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Opinion & Comment
Desolate Hearts

by R' Yitzchok Kornblau

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.


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