The Three Weeks • The Positive Meaning of the Days of Bein HaMeitzarim in Light of Chassidus

00:00 The days of Bein Hametzarim, the Three Weeks from 17 Tammuz to Tisha B’Av, are days of mourning—days that seem sad on the surface. Throughout the generations, we, the Jewish people, have mourned the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash during these days. Five things happened on 17 Tammuz, as the Mishnah and Gemara in Tractate Taanis tell us. The same is true of Tisha B’Av: five things happened then, too. These are among the hardest events in the history of the Jewish people, from the sin of the Golden Calf and the breaking of the Tablets, to the breaching of Jerusalem’s walls in the days of both the First and Second Beis Hamikdash, and finally the burning of our Beis Hamikdash—both the First and the Second—on Tisha B’Av. This has made these Three Weeks, if you can put it that way, the saddest weeks of the year. The Shulchan Aruch sets out laws for these weeks, the laws of Bein Hametzarim. Then there are the laws of the Nine Days and the laws of Tisha B’Av, which prohibit various things that bring joy. During these weeks, we may not hold weddings or other kinds of celebrations, say Shehecheyanu, buy new clothes, and so on. And as Tisha B’Av draws closer, the restrictions become stricter in various ways. There are the Three Weeks, then the Nine Days, then the week in which Tisha B’Av falls, and finally Tisha B’Av itself. The Shulchan Aruch tells us how a Jew should conduct himself at each stage. And here, as with everything, we see something remarkable in Chassidus. Chassidus seeks out the positive, the light in every detail—the point of joy and light in every thing, every situation, every mitzvah, every day. So even in these days, which, as we said, are days of bitterness and mourning, Chassidus looks for and finds the power to turn darkness into light,

02:28 the power to seek out the positive and the good even in these days. Today, then, we’ll look more deeply at a few aspects of these particular weeks: how Chassidus illuminates them for us and gives us a deeper perspective, so we can see where the positive side of the Three Weeks can be found. We’ll talk about the number of days—twenty-one days, which make up the Three Weeks. What does the number twenty-one signify? What does the number of three weeks signify? We’ll also talk about the weekly parshas that are always read during these weeks. Then we’ll begin to see how, alongside the bitterness, darkness, and mourning, there are profound things to discover when we look more deeply. We can see how these very days contain deep allusions to the purpose of the descent—to the great principle Chassidus always teaches us, that a descent is for the sake of an ascent. We can look at the descent and see within it how it is, in fact, progress toward a great ascent. Then we can view the days of the Three Weeks themselves in an entirely different way, with a deeper, more inward perspective, and see them in a positive light. This also has practical implications. As we’ll see today, conduct during the Three Weeks based on the principles of Chassidus involves a great deal of positive action. The Shulchan Aruch places greater emphasis on what we may not do during these days. Of course, those laws are essential—a Jew needs to know what he may not do during the Three Weeks. But there is also the positive side: how a Jew uses these weeks to turn darkness into a source of light, and destruction

04:49 into a springboard for building. Let’s begin with the well-known story the Gemara tells in Tractate Makkos. We won’t go into all its details; we’ll just get to the point. At the end of Tractate Makkos, the Gemara tells of Rabbi Akiva traveling together with three of the great Tannaim of his time: Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananyah, and Rabban Gamliel. The Gemara relates two incidents. Once, they were walking toward Rome. From many kilometers away, they could see the rejoicing and celebrations taking place there, and the other three Tannaim began to weep. Rabbi Akiva’s companions tore their clothes and cried, and Rabbi Akiva asked them, “Why are you crying?” They asked him, “Why are you laughing?” They said, “What do you mean? Those who destroyed our Beis Hamikdash, that lowly nation that destroyed it and sent us into exile—look how they celebrate and rejoice! And our home, the House of Hashem our G-d, is burned by fire. How could we not weep?” Rabbi Akiva told them, “That is precisely why I rejoice. If this is what those who transgress His will receive, how much more so will those who do His will receive!” If those wicked gentiles who destroyed the Beis Hamikdash enjoy such abundance and wealth, all the more so will Hakadosh Boruch Hu give to the Jewish people, who do His will. Then the Gemara tells a similar story that happened afterward, when they returned and went up to Jerusalem. The same four Tannaim were going up to Jerusalem. They reached Mount Scopus and looked out from there. What did they see? A fox coming out of the Beis Hamikdash. Mount Scopus is high enough to overlook the Temple Mount, and they saw a fox coming out of the Holy of Holies. In other words, the Temple Mount—the Beis Hamikdash—had already

