I don’t know about you, but I feel like ‘tis the season for out of office replies and family vacation photos. Kids are coming home from camp, school has yet to begin, and the end of summer Fridays is on the horizon—but not here yet.
I spoke on Shabbat Hazon (the Shabbat before Tisha B’Av – sermon linked below) about liminality, and on both the academic and spiritual calendars, we are still there. Spiritually, emotionally, seasonally—we’re in that strange summer drift. We’re post–Tisha B’Av, but not quite in Elul mode. It’s like Jewish liturgical jet lag: we packed up the sackcloth and ashes, but haven’t unpacked the shofar yet.
These weeks between Tisha B’Av and Rosh Hashanah are known as the Shivah D’Nechemta, the 7 Weeks of Consolation, and each Shabbat we read a selection from the Book of Isaiah; these words, from the latter half of the Book of Isaiah, are meant to bring us messages of comfort and hope after the destruction of Tisha B’Av. The arc of these readings follow a familiar pattern; the Haftarah this week begins with a cry of despair—
“God has forsaken me, my Lord has forgotten me”
—and ends with a quiet promise of joy, comfort, and rebuilding.
It’s not a sudden leap from devastation to hope; it’s a slow, emotional arc—a model for spiritual healing. Consolation doesn’t arrive like a lightning bolt; it unfolds gently, over time, through being heard, through feeling held, through a return to relationship. As we inch toward Elul, the season of return, this Haftarah reminds us: there is no instant fix. Teshuvah, like comfort, is not a moment. It’s an unfolding. A process. A reawakening that begins exactly where we are, even in the disorientation of August, even in the quiet aftermath of mourning.
In a season when our rhythms may feel off, when we’re not quite sure what day it is or where we’re heading, this Haftarah—these weeks—whisper that God is still steady, still present, still holding us. These weeks of consolation aren’t loud or urgent—they’re gentle. They unfold slowly, tenderly, calling us back to presence, back to purpose, and quietly preparing our hearts for the sacred work of teshuvah, of return.