‘Comfort, comfort, my people’ (Isaiah 40)

This week, the Jewish world observed Tisha B’Av. Long dedicated to mourning the destructions of the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem, over
time, numerous other tragedies in Jewish history also have been commemorated as part of Tisha B’Av’s rhythms, rites and rituals.

Significantly, the Shoah is not commemorated on Tisha B’Av. This is because in 1951, the Israeli government declared Holocaust Remembrance Day to be observed on the 27th of Nisan, which was the day the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising began. Appropriately, the day’s full name is “Yom Ha’Shoah v’ha’Gevurah — Holocaust and Heroism Day.”

We shall see how the Israeli people determine “to set aside for memory and purpose” what the world calls “Oct. 7” and what Jews around the world know in our hearts as the morning (mourning) of Simchat Torah.

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Given our community’s lachrymose history, long ago we developed rhythms for communal commemoration and comfort. These rituals help us to remember by focusing our attention on what we love and long for, both as a nation and as individuals. And too, these same rhythms help us move forward from loss by reassuring us that comfort will come…one day.

This Friday and Saturday, immediately following Tisha B’Av, the Jewish world marks Shabbat Nachamu, the Sabbath of Comfort. Herein, we initiate a seven-week period of healing during which we share selections from the prophet Isaiah as haftarah “readings of consolation,” each offering a distinct aspect of Isaiah’s visions for a better time.

The message is clear: Tisha B’Av may be a day of grief, but mourning is not a terminus; it is a transition. With Shabbat Nachamu, we begin moving forward, acting on our belief that even in our darkest times, there is a path to renewal. Significantly, the seven weeks of comfort culminate on Shabbat Shuva, the Sabbath between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, a time for fully re-embracing life in a New Year.

Isaiah spoke to a generation that needed the reassurance that (a) they were neither abandoned nor alone in their grief, and that (b) comfort and healing were near at hand. Isaiah’s declarations are filled with imagery of valleys lifted, mountains made low, rough places smoothed and crooked places straightened. His vision symbolizes the profound healing possible for all of us, at any time, as we move from destruction to restoration and from despair to hope.

However, a midrash cautions that we should not understand God’s comfort as a passive gift.

In this, “Nachamu, nachamu ami” is not merely an assurance that we shall be comforted, but is, in fact, a directive for us to be sources of comfort for others by supporting and uplifting the people around us.

This message resonates deeply. Just as the ancient Israelites faced loss and exile, we, too, know the experience of betrayal, reversal and loss. The past two-and-a-half years have surely been a testament to this in my own life. At my lowest, dejected and lost, I struggled to find meaning in daily living. My solace was focusing on making life better for other souls and in simply being with those in even greater need; therein, I began to heal. It’s slow, but it’s real.

Friends have selflessly shared with me similar experiences; in these gifts, I know I am not alone. After all, who lives a life unscathed? Isaiah’s prophecy reminds us that reversals are not forever, renewal is always possible and true friends are precious beyond measure.
“Nachamu, nachamu ami — Comfort, comfort my people.” Indeed. PJC

Rabbi Aaron Bisno is the senior rabbi at Temple Ohav Shalom and the Frances F. & David R. Levin Rabbinic Scholar at Rodef Shalom Congregation. This column is a service of the Greater Pittsburgh Jewish Clergy Association.