Last week, I had the privilege of presenting in these pages some of Rav Yonasan David’s Torah on discovering the “Bright Light in the Darkness of the Three Weeks.” Since this week is Shabbos Rosh Chodesh Av, I would like to continue this prototype based upon a fascinating question.
Rav Yonason (Sefer Menachem Tzion 1:2) quotes a surprising juxtaposition in halacha. The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 559:4) rules that we do not recite Tachanun on Tisha B’Av, since it is called a moed (Eicha 1:15). Although the word moed is often translated, as it is here, “a set time,” it is understood by Chazal as somehow reflecting the standard translation as a Yom Tov. However, the greater enigma is that Chazal (Shavuos 10b) derive from the same posuk that since Rosh Chodesh is also called a moed, we don’t say Tachanun on the first day of every month either. The analogy between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Chodesh is not readily apparent.
Rav Yonasan explains (paragraph 21, page 24) the common denominator between these times in a way that is especially relevant this Shabbos Rosh Chodesh. He points out that the kedusha of Rosh Chodesh stems from the fact that from a certain point, we watch the moon becoming diminished each night until it actually disappears. It is at that point that the molad occurs and the moon is once again “reborn.” The Gemara (Rosh Hashanah 25a) tells us that when the new moon was sanctified at the time that the Romans had outlawed the procedures of Kiddush Hachodesh, the code words used by Klal Yisroel were “Dovid Melech Yisroel chai vekayom – Dovid Hamelech is very much alive.” Rashi explains that the significance of this surreptitious communication was that Malchus Bais Dovid is like the moon. As we know, this is reflected in the words we recite at Kiddush Levanah: “To the moon He said that it should renew itself as a crown for those borne by Him from the womb [the Jewish nation], those who are destined to renew themselves like it.”
In other words, the moon literally reflects Malchus Bais Dovid, which had many diminutions over the centuries. However, it will eventually shine forth brightly and radiantly in the future.
Rav Yonasan also notes that Moshiach himself, who will be the crowning glory of this monarchy, is called “bar nafli – the one who falls” (Sanhedrin 96b). This references the fact that, as we sadly know, Moshiach was to come many times and we did not merit seeing him. Indeed, we recite in the bentching of Sukkos, “The Compassionate One! May He erect for us Dovid’s fallen sukkah.” The novi (Amos 9:11) actually promises us, “On that day, I will raise up the fallen sukkah of Dovid.”
This is the sublime connection between Rosh Chodesh (especially Rosh Chodesh Av; see Rashi, Taanis 17b) and Tisha B’Av. Just as the moon keeps on getting smaller until it seems to disappear forever, only to splendidly return, so, too, is Tisha B’Av the day of Moshiach’s birth (Yerushalmi, Brachos 2:4). The day of churban, when we think that the light has been forever extinguished, is the beginning of the new eternal light.
We might add to Rav Yonasan’s poetic comparison that the Three Weeks, the Nine Days and the week of Tisha B’aA describe an ever deepening minimization of kavod Shomayim. From Shivah Assar B’Tammuz through Erev Tisha B’Av, our sense of loss and decline becomes ever more unbearable. Yet, as the Bnei Yissoschor notes, each month carries a different permutation of the divine four-letter Name of Hashem. In a “good month” such as Nissan, the words spell this Name in order. For Tammuz, it is completely backwards, since the declension seems endless. For the month of Av, the first two letters are backward, but then they are in order, for in the middle of the month of Av, good things begin to happen.
Although, as we have all noticed recently, the Jewish world and perhaps even more so the Torah world, is undergoing many trials and tribulations, we are seeing and hearing many uplifting stories of the Yad Hashem. Even more significantly, we are hearing more illustrations of people who passed such tests and were shown tremendous siyata diShmaya for their efforts. I would like to share two that I recently discovered in the Sefer Sos B’imrosecha on Chumash Bamidbar. The author’s focus is upon demonstrating how just as Pinchos suffered humiliation, attacks on his lineage and even death and then being brought back to life, so too, those who struggled to overcome obstacles and do the right thing were rewarded many times over.
