Crying Over Sticks and Stones
Rabbi Yaacov Haber
Bein HaMetzarim
Immediately following the destruction of Jerusalem, the great philosopher Plato came to visit the ruins of the Temple. While inspecting the ruins he noticed a man crying bitterly. He walked over to the man and asked him who he was. “I’m Jeremiah, prophet of the Jews.” Plato couldn’t believe what he heard. “Jeremiah, your wisdom is known throughout the world. I must ask you two questions. Firstly, how could you cry over stones and mortar? Second, why do you cry over something which has already happened?
Jeremiah looked the man squarely in the eye and said, “Plato, wisest of men, are there any philosophical puzzles you haven’t yet answered?” Plato asked his most difficult questions to Jeremiah and the prophet answered them immediately. Jeremiah then said to the astonished Plato, “All the wisdom has come from these bricks and mortar. As for your second question, I’m afraid there is no way for you to comprehend this” (Rama, Toras Olah, quoted in Lev Eliyahu Vol1. pg 292).
“Let Zion and her cities lament like a widow girded with sackcloth, mourning for the husband of her youth” (Kinos).
Let us imagine a young woman who lived in perfect harmony with her husband. Their life was comfortable and they were blessed with children. Suddenly the husband passed away. This was of course a tragedy. The young woman was left with her children and a broken heart. But she looked at her children and realized that she must be in control. She must not hurt her children with her weeping and agony. She was determined to show strength to her loved ones. As she did so, however, she grew more pained. She longed to cry, she yearned to release the pressure of her suffering, but she dared not. Her children came first.
A year of sleepless nights passed, and the anniversary of her husband’s death approached. She decided that on this day only, she would allow herself to cry. She gathered her children together and commended them for their strength. She explained to them that this was the anniversary of the great tragedy that befell them and they would allow themselves to cry. They sat and wept bitterly all day long and bemoaned their sorrow. They felt better, she felt relieved.
Tisha B’Av is an anniversary of tragedy for the Jewish people. Despite all the pain we feel and the sorrow we endure, we don’t cry. We must not cry, for we must survive. We must display strength and courage. If we were to cry, we would cry all the time. We could mourn day and night all the holocausts, pogroms, persecutions and attacks which have befallen us throughout history. We must restrain our tears. One day a year, however, we may cry. On the Ninth of Av, we are permitted to release our emotions and bemoan our sorrow.
I once heard a great man describe how, when he was a child, his father brought him to the great Mir yeshiva (which had just arrived in New York from Shanghai) for the Yom Kippur davening [prayers]. The child was overwhelmed with al the students surrounding him who were crying with tears during their davening. He was very moved by this and wanted to cry also, but he couldn’t He tried to cry but no tear fell. He felt like a squeezed lemon without a drop of juice left. When they reached N’ila {the Concluding Prayer] and came to the prayer “gather our precious tears in a flask to be”, he became so frustrated because he couldn’t cry that he started to cry, over the fact that he couldn’t cry.
The Talmud says at the end of Taanis, “Kol hamisavel al Yerushalyim zocheh vroeh byeshuasa – Anyone who mourns for Jerusalem will merit to see its salvation.” What exactly will they see?
The Ritva at the end of Taanis tells us that there are actually two periods of techiyas hamaysim [resurrection]. This opinion is also held by R. Saadia Goan (Emuna V’deos Chp. 6). One period is at the end of the era of our world, after the coming of the Messiah, but an earlier one is at the time of building the Temple. At that time, all those who died in exile will be woken up to take part in the rebuilding of the Temple. Those who didn’t shed a tear, who didn’t wait, will not be woken. They still may be woken at the end of time.
