This Shabbat, known as Shabbat Chazon, is the gateway into Tisha B’Av, the Jewish national day of mourning. Named after the opening word of the haftarah – “Chazon Yeshayahu,” (the vision of Isaiah) – it is a prophetic cry of rebuke and heartbreak over a nation that has gone astray, and a city, Jerusalem, that lies in ruin.
The words of the prophet Isaiah (1:1–27), read in synagogues worldwide this Shabbat, echo down through the millennia with uncanny relevance.
Indeed, this year, Shabbat Chazon carries with it a double punch.
For this coming week marks the 20th anniversary on the Hebrew calendar of the expulsion and destruction of 21 vibrant Jewish communities in Gush Katif and another four in northern Samaria. That fateful move, executed in the summer of 2005 under the euphemistic title of the “Disengagement Plan,” culminated right after Tisha B’Av.
It stands as one of the most painful chapters in modern Israeli history: the forcible uprooting of thousands of Jews from their homes in the Land of Israel, by their own government, in the name of a misguided vision of peace.
As we read Isaiah’s lamentations over a Jerusalem that had become “like a harlot,” filled with corruption and injustice, we are also haunted by the disastrous decision to uproot Gush Katif. Both Jerusalem and Gush Katif represent, in different ways, the spiritual and national trauma of Jewish exile and betrayal – both from without and from within.
A City in Mourning, A Nation in Denial
The haftarah begins with blistering criticism: “Hear, O heavens, and give ear, O earth… I have raised and exalted children, and they have rebelled against Me” (Isaiah 1:2). As the Metzudat David (Rabbi David Altshuler, 1687-1769) explains, G-d is saying, “Look at the good that I did for my firstborn son Israel, whom I raised and exalted above all the nations, but they have not repaid me in kind for they rebelled against Me.” G-d’s lament is like that of a brokenhearted parent whose children have turned their backs on everything they were given.
Isaiah proceeds to indict not just the leadership of the nation, but a society that has gone numb, going through the motions of religiosity while abandoning justice, compassion, and truth. “Your princes are rebellious and companions of thieves… They do not judge the orphan, and the widow’s cause does not come before them.” (Isaiah 1:23)
The corruption and complacency that Isaiah rails against are not confined to antiquity. We have seen them too clearly in our own time when expediency trumps ethics, when political calculation overrides historical memory, and when Jewish homes in Eretz Yisrael are treated as obstacles to be cleared rather than sacred milestones on our national return.
Orange Ribbons and National Trauma
In the lead-up to the 2005 Gaza withdrawal, the streets of Israel were filled with orange ribbons – symbols of resistance, of love for the Land, and of grief for what was about to unfold. For months, hundreds of thousands protested, prayed, and pleaded with the government to reconsider. But the wheels of “disengagement” rolled on. Bulldozers were deployed. Cemeteries were dug up and relocated. Families were dragged from their homes by Israeli soldiers and police, their entire lives packed into cardboard boxes and temporary shelters.
It was a national trauma – a modern-day exile played out on live television.
Just as Isaiah warned, when the Jewish people lose their moral clarity, the result is frightening: “Your country is desolate, your cities are burned with fire… strangers devour your land in your presence” (Isaiah 1:7).
In a deep and haunting sense, the expulsion from Gush Katif gave us a visceral, modern-day glimpse into the anguish of the hurban 1,900 years ago – the destruction of our national home. The scenes of weeping families, torched synagogues, and shattered communities were not unlike the accounts of Jerusalem’s fall at the hands of the Roman legions.
But in one crucial way, this wound cut even deeper: it was self-inflicted. The destruction was not imposed by foreign armies or imperial decrees, but by a Jewish government. That fact alone makes the tragedy of Gush Katif, in some respects, even more searing than the ancient devastations we mourn on Tisha B’Av. It was a betrayal from within – a reminder that exile can be internal as well as external.
Twin Symbols of Exile and Redemption
Though separated by millennia, Jerusalem of Isaiah’s day and Gush Katif of our own share a tragic kinship. They are reminders of what happens when we forget the sanctity of our Land and the Divine mission that ties us to it.
The destruction of both carries a common message: Jewish sovereignty without Jewish values is not enough. Power detached from purpose becomes dangerous. This, too, is a central theme of Isaiah’s prophecy.
Yet, the haftarah ends not in despair, but in hope. “Zion shall be redeemed with justice, and her returnees with righteousness” (Isaiah 1:27). Says the Malbim (Rabbi Meir Leibush Weisser, 1809-1879), “The moment you repent and do justice, you will be saved and redeemed.” This is the promise that sustains us: that the path back to national wholeness is paved with moral clarity and spiritual courage.
A Time to Remember, A Time to Rebuild
As we approach Tisha B’Av, we must resist the temptation to consign these memories to history. The pain of Jerusalem’s destruction and the trauma of Gush Katif are not mere commemorations; they are ongoing challenges. Have we internalized their lessons? Are we any closer to the justice and righteousness that Isaiah demanded?
It is true that Jerusalem, the city that Isaiah mourned, has risen once again from the ashes. She has been rebuilt, renewed, and reunited. But the work is not done. Her spiritual walls still need repair. Her gates must be reopened to truth, to Torah, to a justice that flows like water. And G-d’s House must be restored to the Temple Mount.
A Redemptive Future
The Talmud Yerushalmi (Yoma 5a) says that every generation in which the Temple is not rebuilt is a generation in which it is as if they have destroyed it. That is as true of Jerusalem as it is of Gush Katif.
This Shabbat Chazon, we must hear the prophet’s voice and recognize it as a clarion call to each of us.
We must see Jerusalem not only as a physical capital but as a spiritual compass. And we must look back on Gush Katif not only with tears, but with resolve: that never again will parts of Eretz Yisrael be abandoned to our enemies, and never again will the state of the Jews abandon the values of Judaism and expel Jews from their homes.
Because in the end, Isaiah was right: “If you are willing and listen, you shall eat the good of the Land” (Isaiah 1:19). But if not, the Land itself will cry out – and it already has. Gush Katif was one such cry, and it still echoes loudly, calling out, like Jerusalem, to be redeemed yet again.