Chapter 5 of Eicha is a prayer: a concluding lament that is entirely an appeal to the Holy One, Blessed be He - "Remember, Hashem, what has befallen us." At the end of the chapter, after the description of degradation and ruin, come the momentous verses of comfort and petition: "You, Hashem, sit enthroned forever," "Turn us back to You, Hashem, and we shall return." In this lesson, we will continue from the famous account of Rabbi Akiva and his companions, from which we learn how to properly view the destruction, and from there ascend to the closing verses of the Megillah.
What is the explanation of the two episodes in which Rabbi Akiva laughed while the Sages wept? Rabbi Akiva, amid exile and amid the darkness, saw the light. He knew that the destruction did not happen for the sake of mere ruin, nor for destruction itself, but on the contrary: its entire purpose and essence was to create a new reality, rebuilding from within the darkness - a light that breaks through and flashes forth from the darkness, in the manner of the morning star rising out of the harsh reality.
The difference between "golah" (exile) and "ge'ulah" (redemption) is nothing more than the letter alef. If you are with the Master of the Universe, you are in redemption; and if you are without the Master of the Universe, you are in exile. The alef represents the Holy One, Blessed be He - the Master of the World (Alufo shel Olam) - and in Kabbalah, the alef has a numerical value (gematria) of 26: an upper yud, a lower yud, and a vav in the middle, totaling 26, the four-letter Name of Hashem. If you perceive the Master of the Universe here, you are not in exile at all, but in redemption: "Draw near to my soul, redeem it" - this is my personal redemption, the reality of drawing close to the Creator.
Likewise, the word "churban" (destruction) is composed of two elements: "char" - charon, wrath or anger; and "ban" - the beginning of binyan, construction. It is a wrath intended not for ruin, but for rebuilding, in order to forge a new reality. Therefore, it is written that Mashiach is born on Tisha B'Av. Is Tisha B'Av not a day of destruction? Rabbi Akiva says: you are not looking at the day correctly. Mere destruction means annihilation, but the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash is building, for by expending His wrath upon wood and stone, the Holy One, Blessed be He, preserved a remnant of the Jewish people, creating a state from which everything begins anew. From here Mashiach will be born, and on this day Mashiach is born. Therefore, Tisha B'Av is called a "mo'ed" (festival) - "He called an assembly (mo'ed) against me" - for a mo'ed is a time of joy.
From here stems also the statement of our Sages: "Whoever mourns for Jerusalem merits and sees its consolation." It does not say "will merit and see its consolation" or "will merit and see its rebuilding," but rather whoever mourns for Jerusalem properly and understands what the destruction was truly about already merits and sees its rebuilding right now. He comprehends how the entire purpose of the destruction was to build, to preserve a people who will subsequently merit redemption.
So writes the Ramban regarding the decree "and your enemies who dwell therein shall be desolate upon it": this is good tidings, for the Land will not welcome our enemies. On the surface, this sounds like a terrible desolation - the Holy One, Blessed be He, says that you will be exiled from the Land and the Land will lie desolate. But the Holy One, Blessed be He, says: look properly; this is not a blow intended to crush, but a blow intended to build. For if the Land were blooming and prosperous, enemies would come and settle in it, and you would never be able to return and inherit it. The Holy One, Blessed be He, says: I want you to return here - and how will you return if the Land is flourishing? Therefore, "and your enemies shall be desolate upon it." It sounds like a harsh decree, yet Rabbi Akiva teaches that one needs the right lenses: to see construction within destruction, and within the ruin to perceive Hashem's desire for us and the foundations of all that is destined to sprout and blossom from here.
Another explanation of Rabbi Akiva's episode: often we look at an event and perceive it as bad, but the seal of the Holy One, Blessed be He, is truth. What does it mean that "His seal is truth"? Take an ink stamp and look at it - the writing on it is reversed; but when you stamp it onto the paper, behold, the text emerges straight. In the same way, many times the deeds of Hashem appear to us reversed from what they truly are, because we are not reading things correctly - we are looking at the stamp itself and failing to see how the impression will ultimately turn out. It later becomes clear that all of Hashem's deeds are good, and they appeared evil only to our limited vision.
Notice, therefore: "Bereishit bara Elohim" ("In the beginning God created") - the final letters spell out "emet" (truth), but not in order: Bereishi**t** ends with tav, bar**a** ends with alef, Elohi**m** ends with mem - spelling tav-alef-mem. Why are they out of order? Because often one does not see order in events; one must delve deeply to discern the order, and in the meantime it seems bad and unfavorable. The Holy One, Blessed be He, says: look closely and you will see that this is truth, that this is from Me, and that everything is for the good. You may not see it directly, but know that it is so - this is the truth, and this is the good.
