The Enduring Promise

By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz

I had the zechus to play a role in the rescue of Sholom Mordechai Rubashkin from prison. Since his release, we speak at least once a week, exchanging thoughts on life, emunah, and the goings-on. Last week, we were speaking about bitachon - the faith and trust in Hashem that carried him through unimaginable darkness - and how he now goes around sharing his story and spreading the message that bitachon saves, using his experiences as examples.

Lesser men would have broken under the weight of what he endured. But he never gave up. He never stopped believing that Hashem was watching, guiding, and ultimately preparing a path to redemption. Even in the depths of his nisayon, when he sat alone in a prison cell, separated from his family, stripped of his business, vilified in the public eye, he never questioned whether Hashem had abandoned him. He didn’t understand why it was happening, but he knew that it was all part of a Divine plan.

And now, years later, as his story continues to uplift and inspire, he sees clearly what was once hidden: that only because of what he experienced, he is now uniquely equipped to speak with authenticity about emunah and bitachon. Through his messages, many have found strength in their own trials and challenges.

As we emerge from three weeks of mourning, of reflecting on the churban and the long, bitter golus, we are reminded of a miraculous truth: Am Yisroel chai. We are still here. Still strong. Still growing. Through centuries of persecution, Hashem has never abandoned us. Behind the veil of suffering, He has been gently guiding us, comforting us, and preparing us for redemption.

Without reflecting on what we’ve endured, we wouldn’t appreciate the miracle of our endurance. We wouldn’t recognize the beauty of our survival or the Divine orchestration that has sustained us as a nation.

“Nachamu nachamu ami - Be comforted, be comforted, My people.” Look how far we’ve come. Where are the empires that sought to destroy us? Where are those who chased us through the centuries? They are gone and we remain.

Soon, we will see the fulfillment of the tefillah, “Ohr chodosh al Tzion to’ir - A new light will shine upon Tzion.” In that light, all the pain will make sense. We will see that everything we experienced was, in truth, for the best.

Rav Yaakov Neiman, rosh yeshiva of Yeshivas Petach Tikvah, would recount a parable in the name of the Alter of Kelm that I am adapting for our day and age. A man travels to a wedding. The flight is long, the seat is cramped, and the food is barely edible. But he doesn’t mind. He is going to a joyous celebration, and he knows that soon he will be dancing with friends, enjoying a lavish feast, and sharing in the simcha of a new Jewish home.

This, said the Alter, is the journey of life. Someone who understands where he is headed can endure the discomforts along the way. His heart remains calm, even amid turbulence, for he trusts the journey and the One guiding it.

We are not the pilots. We don’t see the flight map. But we are passengers who trust the Captain.

Those who stay behind may avoid the inconvenience and the fear, but they also miss the joy, the music, and the connection. They miss the wedding.

Life is full of turbulence. Some days lift us high, while others weigh us down. But that ebb and flow is the rhythm of human existence. Feeling joy and sadness, and hope and despair, is the sign of a soul that is alive and engaged.

So too with our people. We’ve known moments of greatness and seasons of grief. We’ve seen days when the world seemed to embrace us and times when it turned against us with fury, when we were chased through the streets, hunted, beaten, and massacred.

We’ve faced sorrow, loneliness, and confusion. We’ve wandered and wept. But we’ve also built and blossomed. Against all odds, we have survived. More than that, we have thrived.

We may not understand the why, but we know the Who. Through it all, Hashem has never left us. He walks beside us in the darkness, even when we cannot see Him, carrying us forward toward the light.

As we emerge from the mourning of Tisha B’Av and enter the comforting embrace of the Shivah Denechemta, we’re reminded that our survival is not a historical coincidence. It is the fulfillment of a Divine promise. A promise that sustains us, even when the world is cold.

There is much we do not understand. But when we reflect on the churban and all that we’ve endured throughout the ages, we begin to see a pattern. We begin to feel the presence of a Father who never left His children. He is with us, comforting, strengthening, and guiding.

