When I was in school, some of my teachers used to place posters on the classroom walls for every month of the Jewish calendar, each depicting a central theme specific to that month. For example, Nissan was marked with Pesach symbols, Iyar with sefirah or Lag B’Omer imagery, Sivan with the luchos, and so on.
For the most part, the image on one poster was unrelated to those of adjacent months. There were, however, some notable exceptions, such as with Adar and Nissan. Both months represent salvation and redemption, from Haman (Purim) and Pharaoh (Pesach) respectively. Tammuz and Av have come to symbolize sadness and mourning, as we commemorate our two exiles from Zion and other national tragedies. And, of course, the months of Elul and Tishrei are deeply linked by the themes of seriousness, repentance, and purity.
To the casual observer, the connection between Av and Elul is less obvious, if it exists at all. The balance of Av that follows our fasting is relatively “theme-less” (Tu B’Av notwithstanding) and is celebrated with the restoration of summertime pleasures such as swimming and more adventurous activities. We are in full vacation mode during those weeks, at least until the shofar is first sounded on Rosh Chodesh Elul. At that point, we begin the slow, steady transition from summer fun to Elul solemnity, culminating (at least among Ashkenazim) with the recitation of Selichos just before Rosh Hashanah.
While the connection between Av and Elul is less obvious than the other aforementioned pairs, these two months can teach us about the importance of relationships and how they frame our connection with Hashem and with each other.
The mournful period that culminates with Tisha B’Av is framed by tragedy. Shivah Assar B’Tammuz commemorates, amongst other things, the sin of the eigel, the golden calf. Tisha B’Av marks the anniversary of the sin of the meraglim (spies) as well as the destruction of both Temples. These events all speak to a breakdown in relationship and a basic lack of faith and trust – in Hashem, in His servant Moshe, in each other.
The eigel was produced by an active minority. They perceived a delay in Moshe’s return from his heavenly ascent and interpreted it to mean he could no longer be relied on to lead the people. Though he had promised to return, they discounted his word and sought a new path forward.
The meraglim also demonstrated a clear lack of faith and trust, rejecting Hashem’s long-promised gift and their ability to take safe delivery of it. They spoke of the land’s many ills and convinced an entire nation to mourn their miserable state of affairs.
Centuries later, the people again experienced a comprehensive spiritual breakdown.
Why was the first sanctuary destroyed? Because of three [evil] things that prevailed there: idolatry, immorality, and bloodshed…. Why was the second sanctuary destroyed?…. At that time causeless hatred prevailed. (Yoma 9b)
During the First Commonwealth, the prevalent evils underscored a lack of faith, whether faith in Hashem as our God – idolatry – or in the sacredness and special calling of each individual – bloodshed. (According to our sages, idolatry was largely performed as a pretense for immoral conduct – one who doesn’t openly recognize and serve Hashem is not bound by His strictures.)
The Second Commonwealth ended due to causeless hatred, sinas chinam, the ultimate lack of respect in one another.
Following a period that highlights the damaging effects of relational breakdowns (Av) we begin a month that is designed to help us reinstate our relationship with our Maker and our faith in Him and His plan (Elul). It is that trust which forms the basis of our ability to properly coronate Him as our King and to submit ourselves to His service.
