As Tisha B’av approaches, I find myself looking for hope. So I’ll tell you a story about a Tisha B’av long ago, a day when dreams started to come true.

Twenty years ago, I became president of my congregation. We were meeting in a storefront back then. But there were a few of us who had a dream. We owned some property – a huge lot, with nothing on it but weeds and a broken down house. Somehow, we were determined to build a synagogue on that lot.

We had no money back then, but we decided to take a chance. We would borrow a bit money, and we would do the site preparation, clearing the land and putting in a parking lot. Somehow, we told ourselves, the rest of the money would come.

I remember the first time when I held the check and the construction contract in my hand. All I had to was take them to the contractor’s office, and construction would begin – the first step in achieving our dream. But then I glanced at a calendar and realized that it was the day before Tisha B’av. “What if I wait a day?” I wondered.

So there I was on Tisha B’av, standing in the contractor’s parking lot, in the 110-degree heat. And I had a vision of generations passing before me– a vision of every Jew who had ever seen a synagogue destroyed, and every Jew who had ever been exiled. And I realized that God had given me a blessing that was almost unheard of. How many Jews have had a chance to rebuild? How many Jews, in all of history, have gotten to build a synagogue on this of all days?

That moment on Tisha B’av, so many years ago, was a moment of gratitude, a moment of hope. And as much as I a remember the day when the building was finished, and the day we held our first service, it’s that Tisha B’av that stands out.

Tisha B’av reminds us that tragedy can bring healing. In time, and with the right attitude, tragedy can open our hearts and our minds. It can open our minds to different opinions, to the possibility of living with mystery. And it can open our hearts to the pain and the tragedy of others.

And perhaps, that’s what God is asking us to do now. Perhaps. in this time when long-cherished rights are being taken away, God is asking us to open our hearts.

I look at the people who stormed that Capitol, the people who are taking away our rights. And I wonder if there are people on the right who are just plain scared. They’re scared that the world is passing them by. They’re scared that they won’t be able to support their families, and scared that they will soon be a minority.

For most of them, I am the stranger, the one who is trying to take away their culture. But perhaps, if I open my heart to them – even as I work for social justice – we will discover what we have in common, and we will no longer be strangers.

I don’t know how to do that yet. But I can try, and I can have faith that the Holy One will help me. After all, He helped me turn an empty lot into a synagogue.