Av is a seemingly a month of paradox.
It holds both the deepest grief and one of Judaism’s greatest celebrations. It begins in mourning and ends in love. It remembers destruction while quietly planting the seeds of renewal. Rather than asking us to choose between sorrow and hope, Av teaches us that both can exist at the same time.
The 9th of Av, Tisha B’Av, commemorates the destruction of both the First and Second Temples, along with other moments of profound loss throughout Jewish history. Yet only six days later comes Tu B’Av, a festival of love, reconciliation, and new beginnings. Their placement side by side in the calendar is striking. Together, these two days hold the full spectrum of the human experience: grief and love, loss and connection, endings and beginnings. Each gives depth and meaning to the other. Without knowing loss, we may never fully appreciate love; without the possibility of love, grief would have nowhere to lead us. The movement from Tisha B’Av to Tu B’Av reminds us that healing rarely arrives all at once. Renewal often begins while we are still carrying what has been broken.
Jewish tradition associates Av with the letter Tet (ט), the first letter of the word tov (good). At first glance, this may seem surprising in a month so closely connected with tragedy. Yet the deeper teaching is that goodness is not always obvious. Sometimes it remains hidden beneath the surface, waiting to emerge in its own time.
The shape of the letter Tet has been understood as both a womb and a vessel. A womb holds life before it can be seen. A vessel receives what is poured into it. Together, they remind us that growth often happens quietly, beneath the surface, long before it becomes visible. Even in seasons that feel empty or painful, something new may already be taking shape.
The spiritual sense of Av is listening (שמיעה).
Listening asks something different of us than seeing. We cannot force it. We must slow down, become present, and make space for what is often overlooked. Av invites us to listen - to our own hearts, to the stories of others, and perhaps to the quiet wisdom that only becomes audible when we stop trying to escape discomfort.
The month is also associated with Leo, the lion. While lions often symbolize strength and courage, Av suggests another kind of courage: the willingness to remain open even after disappointment, to grieve without becoming consumed by grief, and to continue believing in the possibility of healing.
Nature offers its own reflection. Summer is a season of fullness, warmth, and abundance, yet Av reminds us that even at the height of life there can be loss. At the same time, what appears barren on the surface may already be preparing for renewal. In Jewish thought, destruction is rarely the end of the story. It becomes the place from which rebuilding begins.
This month, we invite you to reflect:
• What am I being asked to truly listen to?
• Where might hidden goodness already exist, even if I cannot yet see it?
• What loss in my life still asks to be acknowledged with compassion?
• What would it look like to become more receptive - to healing, to connection, or to new possibilities?
• What new beginning may already be quietly growing beneath the surface?
May this month bring the courage to sit with what has been broken, the wisdom to listen deeply, and the faith to trust that even in places of loss, hidden goodness and new life are waiting to emerge.