Double consolation - why a twofold comfort? - Shabbos Parshas Va'eschanan, Shabbos Nachamu

00:00 We are in the days of Menachem Av, the days we find ourselves in now, and we find a repeated expression in them. On Shabbos Parshas Nachamu, the haftarah begins, “Comfort, comfort My people”—a double consolation. As the Midrash says: If “they were struck doubly,” then they are also “comforted doubly.” The question is: What does a double consolation mean? Why emphasize this? Seemingly, the consolation is one thing: the First Beis Hamikdash was destroyed, and the Second Beis Hamikdash was destroyed, but there is one consolation. When Moshiach comes and the Third Beis Hamikdash is built, there will be consolation. Seemingly, that is one consolation. So what is being emphasized by saying “Comfort, comfort”—a double consolation? Along these lines, we find the remarkable account the Gemara relates at the end of Makkos. The Gemara tells two stories involving Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues. Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananyah, and Rabbi Akiva were traveling together. In the first story, the Gemara says they were on their way to Rome. As they approached Rome, they heard “the sound of Rome’s crowds.” They heard a commotion from there, noise and bustle, and began to cry, while Rabbi Akiva laughed. The Gemara says they asked Rabbi Akiva, “Why are you laughing?” And he asked them, “Why are you crying?”

01:50 They answered that they were crying because the people who had burned down the Beis Hamikdash were enjoying all these things, rejoicing and dancing, “while the house that is the footstool of our G-d is burned by fire”—how could they not cry? Rabbi Akiva said, “That is why I laugh.” It is precisely this that brings me joy, because “if this is what those who transgress His will receive, how much more so those who do His will.” If people who transgress His will receive such things, then those who do His will will receive so much more. In other words, the Jewish people, who are called those who do His will, will certainly receive from Hakadosh Boruch Hu many times more, even more than the Romans receive. The Gemara also relates that on another occasion Rabbi Akiva and those same three Tannaim “were going up to Jerusalem.” When they reached Mount Scopus, they tore their garments in mourning. Rabbi Akiva tore his garment too, as the plain reading of the Gemara indicates. Then they saw “a fox emerging from the Holy of Holies.” From Mount Scopus, one can see the site of the Beis Hamikdash, the Temple Mount. They saw that the Beis Hamikdash had been utterly destroyed, to the point that they could see foxes emerging from the Holy of Holies. This caused them to begin crying, and again Rabbi Akiva laughed. They asked him, “Why are you laughing?” And he said, “Why are you crying?” They answered, “A place about which it was said, ‘The stranger who approaches shall die,’ and now ‘foxes walk through it’—how could we not cry?”

03:29 Rabbi Akiva replied, “That is why I laugh.” There are two prophecies linked to one another: “And I will call faithful witnesses for Myself.” The prophecy “Zion shall be plowed like a field” speaks of the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash; and the second prophecy, “Old men and old women shall yet sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with a staff in hand,” speaks of the revelations of the future Geulah, with the greatest miracles that will take place then, when Jews, even the elderly, will be able to walk through the streets of Jerusalem in good health. These two prophecies were given together. “As long as Uriah’s prophecy had not been fulfilled, I was afraid Zechariah’s prophecy might not be fulfilled. Now that Uriah’s prophecy has been fulfilled, it is certain that Zechariah’s prophecy will be fulfilled.” “They said to him”—that is the wording—“Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us.” In this story too, a beautiful account in the Gemara at the end of Makkos, we find a repeated expression, like “Comfort, comfort”: here too they said, “Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us.” We need to understand: What is the double consolation here? And why was it specifically in this story that they responded with the repeated words, “Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us”? Interestingly, in the first story we do not find them saying “you have comforted us” at all. That is, from the Gemara’s wording it appears that when Rabbi Akiva explained the first incident to them,

