Tisha B'Av: Mourning the Past – and Working for the Future: What R. Azuali Learned from the Women

by Rav Netanel Yosifun, Rosh Yeshiva, Yeshivat Orot Netanya, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The renowned Rav Chaim Yosef David Azulai, known as the Chida, once came upon a Jewish town during his travels, and saw the women cleaning and painting their homes on Tisha B'Av afternoon. The Chida believed this was forbidden on Tisha B'Av, as it represented joy and distraction from the mourning for the Holy Temple and Jerusalem, and sharply advised the local rabbis to ban it immediately.

When he returned home from the synagogue, the Chida saw some women whispering and pointing at him. He asked what they were saying, and was told that they were saying about him, "That holy rabbi from Jerusalem said that the Mashiach will not come this year!"

The Chida could not understand how they had reached that conclusion, and one woman finally explained, "Every year, we prepare our homes on Tisha B'Av for the Mashiach, but this year you forbade us to prepare for his arrival."

Upon hearing this, the Chida immediately changed his ruling: "The houses must be painted and cleaned this Tisha B'Av – not only one room, but the entire house! And the best paint must be used! And in this merit, perhaps the Mashiach will come this very day!"

In addition to the importance of Jewish customs, this story also teaches us the value of proactive anticipation of the coming Redemption. Let us elaborate.

When the Second Temple was destroyed, the Sages of the generation, under the leadership of Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, enacted a series of regulations by which the Jewish People would always remember this national catastrophe. Their source was a verse in Jeremiah's prophecies that reads, "Zion… no one seeks her out." From the fact that the prophet is lamenting this sorry state, the Rabbis of the Talmud learn that Jerusalem must be "sought out" and remembered.

When we read this passage today, we might ask: "Who said the intention is merely to remember? Perhaps we are bidden to do something pro-active for Jerusalem, such as working to redeem it?" That is, remembering is generally about the past, while "seeking out" implies doing something for the future. Is the primary issue one of mourning the past? What about acting and building for the future?"

In fact, a look at the Talmudic list of regulations enacted "in memory of the Temple" shows that they do not only commemorate the tragedy that occurred, but also look forward to its rectification. Consider this case, for example: The new year's wheat is Biblically forbidden to be eaten until the Omer offering is waved on the second day of Passover; but if the Temple is not standing, then there is no Omer offering, and the wheat may be eaten as soon as dawn breaks. However, after the destruction, the Sages ruled that even then, the new wheat may not be eaten at all that day – and why? So that when the Temple is soon rebuilt, and the Omer offering is renewed, no one will mistakenly say, "Just like we ate the new wheat last year from the morning, so too this year!"

That is, this regulation was enacted not to mourn what was, but in order to prepare us for the construction of the future Beit HaMikdash!

Certainly throughout our long Exile, our nation lacked the practical ability to work for the physical "seeking out" and construction of Zion – and this is why we "sought it out" chiefly by remembering the past. The primary annual date for doing so is Tisha B'Av, the terrible and calamitous day when our glorious Holy Temples were burnt. On this day, even one who generally engages in building the Land and the country, sits sadly on the floor, occupying himself in his bent-over state with that which our nation is lacking.

On the other hand, as the bells of our Redemption began to ring stronger in recent decades, our people's capacity to work actively for the redemption slowly began to increase. This led to a "seeking out" that was less concerned with memories of the past, and more in actions for the future, both spiritually and practically.

Still, even now, when we are engaged proactively most of the year towards the Redemption, it would seem that on Tisha B'Av we must emphasize our grief over that which we are lacking. Proof of this is that Jewish Law forbids Torah study on this day, except for that which has to do with the destruction and the laws of mourning for it. One might have thought that at least studying the Laws of the future Temple would be permitted, so as to inspire us towards that goal. But we see that the Sages approved only that which would keep us steeped in the sense of mourning, and that this must be the atmosphere on Tisha B'Av, even nowadays.

There is a deep logic to this matter. For it is precisely the great lack of our Holy Sanctuary for more than 1,950 years that brings Israel to uplift its visions and dreams of a great, exalted rectification – which will give meaning to the crisis we are undergoing. A "quick fix" is often a bad idea, as is misses the full impact of the rectification.

