Weekly Dvar Torah: The Comfort We Earn—and the Comfort We Never Could

Think of the greatest comfort imaginable.

Suppose someone suffers a terrible loss. Time passes. Friends offer encouragement. Family members provide support. Slowly, life improves. It is comforting, but it is not perfect. The loss is still there.

Now imagine something entirely different. Imagine the loss itself disappears. Imagine the destruction is reversed. Imagine what was broken is rebuilt, what was taken is restored, and every tear is wiped away forever. That is not merely comfort. That is redemption.

That is why the Shabbos after Tisha B’Av has its own name—Shabbos Nachamu, named after the opening words of the Haftorah: “Nachamu, Nachamu Ami”—”Comfort, comfort My people.” It also marks the beginning of the Seven Weeks of Consolation, which follow the Three Weeks of mourning.

Interestingly, these seven weeks mirror the Three Weeks that preceded them. The Three Weeks are a gradual descent. First come the Three Weeks themselves, then the Nine Days, and finally Tisha B’Av. Until Tisha B’Av actually arrives, redemption remains within our reach. Had we truly returned to Hashem with complete Teshuvah, the mourning could have ended before it even began. Golus would have disappeared, Moshiach would have arrived, and the fast would have become a festival. But once Tisha B’Av arrives, it means we have not yet reached that point. The descent has reached its lowest level.

And then something changes. On the afternoon of Tisha B’Av the climb upward begins. We rise from the floor, some of the mourning restrictions are eased. At Minchah we begin saying Nachem, asking Hashem to comfort His people. Chazal teach that Moshiach is born on Tisha B’Av. The darkest day of the year contains within it the first spark of redemption, and that upward journey reaches its first great milestone on Shabbos Nachamu.

Interestingly, this Shabbos we always read Parshas Va’eschanan. This raises an obvious question: What does Va’eschanan have to do with the comfort that follows Tisha B’Av?

Perhaps everything.

The comfort that follows Teshuvah is real. Every mitzvah we perform, every sincere prayer, every effort to become closer to Hashem brings a response from Above. We take one step towards Hashem, and Hashem takes a step toward us. Yet there is one major difference. We are finite, and Hashem is infinite. This remains our limitation. Even when the Torah commands us in this week’s Parshah to love Hashem “bechol me’odecha”—with all our might, beyond our normal limits—it is still our “beyond.” As we grow spiritually, our limits expand. What once seemed impossible eventually becomes natural, and what once stood beyond our understanding becomes part of our understanding.

Chassidus describes this as the difference between pnimi and makif. Some truths we can internalize, while others remain beyond our reach. When Moshiach comes, many of today’s makifim will become pnimiyim. We will understand realities that today are completely beyond our grasp. Yet even then there will always be more. The Rambam writes that in the days of Moshiach the world will be filled with the knowledge of Hashem, but he carefully adds that mankind will know the Creator according to the capacity of the created being.

No matter how high we rise, we remain finite. Only Hashem is truly infinite.

This helps explain an intriguing dialogue brought by our Sages. The Haftorah begins with Hashem telling the prophets, “Nachamu, Nachamu Ami.” The prophets faithfully deliver Hashem’s message of comfort. Yet Klal Yisrael responds, “Hashem has abandoned me. Hashem has forgotten me.” How could they respond that way?

They complain that the comfort is genuine, yet it still comes through human messengers. Hashem Himself answers: “Anochi, Anochi Hu Menachemchem.” “I, I Myself, am the One Who comforts you.” No intermediary. No messenger. Hashem Himself.

Now the connection becomes beautifully clear. Rashi explains that the word Va’eschanan means that Moshe asked for a matnas chinam—a free gift. Not wages, not something he had earned, not even an ordinary gift given out of appreciation, but a gift that could never be deserved.

At first this seems difficult to understand. Doesn’t Judaism teach that we must earn what we receive? Certainly it does. Chazal teach that one who prepares before Shabbos will have what to enjoy on Shabbos. We are expected to learn Torah, perform mitzvos, and do Teshuvah, to build the vessel. A person naturally prefers to enjoy what he has worked for.

But after we have done everything within our power, after we have built the vessel and exhausted our own abilities, then Hashem fills that vessel with an infinite light that no finite human being could ever earn through his own efforts. That is matnas chinam. That is Va’eschanan.

This is precisely why the Seven Weeks of Consolation begin with this Parshah. The prophets first bring us the comfort that corresponds to our efforts. But before those seven weeks have even begun, Hashem tells us not to think that redemption will be limited to what we deserve. The ultimate comfort will come directly from Him. As a gift.

This idea may be beautifully illustrated by the Aron, the holy ark, in the Mishkan. The Torah gives the Aron exact dimensions. Every measurement had to be precise. If even one measurement was incorrect, the Aron was invalid. Yet Chazal teach that when the Aron stood in the Kodesh HaKodashim, holy of holies, it occupied no space at all. It possessed exact measurements, yet transcended all measurement. It was finite and infinite at the very same time.

Redemption works the same way. We do everything we possibly can. We pray, we cry, we return to Hashem, and we prepare the vessel. Then Hashem fills that vessel with an infinite light that no finite human being could ever earn. Both are true, and both are necessary. Without our efforts there is no vessel. Without Hashem’s infinite gift there is no perfect redemption.

As we enter the Seven Weeks of Consolation, Hashem gives us an extraordinary promise. Do everything within your power. Build the vessel. Then prepare to receive what is infinitely beyond your power.

May this Shabbos Nachamu be the one when the prophets’ promise of “Nachamu, Nachamu Ami” is immediately fulfilled by Hashem’s own declaration, “Anochi, Anochi Hu Menachemchem,” with the coming of Moshiach, speedily in our days.

Have a Shabbos of Infinite Comfort,
Gut Shabbos

Rabbi Yosef Katzman