Tag Archives: First Temple

Why Was the Temple Really Destroyed?

‘Destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem’ by Francesco Hayez (1867)

Tonight, we usher in Tisha b’Av to commemorate a number of tragedies in Jewish history, most notably the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash, Jerusalem’s Holy Temple. The first iteration of the Temple, built by King Solomon, was destroyed by the Babylonians in the middle of the 1st millennium BCE. The second, originally built by Jewish leaders like Ezra, Nehemiah, and Zerubbabel upon the conclusion of the Babylonian Exile—and later greatly magnified and renovated by King Herod at the end of the 1st century BCE—was destroyed by the Romans in 70 CE. Why were these Temples destroyed? What did the Jewish people really do (or not do) to merit such catastrophes?

We have all heard the simplistic answers before. Now especially, with what’s going on in the State of Israel, many are quick to point out that sinat hinam, baseless hatred and divisiveness among Jews, is the reason. People on the left and right of Israeli society today are warning that sinat hinam will do us in yet again. But the real story is much more complicated, and interesting, than that.

The reasons for the destruction of the First Temple are simpler to understand: there was a general lack of Torah observance. Idolatry was rampant, as described throughout the Tanakh, and there was a plethora of sexual sin and even bloodshed (Yoma 9b). In addition, the people failed to properly observe Shabbat and Shemitah (the Sabbatical year). Among other things that the Talmud (Shabbat 119b) notes are failure to recite Shema twice daily, interfering with children’s Torah education, a lack of honour for elders and priests, and Jews turning a blind eye and not rebuking each other for their sins.

The Talmud (Sanhedrin 64a) tells us that following the Babylonian Exile, the Sages that rebuilt Judea and ushered in the Second Temple era convened a special assembly and beseeched God to remove the desire for idolatry. God acquiesced, and idolatry was no longer really an issue among Jews going forward. Thus, Torah observance in the Second Temple era was much better. In fact, it was so much better that it was perhaps too much, and the Talmud (Bava Metzia 30b) says the Second Temple was destroyed because people were too exact with the law, and didn’t go lifnim mishurat hadin, “beyond the letter of the law”. This phrase is typically interpreted to mean that they should have been even more stringent than the law requires, but it can also mean the opposite, that they should have been more understanding and rule more kindly and favourably (see Ben Yehoyada here, as well as Rashi on Bava Metzia 83a).

In fact, we know that there was a push to make Jewish law extra strict in the times leading up to the Temple’s destruction. The most infamous case of this was when Beit Shammai took over the Sanhedrin and forcibly passed 18 new decrees, including the requirement to consume only pat Israel (Jewish-made bread), and to forbid all gentile-made cheese (gevinat ‘akum) and gentile-made wine. When this happened, Rabbi Yehoshua sadly remarked that they had “erased the measure”: by making Judaism even more difficult, few would want to observe it and it would ultimately serve to drive people away from God’s law. The Talmud Yerushalmi (Shabbat 1:4) goes so far as to call this event as tragic as the Golden Calf!

Another major factor in the Temple’s destruction was sexual immorality (Yoma 9b). Although the statement here in the Talmud is said with regards to the First Temple in particular, we know this was an issue in Second Temple times, too, as we see in other places. In Gittin 58a, for instance, we are presented with a convoluted story where a young apprentice desired the wife of his master, so he cooked up a plan that ended with the apprentice stealing the wife of his master, and enslaving the master to serve them. It was at this specific point that God decreed the Second Temple’s destruction. And it was not an isolated case either. In Sotah 47a we read how Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, the leading sage in Judea during the Second Temple’s destruction, abrogated the entire sotah procedure for a suspected adulteress because there was just too much adultery going on!

There are few things God hates more than sexual licentiousness and public promiscuity. Such behaviour is undoubtedly a cause for catastrophe, and we should keep this in mind when reflecting on the disgusting hyper-sexualization of society going on today. We must not forget the Sages’ teaching that God did not decree the Great Flood until that generation had started marrying two men and even men to beasts (see Beresheet Rabbah 26:5, as well as Chullin 92a-b). The former has now not only become common but bizarrely needs to be celebrated, while the latter might still seem absurd but has started to happen in our days, too. There is an ironic connection to the Temple here that is worth pointing out:

The villain initially cast for the role of destroying the Temple was the Roman emperor Nero (Gittin 56a). However, he soon realized that God was using him as a pawn: Nero learned that God uses despicable people as His agents of evil, so that He could then punish them, too. Nero understood he was that evil pawn, and would eventually perish for it. So, he abandoned the task. From historical sources, we know that he committed suicide because everyone left him—including his own royal guard—as they were fed up with his monstrosity. Nero had killed his wife, then regretted it so much that he found a slave boy that looked like her, castrated him, dressed him up like the wife, and married the boy. This is the kind of villain God tasked with destroying the Temple. Today, such a person might be celebrated by secular society and the mainstream media as a progressive hero.

