Post by Rabbi Neil on Nov 29, 2019 18:56:38 GMT
How relevant is the destruction of the Temple to our lives today? I would suggest that for most Jews today, save for the ultra-Orthodox who yearn for its return, the destruction of the Temple is essentially an irrelevance to us. We can go to the Kotel – the Western Wall – and we can either find some profound spiritual experience with what was basically the most outer, irrelevant wall of the Temple, or we could go the other way and find it a place of ultra-orthodox intolerance and oppression – either way praying towards the direction of the Temple is less about the building and more about unification. I would suggest that most Jews today, or at least most Jews in Reform synagogues, face Jerusalem because everyone faces Jerusalem – we do it because that’s what Jews do, and far fewer Jews do so because they actually believe that they’re pointing towards the holiest place on earth. While this is undoubtedly in part due to most Reform Jews’ squeamishness when it comes to the concept of sacrifice, and their quite justifiable difficulty in viewing a place of regular animal slaughter as being the holiest place on earth, it was probably also the rise of Chasidism which said that God could be experienced everywhere and, therefore, every location had the potential to be holy.
We still mention the Temple in our prayers. For example, in the traditional Grace After Meals, we sing “Uv’nei Yerushalayim – Build Up Jerusalem, Holy City, speedily and quickly.” That doesn’t mean the whole city, it means the Temple specifically. Near the end of the Pesach seder, the song Adir Hu has the chorus “El b’nei veit’cha bekarov,” asking God to rebuild God’s House. There are numerous other references, and though we may not realise it, our liturgy frequently talks of the Temple, which is perhaps ironic since, as I said before, I think to most Jews the Temple is essentially irrelevant.
What do I mean by this? Yes, it may be mentioned in our prayers, yes, we may have the commemoration of Tisha B’Av – as we have tomorrow evening – to remember the terrible destruction, but in the day-to-day lives of Jews, especially those who don’t pray from a traditional or traditionally-inspired set liturgy, there is no reference to the Temple at all. The Jew who wakes up in the morning, maybe says Shema, goes to work, comes home, has dinner, watches some TV, and so on has no connection to the Temple at all. It’s not surprising, then, that the commemoration of Tisha B’Av was for many years irrelevant in Reform circles.
But there is value in remembering the destruction of the Temple for a number of reasons. Firstly, it was an utter tragedy the likes of which we cannot conceive. There is an old teaching tool that I was saw which I would never use on children, as tempting as it may be with older ones. The teacher brings in a huge array of art supplies and, having taught about the Temple, asks the class to create a massive model of the Temple. The students spend almost the entire lesson creating it, embellishing it, decorating and refining it. Two-thirds of the way through the lesson, an extraordinary edifice stands in the middle of the table of which the students are absolutely proud. And it is at this point that, in virtually an instant, the teacher destroys it. Right in front of their eyes, the teacher flattens, rips, tears, bludgeons the model to pieces and then turns to them and says, “How did that feel?” And from there, for the final third of the lesson, they talk about Tisha B’Av. Now, perhaps perversely, we have more of a reaction to the destruction of these students’ model than we do every time we read of the destruction of the Temple, but this is just a model. When the Temple was destroyed, not only was Judaism brought to its knees but tens of thousands of Jews were put to death. It was an utter slaughter. In terms of percentage of global Jewry, it almost certainly surpassed the extent of the Shoah two thousand years later. It was a huge event. So, there is value in remembered the Temple and its destruction because real Jews died, because it was an utter tragedy and we should remember tragedies.
But there is a second reason why there is value in remembering it. Although the Rabbis said that the reason the Temple was destroyed was because of baseless hatred which led to negative speech, the political reasons were even more startling. When the Romans besieged Jerusalem in 69 C.E., the Jews at the time did not know who should lead them against the Romans. So, they fought each other to see who should take control. Literally, Jews killed Jews, faction fought faction, until one faction took control. There was even a siege of the Temple site by one faction over another faction. The Jewish community was so divided that it literally fought pitched battles internally with the end result being that when an outside enemy – the Romans – appeared, there weren’t enough Jews to fight back. They had all killed each other. So, the second reason that we should remember the destruction of the Temple is because we should always remember how easy it was in dark times to turn on each other as opposed to recognising the real threat that faced the community.
A third reason why the Temple is important is because when it was destroyed the Jewish community was utterly on its own – no-one else was there to fight for us. Perhaps through political naus, perhaps through luck, some Jews were able to make it to Yavneh where Judaism was allowed to re-establish itself. But our backs were against the wall and we were alone. And this is therefore perhaps the most important reason to remember the Temple, because we were alone and nearly became extinct, and nowadays there are others who are profoundly alone and also on the brink of non-existence. The Rohingya or Myanmar, or the rebels in Syria are obvious contemporary parallels.