And so, we stand today, strong, proud, and hopeful, taking comfort in those eternal words: Nachamu nachamu ami - Be comforted, be comforted, My people. You are not forgotten. You are not alone.

The journey may be difficult, the challenges that test our spirit are tough, but the destination is glorious. And soon, very soon, the light will shine and we will understand that it was all good.

Think about it. Last week was Shabbos Chazon and the signs of mourning were everywhere.

This week is Shabbos Nachamu and you can feel the happy energy. Celebration is everywhere.

What has changed between last week and this one? Last week, we mourned the absence of a Bais Hamikdosh. This week, it still lies in ruins. We are sorely lacking so much. Why are we suddenly happy?

Yeshayahu, the novi of nechomah, speaks to us seven weeks in a row. This week, we read the first of those seven haftoros. What is nechomah anyway? What does the word mean?

The posuk in Bereishis (6:6) states after Adam and Chava sinned, “Vayinochem Hashem,” indicating that Hashem, kevayachol, “regretted” what He had done. Rashi explains that the word nechomah also refers to stepping back, reevaluating a situation and shifting perspective.

Apparently, this is a facet of comfort, the general use of the word nechomah. When we are able to look back and view the entire picture, everything comes into focus. We see the rough spots, but we also see the sun shining above the clouds.

Once again, we approach Shabbos Nachamu in a challenging place. The nations of the world are aligned against us as we attempt to live decent, honorable, peaceful lives. As we are forced to fight against evil, they chant for our deaths.

They hate us.

Throughout our history, the Jewish people have endured persistent hatred, sometimes masked by civility and other times expressed openly and violently. Today, we’re witnessing a troubling resurgence of that age-old animosity, now dressed in the language of politics and human rights.

What was once whispered is now said aloud. Public figures, celebrities, and influencers use their platforms to spread dangerous rhetoric. While they may claim to speak on behalf of the oppressed poor Palestinians, it’s often clear that their outrage is selective. They don’t really care about the Palestinians. They hate Jews and their true target is the Jew.

In Europe, Jews once again feel unsafe. This is not just history repeating itself. It’s history warning us not to forget. On a continent soaked with Jewish blood, it is in vogue to bash Jews, demonstrate against them, and create an atmosphere reminiscent of the darkest days of Jewry that many believed we would never return to.

In universities across the U.S. and beyond, those who stand with Israel find themselves silenced or shunned. Anti-Zionism is indistinguishable from anti-Semitism, as Jews are condemned for defending their lives and their homeland. The Left battles Israel at every opportunity, offering nonsensical, hypocritical excuses for their anti-Semitism.

Hatred adapts. The slogans may change, but the essence remains the same - an irrational resentment that stretches all the way back to Yishmoel’s hatred for Yitzchok and to Eisov’s jealousy of Yaakov. Whether disguised as medieval blood libels or modern accusations of genocide, the thread of hate continues, unbroken but unrefined.

And to top it all off, Western governments are falling over each other to proclaim that they will recognize a nonexistent Palestinian state. The hypocrisy of their pronouncements doesn’t bother them as they reward Hamas for what they did on October 7^th. While Hamas refuses to release hostages or stop the bloodshed, global leaders still point the finger at Israel, absolving murderers while condemning those who defend themselves.

And yet, through it all, Am Yisroel chai. We stand tall, resilient, and unwavering, not because the world has treated us kindly, but because Hashem has carried us through every storm.

We wonder when justice will triumph, when care and concern about the good and the kind will be paramount. We wonder when problems will be dealt with honestly and when the world will recognize us for what we truly are.

We recognize that we suffer persecution and discrimination because we are Jews. The world’s hatred of the Jew is not derived from their concern about human rights violations or political decisions.

Since we gathered at Har Sinai to accept the Torah, we have been cast apart from other nations, despised, reviled, stomped on and murdered. Miraculously, we endure.

Where do we find answers to our questions?

A young man boarded a bus to Bayit Vegan and saw one of its most distinguished residents, Rav Moshe Shapiro, sitting there. He approached the rov and asked, “How are we to understand what happened during World War II?”

