Tisha B'Av: What We Lost with the Churban

Topics

• Mourning Begins by Knowing What Was Lost
• Yirmiyahu and the Philosopher
• A Loss Felt Within the Jewish Soul
• Rabbi Yosei in the Ruin of Yerushalayim
• Exiled from the Father’s Table
• Shemittah and Bitachon
• The Two Roots of the Churban
• External Righteousness and Inner Distance
• The Inner Bond That Preserves a Jew
• The Russian Jews Who Knew Almost Nothing
• The Lifeline from the Mikdash to Every Neshamah
• Matzah as the First Act of Bitachon
• Eliyahu and the Restoration of Peace
• The Inner Absence of Peace
• Longing for the Beis HaMikdash

Transcript

## Mourning Begins by Knowing What Was Lost

As the Three Weeks and the Nine Days approach, we prepare for Tishah B’Av—the time designated for mourning the Churban HaBayis. To mourn properly, however, we must first understand what was lost. We must know what the Beis HaMikdash gave us when it stood and what is absent now that we live in galus. Without understanding the loss, the aveilus cannot be complete.

## Yirmiyahu and the Philosopher

The Rema relates a striking encounter involving the Greek philosopher Plato. After the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, Plato came to Yerushalayim with Nevuchadnetzar and found Yirmiyahu HaNavi weeping bitterly among the ruins.

Plato asked him two questions. First: “You are the wisest man of Israel. How can a mature and intelligent person cry over stones and wood? It is only a destroyed building.” Second: “Why cry over something that already happened? A wise person does not weep over the irretrievable past.”

Yirmiyahu responded by asking Plato to present his deepest philosophical questions—questions for which he had never found answers. Plato asked, and Yirmiyahu answered each one. Astonished by Yirmiyahu’s wisdom, Plato asked where such understanding came from.

Yirmiyahu told him: “Now you understand why I cry over these stones and wood. All of this wisdom came from this house.” The Beis HaMikdash was not merely a physical structure. It was the source of Torah illumination, clarity, and wisdom.

But regarding Plato’s second question—why Yirmiyahu cried over the past—Yirmiyahu answered that he could not explain it. Plato, despite all his brilliance, was not capable of understanding that answer.

What was so difficult to explain? Why was this beyond the comprehension of one of the world’s greatest philosophers? This question brings us to the essence of mourning the Churban.

## A Loss Felt Within the Jewish Soul

The answer is that Plato approached everything through *seichel*—reason and intellectual analysis. Yirmiyahu was telling him that the pain of the Churban is not merely an intellectual conclusion. It is a *hergesh*, an inner feeling carried by the Jewish soul. Either one feels it or one does not. It cannot be fully translated into philosophy.

Rav Chaim Volozhiner explains that the dwelling place of the Shechinah is not limited to the external Mishkan or Mikdash. The Torah says, *“V’asu li Mikdash v’shachanti b’socham”*—“They shall make for Me a Sanctuary, and I shall dwell among them” (Shemos 25:8). The verse does not say only that Hashem will dwell within the building, but *b’socham*—within Klal Yisrael. The inner dimensions of a Jew correspond to the different parts of the Beis HaMikdash; the heart is compared to the Kodesh HaKodashim.

The Churban therefore is not only something that happened outside us. Every Jew experiences an inner darkness, absence, and exile. Something within the Jewish soul has been diminished. Yirmiyahu could not explain this to Plato because Plato saw destroyed stones; Yirmiyahu felt a destruction within himself. Nor was Yirmiyahu crying only over the past. The Churban remains a present reality inside every Jew.

## Rabbi Yosei in the Ruin of Yerushalayim

This also illuminates the Gemara’s account of Rabbi Yosei, who entered one of the ruins of Yerushalayim to pray. Something within him was drawn toward the Churban. Eliyahu HaNavi waited for him at the entrance and afterward asked what he had heard. Rabbi Yosei described a Divine voice mourning the exile of the children from their Father’s table. Eliyahu told him that this lament is heard whenever Jews enter their batei midrash and respond in praise of Hashem (Berachos 3a).

The Gemara expresses two realities together. On one hand, *“Ashrei haMelech shemekalsin oso b’veiso kach”*—fortunate is the King who is praised in His house. We still relate to Hashem as King through Torah, tefillah, and praise. On the other hand, *“Oy lahem labanim shegalu mei’al shulchan avihem”*—woe to the children exiled from their Father’s table.

The relationship of King and subjects remains. What was weakened was the intimate relationship of Father and children: the child’s complete nearness, trust, and dependence upon the father’s table. That is the particular loss of galus.

## Exiled from the Father’s Table

A king and his subjects do not necessarily share a constant, intimate relationship. A subject may enter, praise the king, and leave. A child who is *someich al shulchan aviv*, however, lives from the father’s table. He does not carry the burden of providing for himself; he depends naturally and completely upon his father.

