Rabbi Yehudah HaLevi's Tzion Halo Tishali

I have put together an English translation of Rabbi Yehudah haLevi's beautiful Tziyon Halo Tishali. Of course, you can find it translated in various Hebrew/English editions of kinot, but the translations I have seen on-line have not satisfied me.

To make reading easier, I have divided up the poem into six parts based on themes I see there:
Lines 1-8 - A sense of abandonment; does Zion cry for us?
Lines 9-20 - Zion as the spiritual home of the Shechinah
Lines 21-38 - I wish I were there in the Zion of the Shechinah, even as a mourner!
Lines 39-46 - Mourning for the devastation of physical Zion
Lines 47-56 - We miss you, as a nation
Lines 57-68 - Your glory is great, and we will return

Note that there are various lines which are subject to multiple editions; my text may not match yours. Check the Hebrew below.

I would welcome suggestions and corrections.

English:

Zion, will you not ask after the welfare of your prisoners,

Who seek your welfare, and are the remnant of your flock?

From west and east, and from north and south,

The welfare of those far and near, inquire from all of your sides.

And the welfare of the prisoner of hope, who sheds tears like Hermon’s dew,

And yearns for them to descend upon your mountains.

Crying for your suffering, I am a jackal,

And when I dream of the return of your captives, I am a harp for your songs.

My heart is to Bethel, and for Peniel it greatly yearns,

And for Machanaim and all of the rendezvous of your pure ones,

There the Shechinah resides for you,

And your Creator opened your gates opposite the gates of Heaven,

And the glory of Gd alone was your luminary,

And the Sun, Moon and stars were not your luminaries.

I would choose for my soul to be poured out

In the place where the spirit of Gd was poured out upon your chosen ones.

You, house of royalty, and you, throne of Gd,

How could slaves now sit upon the thrones of your masters?

If only I could wander

Upon the places where Gd was revealed to your seers and messengers!

If only I had wings, and I would fly far away,

I would cause the pieces of my heart to wander among your pieces.

I would fall on my face upon your earth,

And I would desire your stones greatly, and favour your dust.

Even when I would stand upon the graves of my ancestors,

And I would be overwhelmed in Chevron, upon the choicest of your graves.

I would travel your forests and Carmel, and stand in your Gilead,

And I would be overwhelmed upon the mountain of your crossing,

Har ha’Avarim and Hor haHar,

The places of the two great lights, your luminaries and teachers.

The life of souls, air of your earth,

And the dust of your dirt better than sweet myrrh, and your rivers better than the drippings of honeycombs.

It would be pleasant for my spirit, to walk unclothed and barefoot

Upon the desolate ruins which were your Holy of Holies,

In the place where your Ark was hidden,

And in the place of your cherubs, which resided in your rooms within rooms.

I would shear off and cast down the splendour of my crown, and curse the time

When your nazirites were desecrated in an impure land.

How could eating and drinking be sweet for me, when I see

That dogs drag away your young lions?

Or how could the light of day be sweet for my eyes,

When I see in the mouth of ravens the corpses of your nesharim?

The cup of misery, slow! Release a bit,

For my innards and soul are already full of your bitterness.

When I remember Oholoh, I drink of your wine,

And when I remember Oholibah I squeeze out your sediment.

Zion, crown of beauty, braided with love and favour since back then,

And in you are braided the souls of your friends.

They are the ones who rejoice at your peace,

And who are pained at your desolaton, and who cry upon your ruins.

From the pit of captivity, they yearn toward you,

And they bow, each from his place, toward your gates,

The flocks of your multitudes, who were exiled,

And who were scattered from mountain to hill, but did not forget your pastures.

Who hold your hems, and struggle to ascend,

And to hold the branches of your dates.

Will Shinar and Patros compare with you in their size,

And will their futility be compared with your Urim v’Tummim?

To whom will they compare your anointed and your prophets,

And to whom your Levites and your singers?

Let all of the idolatrous empires change and pass entirely,

Your strength is forever, your crown for all generations.

He desired you for the dwelling of your Gd,

Fortunate is the one who will choose, draw near, and dwell in your streets.

Fortunate is the one who waits and arrives and sees the rising of your light,

And your dawns will break upon him,

To see the good of your chosen ones, and to celebrate in your joy

When you return to your early youth.

Hebrew:

צִיּוֹן, הֲלֹא תִשְׁאֲלִי לִשְׁלוֹם אֲסִירַיִךְ,

דּוֹרְשֵׁי שְׁלוֹמֵךְ וְהֵם יֶתֶר עֲדָרָיִךְ?

מִיָּם וּמִזְרָח וּמִצָּפוֹן וְתֵימָן

שְׁלוֹם רָחוֹק וְקָרוֹב שְׂאִי מִכֹּל עֲבָרָיִךְ.

וּשְׁלוֹם אֲסִיר תּקוָה, נוֹתֵן דְּמָעָיו כְּטַל חֶרְמוֹן

וְנִכְסַף לְרִדְתָּם עַל הֲרָרָיִךְ.

לִבְכּוֹת עֱנוּתֵךְ אֲנִי תַנִּים,

וְעֵת אֶחֱלֹם שִׁיבַת שְׁבוּתֵך אֲנִי כִנּוֹר לְשִׁירָיִךְ.

לִבִּי לְבֵית-אֵל וְלִפְנִיאֵל מְאֹד יֶהֱמֶה

וּלְמַחֲנַיִם וְכֹל פִּגְעֵי טְהוֹרָיִךְ,

שָׁם הַשְּׁכִינָה שְׁכֵנָה לָךְ,

וְיּוֹצְרֵךְ פָּתַח לְמוּל שַׁעֲרֵי שַׁחַק שְׁעָרָיִךְ,

וּכְבוֹד ד' לְבַד הָיָה מְאוֹרֵךְ,

וְאֵין שֶׁמֶשׁ וְסַהַר וְכוֹכָבִים מְאִירָיִךְ.

אֶבְחַר לְנַפְשִׁי לְהִשְׁתַּפֵּךְ

בְּמָקוֹם אֲשֶר רוּחַ אלקים שְׁפוּכָה עַל בְּחִירָיִךְ.

אַתְּ בֵּית מְלוּכָה וְאַתְּ כִּסֵּא ד',

וְאֵיךְ יָשְׁבוּ עֲבָדִים עֲלֵי כִסְאוֹת גְּבִירָיִךְ?

מִי יִתְּנֵנִי מְשׁוֹטֵט

בַּמְּקוֹמוֹת אֲשֶׁר נִגְלוּ אלקים לְחוֹזַיִךְ וְצִירָיִךְ.

מִי יַעֲשֶׂה לִי כְנָפַיִם וְאַרְחִיק נְדוֹד,

אָנִיד לְבִתְרֵי לְבָבִי בֵּין בְּתָרָיִךְ.

אֶפֹּל לְאַפַּי עֲלֵי אַרְצֵךְ

וְאֶרְצֶה אֲבָנַיִךְ מְאֹד וַאֲחֹנֵן אֶת-עֲפָרָיִךְ,

אַף כִּי בְעָמְדִי עֲלֵי קִבְרוֹת אֲבֹתַי

וְאֶשְׁתּוֹמֵם בְּחֶבְרוֹן עֲלֵי מִבְחַר קְבָרָיִךְ.

אֶעְבֹר בְּיַעְרֵךְ וְכַרְמִלֵּךְ וְאֶעְמֹד בְּגִלְעָדֵךְ

וְאֶשְׁתּוֹמֲמָה אֶל הַר עֲבָרָיִךְ,

הַר הָעֲבָרִים וְהֹר הָהָר,

אֲשֶׁר שָׁם שְׁנֵי אוֹרִים גְּדוֹלִים מְאִירַיִךְ וּמוֹרָיִךְ.

