INSIGHT & INSPIRATION
TISHA B’AV: MOURNING, MEANING, AND THE ULTIMATE TRANSFORMATION
By Rabbi Moishe New
We find ourselves now in the midst of the most somber stretch of the Jewish calendar: the Three Weeks. These 21 days—from the fast of the 17th of Tammuz to the 9th of Av—commemorate a litany of tragedies that have befallen our people over millennia. As we approach Tisha B’Av, this Sunday, it is worth reflecting not only on what we mourn, but why we mourn—and perhaps even more importantly, how we mourn.
The period begins with the 17th of Tammuz, when five calamities befell the Jewish people. Most notably, it was the day Moses descended Mount Sinai holding the Tablets—only to find the nation worshipping the Golden Calf. In rage and despair, he shattered them. G-d would later declare that all future punishments borne by the Jewish people would somehow carry the imprint of that primal betrayal.
Why is that? Because the sin of the Golden Calf wasn’t the outright rejection of G-d. The people didn’t say G-d doesn’t exist. They merely added something else—a tangible symbol, a golden intermediary—to the equation. And herein lies the essence of idolatry: not denying G-d, but denying His exclusivity. Affirming that something other than Him has intrinsic, independent value is a betrayal of His oneness.
Every sin follows that pattern. Each time we say “this doesn’t concern You,” or “this moment is mine,” we carve out a space from which we’ve exiled the Divine.
And so the saga begins. Centuries later, the walls of Jerusalem are breached by the Roman army—on the same date, the 17th of Tammuz. Three weeks of desperate fighting follow, culminating in the destruction of the Second Temple on the 9th of Av. That day—Tisha B’Av—is the national day of mourning for the Jewish people. A day of fasting, of sitting low, of reciting Eicha, the Book of Lamentations. A day when we confront the very core of our suffering.
But it did not begin with Rome. The First Temple, centuries earlier, was destroyed on the same date by the Babylonians. The calamity stretches back even further. It was on Tisha B’Av that the spies returned from scouting the Land of Israel, instilling fear and despair in the nation. Their refusal to enter the land led to 40 years of wandering in the desert. That fateful day—the 9th of Av—became the spiritual root of all future national tragedies.
And so the tragic pattern unfolds, the 9th of Av saw the fall of Beitar; the expulsion from Spain in 1492; the most devastating of the Chmielnicki massacres; the outbreak of World War I and the first deportation to Treblinka from the Warsaw Ghetto. Tisha B’Av is the funnel through which centuries of Jewish pain flow.
But there is something strange—subtle, quiet, but deeply significant—about Tisha B’Av. On this most tragic of days, we omit Tachanun, the penitential prayer recited daily. Why? Because the Prophet Jeremiah, who authored Eicha, refers to this day as a mo’ed, an appointed time which ordinarily refers to a festival. How could such a term be used for a day of catastrophe?
The answer opens up a wellspring of insight and hope. The sages teach that in the future, Tisha B’Av will be transformed into the greatest Yom Tov. Not erased, not forgotten—but transformed. As only G-d can do, He will retroactively reveal the inner essence of every moment of suffering, showing us how, in truth, those were the moments when His bond with us was deepest.
We often ask, in response to tragedy, “Why?” But that question can never satisfy. No answer will suffice. Instead, we must ask: “Where were You?” And G-d’s answer will be: “I was with you, every step of the way. Hugging you so ever tightly.”
This is not poetic sentiment. It is the very core of the Jewish response to suffering. G-d does not erase the pain—He reclaims it. He does not ignore the exile—He transforms it into the deepest connection. This is why we do not recite confession on Tisha B’Av. Because G-d says: “Do not blame yourselves. This exile—this suffering—is not punishment. It is part of My plan to bring you closer to Me in a way no other path could achieve.”
Chassidus reveals a daring idea: that even sin is part of the Divine script. The Baal Shem Tov teaches that someone who sins and returns stands on a higher level than someone who never sinned. Why? Because the return reveals a deeper love, a more passionate bond. When a rope breaks and is tied again, the knot becomes the strongest point.
The exile is not merely a consequence of our failures. It is a design. A cosmic plot that sends us into darkness only so we can find the light within it.
And so, we come to Tisha B’Av not with a heart full of guilt, but with a soul full of yearning. We sit low, we cry, we mourn—but we also hope. We await the moment when G-d will turn the bitter into sweet, when the day that symbolized abandonment will become the emblem of His eternal embrace.
This year, Tisha B’Av begins on Shabbat. And when that happens, the fast is postponed until Sunday. But spiritually, something profound occurs: Tisha B’Av is absorbed into Shabbat. And Shabbat, as we know, is a taste of the World to Come. What better symbol for the transformation of mourning into joy?
Indeed, the suffering has been deep but the yearning is deeper still. In these final moments of exile the world’s obsession with us intensifies with each passing day. It is in our hands rise like a lion and be the Light unto the nations they we were always destined to be. The time is now.