The first such story (page 382) is about Rav Yitzchok Shlomo Ungar, rov of Chug Chasam Sofer and rosh yeshiva of Yeshivas Machaneh Avrohom in Bnei Brak. He grew up in Hungary and was in his early twenties when the Nazis invaded his city. Just before he was taken to the slave-labor camp, his father gave him a small volume of Gemara Krisus, offering him priceless advice. “My son,” he uttered with trembling lips, “you may see very difficult times. Be sure to keep this Gemara close to you and learn from it as often as you can. It will protect you in the days ahead.” Yitzchok Shlomo gave his word and kept it. He hid the Gemara, caressed it, and continued to learn from it.
At the end of the war, although he did indeed survive, like many, he contracted the dreaded typhus. In the hospital, he completely lost consciousness and even the overextended medical personnel gave him up for dead. His “body” was thrown out of a window with the other “corpses,” and it seemed as if he would soon breathe his last breath. However, a doctor was standing on the hospital balcony, tripped and fell upon the pile of bodies. He suddenly felt one of them moving, discovered that it had a beating pulse, and made sure that it was removed from the pile of the dead. Eventually, Yitzchok Shlomo was nursed back to health and became a gadol b’Yisroel. He always attributed the miracle to the fact that he had performed kibbud av by learning from that Gemara. Hashem saw that this young man had tried more than his very best, so Hashem brought him a personal miracle of his own.
The second story (page 615) is about a seemingly average yeshiva bochur in Eretz Yisroel who found himself on duty with his elderly and ill grandfather in the hospital. Another grandchild was suppose to relieve him for Shabbos, but was unable to take over at the last minute. Our young friend didn’t try avoid the responsibility and did what he could, but unfortunately his zaidy passed away on Shabbos. The bochur did his best, reciting Tehillim until the last moment, then saying what was needed for the niftar. A Jewish doctor soon arrived and began filling out a death certificate. The boy, who was already stressed out from the traumatic experience, blurted out to the secular physician, “Why are you writing on Shabbos? Don’t write!” Now, the young man was technically correct, since there was no longer any pikuach nefesh, but the doctor was not amused.
“First of all,” he responded coldly, “I won’t have any time after Shabbos. Secondly, don’t tell me what to do. I can write whenever I want. Thirdly, if you want to be religious, go right ahead. You can pick up the documents after Shabbos.”
The bochur was not about to be cowed either. “I cannot benefit from anything that was done improperly on Shabbos.”
To this, the exasperated physician responded angrily, “You had better and you certainly will.”
The young man breathed deeply, said a quick tefillah, and told the doctor his story.
“My grandfather was a Holocaust survivor. He arrived here right after the war in a group now called the Yaldei Teheran. They were all taken to a camp where the leaders attempted to sway them from being religious. They tried to get them to desecrate Shabbos, but my grandfather was a strong believer and refused. In fact, he fomented a revolution amongst his friends and they all refused as well. In the end, despite various threats, none of the boys were mechallel Shabbos. The secular leadership attempted to kick my grandfather out as the evil culprit and they even agreed to send him to Bnei Brak. However, my grandfather was strong and stood his ground. ‘I am not going anywhere without my friends.’ Eventually, my grandfather won and they were allowed to keep Shabbos. Now things have come around. My grandfather stood up for Shabbos and now his descendents will not desecrate Shabbos for him.”
The doctor responded, “You have no choice,” turned on his heel and walked out.
After Shabbos, the bochur asked the nurse for the death certificate, but she couldn’t find it anywhere.
“What’s the problem?” she declared. “It’s in the computer. We’ll just download it.”
As soon as she put in the code, it turned out that the file was empty and the doctor was forced to come after Shabbos anyway and redo everything. The grandfather was moser nefesh for Shabbos, the grandson followed in his ways, and Hashem made sure that no one had to be mechallel Shabbos for these wonderful people.
Things sometimes seem difficult, but if we are strong in our beliefs and principles, Hashem shines His light upon us.
Rosh Chodesh comes after the light of the moon seems to be finished. Tisha B’Av brings the destruction of our beloved Bais Hamikdosh. But Moshiach is born the same day, bringing with him the Ohr Chodosh and the dawning of a new day. May we, too, see that Great Light soon, be’ezras Hashem.
