There is a tender rhythm to the Jewish calendar, a deep emotional flow that carries us from anguish to hope, from mourning to comfort. Nowhere is this more deeply felt than in the weeks following Tisha B’Av, the most sorrowful day on our calendar, when we remember the destruction of both Batei Mikdash, the Holy Temples in Jerusalem, and the endless suffering our people have endured throughout history.
After three weeks of intensifying grief and sorrow, the Jewish soul yearns for healing. And so, we are gifted with what our Sages call the “Shiva d’Nechemta,” the Seven Weeks of Consolation. These seven Shabbatot that follow Tisha B’Av are filled with prophetic readings of comfort and hope, gently guiding our aching hearts back toward wholeness. They are not just calendar notations – they are lifelines.
But one question has always lingered in my mind: Why seven weeks of comfort, but only three of mourning? The period leading up to Tisha B’Av, known as the Three Weeks, includes three Shabbatot, Shabbatot d’Puranuta, focused on warning, punishment, and destruction. Should not the sorrow, the pain, require just as much attention as the healing?
And yet, perhaps therein lies a profound truth. Destruction, after all, is swift. A moment of rage, an act of hate, a careless word – these can tear down what took years to build. The First Temple stood for over four centuries, the Second for nearly as long, but both were reduced to rubble in a matter of days. A stone is laid slowly, lovingly; fire devours in an instant.
To destroy is easy. To build is sacred, slow, and infinitely more precious.
We have seen this truth unfold in our own times. The Twin Towers, towering symbols of modern human achievement, took years to design and build. Thousands of men and women devoted themselves to every detail of those structures. Yet in one horrifying morning on September 11, 2001, they crumbled to ash. Thousands of lives were extinguished. Dreams, families, hopes shattered in a moment.
We have seen it, too, in the brutal acts of terrorism and war that desecrate our world. One violent incident – October 7 – when we witnessed murder, sexual assault, and barbarism by an enemy that has no bounds for their hate can leave a community reeling for generations. Entire worlds are collapsed in seconds. And rebuilding? That can take lifetimes.
This, perhaps, is why the prophetic comfort must outlast the mourning. Three weeks are enough to remember how we fell, but we need seven to begin to rise again. Seven weeks to learn again how to breathe, how to believe, how to trust, how to love. Seven weeks to replace the image of the flames with the vision of a better world.
It’s not just true of nations or buildings; it’s true of our relationships. A loving bond between two people, built over years of shared joys, vulnerabilities, and trust, can be destroyed by a single angry word. In Yiddish, there’s a saying: “A shmeis dergeht, ober a vort derbleibt” – A slap may fade, but a word lingers forever. Words can wound more deeply than we realize.
It is no coincidence that our Sages teach that the Second Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred, and more specifically, because of lashon hara, destructive speech. The tongue is a powerful tool. With it, we can build relationships, communities, and futures, or we can tear them down. Our Sages even describe how someone who engages in lashon hara is afflicted with tzara’at (a spiritual leprosy) and must isolate outside the camp. Why? Because someone who can’t control their speech has, in essence, already severed their ties to the community.
If we can’t use our words with care, we don’t deserve to live among those we love.
That’s why the very first Torah portion after Tisha B’Av begins with the words “Va’etchanan el Hashem” – And I pleaded with G-d. Moses, the great leader of our people, offers up a prayer, humble, raw, filled with yearning. After all the pain, after all the brokenness, we learn the first step of rebuilding: turning to G-d in prayer.
Instead of misusing our words to gossip, to judge, to hurt, we now learn to direct them upward. Prayer is the rebuilding of our spirit, word by healing word. It is speech with purpose, speech that uplifts rather than destroys.
Each of these seven weeks of consolation is a Divine embrace, a reminder that despite our brokenness, we are never abandoned. G-d, in His infinite compassion, doesn’t just leave us in the ruins. He sends us comfort – sevenfold.
We are told that the Third Temple will be a building not of stone, but of spirit – eternal, indestructible. It will rise not from blueprints and scaffolding, but from our acts of kindness, our careful speech, our commitment to rebuild what hate has torn down.
This is our task now, in these precious weeks of healing. To build again; not just buildings, but hearts, relationships. Trust, and compassion.
Let us use our voices wisely. Let our words be prayers. Let our hearts be soft and open. And may the comfort we find now not only heal our past, but shape a future filled with peace, love, and the ultimate redemption.
May we see the rebuilding of the Third Temple speedily in our days. Amen.
