audio shiurim on Teshuva and Yom Kippur

Here are some audio shiurim on Teshuva and Yom Kippur

Yom Kippur and Transcendence

http://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/749091/Rabbi_Ari_Kahn/Yom_Kippur_and_Transcendence

Repercussion of Sin

http://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/748720/Rabbi_Ari_Kahn/Repercussion_of_Sin

The Teshuva of Resh Lakish

http://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/748186/Rabbi_Ari_Kahn/The_Teshuva_of_Resh_Lakish

The Ten Days of Teshuva
http://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/764427/Rabbi_Ari_Kahn/The_Ten_Days_of_Teshuva

Teshuva; Personal Re-Creation
http://www.yutorah.org/lectures/lecture.cfm/764565/Rabbi_Ari_Kahn/Teshuva;_Personal_Re-Creation

Parshat KiTezei

Parshat KiTezei

2 Essays

http://arikahn.blogspot.com/2010/08/parshat-ki-tetzei-5570-of-love-and.html

http://arikahn.blogspot.com/2009/08/parshat-ki-teze-5769.html

4 audio Lectures:

http://rabbiarikahn.com/Audio.php?ID=72&Shiur=Parsha

http://rabbiarikahn.com/Audio.php?ID=73&Shiur=Parsha

http://rabbiarikahn.com/Audio.php?ID=74&Shiur=Parsha

http://rabbiarikahn.com/Audio.php?ID=75&Shiur=Parsha

Teshuva, Tefilah, Zedakah and Zechut Avot

Teshuva, Tefilah, Zedakah and Zechut Avot

(Repentance, Prayer, Charity and Ancestral Merit)

Rabbi Ari D. Kahn

This is a true story written with the permission and blessing of those involved.

The phone rang during the nine days leading up to Tisha Bav. This is normally a time of sadness and mourning, a poignant reminder that the Temple remains unbuilt and the world unredeemed. The present climate in Israel makes matters even worse: ringing phones cause unease. With this combination of the political quagmire and the calendric situation, the last thing I expected was good news.

The voice at the other end of the phone was an old friend of my wife's family, calling from America to tell us that she was engaged to be married. This was wonderful news; this woman had passed her 35th birthday, and she had begun to doubt whether she would ever marry.

After the requisite "mazel tov" came the more important questions: "Who?" "Where?"

"When? It was here that the intrigue began:

"Well, the wedding will be as soon as possible."

"Basically we want to elope, and we want to get married in Israel."

"Well, he is not really religious..."

While the first two answers had a certain logic to them, in view of the age and circumstances of the couple, the third seemed most confounding. This woman was raised in what is known as a "modern orthodox" home. At some point in her early adulthood, she had strayed somewhat from some of the beliefs of her youth, only to return subsequently with even greater dedication. The most difficult challenge she endured was the sudden death of her father when she was 15.

As an adult she became very active in the Jewish community and outreach, bringing a great many estranged Jews to Shabbat meals and other communal activities that introduced them to Judaism. By this point, she had been learning Torah regularly for quite some time, and had grown to be a leader in her community, known for her charitable activities, but more importantly for encouraging others to become similarly involved.

She was now exploring the possibility of my performing her wedding in Israel in less than two weeks, to a man who did not seem to share the same ideals. Was this simply the case of a woman whose biological clock was ticking so loudly that she could no longer think clearly?

The groom would be flying to Israel the following day, she said, and I would have the opportunity to meet him and speak to him. Only then would we continue our conversation. In the meantime, there were so many wedding arrangements to be organized; fortunately, countless friends materialized, all willing to help put together a wedding in less than two weeks.

A special ketubah was commissioned from a local artist; I needed to make sure that the names were written correctly, and it was only then that I asked his name. She said, "It is Landau and he is a Levi"

I said "Landau - a Levi? Could he be a descendant of Rav Yechezkel Landau"?

She asked "Who is that?" I answered, "One of the great Rabbis of the 18th century. His surname was Landau and he, too, was a Levi."

"I don't think there are any rabbis in his family, but he is a Levi."

With that the conversation came to an end.

I met him a few days later. He was everything she wasn't: She is a New Yorker, brought up on Long Island, he is a southern gentleman with a thick twang, developed over years in Memphis and Texas. Standing in front of me was a former United States Marine, who now teaches high school history, along with being a football and wrestling coach. He was polite, dignified, and he had passion. He had a deep understanding that Israel is "the Lord's Land" and that the Jews are "the Lord's People". These basic Jewish beliefs were engraved deep in his heart.

As a former Marine, he offered a number of suggestions for quickly and permanently solving the Middle East crisis; diplomacy was not among them. I found him engaging and interesting, yet I still was not convinced that this union was made in heaven.

We headed over to the offices of the Religious Council, where the marriage would need to be registered. We arrived at 12:06; the office apparently closed at 12:00. I went over to the gentleman in the booth, and explained that we needed to open a file for a wedding. "Impossible. The office is closed." "But the wedding is in less than 10 days," I said. He looked at me incredulously and said "Impossible. It takes at least two weeks for a file to be processed". After a minute of negotiations he sent me to Rabbi Ralbag, the man in charge, so that he could tell me officially that this was impossible. As far as I was concerned, we were on our way out.

We entered the office of the Rabbi, who recognized me, and I introduced my new friend. When Rabbi Ralbag heard the name Landau - he, too, said: "You could be from the family of the Noda B'Yehuda". I informed the Rabbi that Mr. Landau is a Levi, strengthening his assumption. Meanwhile, we opened up the envelope the groom had brought with him from the U.S.;  I had instructed them earlier to bring signed affidavits establishing their marital status and Jewishness in order to expedite the registration process. The groom produced a letter written by Rabbi Ephraim Greenblatt of Memphis, a well- known author and sage who was raised in Jerusalem, but traveled to America years ago to learn with Rav Moshe Feinstein and was sent to Memphis to lead the Jewish community there.

