The very name of this Shabbos proclaims a total change in the atmosphere of the past Three Weeks. We go from mourning to consolation, from sadness to joy. And, yet, the overwhelming majority of meforshim are shocked at the opening words of the haftarah. The novi Yeshayohu, the source of all the seven haftaros of nechomah, evokes what seems to be the harshest of punishments: “Comfort My people…for she has received double for all her sins from the hand of Hashem” (Yeshayah 40:1). Indeed, the very beginning of the Medrash of Eicha (Eicha Rabbah 1:57) elaborates that “she has sinned doubly, been punished doubly and will be consoled doubly.” As the Satmar Rebbe  thunders, “Can this be the middah of Hashem to punish twice for the same sin?” (Kedushas Yoel, Haftaras Nachamu, page 116). He cites the earlier reaction of the Radak that it is impossible to contemplate that Hashem would exact excessive retribution, since the Torah testifies, “The Rock! – perfect is His work, for all His paths are justice; He is righteous and fair” (Devorim 32:4).

Although many answers are given, I would like to share a few chosen explanations from our gedolim, which I feel speak most eloquently to this year’s need for consolation.

The Matamei Yitzchok (pages 578-580), son of the Maharsham, points out that the first posuk of the haftarah says both dabru (speak) and kiru (call). He alerts us to the fact that dibbur can sometimes refer to speech that is not directly said to the person (such as Bamidbar 12:1), but kriah is always direct. His point is that the novi, relating the word of Hashem, is speaking warmly and encouragingly to the heart and soul of the nation. We should add that Rashi (Vayikra 1:1) teaches the same lesson about Hashem’s call to Moshe Rabbeinu at the beginning of Sefer Vayikra. Indeed, one of the “Lions of the Arizal” (Tal Oros, page 771) points out that our posuk begins with Elokeichem, which represents the middah of din, rigorous justice, and changes to Hashem, which represents rachamim, compassion and pity. Clearly, the very first posuk of the haftarah evokes the transition from sadness to consolation.

Rav Shimon Sofer, son of the Chasam Sofer and rov of Mattersdorf (Michtav Sofer, page 177), explains this transition as coming from our own intense teshuvah. When performed properly, teshuvah not only erases sins, but turns them into zechusim, merits (Yoma 86b). Thus, what could have resulted in punishment in effect becomes reward. This, he explains, is the best of the doubling, when evil is transformed into spiritual gold. The Unsdorfer Rov, Rav Shmuel Rosenberg (Be’er Shmuel 561), channels the concept that Hashem creates the cure before the illness (Megillah 13b) to explain how this mystical transition takes place. He explains that the refuah was already there and only needed to be activated by our teshuvah and wish to change ourselves.

The Bnei Yissoschor (Nissan 9:1) utilizes the order of the Seder to understand how our fate suddenly changes for the better. He asks the classic question: Why do we eat the matzah, which represents freedom, before maror, which represents the pain of slavery? The correct order should have been the reverse.

He answers using the metaphor of the physician who gives a patient bitter herbs to cure him. At the time, they are difficult to swallow, but when he feels better, his fever is gone and he can act normally again, he becomes grateful and understands what the doctor has done for him. In the future redemption, too, he concludes, there will be extremely bitter times, when we will think that we are being punished excessively, but later we will be grateful for every moment of temporary pain.

One of the great poskim, Rav Yitzchok Yaakov Weiss, rov of Yerushalayim (Minchas Yitzchok, Va’eschanon, page 64), adds that the posuk clearly indicates that this pain (laksa kiflayim) comes from the name of Hashem signifying compassion. The novi is speaking not only of the churban Bais Hamikdosh, but also about our days as well. This explains the cryptic words of the Medrash (Yalkut Yeshayohu 445) that Klal Yisroel asked Yeshayah, “Perhaps you have prophesied comfort only for our generation but not for future generations?” Yeshayah reassures us that he meant the End of Days as well. Rav Berel Povarsky (Bad Kodesh, Volume 1, Tisha B’Av, page 386-87) asks: Why would we even think that Yeshayah’s nevuah was limited solely to his generation? Actually, all the nevuos in Tanach are eternal and meant for all generations. He answers, quoting the Brisker Rov on Tehillim (27:14), that we are rewarded for our trust in Hashem by gaining even more trust in Him. Yeshayah’s call to console the people is not just to be full of emunah and bitachon when things are good. It is to see the hand of Hashem in everything, even that which seems on the surface to be intensely punitive actions. That is why the word Elokeichem, the Name signifying din, appears here. It is to enable us to perceive Hashem in the darkest of moments.

