Parashat Devarim and Shabbat Chazon: From Sinat Chinam to Ahavat Yisrael
- Yudit Rosenbaum
- Jun 30
- 6 min read
Updated: Jul 29
Embracing Unity: A Path to Redemption
Good morning. We are now in Erev Tisha B'Av, a time when our hearts are heavy, and sadness deepens with each passing day. As the month of Av progresses, our joy diminishes, leading to the somber week of Tisha B'Av. How can we uplift ourselves and find encouragement amidst this sorrow?
This message is dedicated to the memory of my dear aunt, Flora, who passed away many years ago. She was a woman deeply devoted to her family. I also dedicate this message to the neshama of Mr. Shmuel Wertzberger from Vienna, Shmuel Zenvill Ben Eliel, whose 27th yahrzeit is today. He was truly a special person, an embodiment of chesed. He constantly sought out those in need, especially the refugees from the East, doing everything to help them get back on their feet. May his neshama have an Aliyah, and may the words we share bring an aliyah to both of these departed souls.
The Significance of Devarim and the Roots of Sadness
We are beginning Sefer Devarim, which opens with the words "Ele HaDevarim."
These are the parting words of Moshe Rabbeinu, his final, incredibly long message to the entire Jewish nation.
The discourse lasted 36 days, from the seventh of Adar until the day of his death (gematically, "Ele" = 1+30+6 = 37, but the speaker rounds to 36).
It is always read before Tisha B'Av because Moshe Rabbeinu sets the tone for the upcoming days.
Interestingly, the word "Ele" (Aleph, Lamed, Heh) also forms the word "Avak Lashon Hara" – the dust of evil speech.
What is the cause of these days of sadness? We are currently in the period of "Ben HaMetzarim," and what Moshe Rabbeinu says is directly connected to this time of year.
Moshe Rabbeinu emphasizes that the root cause of all our troubles, especially our long galut (exile), is "Ele Avak Lashon Hara."
It's not just direct evil speech; even minimal involvement, such as passive listening or participating in conversations that degrade others, contributes to our collective downfall.
Understanding Our Sins: Past vs. Present Generations
Our Sages tell us that in previous generations:
"Nitgaleh avonam," their sins were revealed to them, and "nitcheileh kitzam," which means the end was revealed to them.
They understood their sins, they made teshuva, and the negative consequences came to an end.
Example: When the First Beit HaMikdash was destroyed, they knew it was because of idolatry, immorality, and murder. They rectified their transgressions, made teshuva, and after 70 years, the Second Beit HaMikdash was built.
At the time of Purim, they declared "Na'aseh v'Nishma," signifying a true acceptance of the Torah, serving Hashem with joy, which allowed them to return to Yerushalayim.
However, "doros achronim," our generations:
"Lo nitgaleh avonam," our sin is not revealed to us.
"Lo nitcheileh kitzam," we do not know where the end is.
This is exemplified in Yaakov Avinu's dream, where he saw angels ascending and descending ladders, symbolizing the exiles.
He understood the duration of the Babylonian and Greek exiles.
But when it came to Galut Edom, the angel continued to ascend without descending.
Yaakov cried out, "Hashem, what's going to be?" Hashem answered, "As far as he goes, even if there's no end in sight, I shall bring him down from there."
What does this mean for us? We have been repeatedly told that the cause of the Second Temple's destruction was "sinat chinam" – baseless hatred, lack of empathy, and a deficit of brotherly love.
The problem is not that we don't know the sin; we know it.
The issue is that we do not want to recognize all the implications of sinat chinam.
We often focus on easier acts of repentance, instead of making amends with those whom we have wronged or who feel wronged by us. We tend to ignore and push this problem aside.
The Cost of Disunity: A Father's Plea
This brings to mind a powerful story of a father with two sons:
One son became a successful businessman; the other struggled.
When the poor brother needed help for his daughters' weddings, he approached his wealthy brother, who disavowed him, claiming no relation.
Later, when their father fell ill, the poor brother cared for him diligently.
The wealthy brother eventually appeared, but the father, seeing his son's disavowal of his own brother, declared, "I only have one son, and he is sitting here next to me. If you don't know your brother, then I am not your father."
