Rabbi Rael Blumenthal

The dark clouds of the three weeks have finally lifted. Meat and wine have returned to the menus, and music fills our homes and cars. The laundry that has piled up is finally getting washed.

With Tisha B’av behind us, the Halacha instructs us to move on.

The Maharil writes that on this Shabbos, Shabbos Nachamu, one should celebrate and enjoy. Doing anything less represents an insufficient Emunah in the coming of Mashiach.

We are to leave Tisha B'av with the hope, faith and yearning that, Be'ezras Hashem, this was our last Tisha B'av. Indeed we find that no communities continue the mourning of Av beyond the 10th day of the month.

But all of this is true for a normal year.

During a normal year, the invitation of the Navi to be comforted on Shabbos Nachamu is a welcome change of pace and focus.

Not this year; this year is different. The horrors of October 7th have not ended. The wounds of war are not only fresh, they are still being inflicted upon the hostages, the Chayalim and so many families from North to South.

On a national level, Klal Yisrael cannot be comforted. The pain is not yet behind us. Like Rachel Imeinu, thousands of Jewish mothers refuse to be comforted רָחֵל מְבַכָּה עַל־בָּנֶיהָ מֵאֲנָה לְהִנָּחֵם עַל־בָּנֶיהָ כִּי אֵינֶנּוּ – Rachel weeping for her children. She refuses to be comforted For her children, who are gone.

As the fleishic restaurants reopen, as the music blares once again, as we read Nachamu Nachamu Ami, we wonder whether comfort is really achievable.

Tragically, while this question is new to our generation, it has bothered our ancestors for far longer.

The Sfas Emes (ואתחנן תרנ”ו) broaching these exceedingly difficult emotions, explains that the comfort offered by the Hashem is not an attempt to move on at all.

Instead, Hashem is giving us the tools to continuing moving through:

נחמו נחמו עמי יאמר אלקיכם פי' שיש די באלקותו ית' לנחם בזה על כל הצרות שעוברין עלינו תמיד Be comforted, says Hashem, in the knowledge that you are Mine and I am with you. And in this connection there is comfort for the pain that we are moving through.

It is true, that there is a certain comfort in knowing that the pain is behind us. But there is a different type of comfort that comes with knowing we are not alone; that Hashem is still with us.

This is the comfort that Sapir Cohen spoke about on Tisha B’av when she described Hashem being with her in the tunnels under Gaza. Somehow from the horrors and terrors of Hamas captivity she emerged stronger, empowered and connected to Hashem.

Her incredible Emunah reminds me of story that Chassidim tell about Reb Shmuel Munkis, a chassid of the Baal HaTanya.

It happened that a fire broke started and before anyone could stop it, Reb Shmuel’s home was engulfed in flames. As his family rushed to safety, Reb Shmuel watched all of his worldly possessions consumed by the fire.

When the smoke cleared, he began digging through the rubble, trying to salvage anything that remained, and from everything he owned, all he could find was one bottle of vodka.

He ran to the Beis HaMedrash and called everyone to make a l'chaim with him as he danced around the shul singing “She'lo asani goy – Thank you Hashem for making me a Jew.”

His friends and colleagues assumed that he had gone crazy.

“No,” he explained, “You don’t get it. If I were not Jewish, Chas V'Shalom, and my home burned down, then my idols, my gods, everything I valued would have burned along with it. But Hakadosh Baruch Hu is everywhere. I still have Hashem.”

Shabbos Nachamu is not coming to mitigate or manage our national trauma, it comes to strengthen us by showing us who we are, and Who stands beside us.

When Tisha B'av takes everything away, we can still find HaKadosh Baruch Hu in our live.

On Tisha B'av morning, we don't wear tefillin, we don't learn Torah, we don't even greet each other. We are forced to ask ourselves: Without my external displays of Judaism, my rituals, practices, community and friends, do I still have a relationship with Hashem?

The answer, נחמו נחמו עמי, is that the essence of who we are, the most irreducible part my being, is that I am a Jew. No one can take that away from us.

Thus Moshe Rabbeinu explains in our parsha, that even in the most difficult times, during exile and hardship:

וּבִקַּשְׁתֶּם מִשָּׁם אֶת־ה׳ אֱלֹקיךָ וּמָצָאתָ But from there you will seek the Hashem your God; and you will find Him...

The Yid HaKadosh of Pshischa would explain that Hashem hands a “Shtar-Chov”, a promissory note, to each and every Jew. On it, it reads: If you look for HaKadosh Baruch Hu you'll find Him, no matter where you are, no matter what is happening to you or around you.

A number of years ago, man wrote to the Lubavitcher Rebbe about his concern for his young granddaughter who was flying from London to New York.

He decided to request the Rebbe’s blessing for the child, who was “traveling as an unaccompanied minor.”

In response, the Rebbe simply crossed out the prefix ‘un’ in the word “unaccompanied” and added the phrase “...by Hashem.”

The man’s note was returned to him, now stating: “My granddaughter is traveling accompanied by Hashem.”

This is the comfort of Shabbos Nachamu for a nation that cannot be comforted. Hashem is promising us that He’s not going anywhere; He’s here with us, ready and waiting to dry our tears and take us home. May we merit to see it soon.