Rabbi Greenblatt wrote that he knew the family and in fact had attended the brit mila (circumcision) of the groom forty-one years ago. He then added that the reader should be aware that Mr. Landau is indeed a descendant of the Noda B'Yehuda - seven generations removed. Rabbi Ralbag and I looked at one another, appreciating the significance of his lineage, while the groom was somewhat nonchalant, not really appreciating the importance of his own lineage.

The file was quickly opened, and we were on our way. I suspected that I might have just witnessed a little intercession from above which helped open closed doors and, more impressively, subdue Israeli Bureaucracy.

I called the bride and I reported the progress we had made. I questioned her again, more closely, to make sure that she had really thought this decision through. She told me that he loves her, that he will care for her, that he is ready to make a commitment. So may of the men she met in NY who were her age had their eyes open only for younger women. So many had "commitment issues", or in their words, "enjoyed their 'freedom' ". She felt on a core level, on a soul level, that this was right. She felt that together they could build something great. She felt God had sent him her way. She felt that once in a Jewish environment, he would grow: He is interested and committed to growth, and he was sure from the day they met that they would marry - to him it was "fate".  She convinced me that this was "meant to be".

Who was I to argue? He was a man of sterling character, consistent, decent; he was a good man. What he lacked was merely a bit of outward religious trappings and some ritual behavior.  Our sages tell us that character is far more difficult to change than practice, yet I remained unsettled.

Before we hung up, I recalled the letter written by Rabbi Greenblatt, and informed her that indeed her soon-to-be-husband comes from a leading rabbinic family and that he is the seventh generation from the Noda B'Yehuda.

Again, she asked "Who is that?"

I responded "He was a leading Rabbi a little more than 200 years ago. While the Vilna Gaon sat and studied in Vilna this man was considered to be the greatest decider of Halacha of his time. He lived in Prague, and questions poured in from all over the world for his opinion. His full name was Rabbi Yechezkel ben Yehudah Landau (1713 -1793).

She said "wow".

A day later I get another call from the bride; this time she was far more excited. "You won't believe this," she gushed. She mentioned the Noda B'Yehuda connection to one of her closest friends, who responded by saying "Don't move". Her friend quickly went into the next room and brought back a photo album. There was a picture taken one year earlier. These two friends, both single, had decided to accompany Rebbitzen Esther Jungreiss to Prague, to pray at the graves of righteous Jews. The bride's friend held up one picture:  There was the bride, praying by the grave of Rav Yechezkal Landau, the famed Noda B'Yehuda, asking him to open some gates in heaven and help her find her "soul mate".

As she told me this, things finally became clear: She had traveled to the grave of the Noda B'Yehuda and asked to meet her soul mate. The Noda B'Yehuda apparently offered a "deal" - I will introduce you to my own great-great-great grandson on condition that you bring him a bit closer to our heritage.

The wedding was on the porch of the Aish HaTorah building overlooking the Kotel. The day was Tu B'av. Despite trying to "elope," a crowd of people would not let this wedding happen quietly. They boarded a plane and came to Israel, despite "the situation", in order to rejoice with bride and groom. As we were preparing the ketubah for signing, an elderly, distinguished-looking rabbi appeared; I looked up and introduced myself, and he identified himself as Rabbi Efraim Greenblatt. He was in Israel for a visit, and he felt he should attend the wedding. Soon other leading rabbis appeared: a Kabbalist appeared, soon a leading Chabad Rabbi, Simon Jacobson joined. We marched and danced both bride and groom to the chupah. The bride's father, as I mentioned earlier, passed away years ago, and her mother was unable to fly. The groom's parents were unable to make the wedding, but the bride and groom each had a brother accompany them, together with close friends.

There was a power to that wedding the likes of which I had never felt; perhaps the location helped, but there was something more. There was electricity in the air, the music was intense, people sang and sang as we prepared for the actual ceremony. The Shechinah could be felt. This wasn't just my subjective feeling; every person present I spoke to later told me "they felt something".

I know that her father was smiling down, watching his only daughter get married. He was a kind man, a charitable man. In fact, when Rebbetzen Jungreiss first started her "mission" 27 years ago, he was the first to hold a "parlor meeting" for her in order to raise much-needed funds.

But I am sure that there was another presence there: the spirit of the Noda B'Yehuda, Rabbi Yechezkal ben Yehudah Landau, looking down, enjoying this marriage - which was certainly arranged in heaven.

As Yom Kippur approaches I think back to that wedding. Our sages tell us that the happiest days in the calendar were Yom Kippur and Tu Bav: Yom Kippur was day of forgiveness and Tu Bav was a day of marriages. On both of these days people would dance in the streets.

This Yom Kippur we should all remember that we, too, have connections in heaven. Perhaps some of us have more famous ancestors than others, but we should remind ourselves that we are all descendants of Avraham and Sarah, Yitzchak and Rivkah, and Yaakov and Leah and Rachel. These are our ancestors. But more importantly, every time we say "Avinu Malkenu" we should remember that we have a Father in heaven who is capable of "pulling strings".

We all need to do some Teshuva, to improve at least one area of our lives. We need to give Tzdaka (and encourage others to do the same!) and we all need to call out to our Father in Heaven, who is capable of changing and liberating the entire world "in the blink of an eye", and of intervening in even the most intimate details of each individual's life.

He can even help two people find one another, and happiness.

Gmar Chatima Tova.

