַיִּשַּׁק יַעֲקֹב לְרָחֵל וַיִּשָּׂא אֶת־קֹלוֹ וַיֵּבְךְּ. Several years later, during his return home, he encountered Eisav and we once again find בֶּכִי as the two embrace: וַיִּבְכּוּ. The next time בֶּכִי appears is when the ten brothers of Yosef brought a bloodied coat to their father, asking if he recognized it. Yaakov, believing his son was killed, responded in tears: וַיֵּבְךְּ אֹתוֹ אָבִיו.
The next eight occurrences of בֶּכִי all share something in common. Amazingly, they all pivot around Yosef HaTzaddik. Furthermore, there is no mention of בֶּכִי when it comes to the other shevatim – only Yosef and Binyamin. They are the only two who cry – Yosef eight times, and Binyamin once:
- When the brothers arrive in Egypt, Yosef recognizes them, speaks to them harshly, and then turns around to cry: וַיִּסֹּב מֵעֲלֵיהֶם וַיֵּבְךְּ.
- Upon seeing Binyamin, Yosef is overtaken by emotions and steps out to cry: וַיָּבֹא הַחַדְרָה וַיֵּבְךְּ שָׁמָּה.
- After hearing Yehuda’s emotional plea, Yosef can longer contain himself, and just prior to revealing his identity, he orders everyone out and cries: וַיִּתֵּן אֶת־קֹלוֹ בִּבְכִי.
- Yosef and Binyamin then cried on each other’s shoulders: וַיִּפֹּל עַל־צַוְּארֵי בִנְיָמִן־אָחִיו וַיֵּבְךְּ וּבִנְיָמִן בָּכָה עַל־צַוָּארָיו.
- Yosef then turned to the rest of his brothers, kissed them, and cried: וַיְנַשֵּׁק לְכׇל־אֶחָיו וַיֵּבְךְּ עֲלֵהֶם. Of note, we are told they then began to speak to him, but there is no mention...
