Tu B'Av: The Joy of Waking Up Every morning is its own quiet resurrection.

The Mishnah makes a remarkable statement: "There were no greater festivals for Israel than Yom Kippur and Tu B'Av." At first glance, one of those makes perfect sense. Yom Kippur is the day when God forgives us, cleanses us, and grants us a new beginning. But Tu B'Av? Why would the fifteenth of Av be counted among the happiest days of the Jewish year?

The Gemara offers several explanations, but one of the earliest takes us back to one of the darkest moments in Jewish history. After the sin of the spies, the generation that refused to trust God's promise was told that it would wander in the wilderness until that generation passed away. Every year, on the night of Tisha B'Av, they dug their own graves. They embraced their spouses, kissed their children, whispered their final prayers, and lay down in those graves, not knowing whether they would ever open their eyes again.

Imagine what that night must have felt like. The silence. The uncertainty. The fear. The question echoing through every heart: Will I ever see another sunrise? Some awoke the next morning. Others did not. Year after year, that painful ritual continued.

Then one extraordinary year, morning arrived...and everyone woke up.

Surely there had been a mistake.

The next night they returned to their graves.

Again, everyone awoke.

The same thing happened for six nights until they looked up and saw the full moon of the fifteenth of Av. Only then did they realize that the decree had ended. God had given them their lives back.

What would change if you woke up tomorrow as though you had just climbed out of your own grave?

How differently would you greet your spouse? Your children? Your friends? Your work? Your prayers?

Imagine opening your eyes after believing they might never open again. Imagine climbing out of your own grave, feeling the warmth of the morning sun on your face, hearing the voices of those you love, breathing in the fresh air with the realization that every breath is a gift. Nothing would ever seem ordinary again. Every sunrise would feel like a miracle. Every meal, every conversation, every embrace, every opportunity to serve God would become infinitely precious.

Perhaps that is the deepest message of Tu B'Av. The holiday is not simply about entering the Land of Israel. It is about rediscovering the gift of life itself. When you have gone to sleep expecting death, you never wake up taking life for granted.

There is a story told about Baron Edmond de Rothschild. Despite his extraordinary wealth, he wanted never to forget what truly mattered. It is said that he kept a simple coffin in a private room and would occasionally lie inside it—not because he was fascinated with death, but because he wanted to remember how to live. He wanted to return to his work with humility, gratitude, and the awareness that every blessing had been entrusted to him by God. He was not the owner; he was merely the steward.

The Kotzker Rebbe captured this same truth in one unforgettable sentence: "My task is not to resurrect the dead, but to resurrect the living."

Perhaps that is exactly what Tu B'Av asks of us. Most of us will never literally climb out of a grave, but every morning we are given the opportunity to rise from the sleep of routine, complacency, and distraction.

Tomorrow morning, when you open your eyes, remember this question:

What would change if you woke up today as though you had just climbed out of your own grave?

Perhaps you would complain less.

Love more.

Forgive more quickly.

Pray more deeply.

Laugh more freely.

And thank God for the simple miracle of another day.

Every morning is its own quiet resurrection.

That is the joy of Tu B'Av.

Not because life is easy, but because life itself is the gift.

May we greet each new day with gratitude, live with humility, remember that every blessing has been entrusted to us by God, and use each precious day to reveal the light within us and increase the light around us.