חַיֵּי נְשָׁמוֹת אֲוִיר אַרְצֵךְ,

וּמִמָּר דְרוֹר אַבְקַת עֲפָרֵךְ, וְנֹפֶת צוּף נְהָרָיִךְ.

יִנְעַם לְנַפְשִׁי הֲלֹךְ עָרֹם וְיָחֵף

עֲלֵי חָרְבוֹת שְׁמָמָה אֲשֶׁר הָיוּ דְבִירָיִךְ,

בִּמְקוֹם אֲרוֹנֵךְ אֲשֶׁר נִגְנַז,

וּבִמְקוֹם כְּרוּבַיִךְ אֲשֶׁר שָׁכְנוּ חַדְרֵי חֲדָרָיִךְ.

אָגֹז וְאַשְׁלִיךְ פְּאֵר נִזְרִי וְאֶקֹּב זְמָן,

חִלֵּל בְּאֶרֶץ טְמֵאָה אֶת נְזִירָיִךְ.

אֵיךְ יֶעֱרַב לִי אֲכֹל וּשְׁתוֹת בְּעֵת אֶחֱזֶה,

כִּי יִּסְחֲבוּ הַכְּלָבִים אֶת כְּפִירָיִךְ?

אוֹ אֵיךְ מְאוֹר יוֹם יְהִי מָתוֹק לְעֵינַי

בְּעוֹד אֶרְאֶה בְּפִי עֹרְבִים פִּגְרֵי נְשָׁרָיִךְ?

כּוֹס הַיְגוֹנִים, לְאַט, הַרְפִּי מְעַט,

כִּי כְבָר מָלְאוּ כְסָלַי וְנַפְשִׁי מַמְּרוֹרָיִךְ.

עֵת אֶזְכְּרָה אָהֳלָה אֶשְׁתֶּה חֲמָרֵךְ,

וְאֶזְכֹּר אָהֳלִיבָה וְאֶמְצֶה אֶת-שְׁמָרָיִךְ.

צִיּוֹן כְּלִילַת יֳפִי, אַהְבָה וְחֵן תִּקְשְׁרִי מֵאָז,

וּבָךְ נִקְשְׁרוּ נַפְשׁוֹת חֲבֵרָיִךְ.

הֵם הַשְּׂמֵחִים לְשַׁלְוָתֵךְ,

וְהַכּוֹאֲבִים עַל שׁוֹמֲמוּתֵךְ וּבוֹכִים עַל שְׁבָרָיִךְ.

מִבּוֹר שְׁבִי שׁוֹאֲפִים נֶגְדֵּךְ

וּמִשְׁתַּחֲוִים אִישׁ מִמְּקוֹמוֹ אֱלֵי נֹכַח שְׁעָרָיִךְ,

עֶדְרֵי הֲמוֹנֵךְ, אֲשֶׁר גָּלוּ

וְהִתְפַּזְּרוּ מֵהַר לְגִבְעָה וְלֹא שָׁכְחוּ גְדֵרָיִךְ,

הַמַּחֲזִיקִים בְּשׁוּלַיִךְ וּמִתְאַמְּצִים לַעְלוֹת

וְלֶאְחֹז בְּסַנְסִנֵּי תְּמָרָיִךְ.

שִׁנְעָר וּפַתְרוֹס הֲיַעַרְכוּךְ בְּגָדְלָם,

וְאִם הֶבְלָם יְדַמּוּ לְתֻמַּיִךְ וְאוּרָיִךְ?

אֶל מִי יְדַמּוּ מְשִׁיחַיִךְ וְאֶל מִי נְבִיאַיִךְ

וְאֶל מִי לְוִיַּיִךְ וְשָׁרָיִךְ?

יִשְׁנֶה וְיַחְלֹף כְּלִיל כָּל מַמְלְכוֹת הָאֱלִיל,

חָסְנֵךְ לְעוֹלָם, לְדוֹר וָדוֹר נְזָרָיִךְ.

אִוָּךְ לְמוֹשָׁב אלקיִךְ,

וְאַשְׁרֵי אֱנוֹשׁ יִבְחַר יְקָרֵב וְיִשְׁכֹּן בַּחֲצֵרָיִךְ.

אַשְׁרֵי מְחַכֶּה וְיַגִּיעַ וְיִרְאֶה עֲלוֹת אוֹרֵךְ

וְיִבָּקְעוּ עָלָיו שְׁחָרָיִךְ,

לִרְאוֹת בְּטוֹבַת בְּחִירַיִךְ וְלַעְלֹז בְּשִׂמְחָתֵךְ

בְּשׁוּבֵךְ אֱלֵי קַדְמַת נְעוּרָיִךְ.

Yom Kippur and Tishah b'Av: Individual and Community

Of course, Yom Kippur and Tishah b'Av are nothing like each other. On both days we don't eat or drink, wear leather shoes, etc, but the days are of radically divergent spiritual characters.

On Yom Kippur we are [guardedly] optimistic; on Tishah b'Av we are miserable.
On Yom Kippur we are forgiven; on Tishah b'Av the world comes crashing down.
On Yom Kippur we declare our relationship with Gd, כי אנו עמך, "For we are Your nation"; on Tishah b'Av we say סתם תפלתי, "HaShem blocked my prayers."

But this year I came to an unsettling realization about a way in which Tishah b'Av and Yom Kippur do, indeed, run parallel to each other: They are both Days of Judgment.

Rosh haShanah is a day of judgment of each individual, and Yom Kippur is the day when each individual is again weighed. We prepare for the day by assessing our conduct, taking a personal accounting, and making amends and apologizing for our wrongdoing while trying to chart a more positive path.

And Tishah b'Av, it seems to me, is a day of judgment for the Jewish world. We are taught (Yerushalmi Yoma 1:1) that if the Beit haMikdash is not rebuilt in a generation's time, we view it as though the Beit haMikdash had been destroyed in that generation's time. So each Tishah b'Av, as we mark again the devastation of the Beit haMikdash, we are judged and we are found collectively guilty.

It's an unsettling thought, because we believe that every Yom Kippur ends with forgiveness for the individual, while every Tishah b'Av ends with a declaration of our community's guilt.

But then I had another thought: Why can't we end Tishah b'Av with forgiveness, as we do on Yom Kippur? What if we had, hypothetically, a leader who could deliver a "State of the Union" in the days leading up to Tishah b'Av, identify the elements needing fixing and apologize for wrongdoing, and so on?

Even if Tishah b'Av marks the time of Divine obscurity and blocked prayers, perhaps with proper preparation we could have a Tishah b'Av which ended with a Divine declaration of סלחתי, "I have forgiven," just as the original Tishah b'Av did? (Bamidbar 14:20)

Of course, such a thing is far from where we are today, in a world in which rabbis are assaulted by followers of other rabbis, in a world in which one Jew can easily call another Amalek, in a world in which… oh, forget it. You don't need me to run down the list of every bit of strife playing out on the Jewish world's polluted stage.

But maybe one day we'll turn Tishah b'Av into a national version of Yom Kippur.

On feeling a profound absence of generosity

[The Nine Days make me terribly grim; I apologize in advance. Please forgive the darkness of these pre-Tisha b'Av musings.]

A rapid series of knocks at the door on a Friday afternoon – I get up from my computer where I am trying to finish preparing a source sheet for a Shabbos shiur, grab the checkbook and walk to the door. But not without a krechtz [sigh] at the untimely intrusion.

A car noses its way in front of me, trying to force its way into the lane, not even bothering with a turn signal – I pause to let him get in front of me. But not without a glare.

I give the tzedakah, I let the car in. I am not Sdom; I do what is right. But the feeling of generosity isn't there, and it scares me. It's only human to sigh and glare, but that doesn't mean it's right or healthy.

