Beth Shalom
Oceanside Jewish Center

The Temple as Metaphor

Parshat Devarim / Shabbat Hazon
by Rabbi Mark B. Greenspan

We don't often think of Napoleon Bonaparte as a Jewish prophet, but if theres any truth to a story that we tell about him, then he was really the first Zionist visionary, long before Theodore Herzl. In fact he understood Zionism even better than Herzl!

It's said that one day while walking through the city of Paris Napoleon passed a shul where he heard people weeping. Stopping to learn what was wrong Napoleon was told that it was Tisha B'Av, the ninth day of Av when Jews weep for the destruction of the Temple in 586 BCE and again in 70 CE. Upon learning this, Napoleon responded, "A people that can weep for a building and a land 1800 years after they were destroyed will surely merit to rebuild them some day!

That story not withstanding, some of us continue to wrestle with Tisha B'Av each year. This coming Thursday, thousands of Jews will gather together at the Kotel to mourn the destruction of the temple and in synagogues around the world to read the book of Lamentations and remember the exile of the Jewish people.

Yet for some this is not a simple idea. While I dutifully observe Tisha B'Av each year, fasting, reading the Book of Lamentations, and taking on the guise of a mourner, I find myself reviewing all the reasons I believe that maybe we shouldn't be observing this fast day, or at least all the reasons why I believe that we should be doing so differently.

First, Tisha B'Av is based on the idea of Galut, of exile, an idea that's simply not true any more. "Galut implies that we are living in exile from our land, and that we have no choice but to wander the world "homeless, helpless and heartbroken. In the Musaf service we say, "M'pnai hata'aynu galeenu mayartzaynu. Because of our sins we have been exiled from our land. Without a homeland of our own, we have no choice but to be wayfarers at the mercy of others in the countries that do not belong to us.

In 1948 the concept of Galut, of exile ceased to exist. For the first time in 2000 years, Jews had a choice about where they chose to live. Today if we live in the Diaspora it is because we choose to do so, not because we are victims of circumstances beyond our control or subject to divine decree. The Hebrew language has even changed to reflect this new reality. We no longer talk about Jews living in Galut, in exile; the Jewish world beyond the land of Israel is called Tefuztot, the Diaspora. So how can we mourn our exile at a time when we can always go home?

Second, how can we observe Tisha B'Av and mourn the destruction in the Temple at a time when we're living in the shadow of the Holocaust? Even our ancestors living in the generation following the Second Temple understood that more immediate grief tends to have a stronger hold on our souls. They recognized that the severity of loosing their own Temple overshadowed the destruction of the First Temple in 586 BCE. As a result they tended to place more emphasis on the traumas of their own generation than they did on the distant past. To mourn the distant past when we are still learning to deal with the tragedies of our own world seems ludicrous. So what does Tisha B'Av mean at a time when we have Yom HaShoah?

Third, Tisha B'Av has changed because Israel exists. What does it mean to mourn the destruction of our nation at a time when we have a homeland once again? In the Birkat HaMazon, we now thank God for giving us the land of Israel, "the beginning of our redemption. If we are living in a time of redemption how can we focus on destruction?

Finally the equation of Tisha B'Av is sin equals punishment. Tisha B'Av implies that somehow we're responsible for our own suffering: "because of our sins, we say, "we've been exiled. Yet we know that bad things don't only happen to guilty people. As a result, many people are troubled by the underlying implications of this holiday. To emphasize this equation of sin and suffering during the weeks preceding Tisha B'Av we read Haftorot which contain a theme of reproof. "Why do you seek further beatings that you continue to offend, the prophet Isaiah says, "An ox knows its owner, and an ass its masters crib; Israel does not know me! The implications: You sinful people are getting what you deserve!

I'm tempted at this point to stop and not say any more; to leave you with the conflicts with which I continue to wrestle in the weeks leading up to Tisha B'Av. The truth is I don't have any clear cut answers. But I still observe Tisha B'Av despite my reservations. Old traditions die hard and I believe that Tisha B'Av can still be redeemed from hoary antiquity: it is more than just a reflection on ancient history. If I mourn the destruction of the temple it is because the Temple is a metaphor for Jewish life and Jewish history, ancient and modern.

So if I may rephrase Mr. Napoleon's statement, maybe what he was really trying to teach us is that only a people who embrace their past will have a future. Napoleon understood that it was the Jewish people's personal involvement in their own history that gave them the ability to survive and to renew them selves. What impressed him about the Jewish people is that history was still living force for our nation. And that idea is just as relevant today as it was three hundred years ago.

Visiting Israel today is a history lesson. But history is not something that belongs in a text book. It's alive and vibrant part of people's lives. You see it in the amazing excavations which have brought our past into the present and help us to understand where we come from. And it is even present in the street signs in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv where each name says something about who we are and where we come from. My daughter Naomi lived on Alfasi Street, not far from Rechov Ramban this summer. Can you imagine an American thoroughfare named after Talmudic commentaries?

So Tisha B'Av is not so much a theological statement as it is a small part of our road map as Jews. It reminds us where we come from so that we know where we ought to be going. It teaches us that suffering has been part of our historical reality, something we must never forget. And it helps us remember that we can not afford to ignore the consequences of our own actions. Why was the Second Temple destroyed, the Talmud asks? Because of Sinat Hinam – baseless hatred of one Jew for another. Tisha B'Av reminds us that sometimes we sow the seeds of our own destruction.

Two and a half weeks ago on Shiva Asar B'tammuz, the seventeenth of Tammuz, our small pilgrimage group made three important stops on our visit to Jerusalem. First we went to Hadassah Hospital where we met with a neurological surgeon who described in great detail the types of injuries he has had to learn to treat as a result of the terrorist incidents that have taken place in Israel these past three years. Next we went to Yad Vashem where we sat with our guide in the shade of the trees that line the Avenue of the Righteous Gentiles and reflected on the silence of the American Jewish community during World War Two. And finally we stopped at Har Herzl, Israel's national cemetery, where I read Natan Alterman's poem, The Silver Platter as we stood by the graves of the young men and women who died fighting for the creation of the state of Israel. Alterman writes that these young people were the silver platter' upon which the state of Israel was handed to us.

For me personally, this was a fitting way to begin the three weeks leading up to Tisha B'Av. These weeks are marked by a growing sense of grief and mourning that culminates with the ninth of Av. Of course we stood by the western wall and on top of Masada where the great Jewish war was waged. These locations are a direct connection to Tisha B'Av. But for me Hadassah Hospital, Yad Vashem and Har Herzl are no less significant than the destruction of the Temples and the expulsion of the Jewish people. When I mourn on Tisha B'Av I will think of the young men and women, the martyr and victims, the many who are willing to sacrifice so much for us to have a land of our own. The temple is but a symbol of what we hold most dear and what we are willing to die for.

This year as we mark Tisha B'Av I hope you will take the time to think about our relationship to the land of Israel. For generations Jews were willing to cry for the destruction of the Temple. This is a good time to ask ourselves: what else are we willing to cry for? What are we willing to sacrifice our lives for?

There's much to celebrate in Jewish life today but once a year we stop to cry. That too is a necessary part of who we are. For unless we can weep, how can we build? Napoleon understood: only a people who can cry for their temple can gain the merit of rebuilding it!

Shabbat Shalom