04:54 they did not accept what he said, or at least did not see it as a consolation, since they did not say, “Akiva, you have comforted us.” Only in the second story, when they saw the fox emerging from the Holy of Holies and Rabbi Akiva explained it to them, did they say, “Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us”—repeating “you have comforted us.” Other commentators say that the repeated “you have comforted us” refers to the first story as well. The question is: Why did they say “you have comforted us” twice only in the second story, including in reference to the first? More generally, we need to understand: What is the difference between the first story and the second? Both express the same point: When the Tannaim saw these things, they saw destruction in them, something negative that moved them to tears. That is how reason understands it, and that is how the Tannaim saw it. They said, “These Cushites who bow down to idols,” and explained why it moved them to tears. Both stories deal, more or less, with the same thing: aspects of exile and destruction that made them cry. And the answer is similar too: Rabbi Akiva, standing there and seeing the negative thing, sees something positive in it. The explanation is that this was Rabbi Akiva’s approach in general, as we see in the well-known story about Rabbi Akiva, who went about saying, “Whatever the Merciful One does, He does for the good.”

06:14 In that story about Rabbi Akiva, he was traveling with a rooster, a donkey, and a lamp. The Gemara relates at length how the lamp went out, then the donkey was taken from him, and then the rooster, and he said: Everything Hakadosh Boruch Hu does is for the good. Indeed, in the end it became clear that these events had saved his life. Everyone knows the story the Gemara tells in Berachos. Here too, in a similar way, Rabbi Akiva saw the “for the good”; he saw the outcome, the good that would come from these events, and that gave him peace of mind. He did not sink into bitterness, gloom, and despair, because he looked ahead to the salvation. The same applies to these stories about Rabbi Akiva. But the question we want to understand today, among the many matters that come into this, is: What is the meaning of the repeated wording? Why is “Comfort, comfort” a double consolation? There is one single consolation, expressed in various ways, but it is one consolation; where is the doubling? And likewise in the two stories: It is one consolation; why did they say, “Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us”? And why did they say “you have comforted us” about the first story only after the second? I want to revisit a point the Rebbe discussed once at a farbrengen, in—

07:30 the year 5710, on Yud Shvat, the day of the Frierdiker Rebbe’s passing and the beginning of the Rebbe’s leadership. The Rebbe delivered a hadran then, a discourse marking the completion of Makkos, and spoke at wonderful, great length—I did not have time to cover it; truly, what a remarkable thing. In particular, that conclusion includes the two stories at the end of Makkos. The intention is not to go over the whole subject, but at least to take one point and bring out a lesson we can draw for ourselves; to bring out a point of consolation in these days of Menachem Av, the days we find ourselves in now, when everyone wants and seeks consolation. And to take Rabbi Akiva’s approach: how, amid destruction, concealment, and darkness, there can be things that lead to joy, to “Rabbi Akiva laughed.” There is a well-known interpretation, attributed to the Munkatcher Rebbe, author of Minchas Elazar, of the Gemara’s words, “When Av begins, we diminish joy.” He explains it as: “When Av begins, we diminish”—we diminish undesirable things, things of negativity, destruction, and exile—and we do this “with joy.” Of course, this is the opposite of the plain meaning, yes, but it is connected to Rabbi Akiva’s approach, in which “Rabbi Akiva laughed.” That is, even according to halachah—and of course, everyone must act as prescribed by halachah in the Shulchan Aruch—these are times associated with—

