I learned a powerful lesson yesterday about the Three Weeks, the Nine Days and this national period of mourning.

I was privileged to join a conference call featuring the rabbi of Nevei Tzuf, Rabbi Yonatan Blass, and its administrator, the venue of the horrific murder of the Salomon family last Friday night as they were planning a festive Shabbat get together in honor of a new baby born in the family (who was subsequently named Ari Yosef, the latter name in memory of his grandfather who was killed Friday night). Rabbi Blass reminded the rabbis on the call that linking this tragedy to those of Tisha B'av would be an erroneous application. He said, “Life in Israel is chayim shel gevurah, (an existence of bravery and inner strength.) Courage comes from our faith. The Land of Israel is one of three things acquired through suffering.” He continued – this is a paraphrase: “Some may want to connect the tragedy to Tisha B'av and the story of the conquering of Beitar, the last remnant of hope after the destruction, both mentioned in the Tisha B'av narrative. But it's really the opposite. The Temples were destroyed and the Jews were exiled from the land. Beitar represented the destruction of the revolt 65 years later, which led total exile and an end to the Jewish presence in the Holy Land. Now, 7 million Jews live in Israel and those numbers are growing, both in Judea and Samaria and in the more modern cities such as Haifa and Tel Aviv. Just as Jews are expressing gevurah by living in Judea and Samaria, the existential threats from Hizbalah and Iran put every single Israeli at potential risk.”

Rabbi Blass ended by relating that he heard a radio pundit comment how isolated Nevei Tzuf is (it's called Chalamish by the government), surrounded by sworn enemies on all sides. He suggested on the call that perhaps the media pundit take out a map of the Middle East and see exactly the type of neighborhood in which the State of Israel finds itself. The destinies are parallel.

The period of Bein Hametzarim contains a painfully long litany of human tragedies. The words of the prophet Yirmiyahu in Eichah are some of the most depressing images I've ever read. How can they be relevant to us? We live in a world with a military proven and resilient Jewish state, where “Never Again” is not mere rhetoric and hope, but an actual threat with teeth. Yet, save for the Redemption occurring in the next few days, we will mourn this Tisha B'av in the same way we have mourned for millennia. Why you may ask? Because the gist of this mournful period on our calendar is not about loss and tragedy; its locus revolves around the heartbreaking distance from God and distance from one another. We mourn because we caused the destruction and we continue to cause it.

What is the gevurah Rabbi Blass spoke about? It's amazing how the Daf Yomi can offer commentary on current events. Since the cycle is 7.5 years, we will learn the various tractates in different seasons of the year. Yesterday's Daf (Sanhedrin 11a) related a story that Rabban Gamliel, the president of the Sanhedrin asked for seven people to gather to add a leap month to the Jewish calendar .Alas, when the group had gathered he counted eight and asked who had attended without authorization. Shmuel Hakatan admitted that he was the one; he claimed that he merely wanted to observe the sages so he would learn from it.

The Talmud then relates the following:

“And it was not really Shmuel Hakatan who ascended without permission, but rather, another man. And it was only because of the embarrassment the undesignated fellow would have suffered that Shmuel Hakatan made his admission.
This is similar to the incident which occurred when Rebbe was sitting and teaching his students, and he smelled an odor of garlic. Rebbe said: Whoever ate garlic, leave! Rav Chiya rose and left. All the other students then rose and left. The following morning, Rabbi Shimon, the son of Rebbe met Rav Chiya. He said to him: was it you that irritated my father with your bad breath? Rabbi Chiya replied to him: Heaven forbid! I would never eat garlic before coming to the study hall. There should be nothing like that among the Jewish people. I left only to save the guilty party from embarrassment.”
The Talmud then claims that Rav Chiya learned this behavior from Rabbi Meir, who, in turn, learned it from Shmuel Hakatan who based in upon verses in Ezra.

This story of Rebbe's students and the garlic reminds me of a well-known illustration of the loyalty and gevurah: the 1960 Stanley Kubrick film, Spartacus. Featuring film stars Isser Danivelich-Dempsy, Bernard Schwartz and Laurence Olivier (also known as Kirk Douglas, Tony Curtis and Sir Laurence Olivier), the film is based on the story of a slave rebellion led by the gladiator Spartacus during Roman times. One of the most famous scenes in the movie is where the Roman authorities demand the slaves to turn over Spartacus and every man rises and states, “I am Spartacus.” This was an act of bravery, of putting one's values above one's life.

The period of Tisha B'av teaches us so much about loyalty, which, when pushed to its limits, can define bravery and gevurah.
It was Ruth the Moabite who declared her undying fidelity to the God of Naomi. It was Joshua who never wavered from his teacher, Moshe Rabbeinu, and defended his honor even after Moshe's death. It was Elisha who continued Eliyahu Hanavi's teachings and callings and represented the ultimate teacher-student relationship. It was Yehudah who stepped forth at great risk to himself to challenge the Egyptian viceroy who would imprison his brother Binyamin. He took an oath to his father and had the mettle to keep it, despite the consequences.

As we stand at the threshold of Tishah B'av, loyalty must be a theme we address. The harsh and painful words of Yishayah's rebuke, which we read as the Haftarah this morning, calls us to task for our infidelity.