(c) Rabbi Ari D. Kahn

Amuka

According to R. Meir Wunder (book review of Or Hagalil – in Hatzofe 10 Av 5736 – cited in TMOAG page 688) the "custom" of traveling to Amuka looking for a Zivug is no older than 1953 – when a tour company responded to the pleas of a spinster – to find a special place to pray for a match.

The claim that Rav Yonatan ben Uziel is buried in Amuka can be found in a document 1000 years after his death – the veracity of this tradition has been challenged. This document was only revealed in the 20^th century as it had been in the Geniza in Cairo

The claim that Rav Yonatan ben Uziel was never married has no basis

The claim that he told people to pray at his grave apparently has no basis

I think the way it works is a lot of single people go there…

See http://shelomoalfassa.blogspot.com/2011/06/myth-of-praying-at-amuka-for-spouse-ben.html

See The Making of a Gadol Rabbi Nathan Kamenetsky volume one page 688-689 and footnotes

Halacha and the Internet

Halacha and the Internet

Rabbi Ari D. Kahn

While Jews, especially traditional ones, seem to have an aversion to the concept of evolution, halacha itself, the stuff of which Jewish observance is made, may be seen as evolving. We who accept that Torah is the Word of God, and that the Written and Oral Torah were given to us, through Moshe, are aware that, as new situations arise, halacha adapts – has always adapted -  in an evolutionary rather than a revolutionary fashion. 

At times, though, catalysts of more dramatic change present themselves: Cataclysms, especially those that cause massive population shifts, tend to impact halachic thinking and action in more discernable increments. Nonetheless, we may say that halacha is impacted and affected, rather than pointing to blatant, obvious "changes." Part of the impact is due to what and how people learn.[1]

Throughout Jewish history, catastrophe has often given rise to the perceived need to collect data, to preserve what runs the risk of being lost. Thus, after the destruction of the First Beit Hamikdash we find the canonization of Tanach. After the destruction of the Second Beit Hamikdash, the Bar Kochva rebellion and Hadrionic persecution, the Mishna emerged in an edited form. After a major earthquake destroyed the north of Israel, the Talmud Yerushalmi was edited. In the wake of the Spanish Inquisition, the Shulchan Oruch emerged. This reaction, which we may call "preservation as a means of self-preservation," is not always immediate, but the pattern of reactive codification and archiving is unmistakable.

This pattern may be evident in our own generation: In the aftermath of the Holocaust, countless collections of data have been published, books that gather and preserve what might otherwise be lost. The reaction to such large-scale tragedy and loss seems, once again, to be an urge to preserve, a self-preservation instinct translated into self-preservation of our heritage, our collective memory, our cumulative and accumulated knowledge. Creativity, it would seem, is spurred by a different type of atmosphere, one which encourages the individual to express himself and suggest new and bold ideas.

To be sure, these trends are not absolute, iron-clad rules: Every generation, even those living in the shadow of catastrophe, has had some chidush, some new and creative idea, alongside the compilations and collections. In fact, a careful look at the interplay of political and intellectual history indicates that the ebb and flow of originality and compilation is often independent of political or geo-political events: Sometimes it is not the catastrophic or the idyllic conditions which affect learning, but new realities or inventions that are the impetus for intellectual changes of focus. The most easily identified case in point is the advent of the printing press. Some scholars[2] go so far as to cite the invention of the printing press as the major factor in the delineation between the Rishonim and the Achronim: Precious books that had been painstakingly copied by hand suddenly became available and accessible, making what had once been  rare and treasured texts commonplace. This same technological advance actually changed the way we think and the way we learn, shifting the process of learning away from the teacher and toward the information stored and disseminated in books. Ironically, the wealth of information made available to ever-increasing numbers of readers by the printing press was, in some ways, a double-edged sword, as it engendered a weakening of the mesorah[3] and sacrificed quality of understanding for quantity of information.

In our generation, the access to books and information is unparalleled, and the collections in individual homes are often staggering compared to the meager offerings of the libraries of yesteryear.[4] But there is another factor in the information explosion, a factor far more powerful and far-reaching: the computer. Today's personal computer can contain many more books, as well as search programs that allow almost instant access to more information, than most of the greatest of rabbis and poskim ever saw. Today's compilers and collectors of information will have more data at their fingertips than scholars of previous generations could have imagined, and the challenge will often be what not to include rather than the search for relevant sources. Today, learning requires a modified set of skills: those who learn with the aid of computers and search programs must be skilled at triage, whereas the ability to identify and access sources has become passé.

As has been lamented by some, in this generation more and more books appear about more and more obscure laws, blessings and customs. The endless data evolves into a peculiar genre of halachic writing that tends to be stringent in its conclusions, especially when written in English. If leniencies can be found, more often than not they are buried in footnotes, often written only in Hebrew. As a result, only scholars have unfettered access to leniencies, while the layperson will be guided toward strict or even overly-strict opinions. The ever-growing number of books of this ilk is clearly at least partially responsible for the growing radicalism in observance, adding fuel to the sociological engine that powers the increasing tendency to adopt strict[5] opinions as mainstream practice.[6]

There is another facet of the personal computing revolution that has become a significant factor in changing the way halacha is learned, transmitted, and observed, one that also provides mindboggling quantities of information: the internet. Traditionally, searching for halachic guidance has meant earnestly learning the relevant sugya in the Gemara and Rishonim and then consulting the  siman or  s'if in the Shulchan Aruch, relevant responsa literature and later authorities; today, many people have increasingly begun to simply look where they have become accustomed to looking for all other information: on the internet. Instead of seeking the opinion of the Gadol Hador, we are the generation that turns to Google - Dor HaGoogle.