It is therefore important that we perpetuate the depth of the loss – and the greater the loss and sorrow, the greater the anticipation and visionary dreams.

The Chida expressed this that day in a far-off community. At first he thought Tisha B'Av was only for mourning – but then, from the womenfolk, he understood that the picture was not complete. When the afternoon hours arrived, the time at which the Mashiach was/will be born, the women – the Congregation of Israel – felt deep inside their heart that the winds had changed, and that the time had come to shake off the dust of "only the past," and to add to it a forward-looking "seeking out."

And in fact, it is customary throughout the Jewish Nation that, amid the sorrow of Tisha B'Av, we begin to engage in longing for the Mashiach when the afternoon arrives. We are permitted to sit on chairs, for instance, and some say we may participate in regularly-scheduled Torah classes. And in our generations, Israel has begun – and is now in the thick of – working all year round for the active Redemption of Zion.

The author of the Kuzari, Rav Yehuda HaLevy, wrote that Jerusalem will be rebuilt only when we long for it to the ultimate degree. Let us therefore all dream the great dream, raise our sights o so high, and thus awaken to act for the return of the Divine Presence to Zion and for the building of the Beit HaMikdash, in our own days!

Emuna: Gentile Involvement in Our Affairs Does Not End Well

by Rav Avraham Vasserman, Yeshivot Ramat Gan and Givatayim, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The famous pre-Tisha B'Av story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza has suffered a fate similar to that of other famous Jewish texts. That is, when we assume that we already know the message they intend to give over, their main points are liable to be overlooked.

To quickly review, the Talmud tells us that Bar Kamtza came by mistake to a party given by his enemy (the invitation had really been proffered to someone named Kamtza). Even after Bar Kamtza offered to pay for entire feast in order not to be thrown out in humiliation, the host did not agree, and in fact threw him out in front of all the guests – including Sages. Bar Kamtza then took revenge by informing on the Jews to the Roman emperor, and in fact, as the Talmud concludes, "Because of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, Jerusalem was destroyed." (Tr. Gittin 55b)

The heading of this story is the verse, "Fortunate is he who is always afraid; he who hardens his heart falls into misfortune" (Proverbs 28,14). Rashi on the Gemara explains that the Jews of the time did not think or foresee the results of their actions:

·         The host did not think what could happen as a result of embarrassing Bar Kamtza;

·         the Sages did not realize that their silence and failure to protest the injustice would lead to a tremendous drive for revenge by Bar Kamtza;

·         the Sage Zecharia ben Avkulas, who objected to various Halakhic solutions that could have avoided the problems caused by Bar Kamtza, was too "scrupulous", and in fact the Gemara says that it was this trait of his that led ultimately to the destruction and the exile.

·         And even those who burnt the storehouses of food in order to get the Jews to fight did not think that their hunger would lead to destruction. (Note, also, that this part of the story happened at the end, when the conquest of Jerusalem was practically a done deal.)

Whose fault was it, then, that the Temple was destroyed and the nation was exiled? The answer is: Bar Kamtza – a Jew who had a fight with another Jew, was insulted by him and his fellow Jews who didn't come to his aid, and chose to bring the Romans on so that they would take his vengeance upon them. This last point was the ultimate mistake.

Our Sages note that Yaakov Avinu was perhaps the first one to make this sinful error. After a long period of separation from his brother Esav, who had vowed to kill him, Yaakov turned to him of his own initiative. When Yaakov sent him scouts with a message of peace, the Medrash Rabba (75,3) says that G-d said [paraphrased], "He was walking on his way, why did you have to remind him of your existence?"

The Ramban adds that in his opinion, this is a hint that we ourselves actually started our downfall at the hands of the Edomites [Esav's son Edom is traditionally regarded as the ancestor of the Christian Roman empire]. He writes that it is recorded in history [by Josephus] that Hyrcanus and Aristobulus, fighting for the crown, each sought Roman support, to the point where the Romans ultimately took over altogether, and ended up destroying the Temple and exiling the Jews.