Rav Moshe looked at him and nodded. “Shalom,” he said, effectively ending the conversation. He didn’t say another word.

Later, someone asked why he hadn’t answered the questioner. Rav Moshe explained, “He knows where I live in Bayit Vegan, and he knows how much time he had until the bus reached my stop. He asked a question whose answer is much longer and more complex than the few minutes of the bus ride, so he clearly didn’t want the real answer but a conversation, and I don’t have time for small talk.”

To understand the events of Jewish history, we must peer beyond the curtain, studying and scrutinizing the happenings of our people and the pesukim of the Torah. Small talk and pedestrian thoughts will not lead to understanding what has befallen our people throughout the millennia.

But to be deserving of Hashem’s protection and aid in battle, we have to be committed to Torah and those who are loyal to it. Israel was just miraculously saved from Iran, beating them in a twelve-day war. Ever since the dastardly October 7^th attacks, people have been recognizing the Hand of Hashem and seeking out a path to Torah observance.

However, while paying lip service to Hashem’s assistance, the majority of the country and many of its leaders repay the kindness with a renewed war on those who eschew careers and resources as they dedicate their lives to the study of Torah. As they upped the pressure and propaganda, France, England, Canada and others announced that they will recognize a Palestine state, a move that makes no sense on any level.

We read in this week’s parsha how Hashem will lead us into the Promised Land, where we will find homes filled with good. It is an attainable goal, assured to us by He who is “ne’eman leshaleim s’char.” If we follow the word of Hashem as laid out in the parsha, we will merit salvation, prosperity and peace.

We merit nechomah when we recognize that we are kachomer beyad hayotzeir, wholly dependent upon Hashem’s mercy for our very existence.

Parshas Vo’eschanon and the Aseres Hadibros are always lained on Shabbos Nachamu to remind us that our nechomah arrives when we follow the Aseres Hadibros and the Torah. It is through fidelity to Torah and Hashem’s word that we merit living peacefully in Eretz Yisroel and everywhere else.

A young bochur davened in the bais medrash of the Bluzhever Rebbe. On Chanukah, the mispallelim would file by the rebbe after hadlokas neiros to receive his brachos. The boy asked his friend to take a picture of him as the rebbe spoke to him.

The Bluzhever Rebbe noticed. When the bochur reached him, the rebbe took the boy’s hand and held it. “Bochur’l,” he said, “you probably want a picture with me because I am a relic of a vanished world. And while it’s important to remember what was, it is also important that you understand that within you and your generation lies the ability to guarantee its survival.”

We study what was because it gives us a charge for the future and a path forward.

That is why we rejoice now, comforted and secure in what we have learned over the past three weeks. Over this time, we got in touch with our source, origin and destiny, and recognize what we must do to own the future. We even draw comfort from the fact that we mourned and that we have never forgotten, despite so many years and so much suffering.

After studying the messages of Eicha and Chazon, we study the words of Nachamu. We understand where we were, where we are, and how we got here. We are thus able to experience consolation.

We studied that the Bais Hamikdosh were destroyed because of internal strife, machlokes and sinas chinom. And so, we resolve to love instead of hate, to build instead of destroy, and to bring peace into our lives, our communities, and our nation.

From the ashes of mourning, we emerge more aware, more connected, and more determined. We carry the memories of the past not as burdens, but as fuel - fuel to light the way forward. We cry not only out of pain, but also out of hope. Because the fact that we are still crying after all these years is itself a nechomah. It means we remember. It means we care. It means we still believe.

Now, as the voice of the novi echoes through the haftorah - “Nachamu nachamu ami” - we feel it in our bones. Comfort is not the absence of pain, but the awareness of purpose. We have not only survived, we have grown. We have not only mourned, we have dreamed. And we are getting closer.

Closer to geulah, closer to clarity, closer to the day when all pain will be healed and all questions will be answered.

May this Shabbos Nachamu be not only a moment of comfort, but the beginning of everlasting joy. May we soon hear the sound of the shofar shel Moshiach, dancing not just at the wedding of another Jewish home, but at the rebuilding of the eternal home, the Bais Hamikdosh.