As in many other aspects of the "world wide web," the search for halacha is a mixed bag. While some sites have a plethora of quality classes, lectures and articles on all aspects of Jewish thought and law, there are many other sites that contain information of wildly divergent quality and reliability. In addition, all types of “discussions” may be found on blogs, where the banter is anonymous and participants feel free to hurl invectives, insults and even give “rulings” on matters of Jewish thought and practice. As often as not, the ideas and opinions expressed on blogs are not authoritative, or may be nothing more than one anonymous individual's opinion. Often, these blog discussions are illustrative of the confluence of several modern trends: A halachic discussion on the web may be nothing more than a cycle in which one blogger quotes an overly stringent ruling or opinion found in a modern English halachic compilation, and respondents express the almost inevitable backlash to the trend of creeping stringency. Even when bona fide halachic rulings are quoted, these were originally handed down regarding a particular, specific or even an extreme circumstance. Such opinions often pass as general and binding “halacha” in discussion blogs of this sort. The result is a type of discourse so devoid of seriousness as to be unparalleled in the annals of Jewish learning.

And yet, as bad as this phenomenon is for the halachic community and for the integrity of Jewish learning, it is far less insidious than some of the other uses to which bloggers put the internet. There is something even worse than this misguided but innocent give-and-take between those who quote overly-stringent popular halachic literature and those who respond and react out of frustration: There are others who use blog discussions and websites to advance their own revolutionary agendas, who seek to change the mesorah by changing what is meant by halacha or even the need for halacha. We may go so far as to say that the disconnection of the halachic process from personal contact between the layperson and his or her spiritual and halachic mentor has unleashed the forces that had previously been held at bay by this very personal connection: Individuals and groups that seek to undermine the evolutionary processes that have enabled Jewish communities to respond and adapt to changing realities have become empowered by the internet, to an unprecedented degree. While these forces have existed in and around the halachic process for thousands of years, the counterbalance of direct contact with spiritual leaders has been replaced by equal and open access to a cold, impersonal computer screen that communicates specious ideas to vulnerable, isolated Jews.

Has the internet created a new epoch in Jewish history? Time will tell if the impact is of the same magnitude as the invention of the printing press, but there is at least one lesson to be learned from the Twentieth Century: Information cannot be suppressed. Rabbis, teachers and poskim must be prepared to lead and to teach laypeople who have more information than ever before - even if few may actually properly understand this information within the context of Jewish law and tradition. Religious leadership in the Twenty-First Century (and beyond) must take responsibility for capitalizing on the wealth of information available to all their students and followers, and create a new generation of learning with its own particular strengths. Today's Torah scholars are neither Rishonim nor Achronim; the learning of Slobodka and Volozhin is a memory, as is the psak of Rav Moshe Feinstein and Rav Henkin. Will the glut of information usher in an age of greater superficiality, or will it allow halachic minds, freed from the more mundane tasks of collecting source material, to reach new heights of creativity? Will the information explosion create a new watershed moment in Jewish intellectual history, akin to the line drawn between the Rishonim and Achronim? Will we be known as the generation of "Rav Google", a generation gorging itself on confusing or even useless information, or will we master the web and use it as a tool for deeper understanding?

As the masses turn to the internet for all manner of information, bona fide poskim or their proxies must create a web presence. Otherwise, random, renegade opinions - which to a great extent are the reaction to the overly simplistic, overly strict English language compilations of Jewish law - will have a deleterious impact on Jewish practice. Today’s generation will increasingly look on line; the question is, what will they find?

---

[1] See Hayim Soloveitchik, "Rupture And Reconstruction: The Transformation of Contemporary Orthodoxy." Tradition, Vol. 28, No. 4 (Summer 1994) http://www.lookstein.org/links/orthodoxy.htm

[2] See Shlomo Zalman Havlin: על 'החתימה הספרותית' כיסוד החלוקה לתקופות בהלכה","

 מחקרים בספרות התלמודית; יום עיון לרגל מלאת שמונים שנה לשאול ליברמן, ירושלים תשמ"ג עמ' 192-148 

[3] See Shlomo Zalman Havlin, "Bein Rishonim Lachronim B'inyanei Nusach"

http://www.daat.ac.il/daat/toshba/mechkar/nusach.htm

[4] Once when I was studying with Rabbi Yosef Dov Soloveitchik he went through a list of sefarim he had in his home growing up- quite a limited list indeed. He added that precisely because they had so few books, they learned everything in each book.

[5] Often, rulings which are deemed “strict” are not strict at all, rather the perception is due to ignorance or lax practices of previous generations – generations deprived of education by the ravages of war and persecution, exile and deprivation.

[6] There are certainly other factors as well: The baal teshuvah phenomenon which has, on the one hand, invigorated the observant community, while on the other hand it is a community generally devoid of masorah and lacking any mimetic tradition. This community necessarily embraces the written word, and is a major consumer of English language halachic literature. This is coupled with a psychological need of many among the newly observant to adopt extreme positions, perhaps as some type of "penance" for past behavior.

Another factor is the increasing acceptance by Diaspora communities of the customs of Israel, or more precisely the rulings of Israeli poskim from Bnei Braq and Yerushalayim. These customs are often the product of a society that consciously adopted stringent rulings which deviated from the rules of psak that had traditionally been accepted in the Diaspora. The motivation of these more stringent poskim of Eretz Yisrael was the notion that in order to “deserve” to settle the Land of Israel one should go beyond the letter of the law.