The task of destroying the Temple was ultimately left to Vespasian and his son Titus. The exact way that it came about is through the infamous story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza (Gittin 55b-56a). In short, a wealthy man intended to invite his friend Kamtza to his party, but the invitation went to the wrong address and instead came his enemy, Bar Kamtza. The wealthy man wished to eject Bar Kamtza, and Bar Kamtza was so embarrassed he offered to even pay for the entire party if only they would let him stay and not suffer the shame. The host refused and kicked him out unceremoniously. People often misunderstand this story and think that here is an example of terrible sinat hinam that caused the Temple destruction. But that’s not how the story ends!

After getting kicked out of the party, Bar Kamtza said: “the Sages were sitting there and did not protest the [humiliation]!” How could the rabbis at the party stay silent? Angry, Bar Kamtza went to the Romans and told them that Israel is plotting a rebellion. He said he could prove it if they would send an official Roman sacrifice to the Temple. The Romans would see that the Jews would refuse their offering. As the sacrificial animal was being delivered, Bar Kamtza nicked it so that it would be blemished and unfit for offering. The Sages and priests were in a bind: on the one hand, they could not offer up a blemished sacrifice, as this would be insulting to God. On the other hand, rejecting the official Roman offering would certainly insult the Caesar and trigger a cruel response from Rome. One of the leaders at the time, Rabbi Zechariah ben Avkolas, concluded that their hands were tied and they should simply do nothing. The Romans were insulted, and the war began.

What is typically overlooked here is not the villainy of Bar Kamtza or his host, but the weakness, silence, and indifference of the rabbis. In fact, the passage concludes with Rabbi Yochanan teaching: “The ‘humility’ of Rabbi Zechariah ben Avkolas destroyed our Temple, burned our Sanctuary, and exiled us from our land.” The fault is placed not on Bar Kamtza, nor his host, nor the sinful Jewish masses, but squarely on the rabbis.

Today, again, we have rabbinic leaders who stay silent, who are indifferent, who are afraid to act, who don’t empathize with their flock, who rule stringently without heart, and who don’t bother getting involved in difficult issues. We have rabbinic leaders who take bribes masked as “charity” and avoid rebuking the wealthy and powerful; who spend their time in business and politics instead of spiritual upliftment and community building. Rabbinic leaders who do nothing to actually solve the many issues plaguing the Jewish world, and instead cowardly choose to support an unhealthy status quo. The prophet Jeremiah saw this long ago when he quoted Hashem declaring v’tofsei haTorah lo yeda’uni, “and the ‘guardians of the Torah’ don’t know Me!” Those who claim to hold steadfastly to the Torah—the supposed, self-appointed tofsei haTorah—are really the furthest from Hashem.

And so, the Temple was destroyed not simply because of sinat hinam. It was destroyed because of lax Torah observance, and also because of overly strict Torah observance. It was destroyed because of sexual immorality and shameless promiscuity. And perhaps foremost, it was destroyed because of the silence and indifference of rabbinic leaders. The Temple has yet to be rebuilt because we are still dealing with these same problems. Until every Jew speaks out and refuses to play along, nothing will change. Until every Jew rises up and opposes the insanity on both sides of the social, political, and religious spectrum, we shouldn’t expect a rebuilt Temple or a Mashiach. Crying about it and pretending to be sad on Tisha b’Av is essentially pointless—two thousand years of that clearly hasn’t brought us one iota closer. To conclude with an oft-used (and oft-misused) verse: et la’asot la’Hashem, heferu Toratecha! “It is a time to act for God, for they have violated your Torah!” (Psalms 119:126)

Wishing everyone a meaningful fast

More Learning Resources for Tisha b’Av:
The Untold Story of Napoleon and the Jews
The Powerful Link between Tisha b’Av and Tu b’Av
The Jews Who Destroyed the Temple

A Brief History of Red Heifers

This week’s double parasha (in the diaspora), Chukat-Balak, begins with a description of the purifying parah adumah, the “red heifer”. The Mishnah devotes an entire tractate, Parah, to explore the subject. It gives a short history of all the red cows that had been prepared up until that point (3:5). The first was, of course, prepared by Moses in the Wilderness. According to the Mishnah, this one jar of ashes lasted nearly a millennium, throughout the period of Judges and the entire First Temple era! (Only a pinch of red heifer ashes was needed to make a large amount of purifying liquid.)

