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Stages of grief: The Rav's Tisha B'Av message
The customs we observe on Tisha B'Av are strikingly similar to those observed by an avel (mourner), one whose close relative has recently passed away. We abstain from washing ourselves and putting on perfume, from wearing leather shoes and talking frivolously. We even refrain from studying parts of Torah that are unrelated to the events and the mood of the day. The observances of mourning begin long before Tisha B'Av itself. From the 17th of Tamuz, at the start of the "Three Weeks," Ashkenazi communities minimize their involvement in such pleasurable activities as getting married, having their hair cut, and buying new clothing. From the beginning of the month of Av through Tisha B'Av, a period referred to as the "Nine Days," we refrain as well from doing laundry and wearing freshly laundered clothing. Many men refrain from shaving. Tisha B'Av itself is certainly the most restrictive of the entire Three Weeks period, but the observances of aveilut (mourning) are not limited to that day alone. Rav Yosef Dov Soloveitchik (1903-1993), known to his many students as the Rav, used to say that these three periods of time mirror the three periods of mourning that a child observes when losing a parent. Tisha B'Av is like the seven-day period of shiva, when the sense of mourning is most intense. The Nine Days are similar to the period of shloshim (30 days of mourning), and from the 17th of Tamuz until the month of Av we observe laws of mourning similar to the 12-month period of aveilut that a child observes after losing a mother or father. What's interesting, though, is that the order of observances is reversed. Why is the order changed when we mourn the loss of the Beit Hamikdash? The Rav explained that there is a fundamental difference between aveilut hadasha (newly occurring, personal mourning), as the rabbis refer to it (Yevamot 43b), and aveilut yeshana (ancient, annual mourning for the Beit Hamikdash). When a close relative passes away, the grief, the pain, the sense of loss come naturally and easily. It is therefore most appropriate to begin the observances of aveilut with shiva, the most intense expression of mourning. But after seven days, the avel is ready to take a step back. Although his loss is still very much on his mind, his emotions have tempered; his feelings of sorrow have lessened. For him, the observances of shloshim are more fitting. By the end of 30 days, the avel has gained perspective on his loss. Most mourners are now able to conclude the observances of aveilut. Even parents, while continuing to mourn, reduce their aveilut once again. In the case of aveilut yeshana, this progression is out of place. We have become so used to living in a world without the Beit Hamikdash, it simply would be unnatural for anyone to break down and cry over its loss. The sense of mourning for the destruction of the Holy Temples can be internalized only through gradual increments. By engaging in this three-week learning experience, we prepare ourselves mentally so that when the day of Tisha B'Av finally arrives, we are ready to grieve appropriately. There is another important difference between the observances of aveilut yeshana and aveilut hadasha. The rabbis never placed any limitation on how much a person is allowed to mourn for the Temples. An avel who cries or mourns too much for his relative is criticized. But one who weeps bitterly for the Beit Hamikdash is rewarded. What is the difference between these two types of aveilut? The Rav explained that an avel is enjoined from crying too much for his relative because, as the Rambam writes (Hilchot Avel 13:11), death is minhago shel olam, part of the natural course of events in this world. But the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash was an unnatural event. The Temples symbolized the relationship between Hashem and the Jewish people and were the focal point of spirituality in the world. When we mourn the loss of the Beit Hamikdash, we are not crying for the wood and stones; we mourn the fact that we no longer see Hashem's presence as clearly in the world and that our relationship with him is strained. We long for the day when the Jewish people will reunite with Hashem and again feel his closeness. We hope for the day when the world will return to its natural state. And yet, after hatzot (midday) on Tisha B'Av, we get up from the floor, put on our tefillin, and recite the Nachem blessing, asking Hashem to console Jerusalem and us. Where is there room for consolation on such a dark day? The Rav explained that our comfort lies in the fact that Hashem took out his wrath on the Temples and not on the Jewish people (Tosafot, Kiddushin 31a). Paradoxically, it is precisely at the time of Minha, when the Beit Hamikdash started to burn (Ta'anit 29a), that we feel comforted because that act of destruction was really a demonstration of love. It showed that Hashem wants the Jewish people to survive and wants them to flourish and ultimately reunite with him. If Hashem punishes us only out of love, like a father disciplines his child, then there is hope for the future. We can look forward to the day of reconciliation when Hashem will return to us and reveal his glory to the entire world. |
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