My plan is to send out a few Three Weeks-related divrei Torah and musings over the coming, well, Three Weeks – so be sure to subscribe in order to read them.
Walking to Minḥa this past Shabbat I was struck by a disturbing thought that I’ve since been unable to shake.
Among the reasons we fast today on 17 Tammuz is that it is the anniversary of when Jerusalem’s walls were breached (Mishnah Ta‘anit 4:6). As the gemara elaborates, this is a reference solely to the destruction of the Second Temple by the Romans – the Babylonians breached Jerusalem’s walls on 9 Tammuz before going on to destroy the First Temple (Ta‘anit 28b quoting Jer. 52:6–7).
Yes, I’ll admit that the simple fact that a key stage in the destruction of both Temples was the breaching of Jerusalem’s fortifications is not, in and of itself, particularly striking – while I’m no military historian, I’d wager that this is a common way to win a siege.
Nonetheless, for some reason my mind drifted to the idea that there is a key – if unexciting for anyone but a contractor – theme to the Jewish people’s dwelling in the Land of Israel from their original conquest of the land through to the destruction of the Second Temple: Their entire existence was bookended by, of all things, the destruction of walls.1
Because it’s not just the Romans and Babylonians who destroyed walls in the process of exiling the Jewish people from the Land of Israel – walls were destroyed as the Jewish people conquered the Land of Israel in which to live.
The very first city targeted by the Jewish people in their conquest is Jericho – a city that has been completely fortified to the extent that “no one could leave or enter” (Josh. 6:1). Yet rather than attempt a siege or any other military maneuver, Joshua is informed by God that He will miraculously deliver Jericho to the Jewish people (v. 2).
What follows is a highly choreographed ritual in which the Jewish people circle the city for a week with various religious accouterments (I’ll be honest, I don’t have the patience to summarize this in detail, feel free to read vv. 3–19 yourselves if you want a more rounded understanding of the story) – all of which culminates in the miraculous collapse of Jericho’s walls.
That this fact is a mere three words buried within verse 20 – va-tippol ha-ḥomah taḥteyha, “and the wall collapsed” – only heightens the miracle: with a click of His proverbial fingers, God caused Jericho’s walls to come tumbling down.
What both struck me and disturbed me the other day was the striking contrast between the Jewish people’s conquest of and exile from the Land of Israel.
In order to conquer the land, the Jewish people needed divine assistance. Indeed, it’s not just Jericho’s walls that are miraculously destroyed by God – so much of the narrative until this point in the Book of Joshua underscores the miraculous nature of the Jewish people’s conquest.
First, the river Jordan parts in order to let the people cross in a miraculous manner that transparently evokes the crossing of the Yam Suf when the Jewish people left Egypt (Josh. 3:15–17, Ex. 14:21–31).
But the miracle itself is not enough – because God explicitly commands the people to create a monument to their miraculous entry into Israel (Josh. 4:6–7). And following its construction, Joshua reinforces the sheer miraculousness2 of their crossing, stressing that it’s a second Splitting of the Sea (vv. 21–24).
Finally, the realization that God is aiding the Jewish people in their conquest leads to many of the nations dwelling in the Land of Israel to already give up hope that they will not be conquered (Josh. 5:1).
If I haven’t yet convinced you that there is a wall-related theme to the conquest and exile of the Jewish people, then this next bit won’t help – especially when even I feel my mental muscles straining with the overreach. But once you start seeing walls you see them everywhere.
Because it’s not just walls that bookend the initial conquest and second exile – even within this period, not only does the destruction of the First Temple involve the breaching of walls (as I mentioned above), but the Jewish people’s return to the land and rebuilding of the Temple also involves a wall-related miracle.
Ultimately, what triggers the Jewish people’s return to the Land of Israel and rebuilding of the Temple is Persia’s conquest of Babylon. But that geopolitical change includes its own wall-related miracle.
In the Book of Daniel, the Babylonian king, Belshazzar, throws a feast in which he uses various vessels taken by his father, Nebuchadnezzar, during his destruction of the First Temple (Dan. 5:1–4).
But this is when a haunting miracle occurs: Belshazzar sees a disembodied hand writing upon the wall of his palace (v. 5). What follows is a narrative in which Daniel interprets the mysterious words written upon the wall – portending the end of the Babylonian Empire. Indeed, the chapter concludes with Belshazzar’s assassination (v. 30) and the rise of Darius, who will go on to forge the Persian Empire (6:1).
Tracing this wall-related theme of the Jewish people’s conquest and exile of the Land of Israel led me to my disturbing realization: in order for the Jewish people to live and dwell in the Land of Israel, explicit miracles are required: rivers must part, God must fight with (or on behalf of) the Jewish people, and – yes, of all things – walls must act in unwallish ways.
But when it comes to the Jewish people’s exile, all it takes is for humans to be human. A human army lays siege to Jerusalem and – using its simple but effective human-made tools – breaches the walls, enters the city, and destroys it.
And when we consider the best-known reasons why the Jewish people deserved to be exiled, it is four specific sins that are highlighted (even if I think we sometimes neglect some of the other sins named by Ḥazal as the cause of the Temples’ destruction): the three cardinal sins – idolatry, murder, and sexual immorality – and sinat ḥinam, “baseless hatred.”
The thread that unites all of these is that they are violated by humans just being human. In the case of the three cardinal sins, it’s humans giving in to their most base and animalistic instincts. And in the case of baseless hatred, it’s a certain pettiness that drives humans to be stubbornly callous with one another (as seen in the story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, Gittin 55b).
All of which is to say something deeply disturbing: all it takes for us to be exiled is for us to simply act as humans – to take things personally, to be petty, and to never resist our innate drives. Yet to stay within the Land of Israel, it requires outright miracles – it needs us to be in sync with the Ribbono Shel Olam.
Perhaps this is the entire point of the Three Weeks: for us to dwell on the gap between the people we are and the people we wish to be – and to start making the strides necessary to close that gap.
My MSWord was giving me grief, saying that this isn’t a word, but Merriam-Webster says it is, so I’m using it.