09:03 Destruction, times associated with exile and mourning. But even so, when we look from the perspective of the inner dimension of Torah, which reveals the inner meaning, the light and the depth—Rabbi Akiva was an example of this. Rabbi Akiva was the teacher of Rabbi Shimon bar Yochai, who is closely connected with the revelation of the inner dimension of Torah. We see how Rabbi Akiva “laughed”: within the darkness, within the concealment, he revealed how one can see matters of the Geulah there. And there is a story about this; as usual, there is a story for everything. It is a story I heard from the chossid Reb Mendel Futerfas. He told me that in the time of the Alter Rebbe there was a well-known chossid, mentioned in a number of sichos of the Frierdiker Rebbe, named Reb Moshe Yitzchak of Iasi. As is known, Iasi was a city near Apta, the town where the rabbi of Apta lived. Reb Moshe Yitzchak was in that area, and there he used to study Chassidus with fellow Jews. There are quite a few stories about him. He was blessed with long life: the Alter Rebbe blessed him to live a long life, and the Frierdiker Rebbe says that he lived to be over a hundred. In any case, as I heard from that chossid, when the Alter Rebbe was taken into custody—and this was

10:34 a real imprisonment, which involved fear for his life in those days, because the accusations made against the Alter Rebbe truly put his life in danger. There was great fear among the chassidim, and there were fasts; chassidim gave tzedakah and did all sorts of things. As we know from the history of those days, they did everything they could to seek the Alter Rebbe’s release from prison. He told me that at that time, while all the chassidim were fasting, davening and crying, the chossid Reb Moshe Yitzchak stood there baking potatoes—I should say, baked potatoes. They asked him, “While all the chassidim are saying Tehillim and fasting, why are you standing here baking potatoes?” Reb Moshe Yitzchak answered, “What do you think—that the darkness is beginning, that the exile is beginning? The Rebbe will be released from prison soon. It will be a Yom Tov, there will be joy, and the chassidim will farbreng and dance and farbreng. They’ll need refreshments, something to eat at the farbrengen. So I’m preparing baked potatoes. When it’s time for refreshments, if the Rebbe comes out, I won’t have to start looking for something to eat. There will be food, and we’ll be able to farbreng properly.” In other words, Reb Moshe Yitzchak had the quality of Rabbi

12:02 Rabbi Akiva, who laughed, because from the outset he saw things as they are on the inside. Let’s return to the two stories the Gemara tells. What is the difference between them? In the first story, it says they went to Rome, and in the second, it says they went to Jerusalem. What does this difference teach us in spiritual terms? In the first, they went to Rome—that is, they went into exile. Rome is the head of the exile. This is the Roman exile; the whole of exile, the very concept of exile, is the Roman exile. They are going to Rome—a situation in which Jews are heading in that direction, entering exile, entering the darkness of exile. And the entire purpose of exile is to refine the sparks of holiness found in Rome, among the kelipos. That is why Jews go into exile. About this the Gemara says, “Hakadosh Boruch Hu did a kindness for the Jewish people by scattering them among the nations”—so that Jews would go everywhere and refine the sparks of holiness in exile. When they go into exile and hear the noise of Rome’s crowds, when they see the non-Jews, the kelipos and all these things flourishing, while the Jews toil, struggle and suffer bitterly in exile—Rabbi Akiva hears all of this. That was his colleagues’ question: “Why are you laughing?” They see the kelipos, the sitra achra, the nations of the world, the non-Jews, and...

13:45 We can also understand it this way. Let’s consider it more fully: Rabbi Akiva’s comfort was connected to the inner purpose of exile—“If this is how it is for those who transgress His will, how much more so for those who do His will.” In other words, Jews go into exile, live among non-Jews and in a non-Jewish environment, and refine the sparks of holiness there. That is the very purpose for which Jews went into exile in the first place: “The Jewish people were exiled among the nations only so that converts would be added to them.” And the Alter Rebbe asks the well-known question: What does “converts” mean? Where do we see Jews converting people? On the contrary, halachah says that one must not persuade a prospective convert to convert. What does it mean that “the Jewish people were exiled only so that converts would be added to them”? If it means actual converts, what has happened over these two thousand years? After all, we are speaking of an exile that has lasted for thousands of years. The Alter Rebbe explains: the “converts” are the sparks of holiness. When a spark of holiness is in the domain of the kelipos, it is like a convert: it is in a foreign place, not where it belongs. And Jews go into exile “so that converts would be added to them”—to bring the sparks of holiness out of the domain of the kelipos. Through this, something is added. This is the meaning of “If this is how it is for those who transgress His will, how much more so for those who do His will.” Rabbi Akiva joyfully embraced the work of Jews living among non-Jews and refining the sparks of holiness: they study Torah and observe mitzvos, use all they have in exile for a blessing, and bring holiness there through Torah and mitzvos. If so, “how much more so for those who do His will”—the great revelations that will come in the future.

