The Temple was destroyed, we are taught, because Jews stopped caring about each other. Jews cared less about whether someone was a Jew, than whether they followed a particular way of keeping halakhot. Instead of becoming more and more united in Judaism, Jews, who had always held differences of opinion in every matter, began to use their differences against one another. Instead of seeing differences as something positive and strengthening, differences ripped us apart. It is said that we will not merit the Mashiah until we can put these bad habits behind us, and we can all follow the positive commandment of "I shall love other Jews as myself."
Unfortunately, such change comes hard.
Tuesday night was a good example. My sons and I were on a cross-country trip. We left Nevada a few weeks ago, and we have been slowly making our way across the country. Tuesday night, we were in Maryland. At about 8:00 p.m. we decided, as it was Rosh Chodesh Av (the first day of the month of Av), that we should celebrate, as Sephardim do, with a nice meat meal. We drove into a Jewish area to get some Chinese food. However, we found that the Chinese restaurant was not serving meat after 8:00 p.m. This is not their usual custom, but they had been informed by their kashrut agency that they would not be allowed to serve meat after 8:00 p.m., because it was the beginning of the "nine days" (preceding the Tisha B?Av mourning for the loss of the Temples).
We were astonished. "But it is Rosh Chodesh," we said to the poor Chinese woman at the door, "we can eat meat!"
She explained that she was just not allowed.
After the surprise, came my anger. I was angry - noticeably angry.
"This is just not right! It is the same thing as insisting that a kosher market can't sell rice and beans on Pesach!" I said to my sons. "Do they have the right to push their minhag (custom) on me?"
I was more than noticeably angry at this point. Now, I was furious - and it was building. We went to two other restaurants, but they were not serving meat either. Same problem. Same kashrut agency.
One owner even apologized to us, "I am Sephardic, too. My family is home having a beautiful Rosh Chodesh meal of meat, while I must follow this at my business. We fought it, but they wouldn't listen to us."
We left him in sympathy and piled into the car again.
"Why was the Temple destroyed?" I asked my sons.
"Because Jews didn't care about other Jews," they answered, mechanically. Then my oldest added, sardonically, "Because of kashrut agencies?"
That is when I started to laugh - at myself - somewhat shamefaced. No, they don't have the right to push their minhag on me, and what the kashrut agency did, as far as I am concerned, was just plain wrong... but I was wrong, too. Did I have the right to say "they"?
Us and Them.
Division.
OK, so let us rewind the situation. Let me state it better. What we did to ourselves was not right. Now, I think I have it. So, some mourn "nine days", some hold off the mourning until after Rosh Chodesh is celebrated with meat and drink, and some mourn the week of Tisha B?Av. Not "stricter" or "more lenient", but "different." Not "more religious" and "less religious", but "different." Not "us and them" but "we." Different is not wrong. It is okay to be different. In fact, difference is our strength.
We must have different ways of observing Hashem?s law, and arguments and divisions will always exist. These things are normal. However, when we start to assign a value to our differences, or we start to say "us" and "them" when referring to our brother and sister Jews, we must take a step back and think about why we lost the Temple in the first place, and how we can get it back. Especially at this time.
So, I have a humble suggestion for all my brothers and sisters reading this column today: train your tongue. Stop yourself whenever you say something that divides Jews and look for a way, instead, to unite us. I am not saying that we will ever agree on anything, but we must agree to disagree and learn about and respect those differences.
For example, that kashrut agency needed to find a way to accommodate all Jews, not just a few. It might be a good idea, next year, to post a small notice on the menu of the restaurant that says, "Those who observe the nine days may wish to refrain from eating meat during this time." Then the restaurant could serve meat to those of use whose minhag is different. This would be considerate, as well as kosher.
There is a story of a wise Jew who is called to the emperor. The emperor asks the wise Jew to explain how he can recognize a Jew. The wise Jew answers that there are different kinds of Jews, and goes into a lengthy explanation about how the emperor can identify different groups.
The emperor is impatient with the wise Jew and demands, "Why can't you all be the same?"
The wise Jew asks, "How may I identify a member of your military?"
The emperor goes into a long description of his cavalry, his army, his navy, and his special guards. The wise Jew then demands, "Why can't they all be the same?"
The emperor answers, "Because they serve different functions."
The wise Jew then smiles, as the emperor has now understood.
Rather than trying to make all Jews the same, let our minhagim guide us and allow us to show our reverence for Hashem through our different traditions. While we do this, let us be like the emperor's army, and work toward the same goal with respect and kindness for one another. We must see the beauty in all Jewishness. Even if we disagree, we are Jews first.
This is the time for us to focus on consideration and understanding, not inflexibility and division.
