Devarim and Tisha B’av: Turning Hatred into Love

Parshat Devarim begins Moshe’s repetition of the Torah to the Jewish people. In his speech, Moshe recaps the journey the nation have taken from Egypt to Mount Sinai and beyond, reminding them of their highs and lows. Moshe rebukes the people for the most catastrophic of sins –  the sin of the spies – which leads to 40 years of wandering through the desert. Moshe chastises the people for their reaction to the negative report of Eretz Yisrael and repeats their words “Hashem took us out of Egypt because he hates us.” These perplexing words are the root cause of Tisha B’av and the foundation of all suffering ever since. Let us try to understand what the people meant with this hatred and how we can use this deeper perspective to inform our own relationship with Hashem, our challenges and those around us. 

Our first place to turn in order to decode the perplexing words of the Jewish people is Rashi. Rashi explains that the people accused Hashem of hating them because they harbored hatred towards Him. Rashi brings a principle that individuals project what they deeply feel about the other. Since the Jewish people hated Hashem, they said that Hashem hated them. But how could this be? Where did this hatred come from? 

The Chizkuni builds the picture by providing the perspective of the Jewish people. Egypt was an incredibly fertile land, nourished by the abundant waters of the Nile. Eretz Yisrael, on the other hand, was a dry land, completely dependent on rainfall for its development and beauty. The Jewish people in the pasuk declare that Hashem took them out of Egypt because He hates them. The reference to Egypt can now be understood, taking them from a well-watered land to a parched one was interpreted by the Jewish people as an act of hatred, a hardship which would cause them suffering.

This mindset of the Jewish people proved to be catastrophic. According to the Midrash (Bamidbar Rabba 16:20), when Hashem saw their tears over their misguided perspective, over their negative views of the land of Israel and Hashem’s apparent hatred of them, He declared powerful words. “Because you cried in vain, I will establish this as a time of crying for generations.” This day of crying is Tisha B’av, a time of calamities and mourning throughout Jewish history. We wept empty tears back then, tears where we believed Hashem had turned His back on us. And now, each year, we are forced to experience that feeling in macro. The feeling of Hashem seemingly abandoning us, leaving us to grope through the darkness of galut. 

The Jewish people thought that Hashem hated them because moving to the land of Israel would not be easy. But ease is not a sign of love and challenge is not a sign of hate. Sometimes we repeat the fatal mistake of the Jewish people, the toxic mindset of Hagar and we buy into the story of Hashem’s hate.

This was not the only time we made this mistake. In the desert, we began doubting Hashem and asked “Is Hashem with us, or not?” (Shemot 17:7) The next pasuk, the fateful consequence of questioning Hashem’s love, says “And Amalek came.” (Ibid 17:8) With our doubt in Hashem’s protection, we make ourselves vulnerable to enemies. 

Rabbi Kallus describes this negative mindset as the mindset of Hagar. When Sara is still barren and Hagar becomes the mother of Yishmael, Hagar taunts Sara. Hagar tells Sara that she is clearly more righteous than Sara, because Hashem has withheld the blessing of children from Sara. These words, and the mindset accompanying it, are completely illogical and unhealthy. Hashem does not bring challenge because He hates the person. On the contrary, He brings challenges out of a love for a person, to make them grow. Sara was barren because Hashem loved her. He wanted her tefillot.

The Jewish people thought that Hashem hated them because moving to the land of Israel would not be easy. But ease is not a sign of love and challenge is not a sign of hate. Sometimes we repeat the fatal mistake of the Jewish people, the toxic mindset of Hagar and we buy into the story of Hashem’s hate. We say “All my friends are married, but I’m single because Hashem abandoned me, He forgot me.” We think “Everyone else has been blessed with children but I’m still waiting because I’m being punished.” These thoughts are the roots of Tisha B’av. Planting the seeds of geula on this dark day begins with our total recognition of Hashem’s love and closeness. When we suffer, Hashem suffers. Even in the challenging times we currently find ourselves in, we must remind ourselves that Hashem is constantly by our side.

The Bilvavi writes that this is echoed in the Hebrew language. The gematria of ahava, love, is the same as that of echad, one. Because love is when we realize that we are one with Hashem. Or more importantly, He is one with us. When we are feeling isolated and low, Hashem is with us. Hatred translates to sina, linguistically related to the root sheini/two. We feel hatred towards Hashem when we see Him as detached from us. We imagine Him deliberately inflicting challenges on us from afar, leaving us to struggle. When the Jewish People heard bad reports about the land, they immediately felt hatred towards Hashem. Because they felt abandoned. But we were never separated. We are always echad, always one. Even on Tisha B’av, the depths of despair, there exists sparks of Hashem’s love.

Let us return to the initial Rashi. The Jewish people never said they hated Hashem. They felt it. Which led them to say Hashem hated them. These types of projections not only affect our relationship with Hashem, but our relationship with others. How many times have we told our spouse he was being unloving, only because we were feeling unloving? Interpreted something he said as critical because we were feeling critical? The result of this is that it pushes our spouse away, exactly what we wanted least. Let’s fill our hearts with love for the other and in turn, we will see it reflected back to us. As King Shlomo wrote in Mishlei (27:19) “As a face in the water reflects the face it is shown, so too the heart of a man to a man.”

As the Beit Hamikdash burnt, the greatest tragedy of our history, the Jewish people were plunged into devastation. But, at that very time, an incredible thing happened. The Keruvim in the Mikdash, representing Hashem and the Jewish people, not only faced each other, but embraced. What a poignant image. What a chizuk as we descended into a painful exile once more. Even as Hashem cast us into galut, He never cast us away. Despite the tragic loss of the Beit Hamikdash, Hashem was still hugging us. May we merit to feel this hug in its fullest, clearest form in a beautiful rebuilt Yerushalayim, this year. But as we wait, may we recall and feel His deep love.