A Time to Cry and a Time to Laugh

The pesukim in Parshas Masei tell of the establishment of the six arei miklat –cities of refuge (three in the Land of Israel proper, and three on the east side of the Jordan). A person who committed involuntary manslaughter was directed to flee to one of these cities, where he remained protected from the go’el hadam (a relative of the murdered victim who seeks revenge). The murderer must remain in the ir hamiklat until the death of the Kohen Gadol (an unknown period of time). In this way, the murderer attained atonement for his transgression, although the Torah cites the reason for his exile as (Devarim 19:6),“Lest the redeemer of the blood will chase after the murderer.”

Why is it permissible for the murderer to leave the city of refuge after the Kohen Gadol dies? Will the relative of the murdered victim no longer be intent on avenging the murder at that point?

The Rambam writes in Moreh Nevuchim (3:40)that when the Kohen Gadol dies, the Jewish people are grieving intensely. The anguish is so great that even the go’el hadam will forget his own personal sorrow, in light of the Kohen Gadol’s role directly related to the service in the Beis HaMikdash.

We learn in Yuma (39b)that the Beis HaMikdash was called Levanon, from the root word lavan, i.e. it “whitens” the sins of the Jewish people. On Yom Kippurthe Jewish people would witness with their own eyes the wondrous miracle, when after the Kohen Gadol prayed in the Kodesh HaKodoshim for the atonement of the Jewish people, the crimson strip tied on the horns of the sa’ir hamishtalei’ach (the goat sent to the wilderness) would turn white to indicate that their sins had been forgiven.

The Medrash Bamidbar Rabbah (21:21)enlightens us further that “no person stayed overnight in Yerushalayim with a wrongdoing attributed to him.” The Medrash explains that the korban tamid offered in the morning atoned for the sins of the night and that of the afternoon atoned for the sins done during the day.

If we would grasp how deeply one is impacted by his aveiros, we would appreciate the significance of the Beis HaMikdash and the spiritual cleansing that took place daily.

A person once came to the Ohev Yisroel (R’ Avraham Yehoshua Heschel of Apt) to complain about his tzarros. “There is no one in the world who suffers as much as I do,” he cried. The Ohev Yisroel responded, “Don’t say there is no one who has tzarros like you do, because a very great tzarrah hashappened in the world today.”

The Yid began to tremble. Shaken, he asked, “What happened?”

“Today, the two sheep were not brought for a korban tamid in the Beis HaMikdash,” said the Ohev Yisroel. “That is the greatest tzarrah that could ever happen, because the source of all the misfortune in the world today is the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash.”

We learn in Shulchan Aruchthat a yerei Shamayim (a person who is G-d fearing) should be pained over the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash. The Sefer Chesed L’Alafim elaborates that, truthfully, every individual should grieve over its loss. However, an individual who is not G-d-fearing may find it difficult to fulfill this mandate properly.

The Yaavetz makes a startling statement in this regard and writes that it is because of this oversight – not adequately mourning the loss of the Beis HaMikdash – that the exile is extended. People forget what the presence of the Beis HaMikdash meant; they forget the avodah that prevailed when the Beis HaMikdash stood.

The Talmud in Gittin (57a)relates that three Sages were discussing the righteousness of the people who lived in Sechanya in Egypt. Abaye then asked R’ Yosef: If they were so virtuous, why was the city destroyed? R’ Yosef replied it was because they did not mourn for Yerushalayim.

In the summer of 2001, there was a devastating terrorist attack inside the Sbarro Pizzeria in Yerushalayim. The victims included five members of one family; only an eight-year-old girl from the family remained alive.

Shaarei Tzedek Hospital called upon one of the Gedolei Yisroel who would often visit the sick and wounded in such difficult situations. The tzaddik agreed to come immediately and askedR’ Moshe Boyer to accompany him.

R’ Boyer related that he was reluctant to go because he could not bear the pain, but the tzaddik insisted. When they arrived, the rav told R’ Boyer that if he was too traumatized to come into the room he could wait outside. A rav from America, who had come as well to visit this little girl, joined the tzaddik, and the three entered the elevator and rode up to her room.

However, they found that all the patients had been gathered into a large room for some musical entertainment. The two gedolim went in, while R’ Boyer remained outside.

The American rav – who was advanced in age – came out first, after a few minutes, and burst into tears. “I had never seen such crying,” said R’ Boyer. A few seconds passed, and the tzaddik came out along with the musician; both were crying bitterly. The scene was so heart-rending that some nurses who were passing by inquired whether everyone was okay. “I explained that the two rabbis had been deeply affected by their visit and were overcome with emotions,” R’ Boyer said.

After they got back into the car, the American rav, who sat in the back seat, groaned, “Oy, this broke me from the soles of my feet to the top of my head. I am broken; I don’t know what happened to me.”

R’ Boyer told him, “Tonight there is a big wedding. I’ll take you there, and this will pass.”

“The rav’s response was a shiur I will never forget,” declares R’ Boyer. “It taught me how a Torah Sage regards events, and how he serves Hashem.”

“Did I say I was sad?” asked the rav. “I did not. I said I am broken.”

“What is the difference?” asked R’ Boyer.

He said, “I will explain. I am making a cheshbon hanefesh (self-reflection) why Hashem brought me from America to see this. What does Heaven want from me? They want to show me the contribution that I can make to this situation, how I can facilitate the aliyas neshama (lit. elevation of the soul) of those who were killed in the terrorist attack. When I think about that aspect, I feel fortunate.

“I am broken by what I saw. My heart is pained. But I am not sad. I could dance right now at a wedding. There are a time and occasion for every event, and right now I feel a strong need to meditate.

“It is those difficult moments that bring a person to cry, to shed tears. The tears are powerful because they are a necessary part of the mourning process. However, they culminate in simchaand not sadness.”

The Three Weeks are days of partial mourning for the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash. We do not make weddings; we don’t listen to music. On Tisha B’Avwe sit on the ground. We conduct ourselves according to halachaand rectify that which we have done wrong. From this we can derive an inner simchaknowing that we have acted correctly and appropriately. We have mourned the loss of the Beis HaMikdash, and we continue to hope and pray that we will merit the building of the Third Beis HaMikdash very soon in our days.

Rabbi Goldwasser’s shiur on Eicha and Kinnos will be accessible on Torah AnyTime’s Tisha B’Av programming both Wednesday night and Thursday, in the daytime from 9:00 AM - 2:30 PM, July 22^nd and 23^rd.