And this is what Chazal cite regarding "A Psalm of Asaph: O God, nations have entered Your inheritance." A "psalm"? Why a song of praise? Our Sages explain with a parable: A king had a difficult son who refused to listen to him. What did the king do? Filled with fury, he entered his son's bridal canopy on his wedding day, cutting, tearing, and throwing everything into the trash, until he destroyed it all and cast the son out. The king then said: "Did I not do well to tear apart my son's chuppah?" "You did well." Why? Because according to the intensity of his wrath, the son deserved death, but because the king expended his fury upon the chuppah - the son survived.
One must see the chesed within the anger, the chesed within the fierce wrath. Thus Asaph says: I sing over the fact that nations came into Your inheritance and reduced it to ruins, for Hashem vented His wrath only upon wood and stones; "He kindled a fire in Zion" - while we remained alive, and for this I have reason to sing. And this is what Rabbi Akiva told his companions: You are weeping over the external appearance. Outwardly, it truly looks like destruction - a fox emerging from the Holy of Holies. But on the contrary, do you not see how much chesed there is in the fact that Hashem poured out His wrath upon wood and stones? Had I not seen the Beit HaMikdash destroyed, the Jewish people would have been destroyed. Therefore, when I see the Beit HaMikdash destroyed, it is a reason to rejoice, for the Jewish people were saved; whereas had He, heaven forbid, expended His arrows upon us, not a single remnant or survivor would have remained.
We have seen one explanation regarding the fox - that a fox looks back behind itself. The Aruch LaNer offers another explanation. During the First Temple era, the Jewish people prayed for the Holy One, blessed be He, to save them from the evil inclination for idolatry. They said: "Master of the Universe, see how much trouble, disaster, and ruin this inclination has caused, ultimately destroying the Beit HaMikdash," as they had been guilty of the sin of idolatry. The Gemara relates that the Sages ultimately succeeded in nullifying the yetzer hara of idolatry, and a guria denura - the form of a lion cub of fire - emerged from the Holy of Holies. Zechariah the Prophet told them: "This is the yetzer of idolatry." And baruch Hashem, today no one has a desire to worship idols, whereas in their time it was a real and powerful passion.
Notice the difference: in the First Temple, a lion cub of fire emerged from the Holy of Holies, whereas in the Second Temple, when Rabbi Akiva and his companions walked and saw the Temple in ruins, a fox emerged from the Holy of Holies. Why a lion there and a fox here? The Aruch LaNer explains: The First Temple was destroyed because of the three cardinal sins - idolatry, illicit relations, and bloodshed. That is a lion of fire: severe sins that are so difficult to overcome, and in their day idolatry was as overpowering as illicit relations. Therefore, when they prayed, a lion cub of fire emerged, for the lion represents brute strength.
In the Second Temple, however, the drive for idolatry had already been abolished. Why then was the Temple destroyed? Because of baseless hatred. And what is baseless hatred like? Like a fox. What is the nature of a fox? Cunning. And this is the inclination that remains with us: not the yetzer of a lion, but the yetzer of a fox - one that goes about carrying tales from one to another, enticing this one and trying to bring down that one, all through cunning. It convinces a person that he must fight against so-and-so: "Why are you staying silent? I care about you so much, I feel bad for your honor, it hurts me that they hurt you" - all through sly cunning, thereby stirring up strife and baseless hatred. But baruch Hashem, this is not a lion, it is only a fox! If so, why do we not overcome it? Why do we not confront it? After all, this is an inclination that can be conquered and subdued - and for that very reason, the claim against us is so much greater.
עַל־זֶה הָיָה דָוֶה לִבֵּנוּ עַל־אֵלֶּה חָשְׁכוּ עֵינֵינוּ׃ עַל הַר־צִיּוֹן שֶׁשָּׁמֵם שׁוּעָלִים הִלְּכוּ־בוֹ׃ - "For this our heart was faint, for these things our eyes grew dim: For Mount Zion, which lies desolate; foxes walk upon it."
We see that earlier generations knew how to mourn. "For Mount Zion, which lies desolate" - they wept, they felt true anguish. Today, a person goes to the Kotel HaMa'aravi and says: "What a beautiful place, how nicely it is built!" We forget that this itself is what we must mourn over; we forget that over this our heart is meant to be faint and our heart is supposed to break.
