I was recently at a conference about post-October 7th Israel education, and there was a debate amongst the presenters: should we focus on antisemitism as a jumping-off point for our discussions, or should we focus on building Jewish identity through teaching a Judaism of joy, not focusing on tragedy?
I received a letter from the Harold Grinspoon, a noted Jewish philanthropist who started PJ Library. It lists some of the worst tragedies experienced by the Jewish people in a letter he wrote titled, “Why am I an Avid Zionist.”
Here’s the first page, which you can read. The rest is a collection of tragedies that have befallen our people from our beginning until October 7, 2024.
The question is, does this motivate you to be more Jewish, more supportive of Israel, or less?
We are also just days away from the Jewish holiday of Tisha B’av, when we not only mourn the loss of the Holy Temples but also have a strong peoplehood connection to this holiday in that we remember all the catastrophes that we’ve experienced. It is no coincidence that we began this book, Dvarim, around this holiday of Tisha B’av, a time when we reflect upon that question: can we derive some sort of greater meaning in remembering our painful past year after year?
Our parashah begins with Moses's last speech before Bnai Israel enter the land. For not being a man of words, he sure does speak a lot here. If Moses delivered the speech at around 100 words per minute, it would take approximately 2 hours and 20 minutes.
The book begins with the words:
אֵלֶּה הַדְּבָרִים אֲשֶׁר דִּבֶּר מֹשֶׁה אֶל־כׇּל־יִשְׂרָאֵל בְּעֵבֶר הַיַּרְדֵּן בַּמִּדְבָּר בָּעֲרָבָה מוֹל סוּף בֵּין־פָּארָן וּבֵין־תֹּפֶל וְלָבָן וַחֲצֵרֹת וְדִי זָהָב׃
“These are the words that Moses addressed to all Israel on the other side of the Jordan.—Through the wilderness, in the Arabah near Suph, between Paran and Tophel, Laban, Hazeroth, and Di-zahab,”
In this first line, Moshe lists a number of places, an itinerary, but there is something behind each place, a feeling that the listener understands as he hears them read and the midrash picks up on it. Rashi, quoting the midrash, says that these opening words are actually words of rebuke. The places that are listed in these chapters aren't the 'happy' places; rather, they are the places where Bnai Israel made God angry. He also brings up a bitter point: the episode of the spies. As far as sins in the wilderness, this may not have been the biggest one. One commentator, Abravanel wonders why he does not bring up the incident at the Golden calf? The answer is that after the incident at the Golden calf, even though the people were punished, they were spared, but after the spy story, they generation of slaves was given a death sentence: they would not be allowed to enter the land, only their kids would. Their children are about to enter, and Moshe brings this fact to the forefront for a reason: he wants them to learn from the mistakes of their parents of losing the land.
Let us fast forward to the destruction of the Second Temple, and the 9th of Av. It was on this day that we lost our Temple, and in 136, when Beitar fell to the Romans, pretty much ending our control over the land of Israel until the last 100 years. Was it our ancestors' fault? In all actuality, probably not; one could say that we were at the wrong place at the wrong time at the hands of the greatest super power on earth at the time. But the Rabbis thought differently. They said that the destruction of Jerusalem came as a result of Sinat Chinam, causeless hatred, and they show it through the story of two men, Kamza and a Bar Kamza (click here for a video of the story).
In another part of the Talmud, the Rabbis come up with a series of reasons as to why the Temple was destroyed, and none of them blamed Rome. The reasons ranged from the desecration of Shabbat and lapses of prayer to economic injustice, failures of leadership and finally because there were no longer men of integrity there.
Why do the Rabbis focus on their own shortcomings? It looks like they learned from their teacher, Moshe.
The final book of the Torah, Deuteronomy focuses almost entirely on Moshe – it is his swan song, and the name of the book itself, words, shows how far Moshe has come. In Exodus 4:10, when God first speaks to Moshe and asks him to be the leader of the Israelites, he says to him, לֹא אִישׁ דְּבָרִים אָנֹכִי “I’m not a man of words.” Now, at the end of his life, Moshe is about to give an almost three hour speech!
