Still on The Journey
By Rabbi Pinchos Lipschutz
On Friday, we usher in the month of Av, which
conjures up so many bitter collective memories. On Shabbos, we lain the
parshiyos of Mattos and Masei, which discuss the travels
of the Jewish people in the desert. And then, when done, we call out to
ourselves and each other, “Chazak, chazak, venischazeik - Let us be
strong.”
The experience of the Jewish people ever since our founding
has been full of hills and valleys, ups and downs, times of great tragedy and
times of great deliverance, periods of enormous destruction and periods of
tremendous growth.
And it’s not only extended periods, because even during
times of relative calm, such as ours, there are great tragedies as well as
times of great exhilaration. Our job is not to be broken by tragedy and not to
become complacent when things are going well. The parshiyos of Sefer
Bamidbar are full of the ups and downs of Klal Yisroel, the
nation rising to great heights and then suddenly plunging to catastrophic sin
and then climbing back up.
Mattos and Masei read like the
pattern of our people since the churban. We were here, we went there, we
stayed for a while, and then we moved on to somewhere else, until we finally
reached the Promised Land. We are still on the journey, however, traveling the
world, as if on a giant cruise ship, docking in one place and then getting back
onto the ship to decamp in some other city. We’ve been on that ship for almost
two thousand years and have gotten seasick many times over as we await docking
at our final destination with the arrival of Moshiach.
Throughout
our history, the first week of Av has seen wrenching, with catastrophic
events for the Jewish people. That legacy of sorrow and disaster continues.
It’s a sadness shrouded in this rootlessness, a sense that things are not as
they should be and we are not where we should be.
As we enter Chodesh Av, we wonder what we can do to
reverse that cycle. When will it end?
Our search for a ray of hope begins with the awareness that
the root of all our sadness and misery is the churban Bais Hamikdosh. We
reflect on the Gemara in Maseches Yoma (9b) that teaches that the
first Bais Hamikdosh was destroyed because we did not properly observe
the halachos of avodah zorah, gilui arayos and shefichas
domim.
The Gemara says that at the time of the destruction
of the second Bais Hamikdosh, the Jews were proficient in Torah and gemillus
chassodim. What brought about that churban was sinas chinom.
We’ve heard it so many times, but apparently we need to
continue hearing that since sinas chinom caused the churban, the
final redemption likely won’t take place until we have all been cured and
cleansed from that sinful failing, ridding ourselves of the ridiculous hatred
that seems to accompany the Jewish people wherever we are. Somehow, there is
always a fight going on or brewing. For some reason, we can’t disagree without
getting into a battle and disparaging one another.
When will we say that we’ve had enough of hating others?
When will we stop dividing ourselves into different factions?
Klal Yisroel has many shevotim with
differing customs all rooted in Torah. Why must we call into question observant
people who have different customs than us? Why can’t we decide once and for all
that what unites us is greater than what divides us and stop disparaging people
who don’t behave exactly the way we do?
Chodesh Av is about connection. It is about
a relationship that was severed, to ultimately be renewed. We are working
towards returning to our portion in Eretz Yisroel.
The parshiyos of Mattos and Masei are
always read during the period of the Three Weeks. They deal with the connection
of the Jewish people to Eretz Yisroel. We are connected to that land not only
as a nation, but also as individuals.
The parshiyos contain the seeds of our geulah,
lessons for us to improve our behavior in golus in order to merit our
share in Eretz Yisroel.
Parshas Mattos begins with the laws of nedorim
and shavuos, different types of vows and promises a person makes, and
the obligation “not to defile your words and to do whatever you said you would”
(30:3).
In our society, words are thrown around carelessly,
sometimes to impress and sometimes just to pass time. In the social media
generation, everything is superficial, most of all words. They are used to
express opinions and feelings that contain little meaning and no depth. Little
thought goes into what is said, or written. They are just released to provoke a
momentary rise, a passing chuckle, and then on to the next silly thought. And
if someone gets hurt in the process, it is of little concern.
There was a time when people valued written and spoken
words, when they perceived the inherent value of every utterance. People
thought before speaking, before writing, and certainly before publishing. Today
- not to sound like a kvetch - people post and publish whatever pops
into their head, without thinking about how it will impact other people, and
whether it will bring harm or benefit anyone in any way.
We need to remember that words affect us and other people.
What we say affects other people. To end the golus and help rebuild the Bais
Hamikdosh, we should think before we speak and ensure that our speech is
neither hurtful nor insulting.
Words have the power to break and to repair. The words we
use can destroy a person’s self-confidence or build it up. Words heal and words
sicken. Words bring people together and words separate people. Words can make
enemies into friends and friends into enemies. The words we use have lasting
repercussions.
In this period of the Nine Days, among the other things we
do to mark the churban and seek to bring about the redemption, we can
add to the list to be careful about what we say and write, refraining from
engaging in idle chatter and certainly when it is harmful, hurtful, and without
any benefit.
