July 27, 2023|ט' אב ה' אלפים תשפ"ג Tisha B'Av: Finding shalom at a night of no shalom By Rabbi Jonathan Muskat

How do we find shalom at a time of no shalom? After all, today is a day of no shalom. Today is a day when we remember only death, destruction, blood libels and pogroms - no shalom. Today is a day when we remember sinat chinam and internal strife between Jews - no shalom. Today is a day when she’elat shalom, offering words of shalom to each other, is forbidden. But why is that? Shouldn’t we specifically engage in she’elat shalom, in greeting others, on Tisha B’Av to fix sin of the lack of shalom, the lack of peace amongst our people that led to the destruction of the Mikdash and that still plagues us today?

I think that the answer is that Tisha B’Av is not about fixing. Yom Kippur is about fixing. We ask each other for forgiveness before Yom Kippur so that we are in a state of shalom, of peace, on Yom Kippur like angels. On Yom Kippur, we are our best selves. But Tisha B’Av is not about fixing. In his sefer Alei Shur (vol. 2, p. 4110412), Rav Wolbe writes that Tisha B’Av is a day of hakarat ha-richuk, a day when we realize how far we have become distant from God, from each other, and from our ideal selves. Only after we spend a day processing the nature of this distance can we begin to think about how we can begin to return to God, to each other and to ourselves.

How is a lack of she’elat shalom on Tisha B’Av a manifestation of this distance? She’elat shalom is both an action and an attitude. On one level, when I see you in the street and I greet you, I convey to you that you matter. I value you. On Tisha B’Av, we mourn the fact that so many people refused to greet each other. They refused to acknowledge each other. They refused to tell the other person that you matter.

The famous gemara in Masechet Gittin introduces the Kamtza Bar Kamtza story by saying “a-Kamatza u’Bar Kamtza charuv Yerushalayim,” that Yerushalayim was destroyed because of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza. I understand why Yerushalayim was destroyed because of Bar Kamtza. After all, he told the Roman emperor that the Jews were rebelling against him and he secretly tampered with the emperor’s offering so that the Jews wouldn’t be able to offer the sacrifice. He was partially responsible for the destruction. I also understand why the host who kicked Bar Kamtza out of the party was partially responsible for the destruction because he publicly embarrassed Bar Kamtza. But what did Kamtza do? He was completely uninvolved in the story!

The Maharal explains that the word Kamtza means division and that Kamtza and Bar Kamtza represented two different cliques, two different social groups that hated each other and didn’t want to associate with each other. The host and Kamtza were united not based on mutual love or ideals. The host and Kamtza were united by their hatred of Bar Kamtza and his clique. This was Jewish life shortly before the destruction of the Beit Hamikdash. People were united in hate of the other. No she’elat shalom. I am not even going to greet you in the street. And even more than that. If you walk into my party, I am going to throw you out, whatever the cost. Why? Because you don’t matter.

But the truth is that she’elat shalom goes much deeper than that. We may think that we can fix the problem simply by our behavior, meaning, I hate you and all that you stand for because I have different political or religious views or different views about COVID than you, but I will be polite. I will say hello to and will greet you when I see you in the street, but that’s only she’elat shalom in action. It’s not she’elat shalom in attitude. If we want to fix the distance created by a lack of she’elat shalom, we need to fix our attitude.

She’elat shalom is more than a “hello.” Rav Yitzchak Arama writes that shalom, peace, is not simply the absence of conflict. Shalom is the harmonious working together of distinct and individual parts in such a way as to form a unified and integrated whole. Each individual was created in the image of God as a distinct entity. The gemara (Berachot 58a) states “ain datam domeh zeh lazeh v’ein partzufeihen domim zeh lazeh” – our personalities are different just as our faces are different. I think differently than you. I have a different perspective than you. When we daven in the last bracha of shemona esrei for shalom, we pray that God coordinate the different aspects of each creation, strengths and weaknesses, virtues and failures, together so that the combination of all creations is greater than the sum of its parts. We pray for this harmony but we also have the opportunity and responsibility to foster this harmony. And the way we do that is to realize that your perspective and your political and religious views are a creation of God.

The gemara in Masechet Taanit (20a-b) tells a story of how the great Tanna Rabbi Elazar was riding on the road and came across a particularly ugly man who said “shalom alecha.” He greeted Rabbi Elazar. Rabbi Elazar was so disturbed by the man’s appearance that he said, “kamah mechu’ar oto ha’ish! Shema kol bnei ircha mechu’arin kamotcha - How ugly are you? Are all the people of your city as ugly as you are?" So the ugly man turns to Rabbi Elazar and said, “aini yodaya ella lech ve’emor l’uman she’asa’uni kamah mechu’ar kli zeh she’asita – I do not know but go and tell the Artisan who made me how ugly is the vessel which you have made." When we hear this story, we are in shock that someone, let alone a great rabbi, would make such a comment about someone’s appearance. After all, everyone was created by God and God purposefully chose to create this person in this manner. But the same is true about someone else’s values and ideas. God created each one of us differently. I completely disagree with you, but you are still part of the world of shalom created by God. When I greet you with shalom, I acknowledge that you are a piece of God’s creation, you have value, you have self-worth, and I love you just as I love God.

There was a hidden tzaddik named Rabbi Ehud Vartlesky who lived a number of years ago in Eretz Yisrael. He made a living working as a bookkeeper at a Yiddish-speaking school for girls, and he was a person who was constantly seeking out ways to help a fellow Jew in need. He considered no act of kindness below his dignity. Several years ago rumors spread that Rabbi Vartlesky had been seen on several occasions reading Haaretz, a secular newspaper with an anti-religious slant. Someone who knew Rabbi Vartlesky, and that he spent all of his free time learning Torah, doubted the story could be true and went to ask Rabbi Vartlesky himself. But the Rabbi simply nodded and confirmed the truth of the rumor. “I know,” he explained, “that the people who read Haaretz are generally not observant at all. It occurred to me that many of these people will not even have anybody to recite kaddish for them with a minyan after they pass away. So every day I read the death notices in Haaretz, and I mark down the people’s names so I can recite kaddish in their honor for 11 months.”

Tonight we reflect on how we have failed miserably to foster she’elat shalom in both action and attitude and that sin is not a historical sin. It is a sin that is so pervasive today. Let us utilize this day as an opportunity to reflect on the richuk – on the distance that we have created between us and God and between each other for our failure to appreciate the shalom in the world, that everyone, no matter how different, was created in the image of God. And maybe if we truly do that, we can turn this day from a day commemorating sinat chinam, hatred and strife between Jews, to a day strengthening of ahavat chinam, our love for each other, in both action and attitude.