15:30 And when we contemplate the great revelations that will come in the future through this refinement of the sparks, great joy is aroused among the Jewish people. That is what Rabbi Akiva was saying. This is the point of the first story: it gives strength for joy. But these are two separate things: there is the pain of exile—“If this is how it is for those who transgress His will”—and there is the joy over the revelations that will follow, when we reach “how much more so for those who do His will.” In other words, the pain of exile and the joy of the Geulah are two different things. Still, this too is a comfort: we look at the darkness of exile and know that through it, a far better reality will come afterward, with lofty revelations and great joy. But this is not yet the main comfort; friends, this is not yet “you have comforted us.” It is indeed laughter, but it does not yet give us the feeling that this truly comforts us. In the second story, where they go up to Jerusalem—“go up to Jerusalem”—the situation is already reversed: they are on the road to the Geulah. These are two distinct kinds of work. There is the work when going into exile, when one must refine the sparks and turn darkness into—[unclear]. And there is the second stage: when the work of refinement has already been completed, when all the work of the time of exile has already been completed, and we are already in the time of ikvesa deMeshicha, preparing for the complete Geulah.

17:04 And they go up to Jerusalem. This is a time that signifies and brings with it, as the tzaddikim have told us, that this is the time of the Geulah. We know from the Rebbe’s sichos, in which he spoke about how we are now in a time of rejoicing and joy, the joy of the Geulah, and that we must all welcome Moshiach Tzidkeinu. Particularly as the Rebbe spoke in the later period, the time has already come for Moshiach to arrive at any moment. This is the meaning of “going up to Jerusalem.” And when they go up to Jerusalem, they see: What, seemingly, is happening here? We have been in the time of the Geulah for a long time already, and we are already in the city of the Geulah, the city of Moshiach, the city of King Moshiach, which we hope to see as it will be. Yet here they saw the exact opposite. Not only did they not see a reality of Geulah in the world, but they saw “a fox coming out of the Holy of Holies.” The Holy of Holies is the greatest holiness there can be in the world. And what is in the Holy of Holies? A fox came out of the Holy of Holies. A fox is, as the Gemara says, “the cleverest of the animals.” That cleverness is a kind of intelligence, but it belongs to things that are the opposite of holiness, the opposite of uprightness and justice. The Gemara tells stories about the fox. This is a fox with wisdom, but it is wisdom of this world, the wisdom of kelipah. And this happens specifically in the later period, in the later generations.

18:43 When the world is already drawing close to the complete Geulah. As the Zohar says, before the coming of Moshiach, in the last generations, wisdom will be revealed to the greatest extent—the wisdom of the inner dimension of Torah. The secrets of Torah, the inner dimension of Torah, will be revealed to the greatest extent. In the six-hundredth year of the sixth millennium, as the Zohar says, the opening will take place: wisdom will begin to be revealed—the wisdom of Torah, the inner dimension of Torah, the secrets of Torah. And this was seen in a tangible way in the teachings of the Baal Shem Tov and his disciples: the revelation of Torah spread through the world in those years around the six-hundredth year of the sixth millennium, just as the Zohar says. But as the Zohar says, at the same time there is also an opening of secular knowledge, as we see particularly in the last generations: the development of technology, science, and all these things, which have advanced in an extraordinary way. As the Zohar says, the two come together. And here, [unclear], what we see specifically in this period can happen: a fox came out of the Holy of Holies. People take advantage of a time when holiness is being revealed, when the world is preparing for Moshiach, and we see the inner dimension of Torah spreading and illuminating, and so on—and precisely at this time, a fox emerges. Some hold the opposite view: that one should specifically study secular subjects.