Also in his commentary to the Torah passages of strong rebuke (the tokhecha of Parashat Bechukotai; Vayikra 26), the Ramban notes that involving the Gentiles in our internal struggles is what caused our destruction: "King Agrippas [the last Jewish king of Judea] went to Rome at the end of the Second Temple period, and for this, the House was destroyed."

Some centuries earlier, after many blood-soaked wars between Israel and Judea, King Pekach of Israel asked the army of Aram to get involved – and King Achaz of Judea followed suit with the Assyrians, despite being warned by the Prophet Yeshayahu not to do so. Ultimately the Assyrians captured Israel, and nearly captured Judea as well if not for the great miracle that felled the army of Nevuchadnezzar. But the Jewish downfall had started, and ultimately the Babylonians captured Judea, destroyed the First Temple, and exiled the Jews.

Actually, even the conflict between Joseph and his brothers was marked by this son. The fraternal conflict did not have to result in such a sharp break, had it not been for the brothers' wretched decision to sell him to Gentiles. The fight between them was certainly not a good thing, but if it would have remained within the family, it could have been solved. Once others got involved, however, the family ties were broken – nearly for good. Though peace was ultimately restored between them, the sale was actually what brought about the Egyptian exile and bondage.

Yes, there were many reasons for our Exile. Fraternal hatred, of course, is very well known, but our Sages have also mentioned Sabbath desecration, Shemittah desecration, Avoda Zarah, sexual sins, murder, and more. But the sin of turning to Gentiles and asking for their help against other Jews – this is not just the sin, but the punishment itself for violating our brotherhood! Though the perpetrators believe that they are accomplishing something positive – such as the Reformers who worked with foreign authorities to close synagogues and Jewish schools that did not agree to participate in their "progress" – they actually thus brought destruction upon themselves.

On Tisha B'Av – the ninth day of the month of Av (August 13^th this year) – we fast in commemoration of the destruction of both Holy Temples 2,500 and 2,000 years ago, respectively. Our fast is also so that we remember "our wicked deeds, and those of our forefathers, which caused them and ourselves those tribulations" (Rambam, Laws of Fasts, Chapter 5).

Now, too, as in the past, there are those who seek support from the Gentiles in order to impose their way on their Jewish brethren. Even if their intentions are for good, there is nothing more contemptible. When the natural brotherly ties between one Jew and another are violated, destruction is already at our doorstep.

As cited above: "Fortunate is he who is always afraid" (Proverbs 28,14).

Emuna: What We Lose in the Exile

by Rav Avihu Schwartz, Yeshivat Merkaz HaRav Kook, yeshiva.org.il, translated by Hillel Fendel.

The days rush by quickly, and here we are in the thick of the Three Weeks mourning period for both the First and Second Holy Temples, 2,500 and 2,000 years ago, respectively. In Hebrew, this period is known as Bein HaMetzarim, "Between the Straits," based on Eichah (Lamentations) 1,3.  

These are days not only of mourning, but also of increased anticipation for our complete Redemption. The crux of Redemption is our total return – teshuvah – to ourselves and our essence. To understand Redemption, let us begin with Exile, which is depicted by the Prophet Yechezkel in the first verses of his book as follows: 

It came to pass [in Hebrew: Vay'hi] in the thirtieth year in the fourth [month] on the fifth day of the month, with me in the Exile by the river Kvar: the heavens opened up, and I saw visions of G-d… This was the fifth year of King Yehoyachin's exile." (1,2)

Our Sages teach that the first word here, vay'hi, often signifies deep sorrow. As our esteemed Rabbi and Teacher Tzvi Yehuda HaCohen Kook, of saintly blessed memory, taught: "The initial letter vuv with the patah vowel of vay'hi is a tense-changing vuv, and thus turns what follows (y'hi, meaning "will be") from future into past. This is the greatest sorrow of all: the turning of our glorious national future into the past."

The prophecy that Yechezkel begins with was, as stated above, delivered in the fourth month in the year, namely, Tammuz, the month we are in now. This introductory verse emphasizes that Yechezkel was "in the exile" in Babylon. And thus this great prophetic work begins by emphasizing the deep sadness that the Exile brings about. 

