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General Jewish Spirituality Rabbinic spirituality

The Destruction of the American Temple: A Spiritual View of Tisha B’Av

Each year, I find the Jewish holidays are a little different. It’s not that the holidays have changed, of course, but I have. This year, Tisha B’Av is speaking to me differently than it has in the past. (For a look at what I have thought about Tisha B’Av in the past, see  here or here).

Tisha B’Av marks the destruction of the first and second Temples in Jerusalem. It is a day of mourning and lamentation. It is a day that I often have trouble relating to, seeing as I don’t actually want to go back to a Judaism that is based around the Temple in Jerusalem. Yet this year, the sense of mourning  destruction is resonating with me.

I find myself feeling like there are a lot of us mourning a vision of our world that seems to have been destroyed. There was an optimism to American life and worldview that seems to have gone, and many of us are beginning to wonder if it will return. There is a sadness present, both in those searching for work, and those who are employed but remain fearful of what the future will bring.

We are facing an unknown future, as did the Jews following the destruction of the Temple. They didn’t know what it meant to be Jewish without a Temple in which to make sacrifices. We aren’t sure what it means to be  American without a limitless economic horizon stretched before us.

Yet Judaism transformed, and became something far more vibrant than it had been. And America also has the potential to be revitalized. It does, however, require a willingness to accept that the world is changed.

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Jewish Spirituality

…For You Were Strangers in the Land of Egypt.

Last week, the Torah portion included a verse that I consider to be among the most central in Judaism.

“You shall not oppress the stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, having been strangers in the land of Egypt.” Exodus 23:9.

This quote serves as a reminder that it is all too easy to forget what it feels like to be an oppressed minority when we are not in that minority. It reminds us that we must be ever mindful of how it feels to be a minority, and that we must not simply look after ourselves.

For almost two millenia, Jews had no problem remembering the feelings of the outsider. We were, after all, outsiders in every land in which we lived. Following the destruction of the Temple and the expulsion of the Jews from the Holy Land by Rome in A.D. 70, we have wandered among nations where we were a minority, and most often an oppressed minority.

In Roman time we were a tolerated minority, but one considered foreign, and not welcome. When we lived in Arab lands during the 7th to 12th Centuries, we were a “protected minority,” with a more or less secure status. There were laws which safeguarded our freedoms, but also significant restrictions. In Medieval Europe we were truly an oppressed minority through most of the Middle Ages, with rights significantly curtailed and few protections.

In 21st Century America, however, it’s a different story. We remain a minority, but certainly not an oppressed one. While it is not true that all Jews are well off, on the whole, Jews are probably somewhat better off than most Americans. We probably do enjoy somewhat greater political influence than our numbers would suggest (I’m having trouble finding an accurate list of the number of Jews in the Senate, but all the lists seem to include more than 10, which is 10% of the senate, as opposed to the percentage of Jews in America, which is 1.3%). What I want to point out is that we are now an entrenched part of the establishment, rather than the stranger.

For the first time in 2000 years, we now need to concentrate on understanding what it feels like to be the outsider. At the same time, we are now in a position to actually help the stranger. Because we now have influence and power, we must strive to remember the feelings of the stranger, and work to help the stranger.  When we were powerless, being mindful of the feelings of other oppressed strangers was relatively easy, and not particularly useful. We could empathize, but weren’t in a position to help them particularly. Now, we must consciously remember how it felt to be the outsider. How we felt about it when immigration quotas limited the number of Jews who could enter the U.S. We must remember how hard it was for Jews to assimilate into the U.S. when we first arrived, and we must help others.

“You shall not oppress the stranger, for you know the soul of the stranger, having been strangers in the land of Egypt.” For 2000 years, the Torah taught this, but it had little to teach, because we were the stranger. Now that we are not strangers, this teaching becomes far more important, and one we must seek to live out.