"יָדַע שׁוֹר קֹנֵהוּ וַחֲמוֹר אֵבוּס בְּעָלָיו יִשְׂרָאֵל לֹא יָדַע עַמִּי לֹא הִתְבּוֹנָן... שִׁמְעוּ דְבַר יְקֹוָק קְצִינֵי סְדֹם הַאֲזִינוּ תּוֹרַת אֱלֹהֵינוּ עַם עֲמֹרָה... אֵיכָה הָיְתָה לְזוֹנָה קִרְיָה נֶאֱמָנָה מְלֵאֲתִי מִשְׁפָּט צֶדֶק יָלִין בָּהּ וְעַתָּה מְרַצְּחִים" (ישעיה' א:ג, י', כ"א)
“An ox knows his owner, and a donkey his master's trough; but Israel does not know, My people does not comprehend… Hear the words of Hashem; O chiefs of Sedom; give ear to the teachings of our God, O people of Amorah… How the faithful city has become a harlot- she had been full of justice, righteousness lodged in her, but now murderers” (Yishayah 1:3, 10, 21).
The original Tishah B'av sin was the Jews believing the slander of the scouts. Ultimately, it was a sin of betrayal, a slap in the face to the Almighty who just liberated them from slavery, physically saved them and adopted them as His people.

Today is not a day to comfort; Shabbos Chazon is one of the most difficult Shabbasos of the year. How can we celebrate Shabbos and mourn over our lost Temple and religious autonomy at the same time? Some sages prohibit wearing Shabbos clothes this Shabbos, out of the pain of the exile. But this morning's Torah reading, offers us a glimpse into true loyalty. The ultimate loyalty was Moshe's allegiance to the Ribbono shel Olam. But even greater was his love and devotion to his nation of Israel.

One need not look further than the first verse of the Sedrah.


"אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל כָּל יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּעֵבֶר הַיַּרְדֵּן בַּמִּדְבָּר בָּעֲרָבָה מוֹל סוּף בֵּין פָּארָן וּבֵין תֹּפֶל וְלָבָן וַחֲצֵרֹת וְדִי זָהָב" (דברים א:א)
“These are the words that Moshe spoke to all of Israel on the banks of the Jordan, in the wilderness, in the Plain, opposite the Red Sea, between Paran and Tophel and Lavan, and Chatzeros and Di Zahav” (Dvarim 1:1).
Rashi explains that these places, some of which do not seem familiar to us, are venues of vice; as such, Moshe chose not to list them out of his honor of Israel. We call that loyalty! [Maharal quotes the Mizrachi who argues that the honor of Israel was listing them together, not mentioning them one by one.]

The first Temple was destroyed because of our disloyalty to God. The second was taken from us and expelled us into exile because we could not even muster up basic fidelity to our fellow man.

Loyalty is perhaps one of the most sought after traits in man. Even the mafia, which condones and promotes certain illegal behavior, has absolutely no tolerance for disloyalty, even within the family. One famous author quipped about man's most loyal friend, “If there are no dogs in Heaven, then when I die I want to go where they went.”

At this time of year, as we hear the haunting rebuke of Yishaya in the Haftarah, and Yirmiyahu in Eichah, let us commit ourselves to reversing the lingering chastisement of Yishayah. We must always be aware of our Master, and we should never be likened to a harlot, but rather to the ultimate prophet Moshe Rabbeinu, who was willing to lose it all to defend his people.

One of my favorite lines of davening speaks of our loyalty for HASHEM.


"הבט משמים וראה כי היינו לעג וקלס בגויים. נחשבנו כצאן לטבח יובל, להרוג ולאבד ולמכה ולחרפה, ובכל זאת שמך לא שכחנו, נא אל תשכחינו" (תפילת תחנון לשני וחמישי)
“Look from heaven and observe that we have become an object of derision and scorn among the nations; we are considered like the sheep led to slaughter, to be killed, destroyed, beaten and humiliated. Yet despite all this we have not forgotten Your name – we beg You not to forget us.”
This poignant passage was scratched onto the wall of a make-shift shul in Theresienstadt. Imagine the bravery of the Jews, living under the brutality of the Third Reich, able to utter those words.

If they swore allegiance to Hakadosh Baruch Hu there, we too, in their memory and due to their valor must do so much more to declare our love and loyalty to the Master of the Universe.

This Talmudic passage cited above jumped out at me because we are in the period of the Nine Days and I think about the infamous Kamtza-Bar Kamtza passage, the root of causeless hatred. A host asked his servant to invite Kamtza and he inadvertently invited Bar Kamtza, whom the host disliked, instead. When Bar Kamtza arrived, the host asked for Bar Kamtza to leave immediately. Bar Kamtza pleaded, offering a fortune to be allowed to stay, to avoid embarrassment. Bar Kamtza's pleas were futile as the rabbis witnessed the entire interchange and said nothing. Ultimately, the story goes, Bar Kamtza's hatred of the rabbis led him to convince the Roman Emperor to give an animal to the Holy Temple as a sacrifice and Bar Kamtza caused the animal to be blemished for the altar. When the kohanim refused to offer the blemished animal, the response from Rome was swift and violent. All this took place because no one stood up for Bar Kamtza. There were no Shmuel Hakatans or Rav Chiyas. There were no men of gevurah. The aforementioned Gemara seems to almost serve as a valorous foil to the Kamtza-Bar Kamtza tragedy.

If we do not learn and live this lesson, we will be sitting on the floor on Tishah B'av for years to come.