He teaches us that we should not run away from the bad times, and they are challenges to us to over come them and better ourselves and the world. After the Temple was destroyed, we did not disband and disappear, rather, we evolved. Rabbinic Judaism was born from the ashes of the Temple. I want to end today not with destruction, but seeds of hope.
Rosh Chodesh Av has the distinction of being the darkest night of the darkest month on the Jewish calendar. It is during these dark times when we wonder: Is this the darkness of the tomb or is this the darkness of the womb? Can things get even worse than now?
Our brothers and sisters in Israel are living with the fear that they can be attacked at any moment. And lest we think we can breathe easy, let us remember that when Iran wanted to attack Israel in 1994, they chose to attack a Jewish community center, the AMIA center in Beunos Aires, Argentina, which killed 85 people and wounded 300 more.
And yet, despite the darkness of the past and the present, there is always hope for the future. The prophet Zechariah speaks of four fast days that will turn into days of rejoining. “Thus says the Lord of hosts: The fast of the fourth month, and the fast of the fifth, and the fast of the seventh, and the fast of the tenth, shall become times of joy and gladness, and cheerful feasts to the house of Judah; therefore love truth and peace.” (Zechariah 8:19) The fast of the fourth month is the seventeenth of Tammuz, the fifth month is Tisha B’Av, the seventh month is Tzom Gedalia, and the tenth month is the tenth of Tevet. These three minor fast days plus Tisha B’Av will become times of joy and gladness.
And there is another incredible teaching about Tisha B’av: on this day, the Messiah will be born. Our tradition teaches us that moments of sadness contain the seeds of redemption. The future will be better. During this month, just six days after Tisha B’av, we actually celebrate a joyous, but little known holiday, Tu B’av. Tu B’av is the Jewish love day; a day when couples came together, found each other, and planted seeds for the future.
We have a choice to look at our situation as a tomb, or a womb - as the end of something or the beginning of something. Both take place in the darkness - only one acknowledges that light will come.
Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai is famously known as one of the saviors of Judaism. After failing to convince the leaders of Jerusalem to make peace with Rome during the siege, he snuck himself out in a coffin and moved the Sanhedrin to a town called Yavneh.
His tomb became the womb of our people.
There is a story of Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai and his student Rabbi Yehoshua returning to the ashes of the Temple. They see the ruins and Rabbi Yeshuah cries out, “Oy! This place where we offered animal sacrifices that atoned for our sins is gone, what are we going to do now?” Rabbi Yohanan looked at him and said, “We can still gain atonement through deeds of loving kindness.”
In these moments of profound darkness, we are challenged to transform our perspective. Rabbi Yohanan ben Zakkai’s response to the destruction of the Temple wasn't to dwell in despair but to find a way forward, recognizing that even in the absence of the physical Temple, the spiritual essence of Judaism could continue and even thrive. This pivot from tragedy to opportunity is a powerful lesson for us today. We can choose to see our challenges, whether they be the physical destruction of the Temple or the modern threats faced by Israel, as insurmountable obstacles, or we can see them as catalysts for renewal and growth. The idea that the Messiah will be born on Tisha B'Av reminds us that within our darkest moments lie the seeds of redemption. The story of Rabbi Yohanan and his student teaches us that the heart of Judaism is not confined to a particular place or time but lives on through our actions and our commitment to loving-kindness.
As we navigate the complexities of this moment, especially in teaching about Israel and antisemitism, we should remember this enduring lesson. While acknowledging our history and the challenges we face is important, it is equally crucial to inspire our youth with the joy, love, and hope that Judaism offers. Just as the Rabbis transformed the tragedy of the Temple’s destruction into the flourishing of Rabbinic Judaism, we must balance our teaching of historical pain with the vibrant, life-affirming aspects of Jewish identity. By doing so, we not only honor the past but also ensure a future where our youth are deeply connected to their Jewish roots, motivated by a Judaism that is not defined by its tragedies but by its capacity to bring light into the world.
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