06:57 been destroyed. Of course, Rabbi Akiva and his companions lived about fifty years after the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash. They saw the devastation, they saw what had happened, and they saw that the site of the Beis Hamikdash lay utterly desolate, with foxes roaming through it. A fox came out of the place that had once been the Holy of Holies. They began to weep and tore their clothes, while Rabbi Akiva rejoiced. Again, the same exchange: “Why are you rejoicing?” “Why are you sad?” They told him, “What do you mean? This is a place where a stranger was forbidden to enter, where only the Kohen Gadol could enter once a year—and now foxes walk through it. How could we rejoice? Of course we must weep.” Rabbi Akiva told them, “This is why I rejoice: the prophecy has been fulfilled.” There are two prophecies. One says, “Zion shall be plowed like a field”—that Zion, Jerusalem, would become a field, a ruin. Another verse, in a different prophecy, says, “Old men and old women shall yet sit in the streets of Jerusalem, each with a staff in hand.” Days will come when Jerusalem will be a place where people move about in freedom and joy, and even old men and women will walk about, healthy, with their staffs and so on. Now that the first prophecy has been fulfilled and we see that “Zion shall be plowed like a field,” I know the later prophecy will also be fulfilled completely. That is why I rejoice. And the Gemara concludes: They said to him, in these words, “Akiva, you have comforted us. Akiva, you have comforted us.” What does this Gemara teach us? Two ways of seeing things. There is the perspective of the great Tannaim—Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Elazar ben Azaryah, and Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananyah. It is the sound perspective of normal people—normal people who were great leaders of the Jewish people, towering figures, great Tannaim. They look and see the reality: a bitter reality that makes them tear their clothes and burst into tears. How could there be such destruction, something so immense, so painful? Rabbi Akiva, the great Rabbi Akiva, comes and opens

09:08 opens their eyes and gives them a different perspective. The perspective Rabbi Akiva gives them is not just different. The remarkable thing in the Gemara is that Rabbi Akiva also succeeds in convincing them, in drawing them into that joy, until they conclude by saying to him twice, “Akiva, you have comforted us; Akiva, you have comforted us.” So here we begin to understand that there is one kind of perspective and there is another, and both have a place according to the Torah. These were great Tannaim. There is the simple, ordinary perspective: you see destruction, and it makes you cry. But there is also the deeper perspective. That is Rabbi Akiva. And it is fascinating that this same Rabbi Akiva is the one who said, “Everything Hakadosh Boruch Hu does, He does for the good.” We know the story of Rabbi Akiva from another period in his life, when he was traveling and took a donkey, a rooster, and a lamp with him. Then his donkey was taken, his rooster was devoured, and the lamp went out. Rabbi Akiva had nowhere to stay because they had not allowed him into the town. And Rabbi Akiva said, “Everything Hakadosh Boruch Hu does, He does for the good.” Then it became clear that precisely because of everything that had happened—things that seemed negative on the surface, having nowhere to stay that night and having to sit out in the field, the lamp going out, the rooster being devoured, and the donkey being taken—something good came of it. Thanks to those events, he was saved; his life was spared, as the Talmud relates in that famous story. So this same Rabbi Akiva sees the deeper meaning in everything. He does not look at things superficially. He goes into the story in depth. He gets to the heart of things, and he