People hear about a public figure speaking on a charged topic, and immediately want the dirt on what was said. Who insulted whom, and how strongly? What was the reaction? What will be the political fallout? This is such an unwholesome approach to other people's lives.

I am reminded of a note by Rav Yonasan Eibeschutz in his Yaaros Dvash (drush 10) – the translation here is from one of our avreichim, Adam Frieberg, in this week's Toronto Torah:

This is not to say, Heaven forbid, that each Jew doesn’t love his friend's physical person. If harm were to befall him, or if the government would falsely charge a Jew, all of Israel would be quick to help him, with their lives and resources. We don’t even need to mention saving a life, he will surely redeem his brother. They would completely affix themselves, with their lives and with their resources, day and night, and would not quit. And if one would become sick, all would pray and visit, and any possible help they would not withhold, they would even race three kilometers through sand. If a woman would have difficulty giving birth and suffer pain, would not all of the wealthy, complacent women rise in the darkness of the night, and go to be with her to help! Can there be greater love, brotherhood and friendship than this?! Your portion is meritorious, holy nation, before the holy King!

My experience matches Rabbi Eibeschutz's glowing description of the way we go to great lengths on each other's behalf. However, I still sense a problem in myself, and I suspect I share this with others: A profound absence of generosity. Of love.

One can daven without concentrating;
One can learn Torah without being emotionally attached to the text;
One can observe Shabbos without feeling מעין עולם הבא (that one is thereby connected to the Next World);
And one can visit the sick, bury the dead and give tzedakah to the needy without an inner pull of "I love to help" generosity.
But to me, this last deficiency is potentially even more destructive than the previous three - and if the bliblcal and talmudic emphasis on social relationships is to be trusted, it makes us far less worthy of ultimate redemption and an end to these Tisha b'Av fasts.

I sense that acts of generosity without generous feeling are hard to sustain – they are more likely to fade as excuses present themselves.

I sense that acts of generosity without generous feeling are hard to transmit to our children – our children are more likely to absorb the sigh than the check.

And I sense that generous feeling is necessary for overall religious commitment. People who feel a need to guard their preserves are less likely to open their hearts, homes and wallets in the way that religion demands, whether in their relationship with Gd or in their relationship with others. Children who absorb that mentality are, in my opinion, less likely to find the "derech" attractive.

How, then, do we build generous feeling? Certainly, the point made by the Sefer haChinuch (216) that generous deeds will help inspire generosity of spirit, is a start. Perhaps this is also part of the talmudic statement (Berachos 6b) that the central reward for fasting comes from the tzedakah we give – when we take the food out of our mouths and give it away, that may help inculcate or reinforce generosity of spirit. But I would like more. How can I make myself a more generous person?

Feel the pain

I'm going to take a stab at explaining something about myself which really bothers me; based on R' Kluger's observation, I'm pretty sure others do it, too.

I hear about a tragedy on the news, let's say a shooting, and it hurts. But then I hear that the victim was in trouble himself, was involved with a gang maybe, and it hurts a little less. Take the collar bomb story from a while back, and the FBI's determination that the victim was in on the plot at the beginning – oh, then I guess that's not so bad.

Or a man comes to my door collecting for tzedakah, and he describes a heartrending situation. He has ten children, his wife is ill, his parents are ill, the family has great debt and he needs help to marry off his daughter. I can see his bad teeth. He has letters vouching for his authenticity. I want to cry, to pull out my wallet and give him whatever I have. But then I ask him what he does for a living, and the answer is that he sits and learns. Oh, wait a minute, some part of me says. Then I don't feel quite as sympathetic.

I could give many examples of practical wrongs or ethical wrongs or halachic wrongs we diagnose, consciously or subconsciously, as reasons for others' suffering: They built their homes near a volcano, they got involved with drugs, they opted not to go to college, and so on. They broke Shabbos, they engaged in illicit relations, they laundered money and defrauded the government.

These calculations are often correct, from a logical standpoint, but on some level they are a defense mechanism. They come to make me feel less guilty about not helping, to make me feel less guilty for putting these people out of my mind and going about my life.

This is what R' Shlomo Kluger (grandson of the more famous R' Shlomo Kluger) saw in the actions of the righteous people of Kfar Sakhnia, who did not mourn for Yerushalayim (Gittin 57a). Those righteous people identified, as the gemara (such as Shabbos 119a) does, the sins of Yerushalayim: Failure to rebuke, lack of shame, disrespect, failure to educate their children in Torah, and so on. They saw reasons for her suffering, and accepted the resultant devastation as Divine will.

And then they saw no reason to mourn - and this was, itself, a grave sin.

Finding explanations for our own suffering is appropriate, and if they reduce the pain then so much the better.
Finding explanations of the suffering of others, to understand a cause and effect, to educate myself about proper behavior, is an obligation of my religion.
But using those explanations to numb my sensitivity, to fail to feel their pain, to fail to go to them and embrace them and cry with them – that's just wrong.

חטא חטאה ירושלים, said Yirmiyah. Yerushalayim has sinned. Guilty! But I am obligated to cry and fast and sit on the floor and feel pain in her pain, nonetheless. Her pain must be my pain.

Please! May this be the last Tisha b'Av on which we mourn.

Forging a New Beginning

This is my article for this year's Tisha b'Av To Go (and an upgraded version of an article I first published here). Comments welcome.

Some twenty-five hundred years ago, on the ninth of Tammuz, the walls of Jerusalem were breached by the Babylonians. Or, perhaps not.

Yirmiyahu placed this Babylonian invasion on the ninth of Tammuz, recording (52:6-7):

בחדש הרביעי בתשעה לחדש ויחזק הרעב בעיר ולא היה לחם לעם הארץ: ותבקע העיר וכל אנשי המלחמה יברחו ויצאו מהעיר לילה דרך שער בין החמתים אשר על גן המלך וכשדים על העיר סביב וילכו דרך הערבה:

In the fourth month, on the ninth of the month, the famine strengthened in the city and there was no bread for the population. And the city was breached and the soldiers fled, and they departed the city via the gate between the walls by the king's garden, with the Chaldeans surrounding the city, and they traveled via the aravah.

This perplexed the sages, for a mishnah (Taanit 4:6) teaches that this invasion took place on the 17th of Tammuz. Rava offered a solution in the Babylonian Talmud (Taanit 28b):

לא קשיא כאן בראשונה כאן בשניה דתניא בראשונה הובקעה העיר בתשעה בתמוז בשניה בשבעה עשר בו

There is no problem; Yirmiyahu spoke regarding the first Beit haMikdash, whereas in the time of the second Beit haMikdash the city was breached on the 17th of Tammuz. A braita corroborates this, saying, "In the first Beit haMikdash the city was breached on the 9th of Tammuz. In the second, on the 17th of Tammuz."

The Tur and Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 549) cited Rava’s view as law, explaining that we fast on the date of the second breach of Jerusalem because the destruction of the second Beit haMikdash is more severe for us.

Notwithstanding Rava’s explanation and its adoption by the Tur and Shulchan Aruch, the Talmud Yerushalmi offers a different justification for the conflicting dates. Addressing both the conflict regarding the 9th or 17th of Tammuz as the date of the breach of Jerusalem, and a second conflict between Yechezkel's statement (26:1-2) that the first Beit haMikdash was destroyed on the 1st of Av and our tradition of commemorating the destruction on the 9th of Av, Rabbi Tanchum bar Chanilai explained (Talmud Yerushalmi Taanit 4:5):

אמר ר' תנחום בר חנילאי קילקול חשבונות יש כאן... בין כמאן דאמר בתשעה לחדש בין כמאן דאמר בשבעה עש' מה ביניהון עשרי' ואחד יום מיו' שהובקעה העיר ועד יום שחרב בית המקדש... מאן דאמר בתשעה לחדש באחד באב חרב הבית מאן דאמר בשבעה עשר בתשעה באב חרב הבית

Rabbi Tanchum bar Chanilai said: I see a corruption of calculations here… Whether taking the view that the walls were breached on the 9th of Tammuz, or taking the view that the walls were breached on the 17th of Tammuz, there were 21 days from the time the city was breached until the Beit haMikdash was destroyed… The one who said the walls were breached on the 9th of Tammuz took the view that the Beit haMikdash was destroyed on the 1st of Av, and the one who said that the walls were breached on the 17th of Tammuz took the view that the Beit haMikdash was destroyed on the 9th of Av.

