The Edythe Benjamin חיה בת שלמה, beloved mother of Barbara Hanus, Rosh Hodesh Av Torah Essay.

The three weeks and their culmination on Tisha b'Av are a very difficult period of the year.  While the various restrictions on recreational activities and eating meat (during the nine days) may be a challenge for some that is not the difficulty I refer to here.  More difficult than these restrictions, is the attempt to relate to this period of our yearly cycle, which usually arrives just as summer camp is in full swing and work schedules have slowed down to a more relaxed pace.  Expressing authentic mourning for the destruction of the Bet Hamikdash and the spiritual existence it once anchored proves to be nearly impossible fro some without having ever experienced it.  It is a world utterly foreign to us, yet we are required by halakha to mourn for its absence. 

For those who try their hardest to connect with this distant reality, what we often end up meeting is our inner sense of guilt: we mourn what we don't feel and what we can't envision.  We feel bad about our inability to cry and our inability to connect with this period of the year.  Others, especially those living with the skyline of Jerusalem visible from their living room windows, wonder what all the fuss is really about.  After all, a great portion of the biblical prophecies have already come true!  Hasn't the establishment of the State of Israel and the rebuilding of modern Jerusalem unofficially ended that period of 'destruction'?  In past years, I have also heard many openly question the merits of a rebuilt Bet Hamikdash for today's modern world.  Will sacrifices really be reinstated?[1]  Will we be able to relate to that kind of worship after having adjusted ourselves to communal prayer for the past thousands of years?  In today's world of religious fundamentalism, do we really need a more intensified and centralized mode of ritual worship? 

However, much of Tanakh, halakha, and Jewish thought are predicated on the existence of a Bet Hamikdash.  At least three times a day we ask that it be rebuilt, whether in our prayers or in birkat hamazon.  Questions and doubts regarding the rebuilding of the Bet Hamikdash are relevant year-round, but the Three Weeks forces us to explore them as a community.  This collective exploration often creates a more rewarding search, partly because of the dictum that "two heads are better than one," and partly because when one asks difficult questions alone, they are often made to feel like a pariah.  When we ask them as a community, our collective empathy has the potential to become the birthplace of authentic change.   

To be completely honest, I feel humbled by these questions.  I believe that no one response can serve as an 'answer.'  Like most of life's deepest questions, the answer is best attained by posing the question to as many people as possible and arranging their responses as one would a mosaic.  Each tile contributes to the artful design which is only apparent once completely assembled.  In honor of rosh chodesh Av I thought to offer one tile of this mosaic.  On some days it is a dream, and on others, a prayer.

The establishment of the State of Israel was a monumental step forward toward the creation of a Jewish epicenter.  While some Jewish thinkers believed that the best way to ensure Jewish survival and growth was to live in separate Diaspora communities,[2] Israel has become the uncontested focal point of Jewish identity and national growth, and the rise of anti-Semitism around the world continues to remind us just how critical this state is for the survival of the Jewish people.  But Israel is not only a safe house for the threatened.  It is an agent of creative social, economic, and scientific development which continually enlightens the world in many fields of study.  Israel has become not only a geographical center but the creative essence of the Jewish people.[3]

Unlike the stiff, archaic image the phrase Bet Hamikdash naturally conjures up, I imagine a modernized structure outfitted with Israel's sharpest inventions to help efficiently organize its daily human traffic.  And just as the State of Israel has become our national anchor of intellectual creativity, I envision the Bet Hamikdash as the epicenter of creative religious and theological discussion. 

In today's world, there are a myriad of forums for all kinds of discussion, but I often get the sense that people are aware of the discussions acutely relevant to their personal life and unaware of those that are not.   Social media does not do a tremendous amount to help this matter.  Sophisticated algorithms direct us to friends who 'like' similar things and to groups it knows will be of interest to us based on past internet use.  While these social forums sometimes help expose broader horizons, they often help us see more of the same.  However, a central place of worship could serve as a central bureau of religious conversation.  Anyone interested in being updated would know exactly where to go!  Just as the State of Israel is perceived as a central component of Jewish national identity—whether one supports it or not—so too the Bet Hamikdash would be a central component of religious identity and a theological reference points for Jews worldwide.  Talking about our inner selves—our souls—is not a comfortable conversation for many Jews.  A Bet Hamikdash could be a place meant to foster that kind of discussion.   

In addition to this kind of authentic conversation, I also await the reinstitution of the great Sanhedrin who would sit in the Temple courtyard (lishkat hagazit).  This halakhic forum would have to represent the broad spectrum of religious Jews, a complex challenge which has prevented past attempts of its revival from succeeding.  This body would be able to enact centralized changes regarding today's most challenging socio-religious issues.  Debates regarding the renewed status of women in halakha, Jewish marriage and divorce, conversion, and so many other issues that have benefited from grassroots organic change could be greatly enhanced by official enactments in the way that takanot and gezerot were once commonplace in the Talmudic world.  I pray for the day when we will be able to alter the halakhic reality through a continued development of the oral law, without feeling the need to denigrate others for what we perceive as their progressive change in the written norms of religious life.  I think we would be able to love other members of the Jewish people more deeply if we saw our leaders model a more fluid model of the oral law's developmentthat was second nature to most of the Talmud's greatest sages.[4]

These are just some of my humble visions for the future.  On most days, it seems a distant reality.  On others, it seems that progress is right around the corner.  During the period of the three weeks, I think it is crucial to devote some time to thinking about why we lost the previous Batei Mikdash.  However, perhaps even more important is our vision for the future.  While thinking of our past wrongdoings can push us to do better in the present, a continually updated plan for times to come pushes us to be the proactive creators of that reality. 

Sources:

[1] For a good summary discussion of the past and future role of sacrifices, see S. Kahana, L'taamei HakorbanotSinai 52 (1963) or the link on Daat: http://www.daat.ac.il/he-il/kitveyet/sinai/kahana-letaamey.htm

[2] R. S.R. Hirsch was one of the proponents of this doctrine. 

[3] R. Kook speaks about this concept in the first chapter of Orot.

[4] See Y. Sorek's chapter on the Oral Law in his new book Brit Yisraelit for a more detailed discussion of this point.