11:08 discovers that beneath the darkness lies a very, very deep light. Sometimes it is precisely the things that outwardly seem difficult, dark, and bitter that contain a deeper, more wonderful inner light. And that is really the inner point of the entire Three Weeks, of all of Bein Hameitzarim: looking more deeply. When we get to the heart of the matter, we begin to see things through Rabbi Akiva’s eyes. The Rebbe once spoke about this at a farbrengen and said something remarkable. It is no coincidence that it was Rabbi Akiva. There is something even deeper here that tells us why he, specifically, had this perspective. Unlike the other three Tannaim, Rabbi Akiva was descended from converts. Rabban Gamliel, Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya, and Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya had distinguished lineages. The Gemara says Rabbi Elazar ben Azarya was a kohen, a tenth-generation descendant of Ezra the Scribe, from a line of great kohanim. He himself was a nasi, as the Gemara in tractate Berachos tells us. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananya was a Levi. The Gemara says he had been one of the singers in the time of the Beis Hamikdash, so he was from the tribe of Levi. Rabban Gamliel came from a line of nesi’im; he was a grandson of Hillel the Elder and part of the royal line of the House of David. Well, what could be greater than that? And where did Rabbi Akiva come from? He came from a place of darkness. Rabbi Akiva came from a background where his parents were converts; he was descended from converts. And we know that Rabbi Akiva himself was an unlearned shepherd for forty years. Precisely he, who came from that place of darkness, was able to understand and absorb this idea—and not only that, but also to teach his great colleagues what a Jew’s deeper perspective should be when he sees dark times. How should a Jew relate to times of bitterness, times of

13:19 mourning? He should know that within that darkness lies a spark of great light. You just have to know how to find it. Then, even in the present, when you have not yet reached the point of comfort, when you still see the situation as it is now, you can already begin to smile and rejoice, because you see the light that emerges from the darkness. So, returning to the Three Weeks, what is the deeper perspective Chassidus gives us? As we said, we see it in the number of days, in the Three Weeks themselves, and in the weekly parshas. Twenty-one days. The Three Weeks are twenty-one days. The Midrash says, regarding Yirmiyahu—as we know, the haftorah read on the first Shabbos of the Three Weeks is usually on Shabbos Parshas Pinchas, and sometimes on Shabbos Parshas Mattos. The first haftorah begins, “The words of Yirmiyahu son of Chilkiyahu.” The book of Yirmiyahu is a book of bitterness. Yirmiyahu’s name is associated with bitterness. He is the prophet of the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash. What is the first thing Hakadosh Boruch Hu says to Yirmiyahu? In his first prophecy: “I see a branch of an almond tree.” Hakadosh Boruch Hu shows him an almond branch, a branch from an almond tree, and says to him, “Do you know what this branch means? ‘I am watchful over My word to carry it out.’” I am hastening it; I am watchful—there is a play on words between the Hebrew words for “almond” and “watchful.” I am hastening the destruction of the Beis Hamikdash. And the Midrash says: What is special about the almond? The almond tree bears fruit faster than any other fruit tree in the world. It takes twenty-one days from the time it begins to grow until it is fully grown. In other words, from the time the almond begins to grow until there are almonds takes no more than twenty-one days. The Midrash says: Just as the almond takes twenty-one days, so too the days of Bein Hameitzarim are twenty-one days. Fine, so the number twenty-one matches the almond’s twenty-one days. But there is something

