Devarim
Tisha B’Av Edition
And Though He Tarry....
Why Hasn’t Moshiach Come Yet?
Why hasn’t Moshiach come yet?
I propose this painful possibility: even if he did, we would reject him—if not destroy him. Sound extreme? Perhaps. But are we truly more spiritually evolved than the generation that stood at Sinai and still built a Golden Calf?
In this week’s Parsha, Devarim, Moshe begins his final speech to the people by reviewing the major failures of their desert journey. He does so obliquely at first—referencing locations instead of directly naming sins like the Golden Calf or the complaints about manna.
But when Moshe recounts the episode of the Meraglim—the Spies—he does not hold back. He gives a detailed account of the nation’s reaction to the spies' report and their devastating refusal to enter the Land of Israel. This, Moshe emphasizes, was not just fear or weakness. It was a rejection of their inheritance, a distortion of their own history, and, ultimately, a betrayal of their relationship with God.
That moment—when the people cried over the “evil” land—occurred on the Ninth of Av. Tisha B’Av. Ever since, that date has become a container for Jewish catastrophe. One unhealed trauma has echoed through history, repeating itself across generations. Consider just a few of the calamities linked to this date:
Five Foundational Tragedies (Mishnah, Taanit 4:6)
Later Tisha B’Av Tragedies
But Moshe doesn’t begin with the Spies. He starts with something more internal, more subtle—and perhaps more dangerous. Before the sins of action, there are the sins of spirit.
He recounts the social and spiritual breakdown among the people: arrogance, cynicism, pettiness, and constant conflict. Moshe says:
“I said to you at that time: ‘I cannot bear the burden of you alone… How can I carry alone your troubles, your burdens, and your quarrels?’”
(Devarim 1:9–13)
He asks for help. He appoints judges. The people agree. But their behavior toward authority, truth, and one another is deeply flawed.
Rashi explains:
A Deeper ConnectionThe sin of the Spies was not just fear—it was the flowering of this earlier rot. A people who distrust leadership, twist narratives, and fixate on internal suspicion will inevitably turn against their destiny.
The modern parallels are frightening.
Today we ask why Moshiach hasn’t come. Perhaps it’s not because we lack faith in God—but because we lack faith in one another. We argue endlessly. We vilify leaders. We slander communities we don’t understand. We live, once again, in a generation of “burden, trouble, and quarrel.”
If Moshiach did come, would we recognize him? Would we accuse him of corruption? Would we dissect his politics or denounce his platform before he had a chance to speak?
Until we learn to see one another charitably, trust our spiritual leaders—or become worthy ones ourselves—and believe that we are ready for redemption, we may continue to reject it each time it knocks.
Devarim always falls near Tisha B’Av. That’s no accident.
Moshe is trying to warn us. The road to exile did not begin with broken walls. It began with broken trust.
But Moshe also blesses us:
“May Hashem increase you a thousandfold, and bless you as He promised.”
(Devarim 1:11)
If we are willing to grow—to believe in ourselves, in each other, and in the covenant—we may yet rebuild. Not just the Temple, but the moral and spiritual architecture that must sustain it.
Let us cry no more needlessly.
Let us cry only with joy when Moshiach finally comes—and we are wise enough to follow.
Why hasn’t Moshiach come yet?
I propose this painful possibility: even if he did, we would reject him—if not destroy him. Sound extreme? Perhaps. But are we truly more spiritually evolved than the generation that stood at Sinai and still built a Golden Calf?
In this week’s Parsha, Devarim, Moshe begins his final speech to the people by reviewing the major failures of their desert journey. He does so obliquely at first—referencing locations instead of directly naming sins like the Golden Calf or the complaints about manna.
But when Moshe recounts the episode of the Meraglim—the Spies—he does not hold back. He gives a detailed account of the nation’s reaction to the spies' report and their devastating refusal to enter the Land of Israel. This, Moshe emphasizes, was not just fear or weakness. It was a rejection of their inheritance, a distortion of their own history, and, ultimately, a betrayal of their relationship with God.
That moment—when the people cried over the “evil” land—occurred on the Ninth of Av. Tisha B’Av. Ever since, that date has become a container for Jewish catastrophe. One unhealed trauma has echoed through history, repeating itself across generations. Consider just a few of the calamities linked to this date:
Five Foundational Tragedies (Mishnah, Taanit 4:6)
- The Sin of the Spies – The Israelites wept and despaired upon hearing the slanderous report about the Land. God responded: “You cried needlessly? I will give you a reason to cry on this day for generations.”
- Destruction of the First Temple – By the Babylonians in 587 BCE.
- Destruction of the Second Temple – By the Romans in 70 CE.
- The Fall of Betar – The crushing of the Bar Kochba revolt, with over 500,000 Jews killed.
- The Plowing of the Temple Mount – The Roman general Turnus Rufus razed the site of the Holy Temple.
Later Tisha B’Av Tragedies
- Launch of the First Crusade (1096), killing thousands of Jews.
- Expulsion from England (1290).
- Expulsion from France (1306).
- Expulsion from Spain (1492).
- World War I began (1914), setting in motion the events leading to the Holocaust.
- “Final Solution” Approved (1941) by Himmler—marking the Holocaust’s escalation.
- Mass Deportation from the Warsaw Ghetto to Treblinka (1942).
- AMIA Bombing in Buenos Aires (1994).
- Israeli Disengagement from Gaza (2005), uprooting entire Jewish communities.
But Moshe doesn’t begin with the Spies. He starts with something more internal, more subtle—and perhaps more dangerous. Before the sins of action, there are the sins of spirit.
He recounts the social and spiritual breakdown among the people: arrogance, cynicism, pettiness, and constant conflict. Moshe says:
“I said to you at that time: ‘I cannot bear the burden of you alone… How can I carry alone your troubles, your burdens, and your quarrels?’”
(Devarim 1:9–13)
He asks for help. He appoints judges. The people agree. But their behavior toward authority, truth, and one another is deeply flawed.
Rashi explains:
- “Your burden” – They disrespected the judges and accused Moshe of personal corruption.
- “Your troubles” – They were suspicious and judgmental: *“Why is Moshe up so early? Trouble at home?” Or late? “He must be plotting against us.”
- “Your quarrels” – They were litigious and constantly bickering, never content with rulings, always challenging the system.
A Deeper ConnectionThe sin of the Spies was not just fear—it was the flowering of this earlier rot. A people who distrust leadership, twist narratives, and fixate on internal suspicion will inevitably turn against their destiny.
The modern parallels are frightening.
Today we ask why Moshiach hasn’t come. Perhaps it’s not because we lack faith in God—but because we lack faith in one another. We argue endlessly. We vilify leaders. We slander communities we don’t understand. We live, once again, in a generation of “burden, trouble, and quarrel.”
If Moshiach did come, would we recognize him? Would we accuse him of corruption? Would we dissect his politics or denounce his platform before he had a chance to speak?
Until we learn to see one another charitably, trust our spiritual leaders—or become worthy ones ourselves—and believe that we are ready for redemption, we may continue to reject it each time it knocks.
Devarim always falls near Tisha B’Av. That’s no accident.
Moshe is trying to warn us. The road to exile did not begin with broken walls. It began with broken trust.
But Moshe also blesses us:
“May Hashem increase you a thousandfold, and bless you as He promised.”
(Devarim 1:11)
If we are willing to grow—to believe in ourselves, in each other, and in the covenant—we may yet rebuild. Not just the Temple, but the moral and spiritual architecture that must sustain it.
Let us cry no more needlessly.
Let us cry only with joy when Moshiach finally comes—and we are wise enough to follow.