What does it mean to "fear" G-d? This Sabbath, which follows the black fast of Tisha B'Av, is called the Sabbath of Comfort, derived from the first words of the prophetic reading "Comfort you, comfort you My people...." (Isaiah 40:1) We read in the Biblical portion, "There is none (no one or nothing) besides Him (Deut. 4:35) and then, "This is the commandment, the statutes and the ordinances that the Lord your G-d commanded... in order that you may fear the Lord your G-d." (Deut. 6:1-3)


How can single-minded service to the one and only G-d, whom we are supposed to fear according to the Biblical text, possibly bring us comfort? I understand the importance of loving G-d, but find it difficult to be commanded to fear Him.


The midrash provides a marvelous analogy, which enables us to understand the Biblical import. Love is a very inclusive emotion. I first learned to love and to feel loved from my parents; and those who have received such love and have offered such love are able to

I understand the importance of loving G-d, but find it difficult to be commanded to fear Him.

continue to love others. And the truth is that, aside from the exclusiveness of the sexual relationship that one has with one's spouse, the healthy individual is capable of many sincere loves.
The midrash then describes the situation of an individual who seems to be running directly towards a dog; he is stopped by his friend, who cries after him, "You are so afraid of dogs, how come you are running towards them?" The hapless individual, who never stopped running, cries backwards at his friend, "But just look at the lion that is chasing me from the other direction! My fear of the lion canceled out my fear of dogs!"


Fear of G-d has the power to truly make the individual free. If one fears G-d, He will then fear no individual, whether that individual is his employer, his totalitarian leader, or even someone whom he would like to please in order to get ahead. The only one whom we will try to please is G-d. Such emotion will prevent anyone's moral compass from going off course and will enable him to feel free and truly human, despite the difficulties of the environment in which he may find himself.


With that backdrop, I would like to revisit a passage from the Talmud that we generally study on Tisha B'Av, the passage that gives the reason for the destruction of the Holy Temple (Babylonian Talmud Gittin 55b 56a and b). The Talmud first tells of a mix-up in invitations to a fancy dinner that found the host's enemy, Barkamza, in the position of having been an invited guest. The host asks his enemy to leave; Barkamza is willing to pay for his own portion, and then to pay for half the feast, and then to pay for the entire feast, but all to no avail.
Since he was publicly ejected from the dinner and Rabbi Zecharia ben Avkulas was present at the event and said nothing, the humiliated Barkamza decided to bring ruin upon the Jewish community. He informs the Emperor of Rome that the Jews are rebelling against him - and proves his charge by telling the Emperor that any offering that he will give to the Holy Temple of Jerusalem will not be accepted by the priests. The skeptical Emperor gave a choice calf to Barkamza, who immediately caused there to be a blemish on the lips or the eyes of the offering - a kind of blemish considered of no consequence by the Romans, but ordinarily rejected by the Hebrews.


The Holy Temple authorities initially intended to offer the sacrifice, despite the blemish, in order to prevent strife between the Roman Emperor and the Jewish community. Said Rabbi Zecharai ben Avkulas, "They will say that we sacrifice blemished offerings on our altar."


The Kohen priests then thought to have Barkamza killed before he had a chance to return to Rome and report to the Emperor that, indeed, his offering had not been sacrificed. Said Rabbi Zecharia ben Avkulas, "They will say that individuals who place a minor blemish on an animal meant to be sacrificed is killed by the Temple authorities."


They neither offered a sacrifice nor did they kill Barkamza; the Roman armies were dispatched to destroy the Holy Temple. The Talmudic passage at this point concludes, "The humility (Hebrew, anvetanuto) of Rabbi Zecharia ben Avkulos caused our sanctuary to be burnt and our Temple to be destroyed."


Rabbi Yedidya Frankel, a former Chief Rabbi of Tel Aviv-Yaffo, gave the following interpretation. The humility of Rabbi Zecharia ben Avkulas was his greatest tragedy and a cause of his undoing and of the Temple's destruction. He is paralyzed, incapable of rendering a Halakhic decision. On the one hand, he is frightened of what the right-wingers will say if he allowed the blemished animal to be offered; they will charge the Holy Temple with liberal reformism because they sacrificed a blemished animal. On the other hand, he is frightened by what the left-wingers will say if he has the informant killed. He pictures in his mind's eye all sorts of demonstrations against a Temple leadership that finds a human being worthy of death for merely having blemished a potential sacrificial offering. Because he does not have the courage of his convictions, and he doesn't understand that a true rabbi only seeks to please G-d and is therefore oblivious to what various political factions might say, he is the real cause of the destruction of the Temple.

A true rabbi only seeks to please G-d.



This is the same Zecharia ben Avkulas who remained silent at the famous dinner from which the mistaken invitee was ejected. Why did he remain silent? What was a rabbi doing at such a dinner, especially when this was the period before the destruction and a time of grave poverty within a heavily taxed Judean community? Might it have been that the party host was an important supporter of Rabbi Zecharia's yeshiva, and so he was afraid to risk the donation by angering the insensitive host? Clearly, this was one rabbi who did not truly fear G-d, and so, he greatly feared the people.


A rabbi who is truly free looks not to the right, not to the left, and not to the wealth, but only to what he truly believes is G-d's will and the honest conclusion of Jewish Law. I always advise my rabbinical students that when having to choose between pleasing G-d and pleasing the people, they are better off attempting to please G-d. G-d has a much longer memory than people do.