15:31 remarkable here, something deep that the Alter Rebbe points out. Why is this twenty-one-day period associated specifically with the almond? What is special about the almond that makes it a symbol of this speed? When an almond grows, it is bitter at first, when it is small, and over time it becomes sweet. The Mishnah says—the Gemara says—the Mishnah in tractate Maasros says that there are two kinds of almonds: bitter almonds and sweet almonds. But even sweet almonds are actually bitter at the beginning of their growth, when they are small, and over time they become sweet. And as for bitter almonds, it says in the sefarim that although they are bitter, when they are prepared and heated and put through a process, they become sweet, tasty almonds that people use in various confections. In other words, almonds have this quality of bitterness turning into sweetness, and that is really the whole story. With this, the Alter Rebbe also explains the remarkable story the Torah tells us about almonds. Who knows the story of the almonds? It was quite recent. We learned about it in Parshas Korach, when the Torah tells us how Korach came to challenge Aharon’s priesthood. It was a moment of bitterness, a moment of darkness. Korach’s story is a tragedy. And when Hakadosh Boruch Hu wanted to transform that situation—the challenge, the accusation against Aharon the Kohen—into an opportunity for growth, to strengthen the tribe of Levi, to empower them and give them the gifts He gave them, the whole episode in Parshas Korach also involved an almond branch: “And behold, Aharon’s staff had blossomed; it produced a blossom, sprouted buds, and yielded almonds.” And almonds symbolize the kohanim and the priestly blessing. So here, too, it is explained in the teachings of

17:46 Chassidus asks: What is so special about Birchas Kohanim that here, too, darkness is transformed into light? The power of Birchas Kohanim is that, through his blessing, the kohen turns situations of darkness into situations of light. “May Hashem bless you and guard you”—guard you from harmful forces, as Rashi tells us. “And grant you peace”—turning a state of war, a state of enmity, into peace. Birchas Kohanim means taking bitter almonds and turning them into sweet almonds. The bitterness of Korach’s time became a source of strength and resolve for growth for Aharon the Kohen and the entire tribe of Levi. The same is true of the Three Weeks. The Three Weeks symbolize almonds, which are bitter at first. But when a Jew takes these days and, specifically during them, strengthens his Torah study and observance of mitzvos, he turns days of darkness into days of light—through “A mitzvah is a lamp, and Torah is light”; through “Tziyon shall be redeemed through justice, and those who return to her through tzedakah.” That is the verse at the end of the haftarah we read in the third of the Three Weeks. Here, too, through justice, meaning Torah, and through tzedakah—Torah and tzedakah give us the power to transform darkness into light. That is what the almond’s twenty-one days symbolize: turning bitterness into sweetness. The Three Weeks. What is it about the Three Weeks? Here, too, there is something interesting: specifically three weeks. What does the number three symbolize? Three symbolizes the third Beis Hamikdash. It is no accident that we call this period the Three Weeks. Interestingly, that is the usual name Jews give these days. Most of the Jewish people call it the Three Weeks. That is the usual name. What do the Three

20:02 Weeks symbolize? They are three weeks in which every Jew’s thirst and longing for the third Beis Hamikdash awakens. The number three. We know that it is a very, very fundamental number in Judaism. In the discussion of Matan Torah in Tractate Shabbos, the Gemara tells us of a threefold Torah given to a threefold people in the third month. So many things connected with Matan Torah are associated specifically with the number three. Three symbolizes the Jewish people: Kohanim, Levi’im, and Yisraelim. The Torah is Torah, Nevi’im, and Kesuvim. In the third month, Sivan, we received the Torah on the third day—“And it came to pass on the third day”—the day of Matan Torah, the third of the three days of preparation. Moshe, Aharon, and Miriam were the three leaders through whom we received the Torah. So many things involve the number three. Three is a number of Geulah. Interestingly, the Rebbe says, Geulah begins with the letter gimel, which also represents three. Gimel is related to gomel—giving, bestowing kindness. Geulah is the gimel, the third Geulah that we are all waiting for. Our forefathers Avraham, Yitzchak, and Yaakov are the three forefathers, corresponding to the three Batei Mikdash. So the Three Weeks specifically symbolize days in which we also draw closer to the third Geulah. There is another interesting point when we look more deeply: there are the Three Weeks, and afterward there are seven. The Three Weeks are called the three weeks of calamity, of mourning, and afterward there are seven weeks of consolation. Now, when we speak of the sefiros, we know there are ten sefiros. Hashem’s ten sefiros are also divided into three and seven. There are the three higher sefiros, Chochmah, Binah, and Daas, and the seven sefiros that are the higher emotional attributes: Chessed, Gevurah, Tiferes, Netzach, Hod, Yesod, and Malchus. Chassidus explains that the seven weeks of consolation correspond to the seven emotional attributes. The Three Weeks correspond to