The Rambam tells us regarding the Redemption that there are two obligations; we must believe in its coming and await its arrival. What is the difference between these two things? I cone heard the following explanation. The Chazon Ish writes that there are two concepts, emunah and bitachon [belief and faith]. The Chazon Ish says that these two are the same thing, but that emunah is the theory and bitachon is the practice. A man can be a great philosopher about G-d but not put it into practice, it’s all theory. The same is true here. Believing is the philosophy of the geula, awaiting is the practical reality. To cry is not to analyze or to contemplate, to philosophize or to interpret. To cry is to feel. To shed a tear is practical.
When one hears of the troubles of an unknown person, we tend to intellectually analyze the situation. If it is someone close, we will feel bad for that person. If it’s someone we love, if we feel their pain – if it’s real, then we cry. Chazal say, “Tipach atzmosov shel mechasvei keitz – The bones of those that calculate the time of Messiah shall decay.” There are probably thousand of interpretations for this. I’d like to offer a simple one. Tipach atzmosav refers to the fact that a person will not rise at techiyas hamaisim. Perhaps, according to the Ritva in Taanis, we could say that this refers to the first techiyas hamaisim. Mechashvei means one who thinks and calculates. He’s not hoping, not waiting, not crying, he’s thinking. For thinking, one does not rise to witness and help with the building of the Temple. The Gemara continues and asks, then what should we do? Says the Gemara, “Chakei lo.” Wait - let it be real and practical.
One has to feel the lack of the Temple and of geula in a very real way. It has to be something that troubles us. Rabbi Chaim Shmelevitz insisted that anyone who has not lost at least on complete night of sleep over the destruction of Jerusalem is not an ehrlicher yid [a Jew dedicated to Torah]. This is what the Rambam means when he says, “mechake – wait.”
The Gemara says that when the Temple was destroyed, G-d closed all the gates of heaven. There is a gate of thought, contemplation, actions, many techniques for reaching G-d. G-d says this all fine, but where are your tears? Is it real? Shaarei dimah lo ninalu – The gates of tears were not closed.
Perhaps it is important to understand the nature of this catastrophe in order for it to be real. Why is it so significant that we lost “bricks and wood,” as Plato put it? I think the key to this is not so much in the building itself but more in what the building represents. When we speak about a building we speak about s a structure. The lack a structure historically had left us not only without a Temple but spread out amongst all the nations.
A non-Jew once commented to me on how Jews are so much smarter then non-Jews. I asked him how he arrived at this conclusion. He said that the older Jews that he meets can speak three, four or even five languages, a feat seldom found amongst non-Jews. I told him that from this he does not see our wisdom, he sees our troubles. We are thrown from one country to another, always needing to adopt foreign cultures and customs. When we get used to being there, we are sent to another place. People speak with such pride over the fact that wherever you go in the world you find Jews. I don’t know what we’re so proud of, this is the punishment of being dispersed among all the nations.
The Temple and Yerushalayim were the hub and the axis of Klal Yisroel. They gave us form and held us together. There we love and unity in the world, and everyone’s priority was honoring G-d. No one minded if someone else made the honor. We’re in business together. The spokes branch out in many directions but they all stem from the hub.
The Maharal explains that the greatness of the Temple was that we were all together in it, everyone understood their obligation to the Jewish people and they had to receive mussar [rebuke] at times for not fulfilling their obligations to themselves. Today, we tell people that they should do a bit of the honor of G-d also. Why does it bother us at all if someone else is successful in serving G-d? Is he taking away our success? The answer is that we’re not in business together, we’re in business for ourselves. The reason is because we’re missing Yerushalayim and Beis HaMikdash, we’re missing the hub. The reason we lot the hub is because we pulled away. The issue is not unity so much as the more underlying issue. My Rebbe once commented that when we have to make a difficult decision and there seem to be so many sides and factors, there should really be one question foremost in mind; is it a Kiddush Hashem or a Chillul Hashem? Putting kavod Hashem above all our personal needs is the true secret of unity. Putting our own honor first is the reason the destruction happened.
Hazorim B’dimah [if we sow with tears], b’rina yiktzoru, we’ll be privileged to reap with joy and participate in the rebuilding of Jerusalem.