It is told of the tzaddik Rabbi Chaim Sinwani, a great talmid chacham and tremendous kabbalist who was the rabbi of Hugariyyah in Yemen, that during his thirty years in Eretz Yisrael, he visited Jerusalem only once. People tried many times to persuade him to go up to Jerusalem and pray at the Kotel, the place from which the Shechinah never departs and where prayers ascend directly to the Throne of Glory - yet he would not agree. He would say: "For me, traveling to Jerusalem is a life-threatening danger." And not because of the Arabs at the Damascus Gate; that was not what troubled him.
Once, a student arrived, hired a taxi to drive him, and said: "Rebbe, the taxi is waiting, let us travel to Jerusalem." He answered: "In our sins, the Beit HaMikdash is destroyed, the kohanim are not at their service, the levi'im are not on their platform, and the Israelites are not at their station - for what reason should we go up to Jerusalem?" He added: "Is it not enough that every night I weep at midnight (he was extraordinary in his recitation of Tikkun Chatzot, weeping with terrible heartbreak over the sorrow of the Shechinah, the exile, and the destruction of Jerusalem) - you want me to weep during the day as well? When I see the destruction, the foxes walking upon it, the Dome of the Rock, and see that on the site of the Holy of Holies the impure and abominable made a house of prayer for their vanity?" Ultimately, they sent the taxi away, and the Rav remained in Yehud. Another time, a student invited him to a wedding in Jerusalem - not to the Kotel, but to a wedding - and he told him: "Only once in my life was I in Jerusalem, and when I saw it in its destruction, desolate and abandoned, my heart broke from the desecration of the holy and the Temple. It is life-threatening for me to go up to Jerusalem. I await the imminent redemption, and when it arrives - with Hashem's help, we will go up to Zion with singing."
A story is also told about the Chazon Ish. His sister, the mother of Rabbi Nissim Karelitz, related that he once visited the Kotel, and when he saw it, his spirit was deeply stirred and he fainted. He actually fainted. Yet we see people at the Kotel chatting and taking photos - who even contemplates the depth of the grief, what we ought to mourn, and what we once had? It is also related that when the Arab Legion severed East Jerusalem and occupied it, it caused immense sorrow, as it was impossible to go up to Jerusalem and pray at the Kotel, and those who managed to sneak through did so with tremendous self-sacrifice. Jews came before the Chazon Ish and asked, "Rabbeinu, what do we do now? We cannot pray at the Western Wall." The Chazon Ish sighed and said, "Have we entirely forgotten that we need to pray for three more walls?"
What are we aspiring to - merely that the Western Wall return to us? Have we forgotten that there are three other walls? We settle for so little: we have the Western Wall, from which the Shechinah never departed - but that is just one wall of the outer perimeter! There are three more walls of the outer perimeter, four walls of the inner perimeter, the Heichal, the Holy of Holies - and who even thinks about that? Once, people asked the Chazon Ish why he did not frequent the Western Wall, and he replied, "I am waiting for the day when all four walls will stand rebuilt upon their foundations; that is the day I am waiting for." Yet we settle for having the Western Wall, thinking that this is enough.
אַתָּה יְהֹוָה לְעוֹלָם תֵּשֵׁב כִּסְאֲךָ לְדוֹר וָדוֹר׃ לָמָּה לָנֶצַח תִּשְׁכָּחֵנוּ תַּעזְבֵנוּ לְאֹרֶךְ יָמִים׃ - You, Hashem, sit enthroned forever; Your throne endures from generation to generation. Why do You forget us forever, forsake us for so long a time?
The Lechem Dim'ah and the Maharit explain: Kenesset Yisrael says to the Holy One, Blessed be He, "Master of the Universe, if, Heaven forbid, we had caused any blemish to You, that would indeed be something beyond forgiveness and atonement. But surely none of our sins can affect the Holy One, Blessed be He: 'If you are righteous, what do you give Him? Or what does He receive from your hand?' And when a person commits a sin, it does not harm the Almighty. Hashem, Blessed be He, is absolute perfection and goodness; neither flaw nor lack can ever apply to Him."
