One of the things that happened on Tisha B'Av is that
Yerushalayim was plowed under by the Romans. It always
bothered me: Doesn't plowing the ruins of the Temple seem to
pale in comparison to the other events which gave rise to the
fast of Tisha B'Av? Although it was very painful moment in
our history, it doesn't seem to stack up with the other
tragedies which in some way or another marked tragic
transitions that brought death and destruction in their wake.
Was it just included due to its ominous timing or is there
something we may be missing about this event -- or possibly
even the Temple mourning as a whole -- which could paint a
different perspective of this fateful day?
The Three Weeks are not the only time we mourn for the
Beis Hamikdash. Chazal gave us many constant reminders
to carry this vital perspective throughout the year. Such
significant areas as our dress, our dwellings and even how we
conduct our celebrations -- all bear the mark of our state of
mourning.
One nevertheless may ask why did Chazal go to such lengths to
drive this point home. Wouldn't the Three Weeks and the fast
days suffice?
Every nation on earth has its national pride, a patchwork of
common heritage which even the most distant emigres will gush
about when properly provoked. Ask any Italian what he liked
about the old country and soon you will be almost smelling
the aromas of some distant Sicilian kitchen, hearing how
Italian suits and shoes are second to none -- and if you're
still on board -- a virtual tour of magnificent edifices past
and present. The same goes for the French, German, Japanese,
Hispanics and everyone else. And that otherwise unobtrusive
janitor you also asked will miraculously turn into an orator
as he waxes profound about his enchanting country of
origin.
Although we can joke about it, one shouldn't take this drive
lightly. It builds a strong sense of belonging to one's
nation and cements a strong allegiance towards one's country
and its ideas and ideologies.
Jews aren't any different. It is easy to become swept up by
the enthusiasm our gentile neighbors exude about our
respective nationalities when times are going well, and
unfortunately for the unlearned Jew who might not see any
Jewish equivalent in lieu of these strong stimuli, being
swept up in many instances was the order of the times.
To temper this urge, Chazal set up a system to remind us that
our greater national pride belongs elsewhere. They determined
the main areas which are prone to lead us after this drive --
food, fashion and architecture, the stuff which fills the
posters in any respectable travel agency -- and they set up
safeguards lest we forget what we should be proud of, in lieu
of some cheap replacement.
But what are we reminding ourselves of? Destruction? How will
that counter these powerful stimuli?
The Beis Hamikdosh was our national pride. It
represented our intimate connection to the Borei Olom,
our international role of being the chosen people, and
the means to which we were the world's conduit to its
Creator. There is no bigger honor than this. Once we were the
pinnacle of humanity and one day we will regain that clear
status, yet in the meantime along this long bitter golus
we shouldn't forget what we are and what we stand for,
abandoning the king's throne for a pizza and a pair of
shoes.
But what remains from our grandeur to remind us of our once
glorious past and our regal future? This is the tremendous
significance of the uprooting of the Beis Hamikdash's
foundations. Only with this final act of destruction was the
Churban completed. After it, not only do we no longer have
the Beis Hamikdash, we no longer have a concrete
vestige of its true magnificence and splendor to grasp onto,
to look, to comprehend its awesome proportion and say, "Here
lie the ruins of our glory," to feel the overwhelming pride
of what we once had and the tremendous weight of what we will
once again reclaim.
Eisov's progeny knew well what they were doing. Their plows
were sent to unearth more than just rock and gravel. They
were sent to uproot the very foundation of the physical link
to our nobility. But by holding onto our loss, keeping its
tremendous proportion fresh in our minds at all times, we not
only maintain our regality. We also deny Eisov another
victory by compromising our lofty status for his descendants'
banal fare.
This article was inspired by a Vaad given by Rabbi Simcha
Ellis.