According to Rabbi Tanchum bar Chanilai, the walls of Jerusalem were breached on the 17th of Tammuz and the destruction of the Beit haMikdash actually took place on the 9th of Av, and the Jews of Bavel remembered that twenty-one days had passed between the invasion of Jerusalem and the fall of the Beit haMikdash. Therefore, when they incorrectly set the destruction of the Beit haMikdash as the 1st of Av, they dated the invasion as having occurred 21 days earlier, on the 9th of Tammuz.

All of the above leads to a simple question, though: Granted that the beleaguered population might have been confused, why did the Sages canonize inaccurate dates? Can it be that these texts, canonized as prophecy, are simply inaccurate?

Chatam Sofer, writing on the Yerushalmi, contended that the confusion was actually the people's misunderstanding of a proactive decision by those prophets to date the churban as the 1st of Av, even though it had occurred on the 9th:

אנשי אותו הדור בבבל לא האמינו זה, ונתיאשו... אנשי בבל שמעו מהנביאים שלהם "ביום א' לחדש שמח צור במפלת ירושלים" והם לא הבינו כי ט' אב נקרא א' בחדש על "כי תם עונך", על כן חשבו כפשוטו כי ביום ר"ח אב נשרף בהמ"ק וחשבו כ"א יום למפרע לבקיעת העיר ויהיה ביום ט' תמוז.

That generation of Babylonians did not believe this [that once the Beit haMikdash was destroyed, there was hope for redemption]. They gave up hope… The Babylonian Jews heard from their prophets, 'On the first of the month, Tyre rejoiced at the fall of Jerusalem,' and they did not understand that the prophets called the 9th of Av 'the first of the month' because of the prediction, 'Now your sin is complete [and the redemption can begin].' They thought it was to be understood literally, that the Beit haMikdash had been burned on the 1st of Av. They calculated 21 days back, and figured that the city had been breached on the 9th of Tammuz.

The destruction of the Beit haMikdash fulfilled Eichah 4:22, “[The punishment for] your sin is concluded.” Once the building was demolished, we entered a new world of consolation and re-birth, and so our leaders dated the destruction as the first day of a new month, and indeed a new era. The nation took this literally, dated the fall of the Beit haMikdash as the 1st of Av, and back-dated the fall of Jerusalem as the 9th of Tammuz.

Chatam Sofer’s suggestion that the Sages would have risked calendar havoc is stunning in its presumption. Judaism views the calendar as sacrosanct, the very purpose of the creation of the celestial spheres; “He created the moon for the sake of the appointed times,” King David sang in Tehillim 104, building on Bereishit 1:14. We set our halachic lives by our days and months. Our first national mitzvah was the system of calculating the lunar month. And yet, Yirmiyahu and Yechezkel felt comfortable feigning re-setting the clock, in clear defiance of the physical moon and the halachically infallible justices of the beit din, for the sake of making a philosophical statement about the new era we had entered!

This bold approach should highlight for us the importance of launching new beginnings immediately after catastrophe. The sky is still filled with soot and ash, parades of chained Jews shamble out of Jerusalem, looters are stuffing elegant gold and silver into sacks – and the prophets have the hope-filled hubris to declare, "Today is the first day of the rest of your national life." This must serve as a guide and inspiration for us; if it is always darkest before the dawn, then the moment after our darkest despair is always the start of our new day.

This point is underscored by the arrangement of our own Tishah b’Av–centered mourning. Whereas normal mourning following a personal loss consists of consecutive, easing levels of grief, our mourning for the Beit haMikdash consists of intensifying levels, building up to Tishah b'Av. Then, immediately after the Tenth of Av’s special commemorations end, the mourning ceases entirely and we being building anew. As the Chatam Sofer put it, “It is the first of a new month, Menachem.” This is a day deserving of the title, “Day One.”

May the value of our mourning up through Tishah b'Av, and our efforts at consolation in the new era born thereafter, merit the immediate rebuilding of our Beit haMikdash.

Blaming people for their suffering

[This week's Haveil Havalim is here]

In preparing a shiur for this coming Sunday, I came across this striking comment from Rav Shlomo Kluger, grandson of the more famous Rav Shlomo Kluger of Brody. It was included in a eulogy he gave for his father, just months after his mother had died as well. I think we have a lot to learn from it, particularly those of us who are apt to find reasons to explain why disasters happen:

When a person suffers tragedy which only afflicts him and his flesh, then anyone who has awe of Gd within him… is obligated to accept the Divine verdict as just and to bless for the bad as he does for the good. This is the path of a person who walks righteously, to suffer all ailments that come upon him with a calm spirit…

But if harm comes upon a person and upon others… then that person, who may even suffer more than others, may not calm himself and avoid feeling the pain of others… saying that he accepts it upon himself with love. This is a repugnant trait and an ugly path; one may not accept with love the ailment, pain and trouble of others! One who does so is subject to the curse of our sages, "When Israel is in pain and one of them separates from the community, two ministering angels place their hands on his head and say, 'So-and-so who separated from the community shall not see the comfort of the community.'"

It is as they said regarding Kfar Sakhnia… Once the Sages themselves testified that these people were fully righteous, how could they not have mourned for Jerusalem?! But this is what we have said: They, like all of Israel, felt the great, overarching damage from the destruction of the place of the house of our Gd, but because they were righteous they rallied themselves and restrained the storm in their spirit, they overcame their sorrow, and they accepted it all with love. This is why they were punished – for the pain and mourning of others, they ought to have torn the seal of their heart, to have mourned and poured forth tears!

אמנם כל זה יתכן באם יקרה לו לאדם פרטי אסון הנוגע רק אל עצמו ובשרו אז כל אשר יראת ה׳ נוססה בקרבו... מחויב להצדיק עליו את הדין ולברך על הרעה כמו על הטובה כי זה דרך כל איש ישר הולך לסבול במנוחת נפש כל התלאות הבאות עליו... אכן שוד ושבר אם יקרו ויאתיו על איש ועל בני אדם יחד... אז אין להאיש ההוא אף כי פגעי הזמן נחתו בו יתר מבזולתו להרגיע את רוחו לבל יצר לו בצרת אחרים... באמרו כי מקבל הוא על עצמו באהבה, זאת היא מדה מגונה ודרך מכוערה דאין לקבל באהבה מכאוב, צער וצרת אחרים, והעושה ככה חולה על ראשו קללת חכמנו ז״ל, "ת״ר בזמן שישראל שרויין בצער ופירש אחד מהם באים שני מלאכי השרת ומניחים ידיהם על ראשו, 'פלוני זה שפירש מן הצבור אל יראה בנחמת הצבור" וכמו שפי׳ מאמרם ז״ל באנשי כפר סכניא... אחרי שחכמינו ז״ל בעצמם מעידים עליהם שהיו צדיקים גמורים איך יתכן להיות שלא יתאבלו על ירושלים?! אך היא הדבר שדברנו דגם המה ככל בית ישראל הרגישו גודל השבר הכללי מחורבן מקום בית אלקינו רק מאחר דהיו צדיקים התאמצו לעצור ברוחם הסער והבליגו על יגונם וקבלו הכל באהבה ולכן נענשו דעל צער ואבל אחרים הי׳ להם לקרוע סגור לבם להתאבל ולשפוך כמים דמעות שליש

You can find the original here.