I remember hearing the Novominsker Rebbe quoting his mother-in-law, a survivor of Churban Europa. She was asked the pointed but recurring question of: “Where was Hashem during the Holocaust?” Her simple but profound answer was: “In yeder vinkel — In every corner.” In other words, where some saw only crematoria and gas chambers, she saw those who survived miraculously and rebuilt families against all rational odds.

That is the secret of the nechamah that simultaneously also speaks of suffering and pain.

Rav Yosef Shalom Elyashiv (Divrei Aggada, page 519) adds how all of this requires our active participation and activity. “Speaking to the heart of Yeushalayim” means, he explains, “building Torah communities, spreading its message, performing mitzvos and getting ready to rebuild the Bais Hamikdosh.”

The Maharam Brisk (Va’eschanon, page 266) explains that this is what Chazal (Bereishis Rabbah 14:9) mean when they teach that we should thank Hashem with every breath. This refers to when we breathe easily or even when it is, lo aleinu, difficult to breathe. If we learn to thank Hashem for everything, instead of thinking that we are being punished at every turn, we become rewarded for every word and breath.

If we go back just a few days to listening to the powerful words of Eicha, we can discover this idea on the cosmic level of Klal Yisroel. Yirmiyohu Hanovi tells us early on (Eicha 2:1) that “He cast down from heaven to earth the glory of Yisroel.” The question has been asked for centuries: What place is there here for the “glory of Yisroel” when we are describing its punishment and degradation? Our meforshim refer us to Dovid Hamelech’s words (Tehillim 3:1), “Mizmor l’Dovid as he fled from Avshalom, his son.” Why is this called a song of praise when a tragedy is happening? Dovid Hamelech has no peace and he must run away from his own son, who is seeking to murder him. The answer is given that there are two types of misfortunes that can come upon a person. One is when things happen that appear to be natural. There are illnesses, ups and downs in parnossah, and some children who are more successful than others. These things can be explained as the way of the world. But if something is so spectacularly good or

G-d forbid bad, it can only come from Hashem, Who runs the world. There can be no other explanation.

Chazal (Megillah 16a) tell us that Klal Yisroel is either like the dirt of the earth or like the stars above. These polar opposites must come from Hashem. This explains the posuk that Hashem threw us down from a high place to a low pit. This, too, is the glory of Klal Yisroel, since it indicates that we are His children and the treatment we receive is always supernatural. Sometimes this is wonderful, sometimes it is painful, but it is always indicative of His presence.

Many of us learned this from a Gemara (Kesubos 66b) on Tisha B’Av. At the time of the churban, Rav Yochonon ben Zakkai was riding a donkey, followed by his talmidim, and saw a young woman collecting barley from under the dung of an animal belonging to an Arab. When she realized that the great sage was nearby, she arranged herself as best she could and begged him for help or food. He asked who she was and she responded that she was the daughter of Nakdimon ben Guriyon. Knowing that he had been one of the wealthiest men in Yerushalayim, he asked where the family riches had gone, to which she responded that there was nothing left. Rav Yochonon ben Zakai began to weep. “Ashreichem Yisroel – Fortunate are you, O Yisroel. When you do the will of the Al-mighty, no nation can conquer you, but when you do not, you are given over to a lowly nation and not only into their hands, but even to their animals.”

The Maharal, as well as others, ask: Is this the place for an expression such as Ashreichem Yisroel? What’s so glorious about this tragic scene?

The Maharsha, as explained by the Maharal and Brisker Rov, says that it means that whether we are very great or surrounded by adversity, it is clear that we are in the direct hands of the Creator. My rebbi, Rav Yitzchok Hutner, always used to comment that, as a nation, we are sometimes called Am Seridei Chorev and sometimes Am Medushnei Oneg. Either way, we are Hashem’s children and we are under His personal Providence — Hashgocha Protis.

This is the message of Shabbos Nachamu and the comfort we are being promised. Things will not always be perfect. However, we will always know that Hashem is guiding us and in charge of everything.

I must add that when we see nearly worldwide anti-Semitism, when we feel most alone and abandoned, we know that “we have no one but Hashem to Whom to turn.” That is never a bad thing. It reminds us who we are and under Whose umbrella we remain. Yeshuas Hashem keheref ayin — Hashem’s salvation can come in a moment, as long as we know that it is He from Whom we are sustained and live every day. Yes, every breath comes from Him, just as we receive many reminders that we cannot count on any human being, but must always put our trust in our Heavenly Father. When we do that, we will be helped and saved bemeheirah beyomeinu. Amein.