Ekev: At a Loss for Words?

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

A congregational rabbi once told me of a tragedy that happened in his community: a young woman had suddenly died.

On a Sabbath very shortly after the death, the husband and father of the bereaved family asked the rabbi to come to his house. When he arrived, the father took him to the room of his teenaged son, who was lying "out of it" on his bed, totally apathetic. "He's barely woken up or done anything since my wife died," the husband lamented.

The rabbi understood that the father was hoping that he would find some way to reach the boy's soul, to comfort him, to encourage him. But the situation seemed so bleak that the rabbi said to himself, "What can I possibly do? Are there any words that I can use to reach his heart?"

Most unfortunately, this is a common phenomenon. Even under normal circumstances, it is not easy to find the right words for solace and comfort.

The Rabbis teach us that when Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai's son passed away, some of the holy Tannaim (Sages of the Mishna) sought to comfort him, but did not succeed. Only when R. Elazar ben Arakh arrived and found the right words did R. Yochanan find a measure of solace (see Avot D'Rabbe Natan, 14). 

This is why many times, people simply try to avoid making condolence calls, and when they do come, they talk about other things, or wait for other people to begin. [Jewish Law does require that the comforter wait for the mourner to begin speaking, or at least give a sign that he is ready to hear the comforter speak]. 

We have just commemorated the happy day of Tu B'Av, the 15th of Av. This day marks what happened to the generation that experienced the Exodus but was decreed to die out (other than those younger than 20 at the time of the Sin of the Spies) before they entered the Promised Land: Tu B'Av was the day on which they ceased dying. It thus represents the passage from the crisis of exile, to national solace and Redemption. 

We are currently in the throes of what we call the Seven Weeks of Consolation (following the Three Weeks of Mourning over the Holy Temples and the exile that concluded with Tisha B'Av). During these weeks, we read Hafarot after the weekly Torah reading that are connected not necessarily with the weekly portion, but with the concept of consolation. That is, we seek – and find – the right words with which to comfort Israel regarding its national calamities. 

It is fascinating to see that one of the famous Halakhists of the 15th century, known as the Maharil, noted an allusion to the fact that even G-d Himself sought, in His way, to pass the job of comforting Israel onto others. The Maharil writes regarding last week's Haftarah: "The Medrashim tell us that G-d told the Prophets to please comfort Israel: 'Nachamu, nachamu ami, Comfort, comfort My nation' (Yeshayahu 40,1) – that is, He asked them to console Israel in His stead."

But Zion could not be consoled. As we read in this past Shabbat's Haftarah: "Zion said, G-d has abandoned me" (Yeshayahu 49). The prophets reported back to G-d that Zion refused to accept consolation. 

G-d then said, as we read in next week's Haftarah, Aniyah so'arah, "O poor tempestuous one, who was not consoled." G-d tells the prophets that Israel was not consoled by them, but rather, as we read in the Haftarah after that, to Parashat Shoftim (Yeshayahu 51)"I, yea I am He Who consoles you." G-d Himself will comfort us.

We thus learn that when Hashem told the prophets to comfort Israel, it did not work – because Zion wanted G-d to speak to us and console us Himself. When Hashem speaks words of comfort, they will certainly find their mark.  

The message for us as individuals is that we, too, must not shy away from the mission. We must, as in warfare, "strive for contact," and try ourselves to find the right words, those which we as friends or even acquaintances sense will be of comfort and strength.

Of course, we may ask regarding the above: The approach of the Maharil appears to be problematic, since if the consolation ultimately comes from G-d Himself, why did He ask the prophets to do it for Him?

Perhaps the message is that Hashem wishes to teach us that though the source of comfort is from G-d, in practice, it is we – the people, the prophets – who must act in this world for our own consolation. We must do all we can to build ourselves up – Nachamu, nachamu ami! – and work for our solace and even Redemption. 

May it be that during these very weeks of consolation, we merit to be truly and finally comforted in the consolation of Zion and Jerusalem!