On this Shabbat we not only read the Ten Commandments and the basic faith statement of Judaism, the Sh'ma.  This portion also has wonderful words of comfort, that God will never forsake His people.  In fact this Shabbat, immediately following the fast day of Tisha B'Av, is known as Shabbat Nahamu, the Sabbath of Comfort.  The first words of the haftarah, the prophetic portion chanted on this day, are the beautiful words of Isaiah: "Comfort my people, comfort them, says your God."  (Isaiah 40:1)
             For three weeks leading into Tisha B'Av, all of the themes of Shabbat are words of warning.  Destruction will descend on the people if they do not change their ways.  Then for the seven weeks following Tisha B'Av right up to Rosh Hashana, all of the themes of Shabbat are words of comfort.    It is as if tradition is teaching us that there should be twice as much comfort as warning, and then some.  Seven weeks as opposed to three - far more comfort than tragedy.  The entire liturgical calendar is built around hope.
             Even Tisha B'Av, the most tragic day of the Jewish year, is filled with signs of hope.  (Note - I am writing these words a few hours before the fast of Tisha B'Av begins.)  If we sit on the floor and sing mournful melodies in the morning, in the afternoon we get back up onto chairs and chant the service in the normal mode.  If we do not wear a tallit nor tefillin in the mourning because they are signs of splendor, we put them back on in the afternoon.  But perhaps most beautiful is an ancient tradition of hope - the Messiah will be born on Tisha B'Av.  Even our most mournful occasion already contains seeds of hope.
             I recently had a discussion with our local Chabad rabbi, Rabbi Yossi Denburg, a man I highly respect.  We were talking about the economic tragedies that have hit so many families in both our synagogues - people losing their jobs, some losing their homes, people unable to afford an education for their children, some unable to afford groceries. How do we respond to such difficulties?
             Just then he shared a nice insight with me.  In Hebrew there is no word for tragedy.  In modern Israel they simply use the word "tragedia," a Hebrew version of the English, originally Greek word.  The reason is that tragedy is not a Jewish idea.  The Greeks wrote tragedy; only they could write the story of Oedipus Rex, a man fated to kill his father and marry his mother.  To the Greeks, fate traps humans in a hopeless situation.  To the Hebrews there was no such thing as fate.  Bad things may happen, but God was always present.  Even in tragedy there is always hope, an opportunity to turn things around.  Sadness always contains the roots of hope; the Messiah will be born on the saddest day of the year.
             We all face crises and sadness in our lives.  But sadness is not tragedy, and warning is always followed by comfort.  As I wrote a few weeks ago, shortly after fire destroys the hillside, vegetation starts to sprout again.  The universe is built in a way that creativity flows out of destruction.  As Jews, we know that out of the flames of the holocaust sprouted the founding of the state of Israel.  Words of destruction are always followed by words of comfort.
             It is sometimes hard to see the words of hope in the sadness of the moment.  So it is important to remember, even as you fast on Tisha B'Av to remember the past suffering of our people, somewhere in the world, the Messiah is being born on this day.