The Rebbe, the Messiah and the Scandal of Orthodox Infallibility

[Warning: Depressing pre-Tisha b'Av post ahead.]

Remember the poem, Moshiach’s Hat, about how Mashiach arrived and no one would believe that he was Mashiach because he didn’t look like them? He had the wrong type of yarmulka, gartel or no gartel, curled payes or not, and so on?

["He's not the Moshiach!" -- Said one with a grin,
"Just look at his hat, -- At the pinches and brim!"
"That's right!" cried another -- With a grimace and frown,
"Whoever heard of Moshiach, -- With a brim that's turned down?"]

In the past I took that as Hallmark mussar, long on sentiment and short on substance. But lately I’ve been re-thinking it, because it has come to seem spot-on.

Before the last Lubavitcher Rebbe's passing, when I was asked what I thought about the question of his Mashiach-hood, my stock answer was, “He has my vote.” After all, the Rambam defines Mashiach, in part, as someone who leads/compels the Jewish people to follow Torah, and I felt he was doing a good job of it.

Maybe it's because in those days, I didn't have enough of a thought-through ideology to feel that my way was right. I don't know, but in the years since then I’ve changed, I think. Not about a hat, necessarily, but about other matters.

Today, what if I would hear about a Breslover who was doing just that, would I give him my vote? Or would I say, “Great man, but for his shtick of handing out books?”

Or if it was a Yeshivish leader who said secular studies were treif?

Or a political left-winger who wanted to exchange land and create a Palestinian state?

Orthodoxy, by definition, demands that I make the correct decisions, that I use the best information at my disposal and the best talents assigned to me to develop the “right” ideology and practice. But that easily leads me into believing that my approach is, in fact, the right approach, when in fact there is a difference between demanding perfection and guaranteeing perfection.

Over the years, I have come to believe, on some level, in my own Orthodox Infallibility, such that I would have difficulty trusting a Mashiach whose platform did not match mine.

This is wrong, and on Erev Tisha b’Av it does not give me a lot of hope.

Nachem: What Yerushalayim lacks in the absence of a Beit haMikdash

[Haveil Havalim is here; see it before or after Tisha b'Av]

This morning I delivered a brief shiur on the status of “Nachem” today; you can catch the audio here and the video here. As part of the shiur, we explored the idea that Yerushalayim is incomplete without a Beit haMikdash.

As I presented it, with a few of the relevant sources [and see the full source sheet here]:

Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the miracle of goodwill toward each other which was one of the miracles associated with the Beit haMikdash;
Pirkei Avot 5:5

עשרה נסים נעשו לאבותינו בבית המקדש... ולא אמר אדם לחברו צר לי המקום שאלין בירושלים

Ten miracles were performed for our ancestors in the Beit haMikdash… And no one ever said to his friend, ‘Space is too tight for me to stay in Yerushalayim.’

Talmud, Bava Metzia 30b

לא נחרבה ירושלים אלא מפני שהעמידו דבריהם על דין תורה

Yerushalayim was destroyed only because they stood on the letter of Torah law.

Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the Sanhedrin and Avodah which help people feel awe of Gd;
Talmud Yerushalmi Sotah 9:12

אבא בר רב ירמיה אמר זקינים משער שבתו וגו' אמר רב חסדא בראשונה היתה אימת סנהדרין עליהן ולא היו אומר' דברי נבלה בשיר אבל עכשיו שאין אימת סנהדרין עליהן הן אומרי' דברי נבלה בשיר

Rav Chisda said: In the beginning the awe of the Sanhedrin was upon them, and they did not say repellent things in their songs. Now that the awe of the Sanhedrin is not upon them, they say repellent things in their songs.

Tosafot, Bava Batra 21a כי

כי מציון תצא תורה - לפי שהיה רואה קדושה גדולה וכהנים עוסקים בעבודה היה מכוון לבו יותר ליראת שמים וללמוד תורה כדדרשי' בספרי למען תלמד ליראה וגו' גדול מעשר שני שמביא לידי תלמוד לפי שהיה עומד בירושלים עד שיאכל מעשר שני שלו והיה רואה שכולם עוסקים במלאכת שמים ובעבודה היה גם הוא מכוון ליראת שמים ועוסק בתורה.

When one would see the great sanctity, and the Kohanim involved in the service, one would direct his heart toward awe of Heaven and to learn Torah, as we learn: Maaser sheni is great, for it brings people to learn…

Yerushalayim without a Beit haMikdash lacks the beauty that came from the Bikkurim, Maaser Sheni and Neta Revay produce brought to the city.
Mishnah, Bikkurim 3:3-5

הקרובים מביאים התאנים והענבים והרחוקים מביאים גרוגרות וצמוקים והשור הולך לפניהם וקרניו מצופות זהב ועטרת של זית בראשו החליל מכה לפניהם עד שמגיעים קרוב לירושלם הגיעו קרוב לירושלם שלחו לפניהם ועטרו את בכוריהם הפחות הסגנים והגזברים יוצאים לקראתם לפי כבוד הנכנסים היו יוצאים וכל בעלי אומניות שבירושלם עומדים לפניהם ושואלין בשלומם אחינו אנשי המקום פלוני באתם לשלום: החליל מכה לפניהם עד שמגיעין להר הבית הגיעו להר הבית אפילו אגריפס המלך נוטל הסל על כתפו ונכנס עד שמגיע לעזרה הגיע לעזרה ודברו הלוים בשיר ארוממך ד' כי דליתני ולא שמחת אויבי לי (תהלים ל): הגוזלות שעל גבי הסלים היו עולות ומה שבידם נותנים לכהנים:

Those who lived nearby brought figs and grapes; those who were more distant brought dried figs and raisins. Oxen walked before them, horns plated with gold and olive wreaths on their heads and the chalil banging before them until they neared Yerushalayim. Then they sent messengers before them, and decorated their fruit. The officers came out to greet them, according to the status of those who were entering. Every tradesman in Yerushalayim stood up before them and greeted them, “Our brothers from X, you have come in peace!” The chalil was struck before them until they reached Har haBayit; at that point even King Agrippas put a basket on his shoulder and entered, until they reached the azarah…

Talmud, Rosh haShanah 31b

כרם רבעי היה עולה לירושלים מהלך יום לכל צד... מה טעם כדי לעטר שוקי ירושלים בפירות

The fourth-year grapes were brought to Yerushalayim from a day’s radius… to decorate the markets with produce.

After the shiur, a Yerushalmi [Jerusalemite] approached me and protested gently that Yerushalayim still possesses tremendous kedushah and beauty. This, of course, is a point that I would never contest; even if I disagreed, who am I, a chutznik, to speak of the beauty and stature of our national capital?! But denigrating Yerushalayim wasn’t my point; I was not trying to detract from what we have.

My point is that we do still lack for something.

When we complain about the strife that splits Yerushalayim’s residents, about this sect and that group being at each other’s throats and making the headlines for all of the wrong reasons, we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash, we were miraculously granted a spirit of שמח בחלקו, of being happy with what we had, and of not envying others their lot.

When we are upset by the way the municipality fails to honor Shabbat and the way that bachurim from yeshivot sometimes behave in ways that lack awe of Gd, we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash, the Sanhedrin and the Beit haMikdash formed an awe-inspiring presence.

And when we complain about the poverty and lack of urban infrastructure in Yerushalayim [despite its beauty!], we should recall that in the days of the Beit haMikdash this was a wealthy city.

We must be grateful for what we have, celebrating on Yom Yerushalayim this great gift we have been given. But we do still have a long way to go.

May all of us who mourn for Yerushalayim merit to see its complete reconstruction.

Re-post - Avoiding the appearance of showmanship is also showmanship

Tomorrow will be the first Shabbat Chazon that I am off the bimah since 1996. This is significant for me; those who know me are aware of the emotional toll the Haftorah of Chazon takes on me, and how hard it was for me to lein it annually.

