There is a month in the Jewish year that we do not celebrate.
No festival greets it. No candles are lit in its honor. We enter it quietly, almost on tiptoe.
Av — אָב.
The month that holds our deepest grief. And, folded quietly within it, our deepest hope.
The Month We Enter in Mourning
Rosh Chodesh Av — the first day of the month — does not open a season of joy. It opens the Nine Days, the most solemn stretch of the Jewish calendar, when mourning deepens toward Tisha B'Av, the ninth of Av.
These days carry old and tender customs. We refrain from meat and wine, from music and celebration, from weddings, from anything that fills the heart too fully. It is not sadness for its own sake. It is a people making room — clearing space to remember what was lost, so that the loss is not forgotten in the noise of ordinary life.
For nine days, we hold that space together.
Tisha B'Av: The Saddest Day of the Jewish Year
At the heart of the month sits Tisha B'Av — the ninth of Av — the day on which, tradition teaches, both Holy Temples in Jerusalem were destroyed: the First by Babylon in 586 BCE, the Second by Rome in 70 CE, centuries apart, on the very same date.
And it did not stop there. So many of the great sorrows of Jewish history are gathered onto this one day, as if the calendar itself had drawn them together.
On Tisha B'Av we fast. We sit low, close to the ground. We read Eichah — the Book of Lamentations — by candlelight, its ancient verses grieving a Jerusalem left desolate. It is the night the Jewish people allow themselves, fully, to weep.
Menachem Av — “Av, the Comforter”
And here is the quiet miracle of this month.
For all its sorrow, Av carries a second name — a name whispered with love: Menachem Av — מְנַחֵם אָב. Av, the comforter.
Consolation is written into the very name of the month of mourning. Even as we grieve, the tradition refuses to leave us in the dark. It insists — gently, stubbornly — that comfort is coming. That grief is not the end of the story, but a passage through it.
This is one of the most beautiful instincts in Jewish thought: we do not deny the pain, and we do not drown in it. We name it. We sit with it. And then we let it turn toward light.
Nachamu, Nachamu Ami — Be Comforted
The turn comes almost at once.
The Shabbat immediately after Tisha B'Av is called Shabbat Nachamu — the Sabbath of Comfort — named for the words the prophet Isaiah speaks to a broken people:
“Nachamu, nachamu ami” — “Be comforted, be comforted, My people.” (Isaiah 40:1)
Twice the word is spoken, as if once were not enough. As if consolation, to be believed, must be repeated. After the lowest day of the year comes a Shabbat whose entire purpose is to lift the head again, to promise that the same people who mourned will be gathered, held, and healed.
Tu B'Av — When Mourning Turns to Love
And the ascent keeps rising.
Just six days after the sorrow of Tisha B'Av comes Tu B'Av — the fifteenth of Av — which the Talmud calls one of the most joyful days of the entire year. In ancient times, the daughters of Jerusalem would go out to dance in the vineyards in borrowed white dresses, so that no one could be told rich from poor, and love could be chosen freely.
Tu B'Av has become the Jewish day of love — of matches made, of reconciliation, of new beginnings.
Sit with the shape of that for a moment. Within a single fortnight, the very same month carries us from the destruction of the Temple to a festival of love. From the ashes to the dance. That is Av. That is the Jewish heart: it knows grief intimately, and it refuses to let grief have the last word.
Netzach — The Eternity That Cannot Be Broken
If one Hebrew word holds the secret of this month, it is this one:
Netzach — נֶצַח.
Eternity. Endurance. Victory.
In Kabbalah, Netzach is one of the Sefirot — the divine emanations on the Tree of Life — and it carries the meaning of persistence, of the strength that does not surrender, of the light that keeps going.
There is a phrase drawn from Scripture that has become a kind of quiet motto of Jewish survival: “Netzach Yisrael lo yeshaker” — the Eternity of Israel does not fail. (I Samuel 15:29)
This is the deepest teaching of Av. Temples were destroyed. Exiles came. And still — am Yisrael chai, the people of Israel live. We mourn, and we endure. We are broken open, and we rebuild. Netzach is the name for that unbreakable thread that runs through every century of our story and was never once cut.
The Lesson of Av: From the Ruins, We Rebuild
There is a striking teaching in our tradition: that the Mashiach is born on Tisha B'Av — that the seed of redemption is planted on the very day of our greatest destruction.
It is a radical, hopeful idea. It says that the moment of deepest darkness already contains the first flicker of light. That endings and beginnings are woven of the same thread. That a people who can grieve so fully can also hope so fiercely.
This is why Av does not leave us in mourning. It carries us — through the fast, through Nachamu, toward the dance of Tu B'Av — and it teaches us to hold both truths at once: we remember what was lost, and we believe in what will be rebuilt.
Av at Oriya — Wearing Endurance
At Oriya, we make jewelry for exactly this kind of truth — the kind you carry close to the skin, quietly, on the days that ask the most of you.
- The Netzach Bangle — Netzach, eternity and endurance. A smooth band made to be worn as a daily reminder that the light keeps going, that we are still here, that nothing has broken the thread. Of all our pieces, it is the one that speaks most directly to the heart of Av.
- The Am Yisrael Chai Bracelet — three words that have echoed through every century of Jewish history: the people of Israel live. A solidarity piece for a season of both grief and hope.
- The Yesh Me’Ayin Necklace — yesh me’ayin, “something from nothing.” The name itself is the story of Av: from emptiness, creation; from ruins, rebuilding.
Each piece is designed with the same belief — that jewelry is not only beautiful, but a way of wearing what you hold most true.
From Grief to Comfort
Av is the month that teaches us how to hold both.
To mourn without despairing. To remember without being trapped in the past. To sit in the darkness of Tisha B'Av and still trust the words: Nachamu, nachamu ami — be comforted, be comforted.
It begins in ashes. It ends in a dance. And running all the way through it, unbroken, is Netzach — the eternity of a people who chose, again and again, to rise.
Wishing you a meaningful month.
Every piece from Oriya Jewels includes a €18 donation to charity — because every piece carries a prayer for life.
Looking for more on Jewish resilience? Read “We Are Still Here” — on solidarity, survival, and Am Yisrael Chai →