And so Kenesset Yisrael comes and argues: Master of the Universe, the truth is that "You, Hashem, sit enthroned forever; Your throne endures from generation to generation" - the heavens and the highest heavens cannot contain You, and even though the earthly Beit HaMikdash was destroyed, it diminishes nothing of You, Blessed be He. If so, why such fierce anger? "Why do You forget us forever, forsake us for so long a time?" Why does the exile drag on so long? Had we harmed You, You might say it is beyond atonement; but we have not harmed the Holy One, Blessed be He, at all. Why, then, forget us forever and forsake us for so long?
הֲשִׁיבֵנוּ יְהֹוָה אֵלֶיךָ וְנָשׁוּבָה חַדֵּשׁ יָמֵינוּ כְּקֶדֶם׃ - Bring us back to You, Hashem, and we shall return; renew our days as of old.
"Bring us back to You, Hashem" - begin drawing us back a little, and then "and we shall return" - draw us close completely, until "renew our days as of old," which represents the ultimate closeness with the Master of the Universe. This is why there is a pause here, hinting at the gradual progression: like a prince who rebelled against his father, whose father, upon being appeased, does not immediately seat him at his side as before.
This was also the case with Avshalom: at first, when he rebelled and David banished him, Avshalom asked Yoav to plead with David to bring him back. David agreed, but how did he bring him back? Only to Jerusalem - he could dwell in Jerusalem, but he could not see the king's face. Only later, when he exerted further pressure, did he see his father's face as well (until he ultimately rebelled again and was killed). What do we learn from this? That when distance exists and closeness begins to resume, it does not instantly become total unity in a single moment; rather, closeness comes little by little. So too do we pray: Bring us back to You, Hashem, just a bit, and after that we will return further.
Notice as well: the written text is venashuv, while the read tradition is venashuvah - here too we see the gradual progression. What is the difference? Nashuv is masculine, while nashuvah, ending with a hei, is feminine. In this context there is no literal gender difference, but the letter hei consistently hints at the feminine. Consider the words riv (strife) and merivah (quarrel): Chazal noted that Scripture says "Let there be no merivah," yet earlier it states "And there was a riv." Why? Because riv is masculine, and a male does not give birth; merivah is feminine, and a female gives birth. A riv is sterile, but "let there not be a merivah" - you know how it starts, but then it grows and develops, and from a mere riv a full-blown merivah is born. So too here, homiletically: first comes venashuv, a small return, and then venashuvah with a hei - a return that bears fruit, an expansive return, leading up to "renew our days as of old." And what is meant by "as of old"? One might say like the Giving of the Torah at Mount Sinai, or even higher: like Adam HaRishon before the sin, which is the loftiest level of closeness to God imaginable.
The Dubno Maggid and the Kol Yaakov explain: "Bring us back to You, Hashem, and we shall return" - Master of the Universe, return us while we are still fit to be returned, while there is still something left to restore. This is comparable to an impoverished man who possessed one dignified garment for Shabbat. In need of a loan, he pawned his garment. Being poor and malnourished, he was very thin, and the garment was tailored precisely to his measurements. When the time for repayment arrived, the lender waited a bit longer and then a bit more, but the borrower did not produce the money. What did the lender do? He contacted a tailor to rip open the seams and alter the garment to fit his own measurements, since the collateral had now legally passed into his ownership.
When the poor man heard of this, he ran in haste, took out other loans, gathered funds from here and there, and returned the money to redeem his garment. People asked him: "What happened all of a sudden? Why are you in such a panic?" He replied: "As long as the garment remained intact, I was unconcerned - I could redeem it tomorrow, the day after, or even in a month, and it would still fit my measurements. But the moment he rips open the seams, it is finished; it will no longer fit me, and I will have lost it forever. Therefore, I realized that this was my very last chance to redeem it."
In the same way, the Holy One, blessed be He, says: There is a unique nation, a people crafted according to the precise dimensions desired by the Almighty, according to His design - "This people I formed for Myself," meticulously planned according to specific spiritual dimensions, "that they might declare My praise." As long as we preserve our identity, remaining that "people I formed for Myself" in the original dimensions according to which Hashem fashioned us at the outset, there is hope of redemption. But if, as a result of exile, "they mingled among the nations and learned their ways," and we became just like any other nation, the Holy One says: The dimensions have changed; this is no longer My garment, it has become a different coat entirely.
