Love & Loss... and Consolation
Recently, I took a walk through the Olympic Sculpture Park and was reacquainted with a mixed-media installation by artist and architect Roy McMakin. "Love & Loss" literally spells out the two title words of the piece using pavers, benches, a tree, and a table-top to form the actual letters. Sharing the middle "o," the piece plays with the intersection between the two concepts.
This week, our Jewish calendar does something very similar. Tisha B'Av, the 9th day of this Hebrew month of Av (which fell last Saturday evening / Sunday) is a day of loss, and Tu B'Av, the 15th day of the same month (which falls this Shabbat), is a day of love.
On the Jewish calendar, the hinge between the two concepts of loss and love can be found in this week's haftarah of consolation, which begins with the famous words: "Nachamu nachamu ami, yomar eloheichem," "Comfort, oh comfort my people, says your God" (Isaiah 40:1). In fact, nachamu -- this expression of demonstrating love in the wake of loss -- becomes such an important theme that this Shabbat takes on the special name of "Shabbat Nachamu," ("the Sabbath of Comfort") and this entire Hebrew month is formally called "Menachem Av" (meaning "the Comfort or Consolation of Av").
As a rabbi with my ear to the ground in the Kavana community, I am noting a groundswell of need for consolation right now. I'm feeling this from many individuals -- as we've had a string of losses among our community members and their loved ones in recent months -- and also for all of us collectively, as we move through a period of particularly acute heartbreak and loss, both here in America and in Israel/Palestine.
Our Jewish textual tradition offers multiple explanations for why the word "nachamu" is doubled in Isaiah 40:1. Some commentators argue that the verse promises consolation for each of two Temples/exiles. Other interpretations offer that our ancient ancestors needed to be comforted twice because they had sinned doubly.
In a lovely Dvar Torah published online a couple years ago, Rabbi Jennifer Schlosberg offered a different interpretation of her own: that the remainder of the Haftarah that follows the nachamu line show two key themes at play: comfort through speech and comfort through actions. For example, Isaiah 40:2 refers to speech ("Speak tenderly to Jerusalem...") and the following verse, 40:3, references action ("Clear in the desert a road for the Lord! Level in the wilderness a highway for God"). Rabbi Schlosberg asserts, "Isaiah reminds us with the doubling of nachamu that there are two ways to comfort others around us: through our words and through our deeds."
Taking up her paradigm, I want to turn first to the theme of comfort-through-words. In her 2024 book The Amen Effect, my colleague Rabbi Sharon Brous (of Ikar, in LA) writes extensively about how community members must show up for one another to offer consolation in the wake of loss. In the book, she effectively rewrites Mourners' Kaddish as a conversation between a mourner and their community. (This is not a direct translation of the prayer, but how she has come to think of its essence.)
MOURNER: I am in anguish--
[In one, unified voice, the COMMUNITY responds.]
COMMUNITY: Amen! We're right here. We see you.
[The mourner takes a breath and continues.]
MOURNER: I don't know how to hold this pain.
COMMUNITY & MOURNER: Amen. We wish it could be different.
MOURNER: I'm afraid I'll forget the sound of her voice, the smell of her hair.
COMMUNITY: Amen. We will never let her disappear from this world. We will say her name and honor her memory. Amen!
MOURNER: I can't do this alone.
COMMUNITY: Amen. We're not going anywhere. We can't take your pain away, but we can cry with you and laugh with you. We can hear the same story as many times as you need to tell it. We can help you remember. Amen!
From this interplay between the individual mourner and a minyan (quorum of 10 people), and from many other Jewish grief rituals as well, Rabbi Brous extracts a key principle: that our Jewish tradition mandates that individuals cannot grieve alone. She writes: "No one should walk alone through the Valley of the Shadow of Death... The obligation of the community is to be present, to listen, to offer words of consolation."
A beautiful example of the second theme, comfort-through-action, landed in Kavana's physical PO Box several months ago. It was an envelope which contained a donation from someone we didn't know, accompanied by a long letter of explanation. Here's an excerpt from the letter:
"In 2023 I lost my family, including my best friend and my husband. Going from having a community to being alone has been daunting. When I needed lifesaving medical care, without the presence of my partner and best friend, I had nobody to care for me during the treatment until XXX volunteered. She offered a safe, private room, transportation, and the constant reassurance of an old friend during a very frightening process. ... When I thought about how I could thank her, my mother suggested donating to her religious community (Kavana) so she could be known as a woman of faith in her lifelong community. ... She inspires me now to look at ways I too can build community, care for others, and offer help."
In the wake of a friend's profound losses and at a time of great need, this Kavana partner clearly showed up with tangible support. What a beautiful and inspiring illustration of what it means to offer comfort and consolation through deeds!
This weekend, we move through the intersection of love and loss on the Jewish calendar, passing through the Shabbat of Comfort/ Shabbat Nachamu. It is easy to feel overwhelmed by the sheer volume of loss in the world right now, and uncertain as to how we might respond. This week's special haftarah, purposefully placed in the wake of tremendous loss, reminds us that we have the power to use both our words and our actions -- in ways both large and small -- to make a difference.
Wherever there is loss, let us commit to meeting it with love. May we each be open to both giving and receiving comfort freely -- whether to our friends and family members, to one another in community, or to strangers. May we actively seek out opportunities to do so, by sharing our resources, offering words of kindness, and giving the gift of our presence. As we strive to meet loss with love, may this be a Shabbat of tanchumim -- of comfort, consolation, and solace -- for us all.
Shabbat shalom,
Rabbi Rachel Nussbaum