22:21 the three intellectual faculties, Chochmah, Binah, and Daas. The Three Weeks specifically symbolize Chochmah, Binah, and Daas, the three higher sefiros—a much higher level. It is remarkable that these very Three Weeks are connected with something much loftier, much higher. That is precisely why, down here, when things whose source is higher descend into this lower world, we do not see the—outwardly, they appear dark. Our task is to turn that around and reveal the depth, the light within the darkness, to reveal their source: the Three Weeks specifically come from a higher, loftier place. We see this point wonderfully illustrated in both the parshiyos and the haftaros of these Three Weeks. Look at the parshiyos read during these weeks: Pinchas, Matos, Masei, and Devarim. These are the parshiyos generally read during the Three Weeks: Pinchas, Matos, Masei, and Devarim. What do these four parshiyos have in common? One theme runs through all of them, recurring in different details: entering Eretz Yisroel and conquering the land. Until Parshas Pinchas, we had not spoken about this. Then, in Parshas Pinchas, it begins: “Among these shall the land be apportioned”; “Only by lot shall the land be divided.” In Parshas Pinchas, the Torah begins telling us how Moshe Rabbeinu starts preparing the Jewish people to enter the land: the lot by which Eretz Yisroel is divided among the tribes. They are preparing to enter the land. In Parshas Matos, the Torah continues with further details about the tribes of Gad and Reuven, who wanted a portion outside Eretz Yisroel as well. Then comes Parshas Masei, where the Torah again sets out all the borders of Eretz Yisroel in minute detail. In Parshas Devarim, the Torah continues discussing the conquest of the land, both the territories conquered

24:50 by the tribes of Gad and Reuven and the territories conquered within Eretz Yisroel. These four parshiyos specifically discuss the conquest of the land. But there is something even more remarkable here. They speak not only about conquering Eretz Yisroel. Notice that these four parshiyos also discuss conquering lands outside Eretz Yisroel: the conquest by the tribes of Gad and Reuven, the Golan Heights, and all the towns they conquered outside Eretz Yisroel as well—Gilad, and so on. What is interesting about that? We know that the sefarim discuss why the tribes of Gad and Reuven wanted a portion outside Eretz Yisroel. What drove them so strongly to want land outside it? There are many explanations and interpretations, but the sefarim, including works of the Rishonim and others, offer a remarkable one: they wanted to begin fulfilling a part of Hashem’s promise that had not yet been fulfilled in full. We are destined to receive not only the land of seven nations, but the land of ten nations. After all, Hashem promised Avraham Avinu, at the Covenant Between the Parts, that we would receive the lands of ten nations. In practice, we conquered only seven. There are the lands of the Keini, Kenizi, and Kadmoni, which we have not yet merited to conquer. With Hashem’s help, we will conquer them in the days of Moshiach, as it says in Parshas Shoftim, “When Hashem your G-d expands your borders”—referring to the lands of the Keini, Kenizi, and Kadmoni. The tribes of Gad and Reuven wanted to begin already; they wanted a taste of the days of Moshiach. That is why they asked to conquer territories belonging to those three nations, the Keini, Kenizi, and Kadmoni, so that we would already have a share in the future conquest, which also includes those three lands. Where is this told? In the parshiyos we read during these weeks leading up to Tishah B’Av.

