WE PLEAD TO BE BROUGHT HOME

By Harav Y. Reuven Rubin Shlita

How do you mourn that which you never had? How does one realize his desperation when all his experiences are of just such hurting?

We have lived in galus for so long that we can’t even imagine what true spiritual wholeness is. In Yiddish there is an expression “a verm vos lebt in chrain meint az dos leben iz zees”, “A worm that lives in horseradish thinks his life is sweet.” If all we recognise is the daily treadmill of a life lived so far from our roots, then grieving over our lost glory is difficult indeed.  Hashem so wants us to be drawn closer to Him, yet we have allowed ourselves to become comfortable in our detachment.

In truth, this is unfortunately quite understandable.  Just as that worm knows no better, we too have become lulled into insensitivity. After all, we have no tangible point of reference to the glory that was once ours. We have never met or even known someone else who met someone who witnessed those long-gone times. In trying to survive we have accepted that living in horseradish is the norm.

True, we do have strikingly vivid depictions of those past times. Our liturgy is full of scintillating glimpses, and we articulate our longing at every turn of our lives. The question is how much we really internalise these images and prayers. Do we truly await the rebuilding of our holy Temple? Or is it just a metaphor for the yearning of an unsettled and burdened soul?

I believe that the way for us to begin to approach the enormity of our losses is by first turning to look within our own selves. If we start to realise how far we have slid and what this has done to our worldview, then just maybe we can begin to comprehend the enormity of our devastation.

The period of the Three Weeks is an auspicious time for such thoughts. It is an opportunity to energise our souls and transform that muffled quaint uneasiness that lies within every Jewish heart into a raging storm of relentless desire.

Foremost, we must know that there was a time when Yidden knew the truth unequivocally and basked in a sun that shone clearly. Every one of our ancestors strove to reach the pathways that led to Yerusholayim, and once there, they participated in the joyousness that was the avoda in the Beis Hamikdash.

In those sweet times, every Yid felt tangibly part of a holy flock that was watched over by the most faithful of all shepherds, Hashem. But the human being is a fickle creature, and insipidly the egoism set in, leading our forefathers astray. I remember a rebbe of mine once teaching us a powerful lesson.  If one builds parallel roads, they will follow each other forever. However, if one road diverges just a little, with each passing mile the two roads will draw further apart.

This widespread divergence is our sorry state today.  We must first accept the true reality of our situation and then seek out that loving Shepherd personally. Knowing that indeed something is amiss, is a beginning.

The Rebbe Reb Bunim of Peshischa  spoke of our situation, “The real exile of Israel in Egypt was that they learned to endure it,” he would say.  He reproved his chassidim for imploring Hashem for a livelihood in exile instead of praying for the advent of the Moshiach, when a livelihood will be granted as a matter of course.

He illustrated this foolishness with a parable.  A king once banished his errant son to a farm to perform hard labor. Soon after, the king received a letter from the prince.  He opened it, prepared for reconciliation if the youth had petitioned for it. But the lad merely asked his father to instruct the farmer to feed and clothe him better. “How foolish of him!” thought the king. “Had he asked to be restored to his royal position in the palace, his problems of food and attire would have been solved as a matter of course and in a manner more agreeable to him.”

Despite the fact that we think of ourselves as sophisticated and worldly, we are just confused. We have lost contact with what is real. We have not turned ourselves entirely away from Hashem chas vesholom, we still reach out to Him no matter where we find ourselves. We speak of Him and want to dwell in His shadow.

It’s just that life’s detours have confounded us. So let each of us take stock of our inner truths, and seek to heal that which has become the chasm of our belief.

These days are days when Klall Yisroel sit on low benches together as one, let our broken hearts combine as one people, and in this way be zocher to the true redemption.