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Is the Churban the Source of All Suffering
By Rabbi Daniel Glatstein
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Over the destruction of the Temple that was torn down and trampled upon, I shall lament with a new elegy every year.
These are the words of Rav Eliezer HaKalir in Kinnah 24, in which he laments that he will compose “a new elegy,” a new kinnah, annually.
What does the mekonein, the composer of the kinnah, mean by the phrase, “a new elegy”? Nothing new has happened; we already know the story. It is static; the details don’t change. Why must he compose a new hesped every year?
The recent Tishah B’Av that took place during the COVID-19 pandemic was a very difficult and painful day, coming after months of isolation and fear. It had been as hard a period as many of us have experienced in our lifetime. There was a time when many of us thought that while our parents and grandparents lived through history, we were just looking back at it.
But now, we, too, lived through historic times. Global pandemic, health crises, financial hardship, anxiety, fear, uneasiness — whose family has not been profoundly affected?
We all know people who are no longer with us. Loved ones, gedolei Yisrael, all of us were touched by the pandemic. Some people were at death’s door and recovered, but they may never again be the same. People lost their livelihood. Almost as if adding insult to injury, we had to fast and cry, sit on the floor and mourn for a building that we have a hard time relating to and that was destroyed more than two thousand years ago.
And yet, let us try to understand: How can a Tishah B’Av like the one we had in 5780 be even more meaningful and more impactful than any Tishah B’Av we have ever experienced? Does a Tishah B’Av in a time of tzarah allow us to connect with the soul of the day in an even more profound way?
A Mother’s Cries
also found in Maseches Sanhedrin.
A broken woman who resided in the same neighborhood as Rabban Gamliel had a young child who suddenly died. She would cry over her son at night, and Rabban Gamliel would hear her cries.
Whose heart would not melt upon hearing the cries of a woman, especially a woman crying over the death of a beloved child? And yet, the Midrash adds a startling point: Upon hearing the sobs of the woman in mourning, Rabban Gamliel would recall the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, and he would cry along with her. He would cry so intensely that his eyelashes would fall out.
The talmidim of Rabban Gamliel decided that the woman must relocate, and they facilitated her move to a different neighborhood.
What is very curious is that Rabban Gamliel, hearing the woman cry, would remember the Churban HaBayis. How did the woman’s tears remind him of the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash?
Rav Gifter says that we can derive a fundamental principle from this Midrash. Rabban Gamliel, with his discerning ear and sensitive heart, was able to trace back to the shoresh, the root cause of this woman’s suffering, which is also the root cause of all suffering — and that is the Churban Beis HaMikdash. Thus, Rabban Gamliel was not crying solely for the one single woman’s personal plight; rather, he cried for the cause of all suffering. In a world of a Beis HaMikdash, in a world where gilui Shechinah is manifest, suffering is no longer extant.
The Mishnah at the end of Maseches Sotah likewise apparently attributes all deficiency, even b’inyanei gashmiyus, all that is lacking in the world in physical phenomena, to the Churban Beis HaMikdash. The Gemara states, “Rabban Shimon ben Gamliel says that Rabbi Yehoshua testified: From the day the Temple was destroyed there is no day that does not include some form of curse. And since then, the dew has not descended for blessing, and the taste has been removed from fruit. Rabbi Yose says: Since then, the fat of fruit has also been removed.”
The world plummets daily, even from a physical standpoint. But this downward spiral was precipitated from the day the Beis HaMikdash
was destroyed. Life just gets worse and worse every year, in every aspect.
Says the Munkatcher Rebbe: This means that as time passes, the Churban becomes worse and worse. The tragedy of the Churban compounds, and whatever kinnos and elegies we said last year will not suffice, because this year the Churban itself is an even worse tragedy. We need to compose a new kinnah — we must show more sorrow; hence, Rabbi Eliezer HaKalir wrote, “Over the destruction of the Temple that was torn down and trampled upon, I shall lament with a new elegy every year.”
And certainly, this year of the pandemic required a newly composed kinnah describing additional tragedy. A kinnah to express grief for lives lost, for families bereft. A kinnah for the anxiety, for the fear, for the worry. For the fright, for the lost livelihoods, and for the insecurity. A kinnah for the imploding society.
Many think the great empires and civilizations of the world fell because they were conquered by an invading army, and we think that America, a bastion of security and stability, can never be conquered, the Goldena Medinah will never fall. But historically the mightiest empire, the Roman Empire, was never conquered by an invading army. It imploded from within. The disillusionment with government and papal leaders caused society to crumble from within. Well, that is what we are living through today. American society has not been so tenuous and unstable since the Civil War. This, according to Rav Gifter, is also rooted in the Churban.