And may I make a humble suggestion? Please say hello to someone, anyone, in the street during these days. Try, especially, to say hello to a Jew who is not like you. Greet them as you would want to be greeted, treasure them as you would want to be treasured. Take a moment to think about how wonderful it is to see so many different types of Jews in the world.
No, they are not you - but love them as if they were, anyway.
Unfortunately, such change comes hard.
Tuesday night was a good example. My sons and I were on a cross-country trip. We left Nevada a few weeks ago, and we have been slowly making our way across the country. Tuesday night, we were in Maryland. At about 8:00 p.m. we decided, as it was Rosh Chodesh Av (the first day of the month of Av), that we should celebrate, as Sephardim do, with a nice meat meal. We drove into a Jewish area to get some Chinese food. However, we found that the Chinese restaurant was not serving meat after 8:00 p.m. This is not their usual custom, but they had been informed by their kashrut agency that they would not be allowed to serve meat after 8:00 p.m., because it was the beginning of the "nine days" (preceding the Tisha B?Av mourning for the loss of the Temples).
We were astonished. "But it is Rosh Chodesh," we said to the poor Chinese woman at the door, "we can eat meat!"
She explained that she was just not allowed.
After the surprise, came my anger. I was angry - noticeably angry.
"This is just not right! It is the same thing as insisting that a kosher market can't sell rice and beans on Pesach!" I said to my sons. "Do they have the right to push their minhag (custom) on me?"
I was more than noticeably angry at this point. Now, I was furious - and it was building. We went to two other restaurants, but they were not serving meat either. Same problem. Same kashrut agency.
One owner even apologized to us, "I am Sephardic, too. My family is home having a beautiful Rosh Chodesh meal of meat, while I must follow this at my business. We fought it, but they wouldn't listen to us."
We left him in sympathy and piled into the car again.
"Why was the Temple destroyed?" I asked my sons.
"Because Jews didn't care about other Jews," they answered, mechanically. Then my oldest added, sardonically, "Because of kashrut agencies?"
That is when I started to laugh - at myself - somewhat shamefaced. No, they don't have the right to push their minhag on me, and what the kashrut agency did, as far as I am concerned, was just plain wrong... but I was wrong, too. Did I have the right to say "they"?
Us and Them.
Division.
OK, so let us rewind the situation. Let me state it better. What we did to ourselves was not right. Now, I think I have it. So, some mourn "nine days", some hold off the mourning until after Rosh Chodesh is celebrated with meat and drink, and some mourn the week of Tisha B?Av. Not "stricter" or "more lenient", but "different." Not "more religious" and "less religious", but "different." Not "us and them" but "we." Different is not wrong. It is okay to be different. In fact, difference is our strength.
We must have different ways of observing Hashem?s law, and arguments and divisions will always exist. These things are normal. However, when we start to assign a value to our differences, or we start to say "us" and "them" when referring to our brother and sister Jews, we must take a step back and think about why we lost the Temple in the first place, and how we can get it back. Especially at this time.
So, I have a humble suggestion for all my brothers and sisters reading this column today: train your tongue. Stop yourself whenever you say something that divides Jews and look for a way, instead, to unite us. I am not saying that we will ever agree on anything, but we must agree to disagree and learn about and respect those differences.
For example, that kashrut agency needed to find a way to accommodate all Jews, not just a few. It might be a good idea, next year, to post a small notice on the menu of the restaurant that says, "Those who observe the nine days may wish to refrain from eating meat during this time." Then the restaurant could serve meat to those of use whose minhag is different. This would be considerate, as well as kosher.
There is a story of a wise Jew who is called to the emperor. The emperor asks the wise Jew to explain how he can recognize a Jew. The wise Jew answers that there are different kinds of Jews, and goes into a lengthy explanation about how the emperor can identify different groups.
The emperor is impatient with the wise Jew and demands, "Why can't you all be the same?"
The wise Jew asks, "How may I identify a member of your military?"
The emperor goes into a long description of his cavalry, his army, his navy, and his special guards. The wise Jew then demands, "Why can't they all be the same?"
The emperor answers, "Because they serve different functions."
The wise Jew then smiles, as the emperor has now understood.
Rather than trying to make all Jews the same, let our minhagim guide us and allow us to show our reverence for Hashem through our different traditions. While we do this, let us be like the emperor's army, and work toward the same goal with respect and kindness for one another. We must see the beauty in all Jewishness. Even if we disagree, we are Jews first.
This is the time for us to focus on consideration and understanding, not inflexibility and division.
And may I make a humble suggestion? Please say hello to someone, anyone, in the street during these days. Try, especially, to say hello to a Jew who is not like you. Greet them as you would want to be greeted, treasure them as you would want to be treasured. Take a moment to think about how wonderful it is to see so many different types of Jews in the world.
No, they are not you - but love them as if they were, anyway.