Tisha B’Av: Mourning the Churban and the Light That Waits Inside the Darkness
There is no night in the Jewish year like the night of Tisha B’Av. The lights in the shul are dimmed, the parochés has been removed from the aron, and grown men sit on the bare floor or on low stools like mourners sitting shivah. A single candle flickers over an open book, and the voice of the chazzan begins the slow, broken melody of Eichah.
For one day we stop everything and grieve for the Beis HaMikdash that was taken from us, twice, on this very date. The grief is real, and so, beneath it, is the hope. Even as we sit in the dust, our tradition has always taught that this day of mourning carries the seed of the greatest joy, and that is why the work of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities in caring for the poor of Eretz Yisroel feels especially close to the heart on Tisha B’Av, when tefillah and tzedakah together are how we ask Hashem to turn our weeping into comfort.
In this article we will walk through what this day is, how it came to be, what we say and do, and what the mourning is meant to awaken in us. Come and learn with us why Tisha B’Av is mourned, and why we have never stopped believing in what comes after it.
Understanding Tisha B’Av
Tisha B’Av (תשעה באב, “the ninth of Av”) is the major communal fast that falls on the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av, usually in late July or August. It is the saddest day of the Jewish calendar, the day on which both the First and Second Batei Mikdash were destroyed, and it is observed as a full fast of roughly twenty-five hours, from sunset until the following nightfall, exactly like Yom Kippur in its length. This is one of the things that sets it apart from the four minor fasts, which run only from dawn until night.
The obligation to fast falls on all adults, men and women alike, with the usual considerations for those who are ill, pregnant, or nursing, who should ask a competent rav. Tisha B’Av is one of the four public fasts decreed in memory of the destruction, listed together by the navi Zechariah, and codified by the Rambam in his Hilchos Taaniyos. When the ninth of Av falls on Shabbos, the fast is not held on Shabbos itself but is pushed off (nidcheh) to the tenth of Av, since we do not hold public mourning on Shabbos.
The Mishnah teaches that five tragedies struck the Jewish people on this date, which is why it became the fixed day of national mourning. [The foundational source in Chazal for the day’s calamities is the Mishnah in Taanis 4:6 (Taanis 26b); the practical halachos of Tishah B’Av are discussed in Shulchan Aruch, Orach Chaim 552–559, especially 554. Even one who keeps every detail of this day each year will often find a new layer in how Chazal understood it.]
The History and Origins of Tisha B’Av
The Mishnah in Taanis (4:6) records that five calamities befell our people on the ninth of Av, and the list reads like the spine of Jewish history. On this day it was decreed that the generation of the midbar would not enter Eretz Yisroel, after the meraglim returned with their evil report and the people wept through the night — Chazal teach that Hashem said, “You wept a weeping without cause; I will fix for you a weeping for the generations.” On this day the First Beis HaMikdash was destroyed by the Babylonians, and on this same date, centuries later, the Second Beis HaMikdash was destroyed by the Romans. On the ninth of Av the city of Beitar fell, ending the Bar Kochba revolt with terrible loss of life, and on this day the Roman general plowed over the site of Yerushalayim, fulfilling the words of the navi.
Why were the Batei Mikdash destroyed? Here our mesorah is unflinchingly honest with us, because Chazal preserved and transmitted the accounting rather than softening it. The Gemara in Yoma 9b teaches that the First Beis HaMikdash fell because of the three cardinal sins — avodah zarah, gilui arayos, and shefichus damim. The Second Beis HaMikdash, however, was destroyed in a generation that was occupied with Torah, mitzvos, and acts of chesed, and yet it fell because of sinas chinam, baseless hatred between Jews. The Gemara in Gittin (55b–56a) tells the story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, the misdirected invitation and the public humiliation that, our Sages say, set the destruction in motion. The lesson the Gemara draws is not a political one and was never framed as such; it is a cheshbon hanefesh about how we treat one another.
The day’s observance developed over the generations of galus. The reading of Megillas Eichah, the lament composed by the navi Yirmiyahu over the first churban, became the centerpiece of the night service, and the Kinnos — the collected dirges, many composed by major paytanim such as Rabbi Elazar HaKalir, with later additions by poets such as Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi and the Maharam of Rothenburg — were arranged for the morning. The Ashkenazi and Sephardi communities preserve somewhat different collections of Kinnos and different melodies, each carrying the tears of the places its Jews lived and suffered, yet the day itself is observed across all communities with the same essential character.
