The Gemara in Taanis tells us that the enemies of Klal Yisroel set fire to the Beis HaMikdash on the afternoon of Tisha B'Av, and the flames continued to burn throughout the following day. For this reason, Ashkenazim continue certain practices of aveilus on the Tenth of Av, at least until midday.
This leads to a fascinating question. If the actual burning of the Beis HaMikdash began during the afternoon of Tisha B'Av, we would expect that time to be the most intense period of mourning. Yet the opposite seems to be true. After chatzos on Tisha B'Av, some of the restrictions begin to ease. We rise from the floor and sit on regular chairs. The paroches is returned to the Aron Kodesh. We put on tefillin during Minchah, even though they are not worn during Shacharis. Why?
If this was the time when the Churban actually began, shouldn't our mourning become more intense rather than less? There is another puzzling statement of Chazal. The Yerushalmi teaches that Moshiach is born on the afternoon of Tisha B'Av. How can the darkest moment in Jewish history simultaneously be the moment when redemption begins?
My father, Harav Noach Yitzchok Oelbaum shlita, brings a beautiful explanation from the Bnei Yissaschar. From Rosh Chodesh Av until the end of Tisha B'Av there are nine complete days. Nine times twenty four hours equals 216, which is the gematria of the word "Aryeh" lion. This corresponds to the pasuk, "Aryeh sha'ag mi lo yira" a lion roars, who will not fear? These days are days of judgment, fear, and mourning.
However, in Eicha the Navi uses a different expression: "Ari b'mistarim" a lion lurking in hiding. Here the word Ari is written without the letter hei. The Bnei Yissaschar explains that the missing hei alludes to the final five hours of Tisha B'Av. The first 216 hours correspond to the roaring lion of judgment and destruction. But the final five hours already contain a different message. Something begins to change.
What changes? Rav Tzadok HaKohen of Lublin offers a profound answer. Chazal tell us that when the enemies entered the Beis HaMikdash, they found the Keruvim embracing one another. This seems very difficult to understand. The Gemara teaches that when Klal Yisroel fulfilled the will of Hashem, the Keruvim faced each other. When Klal Yisroel sinned, they turned away from one another. If the Beis HaMikdash was being destroyed because of our aveiros, shouldn't the Keruvim have been facing away?
Rav Tzadok explains that until the final moments, Klal Yisroel did not truly believe that the Churban would occur. Even the nations of the world could not imagine that Hashem would destroy His own House. This false sense of security prevented genuine teshuvah. Then the unthinkable happened. The walls were breached. The enemy entered. The flames began to rise. Suddenly the reality of the Churban became undeniable. At that moment Klal Yisroel was overwhelmed with regret. They realized what they had lost. Although it was already too late to prevent the destruction, their broken hearts turned back to Hashem in sincere teshuvah. The Keruvim reflected this reality.
As Klal Yisroel turned toward Hashem, Hashem turned toward them. The Keruvim faced one another, demonstrating the renewed bond between Hashem and His beloved nation. The Seforim HaKedoshim reveal an even deeper dimension. At the very moment of destruction there was also an extraordinary revelation of love between Hashem and Klal Yisroel. How can destruction and love exist together?
Rav Bunim of Peshischa explains a phrase that we say on Yom Tov. "V'romamtanu mikol haleshonos." Usually this is translated as, "You have elevated us above all nations." Rav Bunim explains that the word "leshonos" can also mean languages. Hashem's love for Klal Yisroel is so deep that it cannot be expressed in any language. No words are capable of describing it. Sometimes love becomes most visible at a moment of separation. When a son leaves home to learn in yeshivah, the love between parent and child often becomes more intense. When a husband and wife must be apart, they suddenly realize how deeply connected they truly are.
The same was true at the time of the Churban. Hashem is both our Father and our Husband. When the Shechinah departed from the Beis HaMikdash and Klal Yisroel was sent into galus, an incredible love was revealed. The pain of separation itself demonstrated how strong the bond truly was. This helps us understand why the mourning laws begin to ease during the afternoon of Tisha B'Av. The pain has not disappeared. The loss remains overwhelming. But within that pain, something new emerges. The flames that consumed the Beis HaMikdash ignited a sincere teshuvah. The destruction revealed a profound love between Hashem and Klal Yisroel. Within the darkness, the first spark of redemption began to shine. This is why Chazal teach that Moshiach is born on Tisha B'Av. The very fire that destroyed the Beis HaMikdash became the fire that would eventually rebuild it. The deepest descent became the beginning of the greatest ascent.
