Last week, I officiated a funeral for a dear family friend, Coach Sam—a real mensch who left a lasting impact on thousands of people through his abundant warmth, radical inclusivity, and leadership through love. At the funeral, hundreds of his former college swimmers recounted stories of how Coach Sam made sure there was a lane for everyone, literally and metaphorically. He ensured that each person in his presence knew they mattered, belonged, and were loved—whether they set a record or came in last place. It was what I would call a good funeral, though that might sound oxymoronic: people mourned the loss of a central figure in their lives, reflected on what they learned from him, and left inspired to live the way Coach Sam taught them to live: with integrity, compassion, joy, and love for everyone.

Tonight, Jews around the world embark on a day of collective mourning: Tisha B’Av (The Ninth of Av). Tisha B’Av is the saddest day on the Jewish calendar, recalling the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem (in 586 BCE and 70 CE, respectively), as well as many other communal tragedies in Jewish history that have fallen around the same time of year. Tradition teaches that the Second Temple fell because of sinat chinam (baseless hatred) within the Jewish community, starting with a party where the host’s enemy, mistakenly invited, was humiliated by being kicked out after begging to stay (see the story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza in the Babylonian Talmud). As we reflect on the scale of loss stemming from that single act of sinat chinam, we work toward cultivating an attitude of ahavat chinam (love freely given) instead.

Tisha B’Av is not an easy day, but it reflects the deep wisdom of our tradition, which embraces mourning as a necessary part of the human experience. Tisha B’Av offers all the elements of a good funeral: the space to weep for what we’ve lost and can never regain, an opportunity to reflect on who we do and do not want to be, and an inspiring reminder of the resilience of the Jewish people, who have endured so much and continue to adapt, survive, and thrive. This Tisha B’Av, as our mourning and memory inspire us toward love and resilience, let us take a page out of Coach Sam’s book. Whether or not there’s room for everyone in the pool or at the party is not a question of space, but of attitude—we have the power and responsibility to make sure the people in our lives know that they matter, that they belong, and that they are loved, just as our teachers do for each and every one of our students at Bernard Zell. May we lead by example so that our children follow in our footsteps with care and compassion.