Tisha B’Av

The deepest question of Tisha B’Av may not be simply, “What happened to Jerusalem?” It may be: What kind of people can dwell securely in the presence of G-d?

The Ninth of Av remembers the destruction of the First and Second Temples, the devastation of Jerusalem, exile from the Land, and later calamities associated with the long history of Jewish suffering. Yet Tisha B’Av does more than preserve the memory of catastrophe. It refuses to accept catastrophe as the proper order of things.

That refusal is rooted in the opening chapters of Genesis. The world spoken into existence by G-d was repeatedly called good and, finally, “very good.” Within that vision, destruction and death cannot be treated as the proper or final order of creation. They stand against a world originally marked by life, fruitfulness, harmony, and divine blessing.

Jerusalem’s destruction is not accepted as normal merely because it happened long ago. The Temple’s absence is not treated as insignificant because generations have learned to live without it. The mourning itself declares that something is wrong. Ruin may become familiar, but familiarity does not make it good.

The grief of Tisha B’Av therefore contains hope. One mourns because the loss is real, but also because destruction does not possess the final authority to define reality. Jerusalem’s ruins are remembered against the goodness of creation and the prophetic promises of return, restoration, and comfort.

This raises an enduring question: Can divine judgment coexist with divine faithfulness?

The Hebrew Scriptures answer yes. Judgment is not the opposite of faithfulness when justice and lovingkindness coexist within the character of G-d. Micah’s instruction—to do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with G-d—does not place these virtues in opposition. Justice without kindness can become merciless; kindness without justice can become moral indifference. In the biblical vision, the two belong together.

Jerusalem’s destruction can therefore be understood as judgment without concluding that G-d abandoned Israel. Exile did not cancel election. Discipline did not annul covenant. The prophets repeatedly move from accusation to promise, from desolation to return, and from judgment to consolation.

The same G-d who permitted scattering also promised gathering.

The vision of the nations presented in Deuteronomy 32 deepens this understanding. Israel is not described merely as one people among many, produced by ordinary historical forces. Throughout the Torah, Israel’s identity arises from G-d’s calling, covenant, and deliverance. Deuteronomy describes Jacob as the LORD’s portion and allotted inheritance.

That identity does not begin with political sovereignty, military strength, or cultural achievement. It begins with the will and calling of G-d.

Foreign empires could therefore conquer Jerusalem without revoking Israel’s identity. Babylon could destroy the First Temple. Rome could destroy the Second. Neither could erase the word by which Israel had been constituted as a people.

Jewish memory, Torah study, prayer, family life, and communal practice all became means of preservation through centuries of exile. Yet the covenant did not originate in human persistence. Israel endured because Israel first belonged to G-d.

This framework also gives profound significance to the modern return of Jewish people to the Land.

Care is necessary when interpreting political events through Scripture. No modern government is beyond moral examination, and no political action becomes righteous merely because it is carried out by a Jewish state. Yet the return of the Jewish people to their ancestral homeland after centuries of dispersion cannot be easily separated from the biblical pattern of gathering. At the very least, it resonates with an ancient identity that was never extinguished.