The difference between optimism and hope

This Thursday, we will observe Tisha b’Av, considered the most sorrowful day in the Jewish calendar. It’s a time for reflecting not only on the destruction of the two temples in Jerusalem but also on the numerous tragedies that have afflicted the Jewish people during our two millennia of wandering in the diaspora.

During this day of fasting, we follow a quasi-shiva custom. We sit on the floor, refrain from greeting one another, and mourn the fate that has befallen our ancestors and us.

Interestingly, I’ve always found Tisha b’Av to be more inspiring than depressing. It serves as a testament to the unwavering resilience and defiance of the Jewish people. Throughout history, when faced with the very real prospect of annihilation, we have repeatedly risen like the Phoenix, emerging stronger and more committed than ever before.

At the core of our resilience lies the Jewish perspective on hope; tikvah. Often, people misunderstand the difference between optimism and hope, as eloquently explained by the late Chief Rabbi Sacks z”l. Optimism is simply believing that things will naturally improve, while hope involves actively working to make things better. It compels us to see every situation as an opportunity for positive change and the realisation of a utopian vision, even if only partially achieved.

Given the experiences of our community over the past two millennia, we cannot merely be optimists; we are a people of hope. One need not be an optimist to possess hope. Hatikvah, the hope that through our efforts, determination, and resilience, we can and will create a better world. This forces us to view days like Tisha b’Av as challenges to our vision, rather than evidence of its folly.

In life, we encounter failures in various aspects, be it personal, professional, or communal. Yet, we should perceive these failures as stepping stones toward achieving our ultimate vision. They call us to be courageous, demand that we persevere, and drive us toward eventual victory.

As we observe Tisha b’Av, we should indeed feel the pain of the past and present. However, instead of allowing these tragedies to paralyse us, they should serve as motivation, energy, and inspiration propelling us towards greatness.


ABOUT THE AUTHORUntitled design-72

Rabbi Gad Krebs is the College Rabbi at Moriah College in Queens Park, NSW.

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