20:08 And make use of all these things to know what is happening in the world and understand the wisdom of the nations. And to educate children this way, may Hashem protect us—they want to put the wisdom of the nations into the heads of Jewish children. This is the kelipah of secular knowledge; this is the fox coming out of the Holy of Holies. And over this there was fresh weeping: How can it be that we are already on the eve of the Geulah, literally a moment before Moshiach comes, and precisely in this situation such darkness, such concealment, such difficulty comes into the world? We see all the spread of technology and knowledge in the world precisely a moment before Moshiach comes, and this creates a new and greater darkness. And while they all wept, the Gemara says, Rabbi Akiva laughed. What did Rabbi Akiva laugh at? The point, in brief, is “Zion shall be plowed like a field.” At first glance, he quotes verses, verses about the Geulah. What was the [unclear] that he saw? There is this verse and there is that verse, and from them he understood. But what did Rabbi Akiva see here? The point is that Rabbi Akiva said: On the contrary, precisely in the harshest, bitterest darkness lies the meaning of “Zion shall be plowed like a field.” “Zion shall be plowed like a field”—plowing means plowing the field. You plow it and break up the soil

21:38 completely. The deeper and more thorough the plowing, the more different the growth will be. If the plowing is shallow, the growth will also be weak. As is understood, [unclear], “sows and plows”—there is plowing after plowing, and there are many degrees of plowing. There is ordinary plowing and there is deep plowing. The more thorough the plowing, [unclear], and when you plow well and thoroughly, the growth—what comes out of it—is altogether different. A person looking with physical eyes sees plowing: an empty field, a broken-up field, all of it clods of plowed earth. If he does not understand what is happening here, what does he see? A desolate, empty place; there is nothing there. An empty field, plowed and broken up. But what does someone who understands see here? Someone whose eyes see more clearly, who knows what plowing is for, sees exactly the opposite. After all, this plowing is the beginning of growth. He sees that here, precisely from the plowing, the most beautiful and abundant growth emerges [unclear]. Within the concealment, within the darkness of exile, Rabbi Akiva says: precisely through “Zion shall be plowed like a field.” That is, if the darkness of exile had been a lesser darkness, not such a deep darkness, [unclear], not such a heavy darkness but a lesser one, perhaps the Geulah would not have been a Geulah

23:04 of the utmost perfection. Precisely because the darkness of exile penetrated as far as “foxes walked through it,” to the deepest place, and the darkness reached all the way there—“Zion shall be plowed like a field”—from such plowing came the greatest growth possible. And the new point here, what the second story adds over the first, is transformation. It does not mean merely that right now there are those people singing and dancing, with all their [unclear] songs, and that there is [unclear], and afterward good things will come out of it. Yes, [unclear], in the future [unclear], as though they were two things, one leading to the other. More than that, it is one thing: the Geulah will come and things will be good. What the second story adds over the first is [unclear]—turning darkness into light. The darkness itself, the plowing, the darkness, the fact that the destruction was so severe—that is because within it the Geulah is growing; within it lies the growth of the Geulah, its sprouting, in the deepest way. Rabbi Akiva saw the beginning of the Geulah in the darkness itself; that is, the darkness itself [unclear]. This is like what the Gemara says: when they saw the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash—“A psalm of Asaph.” The Midrash says: “A psalm of Asaph,” and not “A lament of Asaph”; Midrash Tehillim on chapter 79. [unclear] that when he saw the

