It's not the end of the story

This Shabbat, the one before Tisha B’Av, is called Shabbat Chazon, which means “the Shabbat of Vision.” It gets its name from the opening word of the haftarah: “Chazon Yeshayahu—The vision of Isaiah.” The haftarah talks about moral failure, destruction, and exile. At first glance, it sounds bleak; not exactly an uplifting message.

And then, as Shabbat concludes, comes Tisha B’Av, the actual day we mourn these losses. It's the saddest day on the Jewish calendar, marking the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem—once in 422 BCE by the Babylonians, and again in 70 CE by the Romans. But Tisha B'av is not just about ancient history. Over the centuries, many other tragedies in Jewish history also happened on this day, including the expulsions from Spain and England, and even events in the Holocaust. It’s a day of fasting, mourning, and reflection; a time when we sit with our collective grief.

But here’s where the story shifts.

The 18th-century Chassidic leader, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev, known for his deep love for every Jew and his unshakable optimism, taught something striking. He said that on this Shabbat—Shabbat Chazon—every Jewish soul is shown a vision of the Third Temple. Not with our physical eyes, but with our soul’s eyes. Somewhere deep inside, we get a glimpse of the future—of what could be, of what will be.

He gave a simple, moving parable: A father made his beloved son a beautiful coat. The son wore it, but didn’t take care, and ruined it. The father made a second one—and again, it was torn. So the third time, the father made another coat, but this time, he didn’t give it to the child. Instead, he kept it safely tucked away, and only from time to time would he show it to his son. “This is waiting for you,” he’d say, “when you’re ready.”

That’s us. Our people had two Temples and lost both. We’ve gone through exile, persecution, and heartbreak. And yet, we’re still here. Still holding on. And even now, in this difficult stretch of time, we’re given a glimpse of something whole.

Because that’s what chazon—vision—really means. Not just seeing what is, but seeing what can be. Prophetic vision doesn’t ignore pain. It just sees beyond it. It reminds us that this moment, no matter how hard, is not the end of the story.

And here’s another layer: the prophet Isaiah’s name comes from the word yeshuah—salvation. Even his harshest words are meant to lead us toward healing. The message isn’t just about what’s broken, it’s about what can be repaired. And more than that: what can be transformed.

That’s the message of Shabbat Chazon. That even before the fast, even before the mourning, we’re reminded that redemption is already planted inside the pain. The Third Temple isn’t just a building; it represents a time of peace, connection, and lasting wholeness. It’s not here yet, but it’s not far off either.

So if life feels a little heavy right now—if the world seems messy or broken—don’t lose hope. Something bigger is unfolding. You may not see it with your eyes, but your soul sees it. Keep walking. Keep showing up. We’re on the way toward something real, something lasting.