The Prayers, Readings and Customs of Tisha B’Av
The tefillos of Tisha B’Av are shaped to carry mourning into the very words of the davening. At Maariv on the night the fast begins, after the Amidah, the kehillah reads Megillas Eichah, the five chapters of Lamentations, in a soft, mournful trop. The opening word, Eichah (“How”), gives the book its name and sets its tone, as Yirmiyahu cries, “Eichah yashvah badad” — “How does she sit in solitude, the city once great with people” (Eichah 1:1).
After Eichah, both at night and especially through the morning, we recite the Kinnos, dirges that move through the destruction of the Mikdash, the martyrs of the Crusades, the burning of the Talmud, and the long sorrows of exile. The day’s other customs all express aveilus. We sit on the floor or on low stools until midday (chatzos), as mourners do. We do not greet one another with the usual “good morning.” Talmud Torah, which gladdens the heart, is restricted to the sorrowful portions — Iyov, the painful chapters of Yirmiyahu, the agados of the churban in Gittin, and the laws of mourning and of the day itself. Tachanun is not said, because Eichah itself calls the day a moed, an appointed time, in the words “He has proclaimed a set time against me” (Eichah 1:15) — a hint, our Sages note, that even this darkest day holds something of a future festival within it.
In the afternoon a turn begins. From chatzos onward we may rise from the floor, and the haftarah and the consolation of the coming weeks start to come into view. The Shabbos after Tisha B’Av is Shabbos Nachamu, named for the haftarah that opens “Nachamu nachamu ami” — “Comfort, comfort My people” (Yeshayahu 40:1). The day that began in weeping is built, by design, to bend toward comfort.
What Tisha B’Av Means: A Deeper Look
Tisha B’Av is not only a memorial of buildings that were burned. The whole structure of the day — the descent into mourning and the slow turn toward comfort — is a teaching about loss, about what caused it, and about what repairs it. Let us look closely at four ideas that live at the heart of this day.
“Eichah” — the cry of “How?” The book is named for a single word of bewilderment. The Midrash notes that the same letters spell Ayekah, “Where are you?” — the very question Hashem asked Adam in Gan Eden. The Maharal, in Netzach Yisrael, explains that the churban was never random destruction but a tearing of the bond between Knesses Yisrael and Hashem, a “Where are you?” addressed to a people who had drifted. When we cry Eichah, we are not only asking how the city fell; we are answering Hashem’s question, locating ourselves again. For the reader who has known sudden loss, the cry of “How could this happen?” is itself the beginning of return, not its enemy.
“Sinas chinam” — baseless hatred. The Gemara in Yoma 9b makes the claim of the day: a generation rich in Torah and chesed still lost the Mikdash, because of hatred between Jews. The lesson is precise and personal. The Beis HaMikdash was the place where all of Klal Yisroel stood together as one before Hashem, and a people fractured by causeless resentment had, in a sense, already emptied it before the Romans arrived. The reader does not need to wait for the next churban to act on this; every grudge set down and every fellow Jew judged favorably is a stone laid back in place.
“Kara alai moed” — He called an appointed time against me. From this phrase in Eichah (1:15), the halacha derives that Tisha B’Av carries the status of a moed, which is why we omit Tachanun. Later Jewish thought treats Tisha B’Av as paradoxical not because it is already a festival in the ordinary sense, but because even its mourning reflects covenantal love: the destruction itself was understood by Chazal as mercy within judgment, and the prophets teach that these fasts will ultimately be transformed into festivals.
The descent that turns upward. The arc from the floor at night to the rising at chatzos, from Eichah to Nachamu, embodies a principle the meforshim return to again and again: the deepest descents in Jewish history are the ones that carry redemption inside them. Chazal teach that Mashiach is born on Tisha B’Av. The day does not ask us to deny our pain or to pretend the loss was small; it asks us to grieve fully and to keep believing, in the same breath, that the rebuilding is real. That is the emotional posture this day trains in us, and it is one a person can carry into every loss in life.
The Laws and Customs of Tisha B’Av
The halachos of Tisha B’Av flow from a single idea: on this day we live, for roughly twenty-five hours, the way a mourner lives. The Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 554) sets out the five afflictions (chamesh inuyim) that apply to the day, the same five that apply on Yom Kippur, derived from the Mishnah in Yoma (8:1, Yoma 73b). They are: eating and drinking, washing (rechitzah), anointing with oils or creams (sichah), wearing leather shoes (ne’ilas hasandal), and marital relations. Unlike the minor fasts, this fast begins at sunset and continues until the stars come out the next night.
