| The Faithful City Became a Killer’s Den: How the Holy Became Hollow [I want to acknowledge and thank Rabbi Dovid Katz, PhD, Professor of Jewish History at Johns Hopkins and University of Maryland, for directing me to the sources mentioned in this Dvar Torah] Every year, the Shabbat before Tisha B’Av is called Shabbos Chazon—the Shabbat of Vision—named for the opening word of the haftorah from Isaiah. It’s a heartbreaking, not hopeful, vision. Isaiah the prophet of both rebuke and redemption, describes a Jerusalem that had lost its soul. Alas, how the faithful city has become a harlot! She was full of justice, righteousness dwelled there—but now, murderers. (Isaiah 1:21) The verse is gut-wrenching. A city that once overflowed with Torah, justice, and spiritual vibrancy has become hollow, corrupted, and violent. How could this happen? What went so wrong? This question is mentioned in an ancient source, the Pesikta d’Rav Kahana, and quoted by the Abarbanel (1437-1508). It teaches that at the time of Jerusalem’s downfall there were 481 synagogues in the city. Each one had its own schools beginning with an elementary school, a high school, and then a Yeshiva for advanced study. Jerusalem wasn’t a city lacking in religious infrastructure. On the contrary, it was a city full of Torah learning; so, what happened? How can a city be packed with synagogues and Yeshivot, yet still be described by G-d Himself as filled with murderers? Let’s answer with another question. What happens when religion is present but righteousness is missing? The answer may lie in the nuance of the Hebrew word used in the verse. The term isn’t just rotzchim (murderers), but meratzchim—a more intense, active form. The Malbim explains that this is not referring to isolated individuals, but organized systems of crime and corruption. These weren’t just personal moral failures, they were coordinated networks of abuse, injustice, and moral decay operating within a city that outwardly looked religious. This is astonishing—and terrifying. You can have Torah everywhere and Shuls on every corner. Learning programs for kids, teens, and adults and still the place can rot from within. When Torah and mitzvot become disconnected from justice, kindness, and humility, then even a holy city can become spiritually empty. The holy becomes hollow.Isaiah cries not because there was no Torah but because the Torah had stopped touching people’s hearts. What does this mean for us? We live in a time of deep spiritual searching. Many Jews—especially those who didn’t grow up religious—have questions. Real ones. Why did G-d let this happen? Why should I care about Jewish law if religious people are sometimes corrupt or judgmental? Does Torah really make you better? This haftorah answers that question with painful honesty. Yes, Torah is meant to transform us but it’s not automatic. Having Torah all around you doesn’t mean it’s inside you. Going to shul, attending classes, even checking off mitzvah boxes—none of that replaces the inner work of teshuvah, empathy, humility, and moral courage. We all know people who have walked away from Judaism not because they rejected G-d but because they saw hypocrisy. They saw someone wearing a yarmulke but lacking integrity. They saw ritual without relationship and habit without heart. This isn’t a new problem, it’s exactly what Isaiah is crying about. But, as always, the prophets are meant to inspire us. This isn’t just a message of despair; this Shabbos is called Shabbat Chazon, the Sabbath of Vision, because it is about seeing not just what was, but what could be. Isaiah doesn’t give up on the Jewish people and neither should we. The same city that became filled with meratzchim (bands of murderers) is the one we still call Ir HaKodesh, the Holy City. The holiness was never destroyed, it was just buried and waiting to be revealed again. We live in a time where the Jewish soul is waking up again. Jews from every background are searching for depth, connection, meaning. We don’t need more information; we need inspiration with integrity. Let us build communities—whether in shuls, homes, or online—that live Torah with sincerity and soul. Let our children see that Torah doesn’t just teach us how to daven, but how to listen. Not just how to keep kosher, but how to keep our word. Not just how to learn, but how to live. Let’s be the generation that proves our critics wrong—not with argument, but with action. This Tisha B’Av, we mourn not only the destruction of stone walls of the ancient temple, but the breakdown of trust, truth, and unity. That being said, we also believe that every destroyed place can be rebuilt because when Torah is lived and practiced with heart, even the hollow can become holy again. Good Shabbos |
