Rabbi Doniel Staum - Parshas Va'eschanan/Shabbos Nachamu 5777 "Wholeheartedly"
“When I was a young man I was a student in the Gateshead Yeshiva. The yeshiva had a hundred and twenty-five students; not large quantitatively, but qualitatively tremendous. The building was fairly small and we were packed onto the benches. The tables were so narrow that the volumes of gemara before us all overlapped each other. If a student wanted to turn the page he had to ask everyone around him to lift their gemaras first. Yet despite it all we sat and studied with tremendous diligence.
“One day a Dayan from London came to visit the yeshiva. When he addressed the student body he explained that he did not wish to deliver a lecture. Rather he wanted to read to us a page from an American journal that he had read the week prior.
“The article was written by an obviously irreligious Jew, albeit who possessed an appreciation for Jewish history. In the article the author explained that, along with a group of journalists, he was invited on a European tour. When they arrived in England one of the places they visited was a village in Northeast England called Wallsend.
“Wallsend is an ancient village that dates back almost two millennia. When the Romans invaded and conquered England they constructed a wall to serve as a barrier to keep the mighty Scottish Picks out of England. The wall was called Hadrian’s Wall after the Roman Emperor. The village where the wall ended was aptly called Wallsend. Today there is nothing left of the wall except for a few moss-covered stones in the village of Wallsend. It is nothing more than a tourist attraction.
“The day the journalist arrived at Wallsend he recalled that he had yahrtzeit for his mother and he wanted to recite kaddish in her memory. When he asked the tour guide if there were any Jewish Services in the area, the guide replied that there was a school in the village of Gateshead ten miles away. There he would be sure to find any religious service he needed.
“The journalist wrote that he arrived at the yeshiva in the middle of the afternoon. He had never been in a yeshiva before and the sight that greeted him was extraordinary. There were tens of young men huddled together on small benches studying, debating, and arguing with passion and vibrancy. The journalist did not comprehend anything they were saying, but he stood and watched spellbound. But then he overheard something which caught his attention. One student called out to his friend, “But Rabbi Akiva says…!” Those words reverberated in his ears.
“Even after they destroyed the Temple in Jerusalem, the Romans understood that their job was incomplete. In order to destroy the Jewish People, they had to stop the public study and teaching of Torah. Rabbi Akiva’s execution was commissioned by the Roman Emperor Hadrian. His crime was that he taught Torah publicly. Hadrian ordered Rabbi Akiva to be killed in a most barbaric and heinous fashion to serve as an example of the severe consequences for teaching Torah. Yet today, centuries later, Hadrian and the Roman Empire are long gone, relegated to the history books and symbolized by a few moss-covered stones. Rabbi Akiva, on the other hand, is alive and well. His teachings and legacy are still being promulgated and studied today!
Rabbi Salomon concluded that the story gave him so much encouragement because it serves as a powerful representation of G-d’s Promise, “But despite all this, when they will be in the land of their enemies, I will not have been revolted by them nor will I have rejected them to obliterate them, to annul My covenant with them – for I am Hashem, their G-d.” Rashi explains that a Jew must never think that the atrocities of exile prove that G-d no longer loves and favors Klal Yisroel. His love for us is boundless, and even in exile the covenant remains in full force.
All of the empires and countries that have sought to vanquish and obliterate us are gone. Yet we remain. That is the greatest sign of His love for us.
The gemara offers two explanations of the word ‘me’od’: The first explanation is that me’od means “with all of your resources”; one must prioritize G-d over his money and physical resources. The second explanation is that one must love G-d despite whatever “middah” - Character Trait/Divine Attribute - G-d employs towards him. At times G-d may act toward a person with the attribute of justice, at other times with compassion. But no matter which attribute it is, one must realize that G-d does all for the good and He must love G-d for that.
A Jew must love G-d on Tisha B’av in the same vein as he loves G-d on Simchas Torah. Even when events are inexplicable and painful, during times of loss and pain, one must remind himself that G-d loves him and is always with him. Through that realization one will come to love G-d, regardless of which ‘middah’ He utilizes towards him.
The great Chassidic Master, Rabbi Levi Yitzchok of Barditchev, was renowned for his extreme piety and passion in his Service to G-d. One night Rabbi Levi Yitzchok was staying at an inn. At midnight he sat down on the floor to recite Tikkun Chatzos  as he did every night.
When the innkeeper was awakened by the sounds of weeping coming from one of his rooms, he was alarmed and went to see what was wrong. Rabbi Levi Yitzchok gently explained to the ignorant innkeeper that he was reciting special prayers to mourn the destruction of the Temple and the elongated exile that we are subject to. The innkeeper replied that those tragic events transpired centuries earlier. Why cry over spilled milk? The Rebbe gently described to his host the grandeur and opulence that was Jerusalem. He described the Kohanim doing the service in the Bais Hamikdash and bringing the offerings on the altar, while the Levites sang harmoniously. He delineated the many miracles that were omnipresent in the Bais Hamikdash, and the feeling of closeness and connection that every Jew felt with his Creator.
When the innkeeper heard the Rebbe’s description he began to cry. In fact, he cried so intensely that soon Rabbi Levi Yitzchok had to put his arm around the innkeeper to console him. “Despite what we have lost, we are actually quite fortunate”, began the Rebbe. “On Tisha B’av afternoon, after spending hours sitting on the floor and reciting lamentations, recounting all the tragedies that have befallen us as a people during the exile, we arise and don our Talis and Tefillin. During Mincha we recite the added prayer “Nachem” which requests G-d to console us for our losses. How does this drastic transition occur? How can we begin to accept consolation when moments before we were in a state of inconsolable grief? Furthermore, most of the Bais Hamikdash burned during the afternoon of the ninth and the morning of the tenth of Av. Why are we rising from our most intense state of mourning during the time when the flames were ravaging the Sanctuary?
The Rebbe continued, “The truth is that we do not comprehend G-d’s kindness and love for us. Our Sages explain that G-d destroyed the Bais Hamikdash in order to preserve us. Had He allowed us to receive the retribution we justly deserved we would have been destroyed. But because He channeled His anger, as it were, towards the physical structure of the Bais Hamikdash, we were able to survive the harrowing and traumatic ordeal. Therein lies our solace! The very fact that G-d destroyed the Bais Hamikdash demonstrates His love for us, for He destroyed His own home and exiled Himself, as it were, rather than destroy His Beloved Nation.
The Shabbos following Tisha B’av is titled Shabbos Nachamu – the Shabbos of consolation. The opening words of the haftorah read, “Console! Console My People!” Despite all we have suffered and all of the difficulties and pains people suffer from, we take solace in the knowledge that G-d’s love for us is boundless and unconditional. In addition, we wear ‘our yellow stars’ as banners of pride for we know that we are part of an eternal people who will ultimately prevail and persevere. No other nation can feel consolation in the tragedy itself, besides Klal Yisroel, for we know that we are part of a Master Plan.
 Special prayers recited for the destruction of the Bais Hamikdash, to mourn for the Divine Presence which is in exile. It is customarily recited at midnight.
On Tisha B’av morning we symbolize the loss of our pride in the exile and so we do not wear Talis and Tefillin, which represent that pride.