The Gemara (Taanis 30b) teaches: "Whoever mourns for Yerushalayim will merit to see its joy, and whoever does not mourn for Yerushalayim will not merit to see its joy."
The Ritva raises an obvious question. Throughout the generations there were countless tzadikim who sincerely mourned for Yerushalayim, yet they already passed away. How will they ever merit to witness the joy of its rebuilding?
We can think of great tzadikim such as the Chasam Sofer. It is related that every Erev Tisha B'Av he would cry bitterly over the Churban until he filled a cup with tears. During the Seudah Hamafsekes he would dip his bread into those tears and eat it. Surely no one could doubt the depth of his mourning. Yet how will he personally see the rebuilding of Yerushalayim?
The Ritva reveals a remarkable chiddush. Before the rebuilding of Yerushalayim and the Beis Hamikdash, there will be a special Techiyas HaMeisim for those tzadikim who mourned for the Churban. They will arise and merit to witness the great simchah of Yerushalayim's restoration. Only afterward will there be the general Techiyas HaMeisim for the rest of Klal Yisroel.
Rav Reuven Karlenstein points out that this idea is hinted to in the brachah of Techiyas HaMeisim. We say, "Umekayem emunaso lisheinei afar" Hashem faithfully fulfills His promise to those who sleep in the dust. This refers to those tzadikim who longed and cried for Yerushalayim throughout their lives. Chazal teach that tzadikim, even after their passing, are considered alive. Therefore they are called "lisheinei afar," those who are merely sleeping in the earth. One day they will awaken and witness the rebuilding of the Beis Hamikdash for which they yearned.
As the years of galus continue, we become so accustomed to our exile that we no longer feel what we are missing. On Hoshana Rabbah we say, "Hoshana kevushah bagolah." The Klausenberger Rebbe explained that the word "kavush" means soaked. Chazal teach that something which remains soaked for a long period absorbs the taste and aroma of whatever it is immersed in. We too have become so soaked in galus that we have forgotten who we really are and what we are missing.
A famous mashal illustrates this idea. A prince was sent far away from his father's palace into exile. As time passed he became impoverished and desperate. Eventually he sold himself as a slave to a cruel master who worked him mercilessly and beat him regularly. Many years later news spread that the king would be visiting the area and would grant a personal request to anyone who approached him. When the prince's turn came, he asked the king for one small favor. He requested that his master lighten his workload a little. The king was heartbroken. Could it be that his own son had forgotten who he was? Had he forgotten that he was royalty? Why was he not begging to return to the palace? Why was he satisfied merely to make exile a little more comfortable?
We are that prince. After so many years in galus we have become comfortable. Instead of yearning to return to our Father's palace, we often ask only for an easier exile. Hashem waits for us to cry out and ask for the real thing the rebuilding of Yerushalayim and the return of the Shechinah.
The Yaavetz writes in his Siddur Beis Yaakov that even if a person were free of every other sin, the fact that he does not properly mourn for Yerushalayim would itself be enough reason for the galus to continue. A person can fast on Tisha B'Av and observe every halachah perfectly, but if he fails to feel the loss of Yerushalayim, he has missed the essence of the day.
Chazal teach that Hashem took away the Beis Hamikdash as a mashkon, a collateral. Rav Chaim Volozhiner asks a fascinating question. The Beis Hamikdash is our very life. We say in davening, "Rachem al Tziyon ki hi beis chayeinu" Have mercy upon Tziyon, for it is the house of our life. Yet the halachah is that one may not take from a poor person an item that is essential for his life. If so, how could Hashem take away the Beis Hamikdash?
Rav Chaim answers with a powerful insight. The moment we truly feel that the Beis Hamikdash is our life, the moment we recognize that we cannot live without it, Hashem will return it to us. During these days of Bein HaMetzarim, let us reflect on all that we are missing. Let us remember who we are and where we belong. If we genuinely mourn for Yerushalayim and long for its return, we are promised that we will also share in its joy. May Hashem help us merit to see the rebuilding of Yerushalayim and the Beis Hamikdash speedily in our days.
