If you've ever experienced grief you know how painful it is. Your heart feels as if it's going to break, it physically hurts! It's hard not to express your sorrow through crying. It's the special kind of pain you get when you experience the loss of anyone or any thing (it doesn't have to be physical) you have loved. It's simply one of the ironic realities of life that the degree of grief is directly proportional to the degree of love. It's the price we pay for loving. Yet, as the old saying goes: "'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all."

The following may sound amusing, but the first time I ever truly experienced grief was in leaving my first pulpit in St. Paul, MN. Despite the fact that I was raised in a rabbinic family, I don't think I had ever experienced first hand the "magic" that takes place when a congregation and a rabbi are in sync. Describing it as a "marriage" really isn't so far from the truth, and despite the inevitable challenging moments, I don't think that I had ever experienced the kind of acceptance and appreciation from a group of people that I experienced for seven years at the Temple of Aaron.

I remember days I would be driving down a street during those last few months and saying to myself "This could be the last time you ever drive down this street." There were many people we had grown to love over the years, and it was painful to think of not seeing them again on a regular basis. Conclusion: Heaven is the place where you never have to say "Goodbye!" to the ones you love.

The congregation in Canton, OH had wonderful people too, but it was difficult making the transition from a cosmopolitan city in the upper Midwest to a relatively small town in north-eastern Ohio. They say that Cleveland is an "eastern" city, and I would have to agree. The skies were constantly cloudy because of the lake effect, and the water was so full of iron that you were forced to buy a water softener. The general area was suffering from an economic recession typical of the "Rust belt," and you couldn't help but notice the number of closed properties in contrast to the Twin Cities at the time. There was a bad joke at the time: "Spot the odd man out - Gonorrhea, Aids, condominium in Youngstown!" The answer: "gonorrhea" - it's the only one you can get rid of!
Nine and half years later, it was a similar story when we had to pick up roots once again. Yet having been through that experience once made quite a difference.

While it's true that time is the best source of consolation, there really are some situations where grief knows of no limits. The one example that comes to mind is the destruction of the two Temples. The first by King Nebuchadnezzar of Babylon in 586 BCE and the second by the Romans under Vespasian in the year 70 of our era. Do the math! It's been very close to a full 2,000 years since we had our last Temple. Add to this the fact that most of us are fairly unfamiliar with its goings-on and the part that we do know about has to do with animal sacrifices - which to our own sensibilities sounds barbaric - and the destruction of the Temple seems pretty far distant and irrelevant.

Jewish Tradition appears to have a different view on the subject.  Tisha b'Av, the day which commemorates the Temples' destruction is the saddest day in the Jewish Calendar.  Why should we be sad?

To get to the answer we have to find out why the Temple was so significant; not just in bygone days, but how its absence continues to affect our lives today.

I hope to explore this topic with you this coming Monday evening when we gather at 7:00 in the Zorensky Chapel for services and the chanting of the book of Lamentations by Paula Hamvas, Rabbi Benson Skoff, Howard Granok, Stewart Shilcrat, and Marvin Marcus.  I want to thank Cindy Payant for making the arrangements.

This Shabbat Steven Marcus, son of Marvin and Ginger Marcus will be sharing his insights with us during the D'var Torah.  Steven is a recent graduate of Princeton University and has traveled extensively during the course of his studies.  I know how much those present last Saturday morning enjoyed hearing about my son Micah's experience in Teach for America.  I believe we can look forward to a another stimulating presentation from Steve.

May this Shabbat offer you the moment of personal reflection and a sense of God's presence as we anticipate the coming fast of Tisha b'Av.

Sincerely,                             Rabbi Mordecai Miller

          Go to Archive:

HOME