24:40 destruction of the Beis Hamikdash, he said, “A psalm.” What kind of psalm? It should have been a lament! Rather, the psalm is about the fact that “He poured out His wrath on wood and stones.” When Hakadosh Boruch Hu poured out His wrath, His anger, on wood and stones, and the Jewish people remained alive and enduring forever, he saw in that great joy. In other words, the wrath, as the Midrash says, was poured out on wood and stones. If the destruction had not been directed at [unclear], then what happened with the First Beis Hamikdash? The Midrash says that in the destruction of the First Beis Hamikdash, the Beis Hamikdash was not destroyed down to its foundations; it was specifically in this destruction that there was “down to its foundations,” “Raze it, raze it, down to its foundations.” Since the destruction was so great, that means “He poured out His wrath” to the fullest extent, and consequently we see that an even deeper growth can come from here. And this is the second verse they cite: “Old men and old women shall yet sit in the streets of Jerusalem.” In other words, the future Geulah comes precisely because the destruction was so deep and the darkness so great. And what do we see in the darkness itself? We see how this finds expression in the great Geulah: “Old men and old women shall yet sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with a staff in hand.” Yes, they will go about in the normal course of life; things will be good. But a Jew will still have his natural condition. Old men and old women are naturally already weak, and yet they are out and about, strolling through the streets of Jerusalem, with a staff in hand. We see here that this is [unclear], that they will not need to use [unclear], that they will not need to—in other words, the purpose of creation, the ultimate perfection of the revelations of the future, comes from having passed through exile in its greatest depth. And Rabbi Akiva,

26:21 in the second story, this is what he adds over the first: he transformed exile, and did not merely nullify it. He transformed the darkness of exile itself and saw in it the first ray of the Geulah. That is why it is specifically in the second story that they say, “Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us”—a twofold consolation. The consolation is twofold because we see that there are two stages. There is the nullification of exile, which they saw in the first story. But that alone is not yet consolation. We must reach the second stage: not only the nullification of exile, but the darkness itself turning into light. This is something new, and it is specifically this that made the first stage a consolation. This is also alluded to in the meaning of the word “consolation,” “menachem.” Rashi says at the end of Parshas Bereishis, on “And Hashem regretted that He had made man”: “Every use of the word nichum denotes a change of course.” The meaning of “vayinachem,” “menachem,” is to change course. In “And Hashem regretted,” Hakadosh Boruch Hu turned from the attribute of mercy to the attribute of judgment, and this brought about the Flood. Similarly, there is “menachem,” consolation, when the change goes in the opposite direction, from the attribute of judgment to the attribute of mercy. That is the idea of transformation. And why specifically Rabbi Akiva? Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya, Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya, and Rabban Gamliel were with him. This realization did not arise for them; it arose specifically for Rabbi Akiva. What is the explanation? Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya, after all, was a Kohen. The Gemara says that Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya was a descendant of Ezra the Scribe, and therefore he was a Kohen. Ezra the Scribe was one of the Kohanim, and Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya was

28:01 A Kohen. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya, the Gemara says, was a Levi. The Gemara tells a story in Bava Metzia, [unclear] about tithes, that shows Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya was a Levi. Rabban Gamliel came from the family of the Nasi, from the descendants of Hillel; he was a Yisrael. Kohanim, Levi’im, and Yisraelim—the three [unclear] of Kohanim, Levi’im, and Yisraelim—looked and saw exile, and so they wept. In other words, when you look at things on the surface, you see destruction, you see darkness, and you feel like crying. But Rabbi Akiva, who descended from converts, responded differently. Rabbi Akiva came from a place of darkness, [unclear]. Rabbi Akiva, who came from a place of darkness, was transformed into a righteous convert. He took the spark of holiness—as explained in Chassidus, a convert is a spark of holiness found within, within [unclear] that fell into the kelipos—and brought it to the point where it was transformed into a righteous convert. He himself descended from converts; he came from a place of darkness. Rabbi Akiva, of all people, grasps the deeper point: within the darkness itself lies the light. Within the darkness itself, he sees the light of the Geulah. And that awakens the greatest joy in him: Rabbi Akiva laughs. This is what they meant by “Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us.” And this is the meaning of “Comfort, comfort My people”—comfort twice over, not just comfort. It says