A new sefer of Rav Chaim Kanievsky’s she’eilos u’teshuvos was recently published. One of the questions cited is if one can daven for the end of the pandemic together with tefillos for the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash. And Rav Chaim, as he often does, responded, “efshar, perhaps.” I would humbly suggest that it would be appropriate; as we are not living in a self-contained, isolated period, it is an offshoot of Churban Beis HaMikdash.
A coronavirus, a pandemic resulting in an unstable society, should inspire us to daven to address the source of all our troubles: a world without the Beis HaMikdash.
However, I must share my humble viewpoint that I do have some reservations about this concept and teaching that all Jewish tragedy and suffering is rooted in the Churban.
The Absent Kinnah
Rav Joseph B. Soloveitchik, in his commentary to Kinnos, raises a very intriguing question. He asks why no kinnah was composed to commemorate the Chmielnicki pogroms, during which tens of thousands of Jews were massacred. There is even a fast day that is observed in commemoration of these pogroms: 20 Sivan. Selichos were composed. Why are no kinnos recited in its memory? He asks the question in a very compelling way, saying, “I do not know why there are no kinnos recited on Tishah B’Av to commemorate the Chmielnicki persecutions. The kinnos that were
composed to commemorate the Chmielnicki persecutions and which are recited on the twentieth of Sivan are not said on Tishah B’Av.”
I would like to address this problem. In Igros Moshe, Rav Moshe discusses the oft-posed question: Why has no fast day been enacted to commemorate the Holocaust, the greatest tragedy to befall our people since the Churban? What makes this question all the more troubling is the fact that a fast day was legislated for the Chmielnicki pogroms, namely the twentieth of Sivan.
Rav Moshe draws an astounding distinction. Says Rav Moshe, not all tragedy is rooted in Churban Beis HaMikdash. It depends on the situation. The Holocaust was perpetrated by the German government — a world power. That type of tragedy is a result of the Churban. When the Temple stood, malchus, sovereignty, belonged to Yisrael. With the destruction of the Temple, the nations of the world stripped us of our malchus and usurped it for themselves. Therefore, tragedy that is perpetrated by the governments of the world is a direct result of Churban Beis HaMikdash. The Holocaust is a result of the Churban; hence, we commemorate the Holocaust on Tishah B’Av, and no separate fast is made. However, the Chmielnicki pogroms of 1648-1649 were not perpetrated by the established government. They were committed by rebels, anti-government, anti-establishment Cossacks, and therefore, since the pogroms are not related to the Churban, they are commemorated on a different occasion, and a fast day is observed on 20 Sivan.
To my mind, this clearly answers Rav Soloveitchik’s question as to why there are no kinnos recited on Tishah B’Av to commemorate the Chmielnicki pogroms. Rav Moshe would say because they are not related to Tishah B’Av; they are not rooted in the Churban HaBayis.
A Kinnah for Covid-19?
What would Rav Moshe say about Covid-19, a global pandemic? Rav Moshe would apparently maintain that it is not related to Tishah B’Av. An imploding society caused by a virus is not an evil perpetrated by a government. How is this rooted in Tishah B’Av?
Therefore, perhaps we can search for a different approach. Was a Tishah B’Av like the one we just experienced any more meaningful in the context of the challenges and difficulties we are currently facing? This is not just a theoretical question, because it can be posed in the following way. We all face some type of personal challenge, whether in health, family life, chinuch habanim, etc. Are these types of difficulties related to the Churban? Can we focus on our personal challenges to connect with Tishah B’Av in a deeper way? Perhaps there is another way in which a personal crisis can serve to help us connect more closely with Tishah B’Av.
Harnessing Our Emotions
Shlomo HaMelech tells us, “Be pleased when times go well, but in a time of misfortune reflect: G-d has made the one no less so that man should
find nothing after Him” (Koheles 7:14).
Rav Avigdor Miller explains that this pasuk is conveying an idea that can infuse meaning into many situations we encounter in our lives. Envision someone who enjoys a delectable sandwich, replete with numerous condiments and tasty meats. He then proceeds to thank Hashem for the meal with the recitation of Bircas HaMazon.
In the bentching, he thanks Hashem for the land of Eretz Yisrael. He also thanks Hashem for having taken us out of Mitzrayim and for the mitzvah of bris milah. He shows appreciation for Hashem having given us the Torah: “and for Your Torah which You taught us.”
These inclusions seem a bit out of place. Having just partaken of a sumptuous meal, he ought to be focusing his gratitude on the enjoyment and pleasure of his sandwich. Why is he mentioning the geulah from Mitzrayim and the mitzvah of bris milah? He was eating, not learning Gemara, so why is this the time and place to thank Hashem for the Torah?
A similar question can be posed about Yaakov Avinu being reunited with Yosef after he had been missing for so many years. Yaakov Avinu suffered the loss of Ruach HaKodesh when his son Yosef was sold as a slave. Yaakov experienced years of anguish, as he never stopped mourning. After twenty-two years, he received unbelievable news: His son Yosef was alive and well. Yaakov embarked on a journey to see Yosef. He could hardly wait to embrace his long-lost son.
