Reflections upon Tisha B'Av in Jerusalem

View of the Dome of the Rock (just above the Kotel) from the Dung Gate Entrance

Today is the Jewish holiday of Tisha B'Av, which commemorates the destruction of not only the First, but also the Second Temple in Jerusalem.

Last night, Erev Tisha B'Av, we had an amazing student-led service at HUC, which included the chanting from the book of Lamentations, Megillat Eicha. The garden where we held the service has an amazing view of the walls of the Old City, and it was truly moving to be look out over the walls of the old city, while listening to the account of the destruction of the Temple. The language in Eicha is vivid and disturbing, and saddening all at once. I've only ever really experienced Tisha B'Av at Jewish summer camps in the U.S. Last years' Tisha B'Av had a very different meaning, as it was the week after the Jewish Federation Shooting in Seattle, where I happened to be living at the time. In years past, Tisha B'Av had always been a time at camp to be solemn, to be manipulated into tears by the programming staff usually making you think about the things in your life that you'd lost in order to bring us around to understanding the loss of The Temple. Needless to say, all that these conflicting takes on Tisha B'Av ever left me with was more confusion and less of an ability to relate to this day.


At about 9:30pm, we left for the Old City of Jerusalem, led by Gingy (a.k.a Rabbi David Wilfond) who took us first along the walls of the city, then into the courtyard at David's Tomb, then up to the Ramparts near this children's playground over looking the Mt. of Olives (also w/in the old city). From there we descended the ramparts to the Dung Cate, and into the Kotel (the Western Wall Plaza). The entire Jewish Quarter was packed: tourists, Haredim, teenagers, etc. I was not expecting to see such a mixed crowd. I've always considered Tisha B'Av to be a holiday for the black-hatter types who mourn the loss of the Beit HaMikdash (the Temple itself) and pray for it's rebuilding. (It should be noted here that the original Biet HaMikdash used to stand where the Dome of the Rock stands today... making its rebuilding a bit problematic).

The Kotel plaza was filled with teenagers, just hangin' out. Many Israeli youth groups come to the Kotel on Erev Tisha B'Av to come together and remember the occurance of the destruction of the Temple, but I got the distinct feeling that it was less a mournful commemoration, than a triumph at the fact that "we're still here". The first temple was destroyed, and yet we returned. The second temple was destroyed, and yet we returned. The Romans put down the Bar Kochba revolt, and yet we returned. And most recently, the Nazis tried to kill us while the world watched, and yet, we've returned and keep returning. It was impossible to get to the Wall itself, as that was where those who came to pray were camped out. We left the Kotel around 11:30, and as we were walking out of the Old City, people were still filing in by the hundreds. I was a bit confused by this bustling energy in Jerusalem, as I'd been taught in the past that Tisha B'Av was a day to be depressed and destitute. The city certainly did not seem to be in either of those categories as I walked home at midnight and my, usually quiet, street was packed with cars and people.

So, today, after an hour and a half of Ulpan, we came together in small groups to engage in some text study, pertaining to Tisha B'Av. I'll repeat the highlighted text here, and then just summarize and reference the other texts later. This text comes from Talmud Bavli, or the Babylonian Talmud, written in exile. It says "Why was the First Temple destroyed? Because of 3 things which were rampant in those days - idolatry, sexual immorality and the spilling of innocent blood... But during the Second Temple period when people were engaged in the study of Torah, the performance of mitzvot and acts of loving kindness - why was the Second Temple destroyed? - Because it was a time of causeless hatred." - Yoma 9b

It is interesting to note that the Hebrew words for "causeless hatred" can also mean hatred freely felt, and baseless hatred.

So this is a very universal statement, that bad things happen to good people, sort of. It begs the question: if the Jews of the Second Temple were being so good, and doing all the things that God commanded of them, why would they warrant such a destruction. Were they perhaps only studying Torah, performing mitzvot and acts of loving kindness within their own small circles? Within their own families? Political parties? Prayer communities?

The story of Kamtza and Bar-Kamtza sheds some more light on this question. I wont write the entire story here, but rather, give my summary.

