Rabbi's Chayva's Chat

Today is not just a passing Thursday in August. Today, in the other calendar that governs the rhythms of our year, we are approaching the end of the Three Weeks. Tuesday, July 23, was the minor fast day of the 17th of Tammuz, which began the three-week period leading up to Tisha B’Av. Tradition says that when the Romans lay siege to Jerusalem, the wall protecting the city cracked on the 17th of Tammuz. Jerusalem, thereafter, was doomed to fall and the Second Temple to be destroyed three weeks later, on Tisha B’Av (the 9th of Av).

Why do we care? Some would make the case that we don’t. Rabbi David Einhorn, an early Reform rabbi of the Civil War era, went so far as to create a celebratory service for Tisha B’Av because he felt that Diaspora Jewish life is valid and important, and therefore we should celebrate how the Temple fell and Jews were forced into a diasporic world. (For history or prayerbook enthusiasts, see his prayerbook, Olath Tamid, here; the Tisha B’Av service starts on p. 319, and the most interesting part starts on p. 330.)

I follow Einhorn’s logic, but I think we have more to learn from this holiday than Diaspora pride. For ancient Jerusalemites, the three weeks were a period of tension, of waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for the Romans to break through the wall at any moment. We know that feeling of waiting in dread. I wonder how the Israelites treated each other under such pressure, for stress rarely brings out our best selves. It’s probably no coincidence that rabbinic tradition says that the Temple fell because of sinat chinam, unbounded and unbridled hatred between people, and because of how they gossiped and undercut one another.

As we approach Tisha B’Av next Monday night, let it serve as a reminder to us that though we might endure periods of stress, anxiety, and tension, we must still hold our heads high and treat each other with honor. We must engage in disagreement respectfully, consider others with compassion, and remember that our pain is no more or less valid than anyone else’s.

I am drawn back time and time again to my favorite part of the Amidah, which we never say aloud. It is the silent meditation after the Amidah has formally concluded. Elohai netzor l’shoni mera usfatai midaber mirma, v’limkalelai nafshi tidom v’nafshi ke’afar lakol tihiyeh. My God, keep my tongue from evil, my lips from lies. Help me ignore those who would slander me. Let me be humble, my soul as pure as dust, before all.
Ken yehi ratzon, may the holiness within and around us help this come to be.