Then, as it were, the Holy One says: I no longer have anything left to redeem. Indeed, there is an opinion that the Ten Tribes will never return - a terrifying thought. This is precisely what we are discussing: when you alter your very essence, Hashem says, you are no longer My garment. And what about His garment? From those who remain, He will fashion a new one. This is what the Holy One said to Moshe: "Let Me alone, that I may destroy them" - and what of the promise? "And I will make you into a great nation"; you will be the continuation. The Almighty can create continuity from just two tribes - from Binyamin, Yehudah, the tribe of Levi, from those who exist today. From this we learn: if we undergo such fundamental alteration, we are no longer, as it were, the garment of the Master of the Universe, and we are no longer fit for redemption.
Therefore, we plead: "Bring us back to You, Hashem, and we shall return" - while we are still fit to be returned, while the distinctive marks of the original garment are still recognizable upon us, while it is still clear that this is the garment of the Master of the Universe. Do not wait until we become completely defiled, do not wait until we are lost among the nations. And indeed, the Holy One did not wait: when the Jewish people were on the verge of total assimilation in Europe, Hashem sent the non-Jew to erect a barrier and make it unequivocally clear that the Jewish people will not be lost. If, Heaven forbid, a Jew tries to bring that upon himself, the non-Jew will remind him: You are a Jew, beware. Someone still wants you, someone still desires you - and that is the Master of the Universe.
The book Elon Bachut explains: "Bring us back to You, Hashem, and we shall return" - Master of the Universe, if we have drifted away due to our troubles and the hardships of exile, we ask that You do Your part to bring us to repentance, and then we will return of our own will. But one might ask: if Hashem is the One who brings us back, what value is there in that? That would be coerced repentance, which negates free choice and has no true worth! To this we answer: not at all. "Bring us back," even if it must be done with force; yet it is not coercion, for "we shall return" - our inner desire is truly to fulfill Your will. And what prevents us? The yeast in the dough, the evil inclination.
This is comparable to a man who refuses to give a get (a bill of divorce), and the court has him lashed until he says, "I agree." The Rambam asks: Is this not a coerced get, where his mouth and his heart are not aligned, since he gave it against his will? He answers: Not so. Know that deep within, every member of Israel wishes to do good, but the evil inclination restrains him. What is done? A few blows are struck against the evil inclination, and it steps aside. And what remains? The heart, and the heart as it truly is desires to do good. When he finally delivers the get, who was the one saying, "I do not want to"? It was your evil inclination that refused, but you yourself truly want to. Thus, we have not coerced him, but rather uncovered his authentic, inner will.
So too here: Master of the Universe, bring us back. Through blows? Blows alone are worth nothing, and that is not genuine repentance. Rather, deep down we yearn to do Your will, and therefore, "we shall return" - You will see how this will awaken us from within to serve You, for in our inner essence, we truly want to serve Hashem.
Notice also that in the written text (ketiv), it is written: "Bring us back to You, Hashem, and we shall return" without the letter hei (ונשוב) - teaching that even if our repentance is incomplete, we nonetheless plead that You accept it. Even if it is not a complete return (venashuvah) but only partial (venashuv), an imperfect repentance - Master of the Universe, accept our repentance! Thus explains the Elon Bachut.
Another explanation, based on what we explained earlier: Venashuvah can be read as venashuv Hei - "and we will return the Hei." The Shechinah is alluded to by the final letter Hei of the Four-Letter Name of Hashem, and "the Shechinah is in exile." And what is our true prayer? For the pain of the Shechinah, that She may emerge from exile. If so, this is our plea: "Bring us back to You, Hashem" - and let us restore the Hei, so that the Holy Shechinah, represented by the lower Hei, the second Hei of the Ineffable Name, blessed be He, may return. Indeed, our primary prayer is for the exile of the Shechinah, which is the heart of the request.
Chapter 5 concludes with a prayer, and within this prayer lies the entire message of Rabbi Akiva: to see the rebuilding within the destruction, to know that the wrath is ultimately meant for construction, and that the seal of the Holy One, blessed be He, is truth even when the script appears inverted. On the one hand, we must genuinely feel the pain, like those righteous individuals whose hearts broke over Mount Zion lying desolate and over the three walls for which we do not even remember to pray; and on the other hand, we must remember that "You, Hashem, sit enthroned forever," and that our iniquities cause no blemish in Him, blessed be He - and therefore there is room to cry out, "Why do You forget us forever?" And from here we turn to the ultimate plea: "Turn us back to You, Hashem, and we shall return" - bring us back little by little, while we are still worthy of being returned and while the measurements of the garment You tailored for us are still recognizable upon us, awaken our inner essence that truly desires to do Your will, and bring the Shechinah out of its exile, until You "renew our days as of old."