The period of the Three Weeks - marking the destruction of Jerusalem, both Batei Mikdash, our exile and dispersion among the nations - comes to a climax this Motzei Shabbat with the "black fast" of Tisha B'Av (as

Is a week really enough time to recover from the loss of Yerushalayim?

opposed to the more benevolent "white fast' of Yom Kippur).


Rabbi Soloveitchik likened the three stages of this period - the three weeks beginning 17 Tammuz, the nine days beginning on 1 Av, and Tisha B'Av itself - to the three stages of mourning for a parent: the shiv'a, the shloshim and the year-long process of aveilut. (Of course, the order here is reversed; we begin mildly and build up over the three weeks to the severe restrictions of Tisha B'Av; while in general mourning, we start at low ebb and gradually reduce our grief until it fades away.)


Just a week from now, we will move on from the mournful dirge of Eicha and the Haftarah of Chazon Yeshayahu to the uplifting, hopeful prophecy of "Nachamu, nachamu" - G-d's promise that we shall be comforted and cured of our misery.


We might properly ask ourselves: Is a week really enough time to recover from the loss of Yerushalayim Ir HaKodesh and our beloved Beit HaMikdash? If it takes a whole year to begin to heal from the loss of a loved one, then how much more time should we need to come to grips with the loss of our nationhood, the absence of our spiritual center and the fragmentation of our entire people? How can we so quickly "shift gears"?


Perhaps the answer can be found in the strange comment of Ya'akov Avinu when he declared, after being informed of Yosef's "death," that he would neither accept nor be reconciled with the loss of his beloved son. Chazal explain that Ya'akov somehow sensed, deep down, that Yosef was still alive, and therefore he rejected all efforts to "move on" and write the final chapter of that saga.


I suggest that this is also why we allow ourselves to say "Nachamu" so soon after "Eicha". We - that is, every Jew who identifies with Israel - sense that Yerushalayim and Israel are not dead at all; they remain alive and vibrant, and continue to instill us with spirit and strength. To see the many thousands of people from all over the world gathering at the Kotel, to behold the majesty of rebuilt Jerusalem, is to know without a doubt that HaShem is back, in full force, within the confines of the Holy City - if He ever left it at all.


And so, we will recite the tearful elegies and shed real tears at what we have suffered as a result of the Churban. But we won't dwell too long on the destruction or remain interminably "down in the dumps." Our unshakeable faith in the future and our instinctive feeling of impending Geulah is supremely buoyant; it lifts our hearts and it elevates our souls.


(With thanks to R. Meir Marulis and Rabbi Nachman Kahane.)