This Shabbat, we’ll enter the Jewish month of Av. Like many Jewish months, Av invites us into specific spiritual and emotional experiences. And more than almost any other Jewish month, Av invites us to go on a journey through a wide array of emotional experiences — almost dizzying in their variety.
The opening days of Av are called, in Jewish tradition, “the nine days” — a lead up to Tisha B’Av (the ninth of Av), which commemorates the destruction of the first and second Temples in Jerusalem, as well as other calamitous events in Jewish history. The nine days (and Tisha B’Av itself, especially) are traditionally a time for introspection and mourning — jarringly, during some of the brightest and hottest days of summer.
And then suddenly, after Tisha B’Av, with many days of Av still left to go, Jewish tradition invites us to take a turn, from mourning to new beginnings. We switch to a series of haftarot (weekly Shabbat morning readings from the Prophets) focused on consolation and hope — the possibility of rebuilding after destruction, of change and growth even after terrible loss. And six days after Tisha B’Av, the Jewish calendar takes us to Tu B’Av (the fifteenth of Av) — a holiday all about love, and connection.
If you have never commemorated either of these holidays, neither Tisha B’Av nor Tu B’Av, you are far from alone — and a different weekly e-letter might go into greater depth about the historical and ideological reasons these days are not universally marked in the Jewish world. (Parenthetically, I’ll recommend the sermon Rabbi Schwartzman gave last Rosh Hashanah for a brief exploration of some of the reasons one might, or might not, commemorate Tisha B’Av, and this short article from the JWA for a brief exploration of Tu B’Av’s [pretty fascinating] history.) For now, I’d love to direct our attention to a different aspect of these holidays: the way they invite us (if we choose) into experiences of mourning and joy in such quick succession.
What are we to make of this juxtaposition? Each year, I am struck by a different aspect of Tisha B’Av and Tu B’Av, and the nature of the bridge between them. This year, what feels most present is this: we are living through a time, locally and globally, of terrible loss, and terrible destruction. Mourning (or the numbness that can come before it or the exhaustion that can come after it, or anything in between) is very present and very central for many of us, whether for these systemic reasons, for personal reasons, or both. And simultaneously, in many of our lives, there are also strong tendrils of joy, and of hope. This year Av will contain the first TRS B’nai Mitzvah ceremonies of the 2025-2026 school year … the weddings of many wonderful people in our community, and children and family and friends of people in our community … the births of some of our newest loved ones … and hopefully, some pretty good vacations, too.
In other words, many of us walk the dizzying tightrope between grief and celebration frequently — sometimes multiple times in a given week. Maybe we don’t need the juxtaposition of Tisha B’Av and Tu B’Av to remind us that this tightrope exists, and that walking it is possible. But then again, maybe sometimes we do? Because Tisha B’Av and Tu B’Av are not just reminders that it is possible to transition from grief, to hope, to joy … they are also invitations to encounter each of these feelings deeply, and on their own terms. And to explore the ways that love can sometimes be a thread through all of them.
Grief. (Love.) Hope. (Love.) Joy. (Love.) What would our lives look like if we let each of these in?
And what would our lives look like if we were present (or as present as we could be) with the grief, hope, joy, and love of the people around us?
These are some of the questions posed by the month of Av — and there can be, perhaps, as many answers as there are people contemplating the questions.
However this month ahead unfolds for you, I hope that it is full of connection, full of meaning, and full of love.
Chodesh Tov, and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alexandra Stein