That was the relationship weakened by the Churban. We can still praise Hashem as King, learn His Torah, and daven to Him. But *“Oy lahem labanim shegalu mei’al shulchan avihem”* describes the loss of the child’s immediate dependence upon the Father. Galus introduced distance into that bond.

## Shemittah and Bitachon

Chazal connect the exile with the failure to observe Shemittah. The Torah itself says that during exile the land would rest and receive the sabbatical years that had been denied to it (Vayikra 26:34–35; II Divrei HaYamim 36:20–21). A Midrashic teaching on *“sachaku al mishbateha”* describes the nations laughing at Klal Yisrael: when you possessed the land, you did not observe its laws; now, in exile, you are forced to experience their consequence.

But Shemittah is a mitzvah dependent upon Eretz Yisrael. How can its lesson accompany the Jew into chutz la’aretz?

The inner foundation of Shemittah is bitachon. For an entire year the landowner ceases ordinary cultivation and relies upon Hashem’s promise: *“V’tzivisi es birchasi”*—“I shall command My blessing” (Vayikra 25:21). In Eretz Yisrael, Klal Yisrael failed to preserve that reliance. Galus therefore requires us to rebuild the inner Shemittah even when the agricultural mitzvah itself cannot be practiced in the same manner: to live in ways that demonstrate trust in Hashem.

The child at his father’s table does not wake each morning wondering who will feed him. The table is set because his father is caring for him. So too, the lost quality of *someich al shulchan aviv* is the lost clarity of bitachon. The Churban weakened the felt awareness that Hashem carries us and provides for us at every moment.

## The Two Roots of the Churban

The Beis HaLevi explains that two central sins in the Midbar became roots of the later destructions: the Chet HaEgel and the Chet HaMeraglim.

The Chet HaEgel contained the elements later identified with the destruction of the First Beis HaMikdash: avodah zarah, gilui arayos, and shefichus damim. Chazal teach that the First Temple was destroyed because these three grave sins had become prevalent (Yoma 9b).

The Chet HaMeraglim, by contrast, was a collapse of emunah and bitachon. Hashem was leading Klal Yisrael toward Eretz Yisrael and displaying goodness at every stage, yet the Meraglim interpreted the land through fear. They declared, *“Ki chazak hu mimenu”*—the enemy is stronger than us (Bamidbar 13:31). They did not trust that Hashem could or would bring them into the land.

The Beis HaLevi connects this failure to the destruction of the Second Beis HaMikdash. But Chazal identify the sin of the Second Temple period as sinas chinam (Yoma 9b). How are sinas chinam and the absence of bitachon connected?

## External Righteousness and Inner Distance

The Vilna Gaon explains that the generations of the First Temple committed grave sins openly, yet something good remained within their hearts. In the Second Temple period, the people were outwardly involved in Torah, mitzvos, and acts of kindness, but inwardly they were divided by baseless hatred.

This requires explanation. How can people who violated the three cardinal aveiros be described as possessing an inward virtue? And how can people engaged in Torah and mitzvos be considered more deeply damaged?

The answer lies in the relationship itself. The greatest destruction occurs when the Jew becomes inwardly disconnected from Hashem. A person can appear religious outwardly while the heart is empty of dependence, trust, and living attachment. Conversely, even a person guilty of terrible external sins may still retain an inner awareness of Hashem and a thread connecting him to his Source.

This does not minimize any aveirah. It identifies the root of spiritual survival. *“Rachmana liba ba’i”*—Hashem desires the heart (Sanhedrin 106b). The relationship begins within. When the inner bond is alive, there remains something upon which to rebuild. When the heart itself becomes detached, the Churban reaches the deepest place.

## The Inner Bond That Preserves a Jew

The Vilna Gaon’s distinction is therefore not a defense of severe wrongdoing. The people of the First Temple period were accountable for the gravest sins. His point is that a hidden bond with Hashem still remained within them. In the Second Temple period, outward observance could coexist with an inner rupture. The exterior looked religious, but the heart had become divided from Hashem and from other Jews.

The worst spiritual condition is complete disconnection. A person can learn, daven, and perform mitzvos externally while remaining empty within. The Torah asks not only what the person does, but whether a living Jew stands behind those actions—whether the heart is attached to Hashem.

There were earlier generations that did not possess our abundance of yeshivos, sefarim, and organized Torah life, yet a simple inner connection lived within ordinary Jews. That bond was often enough to preserve them through terrible conditions.

## The Russian Jews Who Knew Almost Nothing

In my younger years, Hashem gave me the zechus to work with Russian Jews. An entire family arrived at my father’s shul. They were many brothers and knew almost nothing. My father died during that year, and they all recited Kaddish. I would jokingly call them the *chevrah Kaddisha* because so many of them were saying Kaddish together.

On Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur they stood in shul from beginning to end, although they could barely read a word. I once asked one of them: “What did you learn in Russia that makes you come to shul and remain here for the entire day? You were denied Jewish education. What draws you?”

He looked upward and answered in Russian with the simple idea that one must go to Hashem’s house.

I looked into his eyes and saw a basic, unwavering emunah. It was not sophisticated knowledge. It was a hidden link between a Jewish soul and Hashem—a link strong enough to survive decades of spiritual oppression.

That is the inner bond we are discussing. When it remains alive, there is something upon which to build. Churban means that this connection is attacked, weakened, and obscured. It means the lifeline itself is placed in danger.

## The Lifeline from the Mikdash to Every Neshamah

There is a spiritual thread extending from the Beis HaMikdash to every Jewish neshamah. This is the inner meaning of *“V’shachanti b’socham”*: the Shechinah that rested in the Mikdash also rests within the Jew. That connection is the secret of Jewish survival throughout the generations.

The Churban attacks that lifeline. It weakens the flow and obscures the bond, but it never destroys it completely. Even in the deepest galus, a few “wires” remain. The difference between galus and geulah is the strength and clarity of that connection.

## Matzah as the First Act of Bitachon

Chazal interpret *“Galsah Yehudah mei’oni”*—“Yehudah went into exile through affliction” (Eichah 1:3)—as alluding to a failure associated with *lechem oni*, the matzah of Pesach. Why should neglecting matzah be connected to Churban and galus?

Matzah represents the first great act of Klal Yisrael’s bitachon. When Hashem commanded them to leave Mitzrayim, they abandoned everything and followed Him without knowing how they would survive. Their dough did not have time to rise because they departed immediately (Shemos 12:34, 39).

Hashem later described this devotion: *“Zacharti lach chesed ne’urayich, ahavas kelulosayich, lechteich acharai bamidbar b’eretz lo zeruah”*—“I remember the kindness of your youth, the love of your bridal days, when you followed Me into the wilderness, into an unsown land” (Yirmiyahu 2:2).

The matzah therefore symbolizes a Jew leaving security behind and attaching himself entirely to Hashem. When that quality of bitachon weakened, the essence of geulah weakened. *Galsah Yehudah mei’oni*: the nation that no longer lived the message of *lechem oni* was returned to galus.

The Churban is thus not only the loss of a place. It is the weakening of the inner trust represented by matzah—the ability to follow Hashem simply and completely.

## Eliyahu and the Restoration of Peace

The Mishnah teaches that Eliyahu HaNavi will not come merely to determine lineage or resolve technical uncertainties. His ultimate mission is *“la’asos shalom ba’olam”*—to make peace in the world, as the Navi says: *“V’heishiv lev avos al banim, v’lev banim al avosam”*—“He will return the hearts of fathers to children and the hearts of children to their fathers” (Eduyos 8:7; Malachi 3:23–24).

This certainly includes ending machlokes and bringing Klal Yisrael to teshuvah. But it also describes the deeper repair of galus. The Churban exiled the children from their Father’s table. Eliyahu comes to reconnect fathers and children—to restore the relationship between Klal Yisrael and Hashem.

## The Inner Absence of Peace

A Jew may continue learning Torah and performing mitzvos while nevertheless feeling an unexplained darkness and restlessness. He lacks inner peace because something essential is missing. The neshamah comes from Hashem; as Chazal express it, the One who breathes a soul into another gives from within Himself. A Jewish soul cannot be fully at rest unless it is attached to its Source.

Galus weakens that attachment. The person may not recognize what he is missing, but inwardly he is not at peace. Eliyahu’s work of *shalom* is therefore the restoration of this inner connection.

This also explains the relationship between a lack of bitachon and sinas chinam. When a person is genuinely connected to Hashem, he recognizes that his life, gifts, place, and portion come from Hashem. There is less room for jealousy, competition, and hatred. When that connection is weakened, the person looks outward for fulfillment and begins resenting what others possess.

The Torah concludes the command *“V’ahavta l’rei’acha kamocha”* with the words *“Ani Hashem”* (Vayikra 19:18). Love of another Jew becomes possible when *Ani Hashem* is alive within the person. When he is attached to Hashem, sinah and kinah lose their foundation.

## Longing for the Beis HaMikdash

Hashem’s kindness surrounds a person at every step. Every movement, every breath, and every success is supported by Him. But galus conceals that reality. We do not clearly see the Father setting the table for His children.

This is what we lost with the Churban: the open, inwardly felt relationship with Hashem; the natural bitachon of children living at their Father’s table; and the peace that comes from being attached to our Source.

Our longing for the Beis HaMikdash is therefore a plea: Ribbono Shel Olam, reconnect us to You. Restore the bond within us. That renewed connection will remove the darkness of galus and bring the geulah.