Below is a post I first published, on this topic, two years ago; I'm still mulling this one.
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Once I landed on the bimah I was surprised to learn that somewhere inside me lurks a tendency to tear up. I cry on happy occasions and sad occasions. I cry when speaking at Kol Nidrei. I cry during Tefilat Geshem, especially if I am chazan (תולדותם נשפך דמם עליך כמים). I cry at Bar and Bat Mitzvahs.

Which brings me to the following incident: On the first Shabbos after it became clear that Ehud Goldwasser and Eldad Regev, ה' יקום דמם, had been killed, I stopped including their names in our shul’s prayer on behalf of hostages. That first week, I reached the spot where their names ought to have been inserted, and I just couldn’t go on. It took me a couple of minutes to be able to continue.

The following week, I received an email from someone assuring me that he believed wholeheartedly that what I had done was genuine, and not at all theatrical.

Of course, I now had to wonder: Did someone actually think that my crying was theatricality? Theatricality when crying over dead Israelis?!

Then, a couple of weeks later, I spoke in shul about a family who was moving out of our area. I have a longstanding emotional bond with this family. It was no surprise to me that I got choked up while speaking about them. But later I wondered: Did someone think that this, too, was rabbinic theatricality?

I don’t want to have people analyzing my tears and judging them authentic or phony, emotion or showmanship.

That discomfort shaped a decision I made this past week. In retrospect, think it was the wrong decision, but now it’s too late:

I cry every year as I read the Haftorah of Chazon. Some years it starts while I’m reciting the berachot, other years it waits for devastating lines like “מי בקש זאת מידכם רמוס חצרי, Who asked you for this, for you to come trample in My courtyard?” But it has happened pretty much every year, as best I can recall, since I started leining Chazon some fifteen years ago.

So this year, in the wake of that email and its implicit skepticism, I decided to ask someone else to read Chazon.

My replacement did a fine job on the Haftorah, and no one could see my emotion this year, but after having pondered my decision through Shabbat and Tisha b’Av, I think I was wrong to back out:

- Wrong for this specific case because, as I was told by a few people afterwards, my public emotion in reading Chazon helps them feel the impact of Tisha b’Av.

- Wrong in a more general sense because my crying is the “heter” allowing other people (yes, particularly men,) to express emotion in a public, religious context.

- And wrong a third time, because that email has, paradoxically, made me phony, or at least less authentic. That emailer convinced me I had to pretend not to cry; this Shabbat I was not the real me.

I’m still uncomfortable about crying, wondering what people think when they see the tears well up. But I don’t see that I have a choice. Gd-willing there will be no Shabbat Chazon next year… but if it should come up again, I’d like to think I would reverse this year’s reversal, and let the tears flow where they may.

It happened this Monday... or not? (Derashah: Chukat 5770)

[I wrote the following article for this week's Toronto Torah, and I liked it enough to post it here. Although it's not written as a derashah, I have labelled it that way because it could certainly serve as a foundation for a derashah.]

Some twenty-five hundred years ago this Monday, on the ninth of Tammuz, the walls of Jerusalem were breached by the Babylonians.

Or not.

Yirmiyahu placed the Babylonian invasion on the ninth of Tammuz, declaring (52:6-7), “In the fourth month, the ninth of the month, the famine strengthened in the city and there was no bread for the population. And the city was breached…” The sages (Taanit 28b) were perplexed, since we fast on the 17th of Tammuz, but Rava replied in the Talmud Bavli, “There is no problem; Yirmiyahu spoke regarding the first Beit haMikdash, whereas in the time of the second Beit haMikdash the city was breached on the 17th of Tammuz.” The Tur and Shulchan Aruch (Orach Chaim 549) cited Rava’s view as law, explaining that we fast for the second breach of Jerusalem because the destruction of the second Beit haMikdash is more severe for us.

Notwithstanding Rava’s explanation, the Talmud Yerushalmi (Taanit 4:5) offers a different version of events. This version addresses the conflict between Yirmiyahu and the tradition of fasting on the 17th of Tammuz, as well as the conflict between an indication by Yechezkel (26:1-2) that the first Beit haMikdash was destroyed on the first of Av and our tradition of commemorating the destruction on the ninth of Av. Clarifying this pair of prophetic passages, Rabbi Tanchum bar Chanilai contends that the calendar had become corrupted.

In brief: Rabbi Tanchum bar Chanilai argues that the Beit haMikdash was destroyed on the ninth of Av, and Yechezkel listed it as the first of the month because of “calendar confusion.” He continues to state that the Jews of Bavel knew that twenty-one days had passed between the invasion of Jerusalem and the fall of the Beit haMikdash. Therefore, with the destruction of the Beit haMikdash set as the first of Av, they considered the invasion as having occurred 21 days earlier, on the ninth of Tammuz.

All of the above leads to a simple question: Granted that the beleaguered population might have been confused, why did Yirmiyahu and Yechezkel record inaccurate dates? Can it be that these texts, canonized as prophecy, are simply inaccurate?

Tosafot [Rosh haShanah 18b] averred that yes, the prophets were handcuffed by popular perception. Chatam Sofer, though, writing on the Yerushalmi, contended that the confusion was actually the product of a proactive decision by those prophets to date the churban as the first of Av.

As Chatam Sofer explained, the destruction of the Beit haMikdash fulfilled Eichah 4:22, “The punishment of your sin is concluded.” Once the building was demolished, we entered a new world of consolation and re-birth, and so Yirmiyahu and Yechezkel dated the destruction as the first day of a new month [thereby necessitating the re-dating of the 21-day invasion as the ninth of Tammuz instead of the 17th of Tammuz], and indeed a new era.

Chatam Sofer’s suggestion is stunning in its presumption. Judaism views the calendar as sacrosanct, the very purpose of the creation of the celestial spheres; “He created the moon for the sake of the appointed times,” King David sang, building on Bereishit 1:14. We set our halachic lives by our days and months. Our first national mitzvah was the system of calculating the lunar month. And yet, Yirmiyahu and Yechezkel felt comfortable re-setting the clock, in clear defiance of the physical moon and the halachically infallible justices of the beit din, for the sake of making a philosophical statement about the new era we had entered!

This bold explanation should highlight for us the importance of new beginnings, a point also underscored by the arrangement of our own Tishah b’Av –centered mourning. Whereas normal mourning following a personal loss consists of consecutive, easing levels of grief, our mourning for the Beit haMikdash consists of intensifying levels, building up to Tishah b'Av. Then, immediately after the 10th of Av’s special commemorations end, the mourning ceases entirely and we being building anew. As the Chatam Sofer put it, “A new month, Menachem, begins.” This is a day deserving of the title, “Day One.”

Should Mashiach fail to arrive, we will soon enter the initial stage of mourning, on the talmudically corrected date of the 17th of Tammuz. May the value of our mourning up through Tishah b'Av, and our efforts at consolation in the new era thereafter, merit the rebuilding of our Beit haMikdash.

[For more on the Yerushalmi, see Yalkut Shimoni Melachim 249 and the explanation of Maharal to Rosh haShanah 18b. See also Tosafot Rosh haShanah 18b on the apparent Bavli/Yerushalmi contradiction and the approach of Gevurot Ari to Taanit 28b. And see Maharsha to Taanit 28b for a unique explanation of the calendar confusion.]

I visit chabad.org on Shabbos

(No, I don’t, but you’ll see what I mean in a few paragraphs.)

“Thou shalt not study Torah,” beginning at midday today, erev Tisha b’Av, as part of our mourning for the Beit haMikdash.