Tu b’Av

Dancing in the Streets

(Excerpt from Emanations)

The Fifteenth of Av (Tu b’Av) is a holiday of unclear significance. Although certain elements of the celebration of this day have captured the imagination of popular Israeli culture, the day itself remains obscure. While not specifically mentioned in the Torah, it is described by the Mishna at the end of Ta’anit by way of a surprising analogy: This hitherto unknown day is compared with Yom Kippur, arguably the holiest day of the year.[1]

R. Shimon ben Gamaliel said: There never were in Israel greater days of joy than the Fifteenth of Av and the Day of Atonement. On these days the daughters of Jerusalem used to walk out in white garments which they borrowed in order not to put to shame any one who had none. All these garments required ritual dipping. The daughters of Jerusalem came out and danced in the vineyards exclaiming at the same time, “Young man, lift up your eyes and see what you choose for yourself. Do not set your eyes on beauty but set your eyes on [good] family. ‘Grace is deceitful, and beauty is vain; but a woman that fears the Lord, she shall be praised’. And it further says, ‘Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her works praise her in the gates’. Likewise it says, ‘Go forth, o ye daughters of Zion, and gaze upon King Solomon, even upon the crown wherewith his mother had crowned him on the day of his espousals, and on the day of the gladness of his heart’. ‘On the day of his espousals:’ this refers to the day of the giving of the Law. ‘And in the day of the gladness of his heart:’ this refers to the building of the Temple; may it be rebuilt speedily in our days. (Ta’anit 26b)  

This Mishna is the concluding Mishna of the tractate of Ta’anit, which deals with fast days and the laws of fasting. The previous Mishna had taught the laws of the ninth of Av. Now the Mishna continues to the next day of importance in Av – Tu b’Av. Ostensibly, the intent of the Mishna is to end on a positive note, especially after all the tragedies enumerated in the previous section. Indeed, the Mishna concludes with the building of the Temple, clearly a cause for monumental joy.

A scene of dancing and celebration is described, raising two questions: First, the description of Yom Kippur as a day of song and celebration seems dissonant with our understanding of Yom Kippur. And secondly, what is the significance of Tu b’Av, and why did it deserve the same celebration as Yom Kippur?

The Talmud answers the first question while raising the second, explaining the joy of Yom Kippur while pondering Tu b’Av:

I can understand the Day of Atonement, because it is a day of forgiveness and pardon and on it the second Tablets of the Law were given, but what happened on the Fifteenth of Av? (Ta’anit 30b)

Ecstatic joy, which is absent from our contemporary experience of Yom Kippur, is taken for granted in the Talmud: The experience of Yom Kippur was palpably different in Temple times. We are told that the red string in the Temple turned white, serving as a veritable spiritual barometer of God’s forgiveness of man. When the people were shown this tangible sign of forgiveness, celebration erupted.

R. Yishmael said: But they had another sign too: a thread of crimson wool was tied to the door of the Temple, and when the he-goat reached the wilderness the thread turned white, as it is written: ‘Though your sins be as scarlet they shall be as white as snow’. (Yoma 68b)

They would accompany him (the Kohen Gadol) to his house. He would arrange for a day of festivity for his friends whenever he had come forth from the Sanctuary in peace. (Yoma 70b)

This type of joy was spontaneous, even though it was a yearly occurrence on Yom Kippur. Singing, dancing and celebration broke out all over. The women of Jerusalem began dancing in the vineyards. Marriage was on their minds. Perhaps this is the reference at the end of the Mishna:

‘On the day of his espousals:’ this refers to the day of the giving of the Law.

The Talmud had described Yom Kippur as a day of “forgiveness and pardon and on it the second Tablets of the Law were given.” Yom Kippur encapsulates the mutual commitment between the Jewish People and God. It is the day that the Jews finally took their vows and were forgiven for the indiscretion of the Golden Calf. The Seventeenth of Tammuz, the day Moshe first came down with the Tablets in hand, should have been the day when the Jews solidified their commitment with God; instead it became a day of infamy. The fate of the entire community was held in abeyance in the following weeks until Moshe was invited once again[2] to ascend the mount on the first day of Elul.  Forty days later, on the Tenth of Tishrei, the day celebrated henceforth as Yom Kippur, Moshe descended with the second Tablets, and with God’s message that He had forgiven the Jewish Nation. This is what the Mishna describes as “the day of his espousals”.[3]

This idea dovetails with the teaching that one’s wedding day is a day of personal forgiveness, and has a cathartic, “Yom Kippur- like” element.[4] For this reason, tradition dictates that bride and groom fast on their wedding day, an additional expression of the atoning powers of the day. This may also explain the choice of Torah reading for Yom Kippur afternoon: The section of the Torah that enumerates forbidden relations.  The backdrop of celebration in the streets explains the need, on this day more than others, for a warning against unmitigated, excessive frivolity, and a demarcation of forbidden relations.

While the celebratory aspect of Yom Kippur has been identified, the Fifteenth of Av remains elusive. The Talmud offers numerous explanations for the joy on that day:

Rav Yehdah said in the name of Shmuel: It is the day on which permission was granted to the tribes to inter-marry. … R. Yoseph said in the name of R. Nachman: It is the day on which the tribe of Binyamin was permitted to re-enter the congregation [following the episode of the concubine in Givah]. …Rabbah b. Bar Chanah said in the name of R. Yochanan: It is the day on which the generation of the wilderness ceased to die out. …‘Ulla said: It is the day on which Hoshea the son of Elah removed the guards which Yerovam the son of Nevat had placed on the roads to prevent Israel from going [up to Jerusalem] on pilgrimage, and he proclaimed ‘Let them go up to whichever shrine they desire.’ R. Mattenah said: It is the day when permission was granted for those killed at Betar to be buried. …Rabbah and R. Joseph both said: It is the day on which [every year] they ceased to fell trees for the altar. It has been taught: R. Eliezer the elder says: From the Fifteenth of Av onwards the strength of the sun grows less and they no longer felled trees for the altar, because they would not dry [sufficiently]. R. Menashya said: And they called it the Day of the Breaking of the Axe. From this day onwards, he who increases [his knowledge through study] will have his life prolonged, but he who does not increase [his knowledge] will have his life taken away. What is meant by ‘taken away’? — R. Yoseph learnt: Him his mother will bury. (Ta’anit 30b-31a)

