During Hurricane Sandy – the trees in my neighborhood took a
major hit. The trees that shaded our
yards and streets, the trees that created a canopy of color along the roads,
the trees where swings hung from branches, trees that we even gave names to –
the wind simply tore many of them out of the ground, and they ended up snagging
power lines, blocking the roadways, and even causing damage to homes and
fatalities when they fell.
The trees, one of the town’s greatest strengths became one
of the towns greatest weaknesses.
The same happens with us.
Our greatest strengths are our greatest potential weaknesses.
Tonight we begin our observance of Tisha B’Av, the Ninth day
of Av, the day that commemorates the destruction of both Jerusalem Temples and
many more tragedies of Jewish history, including the expulsion from Spain in
1492.
Who destroyed the Second Temple? The history books tell us it was the 10th
Roman Legion.
Our ancient Rabbis tell us we did it to ourselves.
They teach us that our greatest strengths became our
greatest weaknesses.
We were busy with Torah study, doing mitzvot, and gemilut
chasadim – acts of lovingkindness.
And so how could we imagine that our Holy Temple would be
destroyed? We were doing right. We were making the world a more holy
place. They teach us the Second Temple
was destroyed due to sinat chinam, causeless enmity, or as Rashi explains it,
pointing out the sins and faults of others when there was no cause to do so.
Exactly what strength became our weakness?
We were thoroughly immersed in learning, in awareness of
God, in selfless acts of helping one another.
Dr. Gordon Livingston explains that ‘practically any human
characteristic…even kindness…when indulged to an extreme can produce
undesirable results…we need to acknowledge that those qualities of which we are
most proud can prove our undoing.’
We can only speculate on what led to causeless enmity among
our ancestors. Perhaps we overindulged
in the pursuit of holiness to the point that we disregarded other priorities,
family, friends, our work, taking care of ourselves…The Talmud teaches many
stories about great teachers who sacrificed their families and well-being in
pursuit of Torah study…
Perhaps in our eagerness to study we began to believe only
our own perspective was correct. The
Torah does teach that one reason the Temple was destroyed was that we were over
zealous in making legal judgments, we judged too harshly.
Or in our eagerness to do mitzvot we began to take pride in
the fact we were doing mitzvot and we fell victim to self-importance.
Or in our zeal to help others we forgot about how vulnerable
and fragile we all are and neglected to be gentle and discrete.
Our greatest strengths are our greatest weaknesses.
It’s still hard to digest the Rabbis message that we
destroyed the Temple when the Romans set the fires and knocked it down.
It’s as hard to digest as the message that what we do best,
our blessings, can somehow lead to conflict even pain.
So should we try to do everything in moderation? Try to avoid extremes all the time? This sounds like a recipe for an unfulfilling
life, a life of walking on eggs, a life of never allowing ourselves to
experience the lows of loss and mourning, the highs of pure joy, and everything
in between. Our tradition holds us
accountable for the wonders of this world that we do not experience during our
lifetime.
Rather, we keep in mind that Tisha B’Av shares much with Yom
Kippur, the same sundown to sundown fast, the same restrictions, the same idea
that we must be reflective about ourselves, and with God, so that we can do
teshuvah, so that we can turn toward our best selves, and create the best
community for each other.
As Dr. Livingston continues and expands, ‘the final and
controlling paradox[is] only by embracing
our mortality can we be happy in the time we have….our ability to
experience any pleasure requires either a healthy denial or courageous
acceptance of the weight of time and the prospect of ultimate defeat.’
Instead of trying to walk the middle of the road, we should
live boldly, and with humility at the same time, humility enough to remember
that when our best talents and blessings turn into a tidal wave, we need to
throttle back, reevaluate the purpose of what we are doing and the process by
which we’re doing it. We need to be
fully comfortable with the unknown lifespan of events, of people, of
relationships, of all the things that are important to us.
And so, ironically, the message about Tisha B’av is that our
ancestors could, should have, contemplated that the Temple might be destroyed
in order to stay humble and recognize how their strengths turned into
weaknesses. The prophets said time and
again that the Temple itself
Moses helps our ancestors to learn this lesson. When we start reading tomorrow from
Deuteronomy, Rashi tells us how Moses reminds the people where they stayed in
the desert throughout the years of wandering, not just a list of places, but
specifically places where they challenged God, and so it is up to Moses, at
this moment of transition, to offer rebuke, and guidance, to them.
We hear today the voice of Moses, and the voice of our conscience,
knowing that we are as mortal and fragile as the trees that surround us, as the
stones of the ancient Temple.
Shabbat Shalom.
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