A single night of faithless weeping established the ninth of Av as a day when tragedy would strike the Jewish people throughout history. After the Israelites had been freed from Egyptian slavery and stood poised to enter the Promised Land, they sent twelve spies to scout the territory ahead. Ten of those spies returned with a terrifying report: giants lived in the land, fortified cities towered like mountains, and the inhabitants were too powerful to defeat. The entire nation wept in despair, rejecting God’s promise and demanding to return to Egypt. That night of tears fell on the ninth day of the Hebrew month of Av.
The Sages record God’s response to their faithless weeping: “You wept needlessly that night, and I will therefore establish for you a true tragedy over which there will be weeping in future generations.” That true tragedy became the destruction of both Holy Temples on the ninth of Av, along with countless other catastrophes throughout Jewish history that would fall on this same date.
Every year on the Shabbat immediately before the ninth of Av, synagogues around the world read the Torah portion of Devarim (Deuteronomy 1:1–3:22), Moses’ opening address in the book of Deuteronomy. Why does Jewish tradition deliberately pair Moses’ final speeches with the week preceding the most devastating fast day on the Jewish calendar?
The Torah portion of Devarim opens with Moses addressing the entire nation:
The great medieval commentator Rashi explains that Moses wasn’t simply listing geographical locations. Each place name represented a rebellion or a moment when the Israelites turned against God in the desert. Moses was delivering a final rebuke, reminding the nation of their failures before they entered the land.
This connection to sin provides one obvious link to the ninth of Av. The fast day commemorates national tragedy rooted in transgression. The Sages teach that “because of our sins we have been exiled from our land.” They further declare that in every generation when the Temple remains unbuilt, it’s as if it were destroyed anew. We remain responsible for our continued exile because of our continued sins.
Yet according to Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveithik, this explanation, while accurate, only scratches the surface. The true connection between Devarim and the ninth of Av lies in a single catastrophic event that forever altered the trajectory of Jewish history: The Sin of the Spies.
In the portion of Devarim, Moses recounts this pivotal moment. God had commanded the people to enter the Promised Land immediately:
The moment had arrived for instant possession. Had Moses led the people directly into the land, there would have been no need for seven years of conquest and seven years of settlement. Divine intervention would have accomplished everything within days.
But disaster struck. The people demanded to send spies first. Twelve men returned after forty days, ten bearing a report that paralyzed the nation with fear.
This moment shattered God’s original plan. Instead of immediate entry into the Promised Land, the Israelites wandered the desert for thirty-eight additional years. An entire generation died in the wilderness. Their crying introduced vulnerability into Jewish history that would echo through millennia.
As Rabbi Soloveitchik explained: “If you should ask me what kind of fast day Tisha B’Av is, I would answer that it is a fast day caused by the sin of the spies. The destruction of the Temple is only a consequence, a result, of that event.”
According to Nahmanides (Numbers 13:27), the sin of the spies wasn’t merely faithlessness; it was editorial interpretation masquerading as objective reporting. The spies saw the same land Moses would later describe as “a good land, a land of brooks of water, of fountains and depths that spring out of valleys and hills” (Deuteronomy 8:7). But they editorialized their observations, spinning facts into fear. They transformed a divine gift into an impossible challenge.
This same lack of faith and negative interpretation that prevented immediate conquest would later manifest in the sins that led to the destruction of the Temples. Lack of faith led to the sins that caused the destruction of the first Temple, and editorializing led to the baseless hatred that caused the destruction of the Second.
The portion of Devarim serves as both a historical reminder and a contemporary warning. Moses’ final speeches don’t merely recount past failures; they prepare the next generation to avoid repeating them.
Yet on the ninth of Av itself, we read from the Torah portion immediately after Devarim, called Va’etchanan. The reading emphasizes that despite past sins, repentance remains possible:
This message of repentance transforms the ninth of Av from mere commemoration into active challenge. As Rabbi Soloveitchik says, “Tish’ah be-Av (ninth of Av) is not just a day of disaster and distress and Kinot (lamentations); it is also a challenge. But what are we supposed to do? The answer is teshuvah (repentance), and that is why the parshat ha-teshuvah, the portion of the Torah dealing with repentance, was selected as the Torah reading for Tish’ah be-Av.”
The reading of Devarim before the ninth of Av, therefore, delivers a precise message: We mourn not just destruction but the original sin that made destruction inevitable. We remember not just what we lost but why we lost it. We confront not just historical tragedy but ongoing responsibility. But the reading on the ninth of Av reminds us that it is our power to change things for the better.
We continue the sin of the spies whenever we interpret divine providence through human limitation rather than divine possibility. It persists when we see insurmountable obstacles where God provides open doors. It endures when we edit reality to match our fears or interpretations rather than God’s promises.
Tisha B’Av reminds us that weeping alone accomplishes nothing. Recognition of sin must lead to transformation. The same God who decreed punishment for faithlessness promises redemption for repentance. The road back remains open, but we must choose to walk it.
Until we do, we remain in the desert of our own making, wandering between divine promise and human fulfillment, carrying within us both the sin that caused our exile and the possibility for repentance that can end it.