As the gemara (Taanit 30a) explains, “One may not learn Torah, Neviim or Ketuvim, or study mishnah or talmud, midrash, halachot or aggadot.” There are permitted exceptions, principally for sad topics and study related to mourning, but the overall theme is that Torah learning is a joyous experience, so we don’t engage in it on Tisha b’Av.

[I wonder if this law is not also related to the aftermath of the Golden Calf. Per the midrash, when the Jews received the Torah they also received special crowns. After the Golden Calf, HaShem instructed them, “Remove your crown” (Shemot 32:5-6), apparently a reference those crowns. “You have sinned; you don’t deserve to don the glory of Torah.”]

Many of us take this law lightly; how could Gd punish a Jew for studying Torah?

And we have other such limitations on Torah study. We are not to think about Torah in the bathroom, or when inappropriately dressed. We are taught that it is sinful to study Torah without first reciting birchot hatorah, the special blessings for Torah study. And for all of them, there are those who ignore them; how could Gd punish a Jew for studying Torah?

It reminds me of the Jew who studies the parshah every Shabbat by reading divrei torah on torah.org, or ou.org, or chabad.org.

Were this Jew not reading divrei torah on-line, he would likely be engaged in some other activity that I consider desecration of Shabbat – shopping at the mall, driving to a park, talking on the phone, flipping channels on TV. In that sense, it’s better that he read divrei torah, I suppose.

Again: How could Gd punish a Jew for studying Torah?

I suppose it comes down to our sense of ownership of Torah, our feeling that we have a certain right to evaluate and set priorities among its various imperatives. A mitzvah is only a mitzvah when the Torah defines it as a mitzvah.

Perhaps a good Tisha b’Av example of this is in the Kamtza/Bar Kamtza story (Gittin 55b-56a, and see also the version in Eichah Rabbah), when the sages are seated at a feast and Bar Kamtza is embarrassed by the host.

The sages don’t protest, because they think it’s better to be humble (see the Eichah Rabbah version, especially). But the Torah’s priority is to protect Bar Kamtza, who is being attacked.

And perhaps the same thing happened with the rabbis in the Brooklyn/New Jersey scandal of this past week. Maybe they thought they were helping generate tzedakah money, maybe they had some other justification for committing these financial crimes. [I am NOT justifying it; my point is that people who set their own priorities get into trouble.]

When we set our own priorities, we get skewed results and rationalizations. Better to hold off on Torah (other than the permitted parts) during Tisha b’Av, remove the crown, absorb the intense reality of exile, and get started on rebuilding the Beit haMikdash.

[Of course, the big problem is when skewed-view human beings try to define the Torah’s objective priorities… implementation is harder than theory…]

For in truth, no period lives for itself alone

I love reading, and re-reading, Rav Hirsch; he has few peers for both depth and eloquence.

R' Samson Raphael Hirsch, Horeb, paragraph 234:

"Just as the Torah preserves those moments when Israel flourished, and raises as holy above other days in the year those festival days commemorating the creation of the people and its preservation so that Israel should devote itself to the remembrance and the study of the truths they posit, whereby Israel may live and learn to understand itself and dedicate itself to the fulfilment of its allotted tasks, so did our sages institute remembrance days for those moments which Israel experienced when its blossoms were seen to fall, remembrance days which summon Israel to the purification as well as to the sanctification of its life and to the proper fulfilment of its conduct of life.

"For the fathers of our people understood profoundly that the fall of the people was not the pathway to the grave. It but changed the scene for Israel's activity, summoning it to new obligations, or, rather, to another aspect of that same fulfilment of its way of living which was its 'vocation' in times of prosperity.

"They saw that as in happy days Israel received the call to revere Gd humbly and to love Him with gladness, so did Israel receive the call to be the lofty example, steadfastly to keep its faith in Gd as well as its filial piety even in the days of misfortune.

"They saw that the time of its dispersion, whose labour-pangs it experienced, was but a fatherly chastisement to teach Israel, to strip it of pleasure-seeking and self-seeking, both of which undermine Israel's fortune.

"They saw that this period had as its immediate aim a betterment and a renewal of life, with the ultimate goal of furthering the advancement of all mankind.

"They realized how necessary for that upbringing, which was to act as a guide, were warnings and correctings and challenge; and, imbued with the spirit of the Torah, they recognized an excellent means in their subjective retrospect of the past.

"For in truth, no period lives for itself alone. Generations rise and fall so that those who follow may well learn from the glow of their sunrise as well as from that of their sunset; that they may reap the fruits of the rise and the fall of those who went before, avoid their errors and go forward and upward, basing their edifice upon the virtues of their progenitors."

[This week's Haveil Havalim is here.]

The Nine Days, and the challenge of hoping for mashiach and redemption

The Nine Days of intense mourning begin tonight, leading up to Tisha b’Av. As always, at this time of year I grow depressed. I think about how many times I have observed this period, how many times our nation has observed this period, without seeing the geulah (redemption).

It’s a cruel parody of hope, the way we sing “Next year in a rebuilt Yerushalayim (and while I recognize and value what we have, it is not a re-built Yerushalayim; I'm not doing the Nachem debate right now, I've done that elsewhere),” and the way we say to each other in advance of the Three Weeks, “If mashiach hasn’t come by then.”

Over a decade ago I spent time transcribing tapes of Rav Soloveichik’s Tisha b’Av shiurim, and I can hear his voice talking about how communities in Europe buried their kinot books after each Tisha b’Av, declaring that they wouldn’t need those books the following year. The Rav would point out the line in the kinot (mourning prayers of Tisha b’Av), “בכל שנה אומרת היא השנה הזאת,” “Each year she declares: This is the year!”

It’s all too depressing.

My depression comes from two opposite approaches, clobbering me in the middle:

1) I am wowed by the heights that observant Jewry has reached. I agree with those who say that we have reached a stage at which more Jews, in sheer numbers although not in percentage of the nation, are more learned and more carefully observant and more full of chesed, than at any point since the destruction of the beit hamikdash. We have public shiurim and mitzvah campaigns and outreach efforts, and even if they are not enough, is not our motivation sincere and our effort complete, and do we not view effort, rather than achievement, as the essence?

And so I wonder: What more can we do, to deserve that a mashiach-quality leader be sent for us? If we do all of this and still are not worthy, what more can we possibly do?

2) And then, on the other end, I see how flawed we are, how flawed all of us are, everywhere on the spectrum of religiosity. Even those who are most careful about the kashrut of their meat are guilty of lashon hara (harmful speech), even those who are most careful about learning Torah are guilty of sinat chinam (unfounded animosity toward others), even those who are most benevolent toward others are still spending unearthly sums on luxury and working long hours to fund it instead of dedicating their time to Torah. And more Jews, in sheer numbers as well as in percentage of the nation, are more corrupt or farther from Judaism than at any point since the destruction of the beit hamikdash.

These are terrible things to say, I know; the great Yeshayah was punished for saying “כסדם היינו, We were like Sodom.” So I will not compare us to Sdom, but I will say that in my experience, and certainly based on myself, we are, as a nation, far from where we need to be.

And I wonder: How, then, can we be expected to deserve a mashiach-quality leader, and redemption? Is it at all possible, or are we set up to fail?


Which, perhaps, is one reason why the Rambam demanded that we believe in the arrival of Mashiach, “להאמין ולאמת שיבא – to trust in his arrival and to see it as truth.” Working toward being worthy of mashiach is insufficient, because depression is too tempting; we need to believe that we can bring it, that this world can be worthy. If we cannot believe it, we cannot bring it.

We need to believe; we need to hope. But how can I?

My approach: I won’t deny the huge odds, but I will ignore them. I will focus on the immediate job in front of me – this class, this relationship, this page of gemara, this tefillah (prayer). I will plod away, as Jews have for 1941 years. I will focus not on a mega-goal of mashiach, but on a micro-goal of mitzvah.

And I will hope and trust in redemption, that each successive step will bring us one step closer to defying those odds.