The second red heifer was prepared by Ezra at the conclusion of the Babylonian Exile and the return of the Jews to the Holy Land. After that, there were seven more to span the Second Temple era. Shimon haTzadik, the last of the Great Assembly, prepared the third and fourth red cows. (For more on the identity of Shimon haTzadik, see ‘Who Was the First Rabbi in History?’) Recall that the Great Assembly, Knesset HaGedolah, was a council of 120 prophets and sages that helped to re-establish Judea following the Babylonian Exile. They are credited with canonizing the Tanakh, and putting together the first formal prayer texts of Judaism.

The fifth and sixth red cows were prepared by the kohen gadol Yochanan. He is an intriguing figure who, according to the Talmud, served as high priest for a whopping 80 years! (Berakhot 29a) Nonetheless, the Talmud uses him as proof for the teaching: “Do not be sure of yourself until you die!” This is because, despite serving as high priest for 80 years, Yochanan ultimately became a Tzduki, a Sadducee that denied the Oral Torah and rabbinic tradition.

The exact identity of Yochanan is subject to debate. According to Seder haDorot, he is the father of Matityahu, who was of course the leader of the Hasmonean revolt against the Seleucid Greeks and father of the Maccabees. When we say “Matityahu ben Yochanan” in our prayers, we are referring to this Yochanan. The Rambam, however, held that Yochanan Kohen Gadol was the son of Matityahu, who was probably named after his grandfather Yochanan. We know that one of the five sons of Matityahu was indeed named Yochanan. A third possibility, more in line with historical sources like Josephus, and with the Book of Maccabees, is that he was the son of Shimon, son of Matityahu. So, Yochanan Kohen Gadol is the same person as John Hyrcanus. (“John” and “Yochanan” are the same name.)

Coins minted by John Hyrcanus at the end of the second century BCE, with the Hebrew inscription: “Yohanan the High Priest, Council [or Leader] of Jews” (יהוחנן כהן גדול חבר היהודים)

The latter opinion makes the most sense. It explains why Yochanan would have to prepare a red heifer after the recapture and repurification of the Temple, which had previously been defiled by the Greeks. It also explains his unusually long tenure, because he would have served during the Hasmonean dynasty, which lasted about 100 years altogether. Moreover, we know that there was great conflict between the Pharisees and Sadducees precisely during the Hasmonean period, with King Alexander Yannai at one point persecuting and expelling the Pharisees, including the likes of his brother-in-law Shimon ben Shatach and contemporaries like Yehoshua ben Perachia. So, the Yochanan Kohen Gadol of the Talmud is most likely the High Priest John Hyrcanus of historical sources. And, because he served so long, he merited to prepare two red heifers.

See the video above to learn more about the fascinating era of Pharisees and Sadducees 

The next three red heifers were prepared by mysterious figures: Elyeho’enai ben HaKof, Hanamel the Egyptian, and Ishmael ben Piavi. The latter two seem to have been mentioned by Josephus. Hanamel is called Ananelus by Josephus, and he was appointed high priest by King Herod. He was replaced by a Yehoshua ben Piavi, which may be the same person as the Mishnah’s Ishmael ben Piavi. So, the last two red heifers were prepared in the time of King Herod (who reigned roughly between 37 and 4 BCE). This takes us pretty much to the end of the Second Temple era.

That leaves just one more, tenth, red heifer to the be prepared by Mashiach for the Third Temple. Although the Mishnah above doesn’t say that, the Rambam (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, 1138-1204) does in his Mishneh Torah, writing that “the tenth will be brought by the king Mashiach; may he speedily be revealed—amen, may it be God’s will!” (Sefer Taharah, Hilkhot Parah Adumah 3:4) The Lubavitcher Rebbe pointed out that the Rambam does not add a prayer for the coming of Mashiach anywhere else in the Mishneh Torah, not even in the Laws of Kings where he actually relays the halakhot of Mashiach! So, there is a particularly strong connection between the red heifer and Mashiach. It may be because Mashiach himself is thought to have a ruddy complexion, like King David his progenitor, or because some hold Mashiach will come from Edom, the “red” Western world, as per Isaiah 63:1 and other sources.