When that emotionally-charged moment finally came and he saw Yosef, Yaakov Avinu recited Krias Shema. Why did he choose to say Shema at that moment? Could he not have said it beforehand, or perhaps after he greeted his son? Furthermore, if it were zman Krias Shema, then Yosef ought to have been saying Shema as well!
The Gur Aryeh explains that as Yaakov Avinu was preparing to see his son Yosef after more than two decades, he realized that he was about to experience the most emotionally charged moment of his life: an outpouring of love toward his son.
The mitzvah in the Torah to love Hashem is a challenging commandment to fulfill. It is not a simple task to develop love and engender love. Actions are within our control; emotions less so. We cannot always control our emotions, and we cannot turn them on or off at will.
Yaakov recognized that he was going to be afforded a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience an outpouring of love. He would be seeing his son for the first time in twenty-two years, after not knowing if his son was alive.
Yaakov Avinu took these extraordinarily powerful emotions and channeled them toward Hashem. Recognizing he may never again experience such a moment, he chose to direct these emotions to the Ribbono Shel Olam.
If one is going to be experiencing a great moment of ahavah, such as that of Yaakov Avinu toward Yosef, he should harness that love for the ultimate cause and channel it toward HaKadosh Baruch Hu.
Similarly, says Rav Avigdor Miller, when it comes to thanking Hashem, to engendering gratitude, it is not always a simple task to feel grateful for the manifold gifts Hashem has bestowed upon us as members of Klal Yisrael. One may not be in the frame of mind to thank Hashem for having taken us out of Mitzrayim and given us the Torah. One may be under a great deal of stress and not have the mindset to appreciate the bris milah or the land that He bequeathed us.
Chazal therefore strove to capture our feelings of contentment and satisfaction. Having just
finished a delicious meal, we are in a good mood and in a positive frame of mind to appreciate and thank HaKadosh Baruch Hu. Chazal formulated Bircas HaMazon to harness the gratitude we are feeling for the good food and channel it toward Hashem for the other gifts He has bestowed upon us as well.
At other times during the day, it may be challenging to find the time and engender the attitude to be grateful, so we seize the opportunity and include many benefits to be thankful for as we recite Bircas HaMazon. This is the principle of “Be pleased when things go well”; use the good occasion to be grateful to HaKadosh Baruch Hu for all His benefits.
Rabban Gamliel’s Tears
Surely Rabban Gamliel mourned for the Churban Beis HaMikdash. But there is little that can break someone’s heart and move one to tears more than the sobs of a mother who has lost her child. Her cry is so painful that it stirs emotions in all passersby. A cry like that would melt anyone’s heart.
Perhaps we can suggest that what brought Rabban Gamliel to tears when he heard the woman crying was not his discerning that the root cause of her suffering was the Churban, as Reb Moshe indicates that personal tragedy may not be directly related to the Churban. Rather, he felt the raw emotion of her pain, he felt the bitterness and sorrow that she was feeling, and he chose to channel it toward mourning for the Beis HaMikdash.
It was a painful moment, and he harnessed it to be misabel al Yerushalayim.
Just as we have to take advantage of happy occasions, similarly, we must capitalize on the bad times as well, using them to stir emotions of longing and sadness for the loss of the Beis HaMikdash.
When feeling depressed or broken, don’t cry only for your personal plight. Try to channel the emotions and cry for the Shechinah. It is not easy to genuinely cry over the Churban and the galus haShechinah. But if one is confronted with a tragedy that has stirred his emotions and brought him to tears, he should direct his sorrow toward the national mourning for the Churban. One should emulate Rabban Gamliel, who, when he heard the mother weeping for the loss of her child, utilized the emotions aroused within him to cry over the Beis HaMikdash.
Experiencing a Tishah B’Av in a time of the Covid pandemic, when our hearts were already broken over the tragic loss of friends and loved ones, when we were mourning for gedolei Yisrael who are no longer with us, when we felt the pain of Jews whose health was suffering or who were faced with the loss of their livelihood, was an opportunity to cry not only for the losses we have experienced during the mageifah, not only to cry for our personal situation, but also an opportunity to harness our emotions, channel our tears, and mourn the Beis HaMikdash and the galus haShechinah.
Through personal challenges and difficulties, the Ribbono Shel Olam is providing us with a grand opportunity to channel our sorrow and cry for the Shechinah and for the Beis HaMikdash.
“Whoever mourns for Yerushalayim will merit to see her consolation.” May we be zocheh to see the fruition of this assurance and no longer have the need to mourn over the Churban or for any other difficulties that cause us pain.
This article has been excerpted from Rabbi Daniel Glatstein’s sefer, The Darkness and the Dawn, published by ArtScroll.