26:53 In other words, precisely during the weeks when the parshas speak about exile, the destruction of the Land, and the exile of the Jewish people, we read in the Torah the parshas that give us strength, faith, and confidence about the conquest of the Land of Israel. And not only the conquest of the Land of Israel, but its conquest together with the lands of all ten nations. Look at something remarkable: how precise the numbers we mentioned are. We said earlier that there are seven parshas of consolation and three parshas during the Three Weeks—ten haftarahs, divided into three and seven. Here, too, it is the same with the nations. There are seven nations corresponding to the seven emotional attributes; we conquered their lands when we first entered the Land. And there are three nations corresponding to Chochmah, Binah, and Daas—or Kesser, Chochmah, and Binah. These are the three higher nations, whose lands we have not yet conquered. We will conquer them soon, in the days of Moshiach Tzidkeinu. And the Torah tells us that we have already had at least a taste of their lands through the story of the tribes of Gad and Reuven. So we already have a share in the lands of all ten nations. This connects with everything we have discussed about these weeks, and now we come to our avodah. What exactly are we to do with all this? It is remarkable—from the perspective of the twenty-one days, the Three Weeks, the weekly parsha, and the haftarah. Although the three haftarahs we read are called the Three of Calamity, haftarahs about exile, difficult haftarahs that are hard for us to read—very difficult haftarahs—each one ends with a verse of Geulah, a positive verse. It is remarkable how each of the three haftarahs ends with a verse of consolation. “Israel is holy to Hashem, the first of His harvest”—the first haftarah. Or, for those who read “The words of Yirmiyahu,” it ends with “Thus says Hashem: I remember the kindness of your youth.” The second haftarah, too,

29:12 “If you return, Israel, return to Me.” The third haftarah: “Tziyon shall be redeemed through justice, and those who return to her through tzedakah,” as we said earlier. Although the haftarahs themselves speak of bitterness and destruction, there is an is’hapcha—a transformation to good—in the final verse. And that is always the main thing: everything follows the conclusion, which turns bitterness into sweetness. What does this mean in actual practice? This is one of the remarkable things the Rebbe spoke about in our generation, as we draw closer and closer to the Geulah. Precisely during the Three Weeks, of course, the first thing is to observe everything written in the Shulchan Aruch, everything required by halachah. But at the same time, we need to focus our energy on building. That is why one of the things the Rebbe proposed for the Three Weeks was to set a time to study the laws of the Beis Hamikdash. Studying these laws is a way for us to build the Beis Hamikdash. The Midrash says that Hakadosh Boruch Hu told Yechezkel—in chapter 43, where Yechezkel is told, “Tell the Children of Israel about the building of the House”—to teach them about the construction of the Beis Hamikdash. The Midrash relates that Yechezkel objected to Hakadosh Boruch Hu: “They are in Bavel. Why should they learn about the Beis Hamikdash now? They cannot build it anyway.” And Hakadosh Boruch Hu replied, “No. Because we are in exile, should My Beis Hamikdash be neglected? I want them to build it even now, through study.” This gives us a clear and wonderful message: by studying the laws of the Beis Hamikdash during these days, we are actually building it. The Rebbe therefore always spoke about how, during the Three Weeks, everyone should set a time to study the laws of the Beis Hamikdash: in Tanach, in those chapters of Yechezkel beginning with chapter 43; in the Mishnah, in Tractates Tamid and Middos; in the relevant passages of the Gemara; in the Rambam’s Hilchos Beis Habechirah; and in books that explain the construction of the Beis Hamikdash. And besides that,

31:19 of course, “Tziyon shall be redeemed through justice, and those who return to her through tzedakah.” Increase in Torah study and increase in tzedakah. Seek out Jews to help them put on tefillin, to light Shabbos candles, to bring one more Jew closer to Yiddishkeit. Precisely during these days, occupy ourselves with building. And very soon, may we merit that precisely these days fulfill what the famous verse says: “These days will be transformed into joy and gladness, into festivals,” with the building of the Third Beis Hamikdash. Then we will merit what is written in the name of the Arizal: in the days of Moshiach, these days will be days of joy, festive days even more special than ordinary days throughout the rest of the year. May we merit to see it this year: the complete Geulah, the building of the Beis Hamikdash, victory in the war, and peace, tranquility, and rest at last in the Third Beis Hamikdash, speedily in our days. Amen.