An ancient rabbinic teaching has it that only those who mourn for the sadness of Jerusalem’s tragedies will ultimately rejoice at Jerusalem’s redemption. On Tisha B’Av we cry for the tragedies that have befallen our people; but we also proclaim Nahamu Nahamu. We arise from our mourning. We cast our eyes forward to a happier and better time.
Much human misery is the result of people betraying themselves by adopting artificial personae. They are so anxious to impress or blend in with others that they lose their own selves in the process. Even worse, they come to believe that they actually are what their masks portray them to be. For them, falsehood becomes truth. They no longer have the ability to distinguish between who they are and who they are pretending to be.
Moses and Aaron had been unable to foresee or fend off the “gloomititis.” This, it may be suggested, was the “sin” that disqualified them from entering the promised land. They had fallen out of touch with the needs and feelings of the people, and thus they were no longer able to lead them properly.
When we give our word and make commitments, our personal honor is at stake. Halakha expects us to be our best and do our best. Falling short of this standard is a sign of moral—and religious—deficiency.
True religious leadership is not manifested in seeking power or control, nor in seeking honor or public accolades. Just the opposite! A genuine religious leader, like Moses, must exemplify humility and self-sacrifice.
We can fight “echo reasoning” by insisting on independent reasoning. We can fight autocracy by insisting on freedom of expression. We can combat religious rigidity and intolerance by raising our voices for intellectual vibrancy, compassion and social responsibility.
One might attend various synagogues and find the same general liturgy and customs—but in one synagogue one feels ignored or rebuffed, and in another synagogue one feels warmly received and appreciated. Which would you choose to attend and support?
In our world today, we are—unfortunately—accustomed to dealing with biased, hate-filled, and dishonest enemies. We sometimes wonder why people abandon reason and fairness in order to maintain hateful prejudices. But we also know that the “Bil’am effect” is possible. Some special individuals—steeped in animosity and prejudice—can rise above their biases, can open their eyes, can become forces for good instead of pawns of evil.
When people—individually, communally, nationally—have disagreements, they can engage in serious discussion and dialogue even if the parties are critical of each other’s positions. But when people are contemptuous of the other side, then the basis for discussion, debate and reconciliation is undermined.
Mount Sinai reminds us that God speaks to us. Mount Moriah reminds us that we long for God. The Mountain of God reminds us that we have lives to lead, mountains to climb, things to accomplish. These three mountains together help us structure our lives and our religious imaginations.