The hours before the fast carry their own customs. The final meal before the fast, the seudah hamafsekes, is eaten in mourning: simple foods, often bread with a hard-boiled egg dipped in ashes, eaten while sitting on the ground, and one does not invite others to eat together in the usual way (Orach Chaim 552). This is din shaped by minhag, and the precise foods follow community custom.
Through the fast itself, the additional mourning practices apply alongside the five afflictions. We refrain from work that would distract us from the day’s grief until midday in many communities, we do not sit on normal chairs until chatzos, and Torah study is limited to sorrowful subjects as described above. Tefillin and tallis are worn at Minchah rather than Shacharis, since tefillin are called pe’er, an adornment, which has no place in the morning of mourning.
A crucial halachic point of distinction: when the ninth of Av falls on Shabbos, the fast is observed on the tenth (the nidcheh year), because the honor of Shabbos overrides the public mourning. In such a year some of the milder restrictions of the surrounding days shift as well, and a person should follow the guidance of their rav for the specifics. Throughout, the halacha is careful to separate firm requirements from widespread custom, and the differences between Ashkenazi and Sephardi practice in the Kinnos and in certain leniencies are matters of mesorah, transmitted faithfully in each community. For the laws of the weeks that lead into this day, see our companion articles on the Three Weeks and on the Nine Days, which prepare a person, stage by stage, for Tisha B’Av itself.
The Spiritual Power of Tefillah and Tzedakah
The Gemara in Bava Basra 10a teaches that tzedakah saves from death, citing the words of Shlomo HaMelech, “tzedakah tatzil mimaves,” that charity rescues from death (Mishlei 10:2), and Chazal further teach (Rosh Hashanah 16b) that tzedakah is among the things that tear up a harsh decree. On a day built around a decree that was carried out, these words land with particular weight. Our Sages understood tefillah and tzedakah as two halves of one avodah: tefillah opens the gates above and makes us worthy to receive Hashem’s abundance, drawing us close to Him rather than asking Him to set aside His plan, while tzedakah creates a zechus that sweetens judgment and turns the heart of Heaven toward mercy. As the Rambam sets out (Hilchos Matnos Aniyim 10:7–14), the highest forms of giving lift the recipient toward self-sufficiency, so that the chesed both relieves the need and honors the one in need.
This is why Tisha B’Av and the work of caring for the poor of Eretz Yisroel belong together. The Second Beis HaMikdash fell because of sinas chinam, and the surest repair for baseless hatred is baseless love expressed in action — feeding the hungry, lifting the widow and the orphan, holding up a fellow Jew we will never meet. Rabbi Meir Baal Haness left a legacy of intercession in Heaven for anyone who gives to the needy of the Holy Land in his memory, and when we give in his merit during these days of mourning, we are doing on a small scale exactly what the churban demands of us: rebuilding the bonds between Jews that the destruction tore apart. The mourning of Tisha B’Av is not the end of the journey but its turning point, and tzedakah is how we step from grief toward the rebuilding we still await.
Give Tzedakah in the Merit of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness
On the day we mourn the Beis HaMikdash that sinas chinam brought down, the truest comfort is to rebuild what was broken between Jews. A gift to the poor of Eretz Yisroel in the merit of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness turns our weeping toward the rebuilding we pray for.
About Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities
Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities, founded in 1799, is one of the oldest and most trusted tzedakah organizations serving the poor of Eretz Yisroel, upholding Rabbi Meir Baal Haness’s legacy that those who give to the needy in his memory find heavenly intercession in their time of need. Generations of Jews have turned to this zechus in their hardest hours, and the chain has never been broken.
Today the organization distributes funds to Torah scholars, widows, orphans, and needy families throughout Eretz Yisroel, an unbroken chain of compassion that is a zechus for the giver and for their family. In the weeks of mourning the churban, when our hearts turn toward Yerushalayim, that giving becomes a way of holding the city close until it is rebuilt.
Support the Mission of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness Charities
In the merit of those who care for the poor of Zion, may Zion herself be comforted and rebuilt.
Frequently Asked Questions About Tisha B’Av
[rmbh_faq]Closing
Tisha B’Av asks one thing of us: to grieve honestly and to believe anyway. We mourn a house that baseless hatred brought down, and we answer it by binding ourselves back to one another and to the poor of Zion through the tzedakah we give in the merit of Rabbi Meir Baal Haness. May our weeping be counted, and may we all merit to see the nechamah of Tzion and the rebuilding of Yerushalayim, speedily and in our days.