While the Talmud offers six different causes for celebration on Tu b’Av, many of these reasons seem insufficient to justify the type and intensity of celebration described. At first glance the various explanations seem unrelated, but we may be able to find a common thread running through them by looking back to the first “Tu b’Av” ever celebrated:

R. Abin and R. Yochanan said: It was the day when the grave-digging ceased for those who died in the wilderness. R. Levi said: On every eve of the Ninth of Av Moshe used to send a herald throughout the camp and announce, ‘Go out to dig graves’; and they used to go out and dig graves in which they slept. On the morrow he sent out a herald to announce, ‘Arise and separate the dead from the living.’ They would then stand up and find themselves in round figures: 15,000 short of 600,000. In the last of the forty years, they acted similarly and found themselves in undiminished numerical strength. They said, ‘It appears that we erred in our calculation’; so they acted similarly on the nights of the 10th, 11th, 12th, 13th, and 14th. When the moon was full they said, ‘It seems that the Holy One, blessed be He, has annulled that decree from us all’; so they proceeded to make [the fifteenth] a holiday. Their sins caused it {the Ninth of Av}to become a day of mourning in this world, in the twofold destruction of the Temple. That is what is written,  ‘Therefore is my harp turned to mourning, and my pipe into the voice of them that weep.’ Hence, “And the people wept that night” (Bamidbar 14, 1). (Midrash Rabbah – Eichah, Prologue 33)

This description is certainly morbid, yet it succeeds in capturing the pathos of the yearly Tisha b’Av commemoration. The crying in the desert at the report of the spies created a negative paradigm for the rejection of the Land of Israel and it’s holiness, and even more, the rejection of God. The yearly commemoration of this breach of faith was systematic, inexorable: The entire generation of the Jews who had been redeemed from Egypt and crossed the Red Sea would die out in the desert. They had doubted God’s ability to complete His promise; they had rejected the Promised Land and their own destiny, and each year on this day of infamy they would dig their own graves and lie down in them, arising the next morning to take stock of their situation. The character of this day, the spiritual power of the paradigm unleashed at the sin of the spies, was revisited on future generations when Jews rejected the sacred. Tragedy struck over and over on this same date.

 The Fifteenth of Av marked the end of the death sentence for the sin of the spies. Only on the night of the Fifteenth, by the light of the full moon, could they be certain that the chapter of the spies was closed. This alone would be sufficient rationale for the Mishna of Ta’anit, regarding Tish’a b’Av, to conclude with a teaching about Tu b’Av: On a conceptual level, the Fifteenth marks the end of the Ninth of Av.[5] During First Temple times the people certainly did not fast on Tisha b’Av but they may have celebrated Tu b’Av.

The end of the death sentence is the main cause for celebration offered by the Sages. But what of the other explanations offered by the Talmud? Arguably the strangest of these relates to the pagan king[6] Hoshea the son of Elah. While it may be argued that he displayed remarkably liberal thinking and was not particular whether his constituents served foreign deities wherever they chose, or served God in the Beit HaMikdash, he certainly did not lead people toward Jerusalem, toward the service of God! Why would this be a cause for celebration? Hoshea’s decree reversed the nefarious deeds of his predecessor on the throne, Yerovam, yet even this reversal seems insufficient cause for celebration: Hoshea merely removed the guards charged with preventing pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Furthermore, during Hoshea’s reign the Ten Tribes were carried into captivity. He was not a leader to be remembered in song and celebration.

In order to understand the significance of Hoshea’s decree we must first understand the implications of Yerovam’s actions. Due to the spiritual failings of Shlomo, God wrested part of the monarchy from the Davidic family.

And it came to pass at that time when Yerovam went from Jerusalem, that the prophet Ahiya the Shilonite found him in the way; and he had clad himself with a new garment; and the two were alone in the field; And Ahiya caught the new garment that was on him, and tore it in twelve pieces; And he said to Yerovam, 'Take you ten pieces; for thus said the Lord, the God of Israel, 'Behold, I will tear the kingdom from the hand of Shlomo, and will give ten tribes to you; But he shall have one tribe for my servant David’s sake, and for Jerusalem’s sake, the city which I have chosen from all the tribes of Israel; (1 Melachim 11:29-32)

Yerovam ignored God’s plan and built an alternative place of worship in an attempt to deter the people from Jerusalem, and, perhaps, allegiance to the Family of David. Motivated by jealousy, totally misdirected and self-centered, Yerovam did the unthinkable: he built places of worship replete with Golden Calves:

Then Yerovam built Sh'chem in Mount Ephraim, and lived there; and went out from there, and built Penuel. And Yerovam said in his heart, 'Now shall the kingdom return to the House of David; If this People go up to do sacrifice in the House of the Lord at Jerusalem, then shall the heart of this People turn back to their Lord, to Rehavam King of Yehudah, and they shall kill me, and go back to Rehavam King of Yehudah. (1 Melachim  12:25-27)

And the king took counsel, and made two calves of gold, and said to them, ‘It is too much for you to go up to Jerusalem; behold your gods, O Israel, which brought you out of the land of Egypt. And he set one in Beit-El, and the other he placed in Dan. (1 Kings 12:28,29)

Unlike Yerovam, Hoshea was not afraid or jealous of Jerusalem or the Davidic dynasty. He may have been an idolater, but he was not filled with spiritually self-destructive hatred. Thus, Hoshea removes the guards stationed by Yerovam, indicating healing from the hatred and jealousy, and the possibility of reconciliation.