With such gestures, we can impress upon ourselves the great
loss as we aspire to reach the levels of our forefathers with a home for the Shechinah
in our world.
We know that whatever happens to us is but a sentence in an
unfolding story. Chapters have been completed and many more remain to be
written. We must forge ahead to our destiny, neither tiring nor being satisfied
with past accomplishments, nor becoming bogged down by failure.
On Tisha B’Av, we mourn the tragedy of the loss of
the Bais Hamikdosh. We also mourn the loss of Beitar. While we commonly
understand that the tragedy of Beitar was that tens of thousands of Jews were
killed in that city by the Romans after the churban, the Rambam (Hilchos
Taanis 5) describes it a little differently:
“A great city by the name of Beitar was captured. Inside
were many tens of thousands of Jewish people. They had a great king whom all of
Yisroel and the rabbis believed was the king Moshiach. He fell into the hands
of the gentiles and they were all killed. It was a great tragedy, as great as
the destruction of the Bais Hamikdosh.”
Rav Moshe Shapiro explained that the tragedy was that their
king, Bar Kochva, who could have been Moshiach, was killed. What could
have been a period of redemption instead became one of destruction. Through
their chatoim, an era that could have returned the Jews to the state
they awaited since the chet hameraglim turned into tragedy. That is what
we mourn on Tisha B’Av.
We have come so close to the redemption that we can hear
the footsteps of Moshiach and suffer from the chevlei Moshiach.
Before Moshiach’s arrival, the tumah of the world increases, as
the Soton fights to prevent his arrival.
We must work to raise the levels of kedusha in this
world so that we can overcome the kochos hatumah and allow Moshiach
to reveal himself. It is plainly evident to anyone that tumah is
spreading rapidly. It has a foothold everywhere and many have become entangled
in its temptatious grasp.
The posuk tells us, “Tzion bemishpot tipodeh
veshoveha betzedakah.” If we do what is correct and engage in righteousness
and charity, we strengthen kedusha in the world and weaken the koach
hatumah.
Nisyonos abound. The test of greatness is
how you handle a moment you didn’t expect. If you have strengthened yourself
through learning Torah and seforim such as Chovos Halevavos and Mesilas
Yeshorim, you will be able to withstand difficult situations. The yeitzer
hora won’t be able to destroy you. Even if you temporarily fail, you will
be able to rebound.
The
Satmar Rebbe, Rav Yoel Teitelbaum, would say that following the awful tragedies
of the Holocaust, Hashem was about to bring Moshiach. As a taste of the
redemption to come, He gave the Jewish people the Land of Israel. It wasn’t
complete ownership; it was in the hands of scoffers. The Bais Hamikdosh
wasn’t returned; halacha did not rule. It was a taste of things to come.
But the Jewish people were satisfied with the bone that had been thrown to
them, so Hashem said, “If so, you aren’t deserving of the redemption,” and we
were left with this small semblance of what could be.
Like two thousand years ago in Beitar, we were so close to
redemption, but we transgressed. The blood that could have been the fuel of geulah
was spilled in yet another churban.
It is not enough to abstain from swimming, music, and
wearing new clothes. We also must realize that there is something wrong with us
and the way we live. We need to know that we are not meant to be here, that we
are in golus, removed from our right place in the world. We need to know
that we, with the way we live, act and speak, have the ability to bring about
the geulah.
We travel. We go to Eretz Yisroel and tour the Holy Land.
We go to Yerushalayim and tear kriah at the sites of the churban.
We go to the place from where the Shechinah never left and stand at the Kosel,
imagining what was and what will be. We go to Bais Lechem and Chevron to daven
at the kevorim of the avos and imahos. We feel their
presence and beseech Hashem to help us in their merit. We ask to be united with
them at techiyas hameisim.
At great expense, people travel to the alter heim in
the countries of Lithuania, Hungary, Poland, Belarus, Romania, Serbia,
Slovakia, Croatia, Germany, Morocco, Spain, Turkey, and the other stations
along the path of golus. They visit the old botei medrash, shuls,
yeshivos and cemeteries, and daven to be united with our
ancestors.
Wherever Jews find themselves these days, we mourn all the
terrible tragedies that befell us since the Botei Mikdosh were
destroyed. We get past the usual superficiality and frivolity. We take a break
from the hubbub of life and think about all the persecutions, inquisitions,
murders, pogroms, destruction and ruin that the Jewish people have suffered
since we went into golus until the Holocaust and this very day. We think
about all the untimely deaths and losses, and we seriously ponder why they
happened and what we can do about it.
Our ship sailed a long time ago, it is now approaching the port and about
to lay anchor. A large ship needs tugboats to push and navigate it to shore. We
are all little tugboats. Let’s give it the final push it needs.