HaRav A. I. Kook, father of Rav Tzvi Yehuda and the first Chief Rabbi of modern-day Eretz Yisrael, elaborated further with great profundity in his work Orot HaKodesh (Vol. 3, p. 140): 

"Yechezkel said, 'I was in the Exile' – referring to the very essence of "I," of both the individual and the community… Adam's sin happened when he became estranged to his essence and accepted the serpent's opinion, thus losing himself, unable to answer clearly the [Divine] question, 'Where are you?' (B'reshit 3,9)." 

This, then, is the core of the Exile: loss of our selfhood. When we return to it, this is the root of Redemption, as Rav Kook the father continues there: 

"Eichah 4,20 describes the Messiah of G-d as the very breath of our nostrils – and this is his might and the splendor of his greatness. It is not external to us, it is our own spirit; we seek the Mashiach and David our King... It is ourselves that we are seeking and will find…" 

The anticipation and longing for the kingdom of Mashiach son of David is itself the quest for our identity, for ourselves, as Rav Kook explained (Shmoneh Kvatzim 5, 157). He writes there that the Messiah is the greatest level of the internal selfhood of all of Israel.

But it is often asked: Is it really possible or realistic to sit in anticipation of the Messiah every single day? After all, we see that the Prime Minister is well entrenched in his office and there seems to be no apparent path to his replacement in the near future. And another, more general question: Is our nation ready for the Messiah? Are we prepared for the Beit HaMikdash, including sacrificial offerings and laws of impurity? 

These are all logical questions. So what? Ever since we became a people, from the days of our Patriarchs, we have come to learn that the Master of the Universe, the King of Kings, is the One Who runs His world - not necessarily in step with human logic. Did not our Sages teach us, in their Divine wisdom, that "a Sage is greater than a Prophet"? The Talmud states as follows: 

The Messiah will not come until they despair from the Redemption, as is stated, "their power is decreasing, with no protection or help" (D'varim 32,36), as if there were no supporter or helper for the Jewish People. This is as Rabbi Zera would do when he found Sages engaging in discussions about the coming of the Messiah; he would say to them: "Please, I ask of you, do not delay his coming by calculating the end of days. For as we learn in a baraita: There are three matters that come only when our attention is diverted from them, and they are: The Messiah, a lost item, and a scorpion." (Sanhedrin 97a)

R. Zera was saying that by calculating the time of the Mashiach's arrival, the scholars were not enabling themselves to be surprised by his coming. 

Thus, the Sages teach us that only when we have despaired from salvation – which happens when we lack good leadership and therefore cannot set our path correctly – precisely then is when the descendant of David will come. And the Gemara continues by bringing a baraita [Tannaitic text] that teaches that the Messiah specifically comes when we are not ready for him, just as a scorpion arrives on the scene, as far as humans are concerned, by total surprise, and the same is true for one who finds a lost object on the street.  

The holy Maharal of Prague explains (Netzach Yisrael, chapter 40) that in general, the world is conducted in what appears to be a logical order. However, there are cases that don't belong to the regular scheme of things, and they are represented by the above three cases: The scorpion is a negative example of that which is abnormal; finding a lost object is a positive example; and Mashiach symbolizes the higher-world level of that which is beyond our world. As the Maharal writes there (Chapter 17), "the King Messiah is of a level from the Upper World" – and that is why his appearance is sudden and abrupt, separate from the natural order of things.

So, too, taught us our teacher Rav Tzvi Yehuda in Tammuz 1981, as [I wrote in] HaTorah HaGoelet Vol. 2, p. 211: 

"The Prophet Elijah, Eliyahu HaNavi, is on a very great spiritual level… His personage remains with us throughout all the generations, as he is quoted in the Gemara, in the Halakha, and in the Aggadah, wherever it says, 'Tanna d'vei Eliyahu,' meaning, 'It was taught in the academy of Eliyahu.' From here progresses the bond between Eliyahu and Mashiach, a bond of miraculous revelation. The Gemara says that the Mashiach will come when we are not "paying attention," meaning in a wondrous manner. The students asked what that means precisely, and Rav Tzvi Yehuda answered by quoting this verse: 'Behold I send My angel, and he will clear a way before Me. And suddenly, the Lord Whom you seek will come to His Temple' (Malachi 3,1)."