This observation will help us reveal the message our Sages were trying to convey. The sages associated the destruction of the Temple with the sin of baseless hatred,[7] which has its roots in the fratricide perpetrated by Cain. This strand of baseless hatred is first discerned within the Jewish community in the hatred of the sons of Leah toward the sons of Rachel. Yerovam’s scheme should be seen within this context, proving that a son of Rachel could be just as bad, if not worse than the sons of Leah.

The Temple in Jerusalem was a manifestation of the unity of Israel, bringing together diverse spiritual attributes within the community of Israel. The primary tribes are Yehuda, descendents of the son of Leah who would one day be kings, and the tribe of Yosef, descendents of the favorite son, the son of Rachel. It may be argued that had the sons of Ya’akov been able to unite, the Temple would have stood in the portion of Yosef (Jerusalem) and the seat of the monarchy would have been in the realm of Yehuda. With the sons of Rachel and Leah united, this Temple would never have fallen. Unfortunately, the brothers are never able to resolve their differences with Yosef.  The son of Rachel who becomes the unifying symbol of the people is Binyamin, and the Temple eventually stands in his portion. This explains the tears of Yosef and Binyamin at the moment when Yosef reveals himself to his brothers:[8]

And he fell upon his brother Binyamin’s neck, and wept; and Binyamin wept upon his neck. (Bereishit 45:14)

R. Eleazar said: He wept for the two Temples destined to be in the territory of Binyamin and to be destroyed. And Binyamin wept upon his neck: he wept for the Mishkan of Shiloh which was destined to be in the territory of Yosef and to be destroyed. (Megila 16b – see Rashi Bereishit 45:14)

The hatred of the brothers created the spiritual power for the hatred that would one day destroy the Temple. This simmering conflict is what caused the Temple to be built in the portion of Binyamin, and not in the portion of Yosef. This is the same hatred that poisoned Yerovam and motivated him to place guards in the path of would-be pilgrims to Jerusalem. On Tu b’Av, when Hoshea rescinds the evil edict of Yerovam, the division and hatred cease.

On Tisha b’Av the tribes of Yosef and Yehuda were united: When the spies returned only Yehoshua and Calev, from the tribes of Yosef and Yehuda respectively, remained steadfast in their desire to enter Israel. They serve as the prototypes for the Messiah from Yosef, and the Messiah from David (Yehuda), who will usher in the messianic era.[9] Tragically, the other tribes did not rally around those two leaders; what should have been the beginning of the great march to Israel became the day the Land of Israel was rejected. What could have been a day of celebration became a day of mourning.

This theme of division and reunion may be the key to some of the other reasons for Tu b’Av festivities offered by the Talmud. Significantly, the prohibition of inter-tribal marriage began with the daughters of Zelofchad – from the tribe of Yosef. Surely, this law, which maintained each tribe as insulated and separate, also had a negative impact on interpersonal relationships between Jews. Tu b’Av marked the end of this division. Likewise, the isolation of the tribe of Binyamin: Their role in the episode of the concubine of Givah was certainly an outrage [See the Shoftim, Chapters 19,20,21]. But the isolation of an entire tribe, specifically of the son of Rachel, was even more significant in light of the ongoing division between the sons of Rachel and the sons of Leah. Tu b’Av, in all three of these episodes, marks a reunion of the estranged sons of Rachel with the larger community of Israel.

This, then, is the unifying theme in all the explanations offered by the Talmud for the celebration of Tu b’Av: The battle of Betar was the culmination of the Bar Kochva rebellion, which was doomed to failure because the students of Rabbi Akiva did not treat one another with respect (see essay on the omer). Without national unity, the Third Temple could not be built: The failure of Bar Kochva’s messianic movement was caused by the breakdown of the Jewish community, represented by Rabbi Akiva’s students who could not get along with one another.

Another of the reasons for Tu b’Av celebrations now seems less strange: The days begin to get shorter, or in the Talmud’s words “the sun loses its strength”.  The Midrash, in recounting the first Tu b’Av in the desert, noted that on this date the moon is full. The tension between the sun and moon represents the first struggle for dominance, for leadership. This ancient, primordial struggle between the sun and the moon[10] is the same struggle for dominance as the struggle between the sons of Ya’akov, and between Yerovam and the Davidic dynasty: two kings cannot share one crown. In fact, the resolution of this struggle for dominance is one of the harbingers and prerequisites for the messianic age:  The Talmud speaks of the complementary leadership of a Messiah, son of David, and a Messiah, son of Yosef, which will pave the way to the messianic age[11].

As we noted above, the first catastrophe of Tisha b’Av was the failure of the spies, and the nation’s inability to rally around a united core of leadership- Yehoshua/Yehuda and Calev/Yosef. The Land of Israel was forfeited, the messianic age passed up, and the Temple, which cannot tolerate disunity, laid to waste on this day.  The spiritual character of this day is one of discord, internal struggle. Conversely, Tu b’Av, is a day which has the potential to rebuild the community of Israel and, as a result, the Temple. Unity of the community is a prerequisite for building and preserving the Temple; this is the message of the last phrase of the Mishna with which we began:

Likewise it says, ‘go forth, o ye daughters of Zion, and gaze upon King Solomon, even upon the crown wherewith his mother had crowned him on the day of his espousals, and on the day of the gladness of his heart’. ‘On the day of his espousals:’ this refers to the day of the giving of the law. ‘And on the day of the gladness of his heart:’ this refers to the building of the Temple; may it be rebuilt speedily in our days. (Ta’anit 26b)    

After describing the unique celebration of Yom Kippur and Tu B’Av, the Mishna intertwines the giving of the Law and building of the Temple. As we have seen, “the giving of the Law” refers to Yom Kippur.[12] Now we understand why the reference to “the building of the Temple” refers to Tu b’Av. On this day the daughters of Jerusalem would share their clothes and dance merrily in the streets, united. The Zohar identifies the type of material the garments are made from:

“Scarlet” (tola'at shani) is connected with the Fifteenth day of Av, a day on which the daughters of Israel used to walk forth in silken dresses. (Zohar Sh’mot 135a)

The significance of silk and its connection to the unique spiritual character of Tu b’Av lies in a more mystical message: Silk is not like wool or linen. The Vilna Gaon points out that the prohibition of mixing wool and linen – shaatnez- emanates from the hatred between Cain and Abel. On these glorious days the daughters of Jerusalem freely share their clothing, with no hatred or jealousy in their hearts.[13] The distinctions made by the requirements of shaatnez are irrelevant on this day. Perhaps this served as a type of healing for the hatred the brothers directed toward Yosef and his coat of many colors. This may also be the significance of the Talmud’s description of God’s attempt to lure Yerovam back into the fold:

‘After this thing Yerovam turned not from his evil way.’ What is meant by, ‘after this thing’? — R. Abba said: After the Holy One, blessed be He, had seized Yerovam by his garment and urged him, ‘Repent; then I, thou, and the son of Yishai [i.e.. David] will walk in the Garden of Eden.’ ‘And who shall be at the head?’ inquired he. ‘The son of Yishai shall be at the head.’ ‘If so,’ [he replied] ‘I do not desire [it].’(Sanhedrin 102a)

God grabbed Yerovam by his clothing to break his jealousy; alas, Yerovam could only join if he was given center stage and the leading role. Ultimately he was unable to control his self-centeredness. The image of his garment, torn into twelve pieces by the prophet, prevails over the image of God Himself attempting to mend the torn fabric of Jewish community.

This is the secret of Tu b’Av and the reason that marriages abound on this day. Marriage of two individuals, the most basic of all relationships, is only possible if each one controls innate egoism and narcissism. The rebuilding of the Temple is dependent on the community being able to unite in a similar manner. The first step is controlling hatred and jealousy, breaking the boundaries that exist between people. The Talmud therefore associates the mitzva of bringing joy to the newly married couple with building Jerusalem:

And if he does gladden him (i.e., the groom) what is his reward?… R. Nahman b. Isaac says: It is as if he had restored one of the ruins of Jerusalem. (Brachot 6b)

Tu b’Av marks, celebrates, even creates this type of healing behavior. Jealousies are broken down, tribal distinctions disappear, new unions are created.

We are taught that in the future the fast days marking the Temple’s destruction will be transformed into days of celebration:

Thus says the Lord of hosts: The fast of the fourth month (17^th of Tammuz), and the fast of the fifth (9^th of Av), and the fast of the seventh (Yom Kippur), and the fast of the tenth(10^th of Tevet), shall become times of joy and gladness, and cheerful feasts to the house of Yehuda; therefore love truth and peace. (Zecharia 8:19)

Rav Zadok HaKohen from Lublin taught that the Ninth of Av will indeed become a holiday – a seven-day holiday similar to Pesach, consisting of festival on the first and last days as well as intermediate days (Chol HaMoed). We may theorize that the first day of the holiday, Tish’a b’Av, will commemorate the coming of the Messiah[14]. Then there will be Chol haMoed, and on the seventh day – Tu B’Av - the Temple will be rebuilt. The day when Jews arose unscathed from their graves in the desert will witness the spiritual rebirth of the entire nation, symbolized by the building of the Temple. This will be followed by the ultimate Resurrection: Once again, the people will climb from their graves, as the world achieves perfection and completion. On that day the joy in the streets will be echoed in the vineyards surrounding Jerusalem, and will reverberate throughout the entire world.

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[1]  Rav Menachem Azarya Defano, and Rav Zadok Hakohen (Yisrael Kedoshim section 5) both point at the power of minhag –custom- at the core of this day. We know of Torah festivals, and Rabbinic festivals; Tu B’Av has its unique charisma as an expression of the power of custom.

[2] According to tradition, Moshe ascended the mountain three times: the first and last, to receive the Tablets, and, in between, to pray for forgiveness for the People. See Rashi on Shmot 33:11, Devarim 9:18.

[3] See Rashi’s Commentary on the Mishna 26b “Zeh”.

[4]  This idea may be found in The Jerusalem Talmud Bikurim Chapter 3 section 3 page 65c. See Rashi Bereishit 36:3, Torah Temmimah Bereishit 28:9, שו"ת יחווה דעת חלק ד סימן סא

[5] Whether the fifteenth of Av marks the end of the sadness of Tish’a b’Av is a point debated by the Halachik authorities. The Mishna (Ta’anit 4:6, 26b) teaches that from the beginning of Av happiness is decreased, and debates whether  this sadness continues until Tu b’Av or until the end of the month. See Shulchan Oruch, Orach Chaim section 551:1, Mishna Brura bet opines that the entire month is sad, whereas Chatam Sofer rules that Tu b’Av marks the end of the sadness. See Piskei Teshuva 551:2.

[6]  For more on this king see II Melachim, Chapter 15:30. “And Hoshea the son of Elah made a conspiracy against Pekah the son of Remaliah, and struck him, and killed him, and reigned in his place, in the twentieth year of Yotam the son of Uzziah.”

[7] See Yoma 9a

[8] See Explorations page

[9]  See Sukka 52a

[10] See the essay on Rosh Chodesh

[11] See Sukkah 52a. Rashi on Yishayahu 11:13 states that the two Messiah’s will not be jealous of one another.

[12] See Rashi Commentary on the Mishna 26b “Zeh”

[14] According to Rabbinic tradition, the Messiah is born on Tish’a b’Av.