Another possibility is that the presence of a perfectly kosher red heifer in Israel would be an especially auspicious sign of Mashiach’s impending arrival. In recent years, a number of such red heifers have indeed been spotted. Jerusalem’s Temple Institute is always on the lookout for the ideal parah adumah, and has even sought to breed their own. Last year, five perfectly good red heifers were delivered to the Temple Institute from a farmer in Texas. So, we have the red heifers already. Now, all we need is Mashiach.

Shabbat Shalom!

Korach and Daniel: What’s the Connection?

This week’s parasha (in the diaspora) is Korach. In a traditional Chumash, at the end of each parasha there is a “Masoretic note” that provides a mnemonic to remember how many verses are in the parasha. This mnemonic is not random, and has a deep significance of its own. The mnemonic for parashat Korach, which has 95 verses, is “Daniel” (דניאל), which has a numerical value of 95. What hidden connection were the Masoretes concealing in this note? What does Korach have to do with Daniel?

“Death of Korah, Dathan, and Abiram” by Gustave Doré

At the heart of Korach’s rebellion was the argument that “all of Israel is holy” (Numbers 16:3). He accused Moses of nepotism and elitism, saying that Moses and his family took over the top positions and placed themselves above the commoners. Rashi comments (on 16:6) that Moses actually agreed with Korach to some extent, and said he also wished that everyone could be on the same spiritual plane. This is why he told Korach and his followers to take their own incense pans and attempt to make an offering like a High Priest. Moses’ defence was that, of course, he was only fulfilling God’s will.

In the absolute sense, Korach’s argument was not wrong, it was just not l’shem shamayim (as our Sages state in Avot 5:17). He was not rebelling for Heaven’s sake, or to truly elevate the people, but for his own glory and ulterior motives. This is why he failed. Truthfully, though, God did intend for all of Israel to be on the same plane—eventually. The Wilderness generation was not yet ready for it, but in time God would lead Israel towards oneness and equality. And when did this happen? Precisely in the time of Daniel!

After the First Temple was destroyed, Israel was exiled to the melting pot that was Babylon. Outside the Holy Land and without a Temple, the kohen had no role, and being a priest became mostly irrelevant. Instead, Babylon saw the rise of the chakham, the Jewish sage. The educated scholars knew how to adapt and what to do, and how to lead the community in exile. Of course, being a chakham was not based on birthright or genealogy, it was entirely based on merit and scholarship. Anyone could be a chakham!

Meanwhile, in a few short generations, the old Israelite tribal affiliations were forgotten. In Babylon, everyone became a Yehudi, simply a Judahite or “Jew”. We read in Megillat Esther that Mordechai was a Benjaminite, yet he is first called an Ish Yehudi before the text mentions that he is an Ish Yemini. His primary identity was that he was a Jew, not a Benjaminite! Mordechai knew his Benjaminite lineage because he was one of the elders and original exiles, but the younger generations that followed quickly forgot their detailed backgrounds. In short, everyone became a Jew (even the priestly Levites!) and everyone now had the potential to be a great chakham and leader, like Mordechai himself.

Mordechai’s contemporary was Daniel, another great sage who made sure to keep Jewish law despite serving the Babylonian government (as we read in the first chapter of the Book of Daniel), and worked tirelessly to ensure Judaism would not be forgotten in exile. In fact, Daniel plays a hidden role in the Megillah, as our Sages identified him with the character called Hatakh (Esther 4:5), palace attendant of Queen Esther (Megillah 15a). Hatakh is the hidden hero in the story, delivering the secret communications between Esther and Mordechai, and helping her confront Haman. There is a beautiful gematria here, too, because Haman (המן) is 95, as is Daniel (דניאל), suggesting numerically that Daniel “neutralized” Haman.

So, it was in the era of Daniel that Korach’s case for an equal Israel was realized. This is the deeper meaning for why parashat Korach has exactly 95 verses, and this is why the Masoretic note reminds us about Daniel at the end of Korach’s parasha.

Shabbat Shalom!