It's amazing. Essentially, this man throws a party and wants to invite his friend, Kamtza. But there also lives a man in the village named Bar-Kamtza, and he is the hosts' sworn enemy. The host (not named in the Talmud, which is significant) sends his servant to invite Kamtza, but he instead brought Bar-Kamtza. The host gets angry that B.K., his enemy, is there, and tells him to leave. But B.K. asks to stay and offers to pay for his food and wine, then half the party, then the party in it's entirety if only his host will allow him to stay. But the host "takes him by the hand and he threw him out". B.K. much chagrined concludes that since the Rabbis at the party sat by and didn't stop the host from being so inhospitable, that they therefore agreed with the host. And that this was cause for B.K. to go to Ceasar and to tell him that the Jews were planning a revolt. (Interesting revenge...) So, B.K. goes to Ceasar - Ceasar doesn't take his word for it and tells B.K. to take a calf to the Jews as a gift from Ceasar to sacrifice at the Temple. B.K. throws in a little sabotage on the way home, and creates a blemish on the calf's upper lip (which is considered a blemish to the Jews, but not to the Romans). Then a rabbinic debate ensues: should they keep the calf even though it's blemished so as not to offend Ceasar? Then Rabbi Ben Avkulas says that they shouldn't b/c if they do people will say that blemished calves are offered on the altar. Then the Rabbis suggested offing B.K. so that he wouldn't go and inform on them back to Ceasar that they weren't using his calf. But Rabbi Ben Avkulas says "no" that blemishing an animal is not a big enough offense to be put to death. Then Rabbi Yochanan, a later Rabbi, essentially blames Avkulas for the destruction of the Temple and exile from the land, for had he been less pious, and just offered up the blemished calf, it never would have been an issue.

Woa. So, here we see a little bit of what this "freely felt hatred" is. You've got so many characters in this story who are doing things upside down and inside out. We spent a while trying to pin point the actual "culprit" in this text and had a really hard time doing it, b/c everyone seems to be a little off, and wrong. And that is, seemingly, the point.

After text study we then had Mincha, afternoon, services. Moshe, my Jerusalem day leader (oh, at this point I must pause and point out that the three men on the bimah today were Moshe, David, and Eliyahu - i.e. Elijah. Talk about some significance there!) explained that, like Yom Kippur, Tisha B'Av is a day of atonement; however, on Yom Kippur we atone individually for our transgressions, whereas on Tisha B'Av, we do t'shuva (which literally means "turning" but is used in Judaism to refer to acts of repentance) as a community for our communal transgressions - namely of this baseless and causeless hatred which caused our destruction in the time of the Second Temple. So then, if we look at ourselves honestly, as Torah-learning, mitzvah-doing, and loving and kind people who still sometimes harbor bad intentions towards those with whom we disagree... we begin to see a little bit more of what this holiday can mean.
What came to mind to me today is the tensions between and among Jews from different religious movements and how we can jibe and jab at each other in a way that, when looked at, is pretty senseless. Food for thought. (Oh, speaking of food, it is also traditional to fast on Tisha B'Av... just thought I'd throw that in for good measure).

So if we look at Tisha B'Av not as a day when the physical building of Beit HaMikdash was destroyed, but a day when our peoplehood and lifestyle was cut down by outside forces, due to infighting, then its easier, at least for me, to see the solemnity of the day. And also easier to comprehend the somewhat celebratory mood I witnessed in the Old City last night - because we've not been wiped out, and we're here, in our State, constantly living in our history while making our future.

Now that I've got a better glimpse into a more holistic view of this day, some of the discordances I'd felt before are settling down and I am beginning to understand more of its significance - to me, today, as a Reform Jew who doesn't particularly want the ACTUAL Beit HaMikdash to be rebuilt.

So my "take away" of this whole long spiel is that, while I cannot particularly relate to the mourning for the Temple itself, I can understand the need to do some communal t'shuva, to turn away from our causeless hatred of those who are the "other" and begin to understand this concept that we can be, and have been, punished for not being able to see the big picture - which is so much of what Judaism is about, at it's core. It's not a Xenophobic theology on the whole, but it has become a Xenophobic praxis in many ways. So here's my prayer for Tisha B'Av:

That we may individually recognize the similarities between ourselves and those for whom we have little tolerance.
That we, as communities of Jews, find the commonalities between our denominations within Judaism.
And that we, as a nation find the overlapping ground between ourselves and people of all other nations, and faiths - and that they may do the same.