29:34 here that the comfort is doubled. Not only will the darkness of exile end and Moshiach come speedily in our days, amen, but the darkness itself will be transformed into light. That is the greatest joy: the darkness itself—as in the well-known words of the prophet Yeshayahu, “I thank You, Hashem, for You were angry with me.” When Moshiach comes, we will be able to say “I thank You, Hashem” about everything that appeared to be the darkness of exile. It is not merely that those things will end; the true meaning of comfort is that the darkness itself will be transformed into light. That is the comfort: the transformation of the darkness itself into light and joy. We find this point in the weekly parsha as well, Parshas Va’eschanan. Moreover, it appears in the passage from Parshas Va’eschanan that is read on Tisha B’Av: “When you have children and grandchildren and have grown old in the land.” Rashi asks: What does “have grown old in the land” mean? The numerical value of the word “venoshantem,” “and have grown old,” is 852—nine hundred and fifty-two years from when they entered Eretz Yisroel. Rashi says that when the Jews were in Eretz Yisroel, because of their transgressions and sins—“and you act corruptly and make a graven image,” idolatry and all those things, the difficult verses written there and read on Tisha B’Av—there was an act of kindness and goodness here. What was that kindness and goodness? Hakadosh Boruch Hu brought the exile two years early.

31:10 It was supposed to happen in the year 852, nine hundred and fifty-two years later, whereas the destruction took place in the year nine hundred and fifty, two years earlier. As a result, the subsequent verses concerning idolatry did not come to pass. Where do we see this? Hakadosh Boruch Hu hurried to bring the exile earlier, as the prophet says: “Hashem hastened the calamity and brought it upon us.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu hurried to bring the exile, and as a result, what was written in those verses—the terrible things said, G-d forbid, concerning idolatry—did not come to pass, and the Jewish people remained alive and enduring. What do we see here? Something remarkable. Something happened that, at the time, appeared undesirable. When that year arrived, two years before the expected time, and Hakadosh Boruch Hu brought the destruction, it appeared to the Jewish people then to be something undesirable. Hakadosh Boruch Hu was hurrying to bring the destruction two years early—surely that was undesirable, something negative. And what became clear afterward? That this very thing saved the Jewish people. This is comfort twice over: a time comes when it becomes clear that the very thing people saw as darkness at the time was what saved them. As the Rebbe spoke about several times, there were cases in which

32:32 many Jews were forced to flee during the World War. At the time, they saw it as a hardship and something bad, but in the end it saved their lives, as we know from many stories about Jews and the like. In any case, that is the point, and that is what we must take from these days of Menachem Av: we comfort the Father, and we transform—as we said, “menachem” carries the sense of “transforming,” of turning something around. The purpose of all the darkness of exile is not merely for us to bring exile to an end; the Jewish people have the power to transform it. That is why Rabbi Akiva laughs: a Jew who looks with the eye of pnimiyus can already see, within the darkness of exile, within its bitter darkness, that it is precisely the concealment that brings the greatest and deepest light and revelation of the true and complete Geulah. This awakens an inner joy, comfort twice over. And in serving Hashem, this means serving with joy, a joy that already shines within a Jew. Even while in exile, he can place himself in a state of mind, in an atmosphere, of Geulah. As the Rebbe spoke about in the later years, and particularly in

33:49 5751, we are already standing in the time of the days of Moshiach. So a Jew can already adopt that outlook now. In the world around him, there are still things that are not illuminated, but by contemplating these matters, he can already live in that atmosphere. Especially when one studies and contemplates the subjects of Geulah and Moshiach, one can already be in a state of gladness and joy, the joy of the Geulah. And joy itself, as the Rebbe said, hastens and brings it closer. May we indeed merit that “these days will be transformed into days of gladness and joy and joyous festivals.”