Why do we cry on Tisha B'Av?
At first glance, the answer seems obvious. We mourn the destruction of the Beis HaMikdash, the loss of Yerushalayim, and the suffering that Klal Yisroel has endured throughout the centuries of galus. Yet perhaps there is another reason as well. Perhaps we cry because we do not fully realize what we have lost.
The Midrash relates a remarkable story about a man named Yosef Meshisa. When the Romans entered Yerushalayim and prepared to destroy the Beis HaMikdash, they needed someone to guide them through its corridors and chambers. They recruited a Jew named Yosef Meshisa, a man who had sunk so low that he was willing to assist the enemies of his own people.
As payment for his services, the Romans promised him that he could take whatever he wanted from the treasures of the Beis HaMikdash. Yosef Meshisa eagerly accepted the offer. He entered the Beis HaMikdash and emerged carrying the golden Menorah itself. Even the Romans were astonished. ‐This is too valuable for a common person,‐ they told him. ‐Go back inside and choose something else.‐
But Yosef Meshisa refused. The Romans were confused. Just moments earlier he had willingly entered the Beis HaMikdash to steal from it. Why the sudden change? They offered him tremendous wealth. Some versions of the Midrash state that they promised him the tax revenues of an entire region for three years. Still he refused. ‐I cannot go back in,‐ he said. The Romans increased their offers. Again he refused.
Finally he cried out, ‐Is it not enough that I angered my Creator one time? Must I anger Him again?‐ The Romans became furious. They tortured him brutally, yet until his final breath Yosef Meshisa cried out: ‐Woe is to me, for I have angered my Creator!‐
The question is obvious. What happened? How does a person go from betraying his people and stealing from the Beis HaMikdash to giving up his life al kiddush Hashem only moments later? The Ponovezher Rav offered a profound answer. Nothing changed Yosef Meshisa except one thing. He walked into the Beis HaMikdash. Although he entered with terrible intentions, he was exposed to holiness. He stood in the place where the Shechinah rested. He entered the holiest place on earth. And that experience transformed him forever.
The holiness of the Beis HaMikdash penetrated his heart and awakened a spark that had been buried deep within his soul. He entered as a traitor. He left as a baal teshuvah. The Ponovezher Rav explained that this demonstrates a fundamental truth. Kedushah is real. Holiness is not merely an idea or a feeling. It possesses the power to elevate and transform a person.
A few moments in the presence of the Shechinah accomplished what years of rebuke and persuasion could not. This helps us understand what we are mourning on Tisha B'Av. We are not only mourning a beautiful building that once stood in Yerushalayim. We are mourning the loss of a spiritual force that changed people. We are mourning the loss of a place where a Jew could walk in one person and walk out a completely different person. We are mourning the loss of a place where the Shechinah was openly felt.
Today we struggle to grow. We battle distractions. We search for inspiration. We work hard to strengthen our connection to Hashem. When the Beis HaMikdash stood, there was a powerful source of kedushah in the world that lifted every Jew who came near it. That is what Yosef Meshisa discovered. And that is what we have lost.
Perhaps this is one of the reasons we sit on the floor and cry on Tisha B'Av. We cry not only for what once was, but for what could be. We cry because we long for the day when the Shechinah will once again dwell among us, when the Beis HaMikdash will stand in its glory, and when every Jew will be able to experience the transforming power of Hashem's presence.
May we merit very soon to see the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash and the return of the Shechinah to Tzion, במהרה בימינו אמן.