This illustrates a profound truth:
Hashem tells us that the greatest "nachas" (satisfaction) for parents is to see their children living in unity, peace, and kindness.
Hashem desires that "Ami should be Aruvim Zeh BaZeh" – His people should be connected to each other.
When there is sinat chinam, there is no point in building a Beit HaMikdash, for Hashem does not wish to dwell among children who are fighting.
Kamsa and Bar Kamtza: Two Faces of Baseless Hatred
This leads us to the symbolic incident of Kamsa and Bar Kamtza, presented as the primary cause of the Second Beit HaMikdash's destruction.
A man made a grand wedding and mistakenly invited his enemy, Bar Kamtza, instead of his friend, Kamsa.
The host publicly humiliated Bar Kamtza, demanding his departure, even when Bar Kamtza offered to pay the entire wedding cost to avoid humiliation.
The Sages present did not intervene, choosing to look away.
Enraged, Bar Kamtza vowed to end peace in Yerushalayim and incited the Romans, leading to the siege.
Why do we focus on Kamsa and Bar Kamtza, not the wedding host?
Rav Deutsch explains: Kamsa and Bar Kamtza were father and son.
Kamsa (the Father):
Was a "friend" of the wedding host but chose not to attend when not explicitly invited, demonstrating passive anger and hypocrisy. A true friend would have come regardless.
He likely spoke ill of his "friend" behind his back, even while maintaining public civility.
Bar Kamtza (the Son):
Was invited by mistake, but instead of seeing it as an opportunity for reconciliation, he solely focused on enjoying the meal.
He was too arrogant to utter words of forgiveness or seek reconciliation when asked to leave, preferring to be publicly humiliated rather than humble himself. This is overt "sinat chinam."
The son's open hatred likely stemmed from hearing his father, Kamsa, speak ill of his "friend" behind closed doors, creating a culture of concealed animosity that eventually erupted.
This reveals two types of sinat chinam:
Bar Kamtza: Open, overt hatred.
Kamsa: Hypocrisy, where animosity is hidden behind a smile.
"Lo nitgaleh kitzam" – why is there no end in sight to our exile?
Because we don't want to recognize the depth of our aveirot, especially the implications of sinat chinam.
We need to improve and truly love every fellow Jew, not just through easy acts of repentance.
Our Role in Redemption: Embracing True Ahavat Yisrael
Hashem yearns to rebuild His Beit HaMikdash and dwell among us.
Now is the time to show Hashem that we are truly one family, united.
Now is the time to cast aside pride and arrogance.
Now is the time to show true ahavat Yisrael – empathy, seeing the good in others, and actively seeking reconciliation.
Moshe Rabbeinu's words in this week's Parashah, "Eichah E’sa L’vadi?" (How can I alone bear?), speak to this:
He cries out, "How can I take care of you? You are a difficult bunch. All of you, it's hard to take care of you."
The pasuk continues: "Tochachem, U’Mir’chechem, U’Mas’achem" – your troubles, your quarrels, and your affairs.
The Midrash offers a different interpretation: "Eichah E’sa L’vadi?" Moshe says, "I'm willing to take care of everything, of all serious matters on my own, to care for you, but 'Mir’chechem' – your quarrels, and 'Mas’achem' – the affairs that divide you, it's for you to make amends. I can do a lot on my own, but there are things that only you can care for."
If we truly long for the Beit HaMikdash, we must show Hashem how much we care for each other.
Consider the story of the young girl who lost her mother, leaving her father with many young orphans.
The 16-year-old daughter cried because she could long for her mother and cry out to Hashem, knowing what she was missing.
But her younger siblings, four and three years old, had no memory of their mother and thus could not even cry out for what they had lost.
Similarly, we often don't realize how much we are missing. Our longing for the Beit HaMikdash, a symbol of peace and harmony for all of Klal Yisrael, ought to be tremendous.
This is what we have to work on these days: focusing on "bein Adam l'Chaveiro" – our relationships with one another. When we succeed in this, we will truly understand how much we need also to be close to the Ribbono Shel Olam.
Audio 2020
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