Tish’ah b’Av: Where did we go wrong?

Years ago, as a college student, I listened to a prominent professor of Jewish philosophy speak about his disagreement with a part of our holiday liturgy. The passage, from the holiday Musaf, reads: ומפני חטאינו גלינו מארצנו, “Because of our misdeeds we were exiled from our homeland.” On a superficial level, his disagreement makes sense. Is it our fault that the Babylonians destroyed the First Temple in 586 BCE? or that the Romans destroyed the Second Temple in 70 CE?

But the professor’s words puzzled me. Was this not the thrust of the teachings of the biblical prophets and the sages of the Talmud? As I examined passages in the Talmud, I got a glimpse at why those who coined the liturgy expressed the belief that our people were responsible for these tragic events that led to our exile.

It is said that while the First Temple was destroyed due to idolatry, adultery, and bloodshed, the Second Temple was destroyed solely because of an even greater sin: שנאת חנם, wanton hatred among Jews. (b. Yoma 9b) But another tractate goes into detail about events that led to the Roman destruction of the Temple, the decimation of Judea, and the fall of the city of Betar. (b. Gittin 55b ff.) The stories themselves appear apocryphal, but they contain important lessons.

The first story speaks of what occurred when an invitation to a banquet was mistakenly delivered to the host’s rival, Bar Qamtza, instead of his friend, Qamtza. When the host discovered his rival at his banquet, he humiliated and evicted him in the presence of the sages and other notables. Assuming that the silence of the dignitaries amounted to their acquiescence to the host’s actions, Bar Qamtza sought revenge by informing the Romans that the Jews were fomenting a revolt. He suggested that the Romans send him with a sacrificial offering on behalf of the emperor: a calf, which Bar Qamtza rendered unfit for sacrifice with a minor blemish. While the sages thought to allow the offering for the sake of good relations with the empire, one rabbi raised doubts: the people might then believe that we will sacrifice unfit animals! When the rabbis suggested that perhaps they should kill Bar Qamtza instead, preventing him from further informing the Romans, the same rabbi protested: the people might think that we will kill those who offer unfit sacrifices! As a result, they made no decisions, leading one of the rabbis to declare that this rabbi’s excessive humility brought about the destruction of the Temple. But a more surprising comment comes later, when Rabbi Elazar says: “See how great is the power of shame, for the Holy One, Blessed be He, assisted Bar Qamtza, destroyed His Temple and burned His Sanctuary.”

The second story tells of an incident involving the custom in an area of Judea known as Tur Malka to bring a rooster and a hen to the procession of a bride and groom, an omen for fertility. When a Roman troop came upon one such wedding, the soldiers took the birds for themselves. The townspeople attacked the soldiers. The ensuing revolt led to the deaths of multitudes.

The third story had to do with a similar incident. On the birth of a boy, the people of Betar would plant a cedar tree, and for a girl they would plant a cypress. When there was a wedding, the tree planted for the boy and girl would be cut down to be used for making the wedding canopy. When one day the axel of a Roman carriage broke, one of the trees was cut down. Owing to the importance of the custom to the people of Betar, they rioted.

These seem like relatively minor incidents. Why does the Talmud place such enormous weight on them?

A common thread among these stories relates to the low points of the human condition: ego, arrogance, opportunism, the lust for power, revenge, and baseless hatred — sins between man and his fellow man that are no less sins before God. When confronted with an offensive situation, whether it is personal, or relating to the Jewish people at large, should we not stop and think about the act and the potential ramifications of our responses before reacting?

The pages of Talmud do not minimize the viciousness with which the Romans responded to Judean outbursts; in fact, the depth of their destruction is well exaggerated in these pages. But the point is well made that our own fatal flaws can unleash torrents of destruction that can have ramifications for centuries to come.