Three essential messages, then. Message 1 is that we have faced tragedy before and that we must always be on our guard against future tragedy. Message 2 is that sometimes we bring tragedy on ourselves with infighting. Message 3 is that there are people today who face similar tragedies. So, what are we going to do about them? Are we going to ignore those people, are we going to say, “We have our tragedies, now you have yours?” Or are we going to say, “We had our tragedy, we can never shake the trauma of it – we must do everything in our power to help ensure that you do not go through the horrors that we did?” There can surely only be one answer here. So, the Temple is actually supremely relevant to us, but not in its building but in its destruction. Maybe we actually face Jerusalem to remind us of the destruction, to remind us that God wants us to help those who face similar oppression. Maybe we find God not in the artistry of the building, but in the compelling commitment to protect others from destruction. Maybe God calls to us not from the Holy of Holies but from the rubble. Maybe the Destruction of the Temple, and Tisha B’Av, is essential after all. This Tisha B’Av, then, let us hear the voice of God not from on high, but from within conflict and destruction, and let it call us to reflection and action, and let us say, Amen.
We still mention the Temple in our prayers. For example, in the traditional Grace After Meals, we sing “Uv’nei Yerushalayim – Build Up Jerusalem, Holy City, speedily and quickly.” That doesn’t mean the whole city, it means the Temple specifically. Near the end of the Pesach seder, the song Adir Hu has the chorus “El b’nei veit’cha bekarov,” asking God to rebuild God’s House. There are numerous other references, and though we may not realise it, our liturgy frequently talks of the Temple, which is perhaps ironic since, as I said before, I think to most Jews the Temple is essentially irrelevant.
What do I mean by this? Yes, it may be mentioned in our prayers, yes, we may have the commemoration of Tisha B’Av – as we have tomorrow evening – to remember the terrible destruction, but in the day-to-day lives of Jews, especially those who don’t pray from a traditional or traditionally-inspired set liturgy, there is no reference to the Temple at all. The Jew who wakes up in the morning, maybe says Shema, goes to work, comes home, has dinner, watches some TV, and so on has no connection to the Temple at all. It’s not surprising, then, that the commemoration of Tisha B’Av was for many years irrelevant in Reform circles.
But there is value in remembering the destruction of the Temple for a number of reasons. Firstly, it was an utter tragedy the likes of which we cannot conceive. There is an old teaching tool that I was saw which I would never use on children, as tempting as it may be with older ones. The teacher brings in a huge array of art supplies and, having taught about the Temple, asks the class to create a massive model of the Temple. The students spend almost the entire lesson creating it, embellishing it, decorating and refining it. Two-thirds of the way through the lesson, an extraordinary edifice stands in the middle of the table of which the students are absolutely proud. And it is at this point that, in virtually an instant, the teacher destroys it. Right in front of their eyes, the teacher flattens, rips, tears, bludgeons the model to pieces and then turns to them and says, “How did that feel?” And from there, for the final third of the lesson, they talk about Tisha B’Av. Now, perhaps perversely, we have more of a reaction to the destruction of these students’ model than we do every time we read of the destruction of the Temple, but this is just a model. When the Temple was destroyed, not only was Judaism brought to its knees but tens of thousands of Jews were put to death. It was an utter slaughter. In terms of percentage of global Jewry, it almost certainly surpassed the extent of the Shoah two thousand years later. It was a huge event. So, there is value in remembered the Temple and its destruction because real Jews died, because it was an utter tragedy and we should remember tragedies.
But there is a second reason why there is value in remembering it. Although the Rabbis said that the reason the Temple was destroyed was because of baseless hatred which led to negative speech, the political reasons were even more startling. When the Romans besieged Jerusalem in 69 C.E., the Jews at the time did not know who should lead them against the Romans. So, they fought each other to see who should take control. Literally, Jews killed Jews, faction fought faction, until one faction took control. There was even a siege of the Temple site by one faction over another faction. The Jewish community was so divided that it literally fought pitched battles internally with the end result being that when an outside enemy – the Romans – appeared, there weren’t enough Jews to fight back. They had all killed each other. So, the second reason that we should remember the destruction of the Temple is because we should always remember how easy it was in dark times to turn on each other as opposed to recognising the real threat that faced the community.
A third reason why the Temple is important is because when it was destroyed the Jewish community was utterly on its own – no-one else was there to fight for us. Perhaps through political naus, perhaps through luck, some Jews were able to make it to Yavneh where Judaism was allowed to re-establish itself. But our backs were against the wall and we were alone. And this is therefore perhaps the most important reason to remember the Temple, because we were alone and nearly became extinct, and nowadays there are others who are profoundly alone and also on the brink of non-existence. The Rohingya or Myanmar, or the rebels in Syria are obvious contemporary parallels.
Three essential messages, then. Message 1 is that we have faced tragedy before and that we must always be on our guard against future tragedy. Message 2 is that sometimes we bring tragedy on ourselves with infighting. Message 3 is that there are people today who face similar tragedies. So, what are we going to do about them? Are we going to ignore those people, are we going to say, “We have our tragedies, now you have yours?” Or are we going to say, “We had our tragedy, we can never shake the trauma of it – we must do everything in our power to help ensure that you do not go through the horrors that we did?” There can surely only be one answer here. So, the Temple is actually supremely relevant to us, but not in its building but in its destruction. Maybe we actually face Jerusalem to remind us of the destruction, to remind us that God wants us to help those who face similar oppression. Maybe we find God not in the artistry of the building, but in the compelling commitment to protect others from destruction. Maybe God calls to us not from the Holy of Holies but from the rubble. Maybe the Destruction of the Temple, and Tisha B’Av, is essential after all. This Tisha B’Av, then, let us hear the voice of God not from on high, but from within conflict and destruction, and let it call us to reflection and action, and let us say, Amen.