Daf: Gittin 58-60 – The captive R’ Yishmael ben Elisa, ransoming captives, Recording Spoken Torah

Still trying to catch up on my Daf notes. It should be easier as we conclude the Tisha b'Av passages and move into more law-oriented material... For those who are looking for other material, jump down to read about my neurotic dream, or go here to read my rejection of the tyranny of 120.

Gittin 58a
I wonder if the 40 Seah and 9 Kav reference, regarding the quantity of tefillin of the Betar victims, is connected to the purification that comes from immersing in 40 Seah or, in certain cases, standing beneath a flow of 9 Kav of water.

R’ Yehoshua ben Chananiah is the one to encounter a Jewish prisoner in Rome because he was involved with the Roman aristocracy in general, as we see in many places in the gemara.

On the imprisoned child’s “ordered hair קווצותיו תלתלים,” see Nazir 4b on the righteous Nazir, who has the same description.

The imprisoned child, a young R’ Yishmael ben Elisha, completes the pasuk begun by R’ Yehoshua ben Chananiah. R’ Yehoshua ben Chananiah is impressed, and he declares that he Is certain this child is providing/will provide halachic rulings for Israel.
One standard explanation is that he is impressed by the child’s knowledge, as well as his acceptance of Divine judgment (as expressed in the pasuk he quoted).
However, note that in a similar passage in Nazir 29b with R’ Chanina, the child actually is offering a ruling with his statement, now. The same could be true here – perhaps the future R’ Yishmael ben Elisha is “providing a ruling” by completing the pasuk, reminding R’ Yehoshua ben Chananiah that one may not cite only half a pasuk.

Note that there are at least 2, and possibly 3, sages named R’ Yishmael ben Elisha, like this child in the story. See Tosafot Yevamot 104a אמר.

See Tosafot כל ממון on the problem of ransoming captives for an astronomical amount of money, and see my comments on another Tosafot here. Our Tosafot adds a justification to the three items already on the list of justifications in that other Tosafot: A captive whose life is in danger.


Gittin 59a
See Tosafot דכולהו on why Rebbe did not vote first in his beit din – as a matter of procedure, or as a matter of personal humility.


Gittin 59b
I think R’ Yitzchak Nafcha’s pasuk adds to Rav Matnah’s pasuk, because it is in a context of the kohanim receiving a gift – an honor which is like that of an aliyah.


Gittin 60a
The gemara here justifies the recording of works of aggada (extra-legal comments on Torah passages), despite the standing prohibition against recording the Spoken Torah, because otherwise people would forget them. This practice of writing things down preceded the recording of the mishnah; we find in the gemara references to מגילת סתרים, scrolls recorded and kept in secret, for example.
Sfat Emet to Megilah 3a notes that the prohibition was against publishing these scrolls, not against recording them.
Pnei Yehoshua to Megilah 3a observes that the concern that drove the sages to write down the Spoken Torah was not really about forgetting, but rather was about the intramural division and strife that would result from that forgetting.

Note that Rashi and Rambam disagree on the meaning of בסירוגין here.


Gittin 60b
The gemara talks about not having “shofar” rotate from place to place, lest people think it is being moved because of a problem at the first site. See Rashi’s two views on what they mean with the “shofar” here, and Tosafot’s reason for preferring his second explanation.

Daf: Gittin 55a-56a - Feeding a child treif, suspect kiddush HaShem, Bar Kamtza's story

Still catching up, but I have tons of notes on 56-58… For those who aren't into this, feel free to jump down and see my comments on the Agunah crisis and on the rabbinic role in End of Life situations.

Gittin 55a
The gemara asks why a cheresh (deaf and mute person whose intelligence cannot be ascertained and who cannot be educated) could not eat terumah; after all, she would be like a child, who is not obligated in mitzvot, and may therefore eat non-kosher food.
Note that this permits a child to eat non-kosher food, but it does not permit us to give him non-kosher food to eat – and the same would be true for a cheresh. Therefore, one need not stop a minor or a mentally challenged person from eating non-kosher, but one may not actively give that person non-kosher food to eat. See the comments of Aruch haShulchan Orach Chaim 266:15-16.

The ban against giving a cheresh terumah d’rabbanan lest he give a chereshet terumah d’orayta must be a case of חדא גזירה היא.

The gemara says that the sages decreed that a stolen sin offering would be valid, lest kohanim be upset that they had been fooled into bringing an invalid, stolen offering. But how can the sages make an offering acceptable?! I presume this is a case of hefker beit din, the sages removing the item from its owner, as we have discussed in other cases.


Gittin 55b
Note Tosafot שלא.

The gemara here presents a decree against using stolen offerings, lest people say that the altar consumes stolen goods. It is not clear to me why this should be a concern – if the practice is truly legal, then what kind of kiddush HaShem is there in altering that law?!

Here we arrive at the famous “Tisha b’Av” gemara, so named because it deals with the destruction of the two Batei Mikdash [Jerusalem Temples] and the destruction of Beitar, so that one is permitted to learn this mournful segment on Tisha b’Av, even when the normal joy of learning Torah is prohibited.
I don’t have the time to transcribe all of my notes on this gemara, but I’ll include some ‘highlights’.

See Tosafot אשרי.


Gittin 56a
Note that the anonymous host of the party invites his guests via a servant, but he kicks out the guests with his own two hands. As we see regarding Bilam’s saddling of his donkey, השנאה מקלקלת את השורה, Hatred corrupts the normal order of things.

The “third calf” is supposed to be especially fine. See Tosafot for a beginning of some of the views on the definition of “עגלא תילתא – third calf.”

On the blemish to the animal’s mouth or eye, see the Maharsha’s comment on what Bar Kamtza was trying to say by creating these types of blemishes.

I was horrified, some years ago, to hear a well-respected rav and rosh yeshiva speak on the story of Bar Kamtza and arrive at the statement that the Beit haMikdash was destroyed because of ענוותנותו של ר' זכריה בן אבקולוס, the humility and patience of R’ Zecharyah ben Avkulus, and give a bizarre, original reading in an attempt to explain how this word might apply to R’ Zecharyah’s rejection of killing Bar Kamtza and rejection of bringing the korban. This is what happens when we refuse to read alternative editions. The midrash in Eichah Rabbah has this story, but adds one detail which makes everything clear: R’ Zecharyah ben Avkulus was at the party at which Bar Kamtza was humililiated, and he did not protest, feeling he was not worthy. This perfect fits ענוותנותו as it is used here and elsewhere, and no creative twisting is necessary.

The Nero mentioned here was not Emperor Nero, but rather a general by that name. See the Maharam Shif.

Nero’s refusal of his mission to destroy Jerusalem is important – it matches the Rambam’s point regarding Nevuchadnezzar and Free Will, that even if Gd wants something bad to happen, you don’t have to be the one to do it.

The gemara’s mention of “hungry as a dog” here is interesting; in the interest of clean language, we usually prefer to say “as a goat,” per Pesachim 3b.

Marta bat Baytus is not an actual name. “Marta” is a Matron, the feminine of Mar. Baytus (Boethus) was a wealthy family.

Maharsha notes the parallel between the 4 types of flour and the 4 flour offerings of the Beit haMikdash.

Marta and her servant both don’t think ahead, to realize that soon everything will be gone from the market. This reflects the general feeling of Jews of that time, that things couldn’t get any worse and that Gd would save them. Rav Y. D. Soloveitchik used to make this point on the kinah of שבת סורו, that, per Yirmiyah himself, the Jews always believed that HaShem would save them.

The reference to Abba Sikra as head of the Zealots is interesting; there were Sicarii zealots around, per the historians, known by that name because it was the title for the dagger they used. This also fits the Aramaic of סיקרא – Sikra for the color red (as in חוט הסיקרא and a red ink called סיקרא).