Divrei Devarim
Our Fifth Column
This week’s parshah normally precedes Tisha B’Av, the height of our mourning for the destruction of the Bais HaMikdash and the loss of special closeness to Hashem. The Gemara in Gittin devotes several dafim, from 55b to 58a, to discussions of the Second Churban and its lessons, to the point that we are told that these gemaras are appropriate for learning on Tisha B’Av.
The Untold Story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza
Perhaps the most famous incident (of the many listed there) is the story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza. Rabbi Yochanan declares outright that “because of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza, Yerushalayim was destroyed.” (55b) As we know, a certain person had a friend, Kamtza, and an enemy, Bar Kamtza. When this man threw a party, he told his servant to invite Kamtza. By accident, the servant invited Bar Kamtza, who came. When that man saw Bar Kamtza there, he ordered him to leave. Bar Kamtza begged to stay, offering to pay for his own meal, then half the party, then for the entire event. The host refused, then grabbed Bar Kamtza’s hand, stood him up, and hauled him out. Bar Kamtza noticed that the sages of Yerushalayim had been present at his humiliation, but had not protested. Concluding that they must have approved of his short-term host’s behavior, he decided to slander them to Nero, the Roman emperor at that time. He told Nero, “The Jews have rebelled against you!” When the emperor demanded proof, Bar Kamtza offered a test: “Send them an animal and see if they sacrifice it in their Temple.” The emperor agreed. Before it reached the Bais HaMikdash, Bar Kamtza blemished it in a way that rendered it unfit for the Mizbayach, although it was still usable by Roman standards of idol-worship. After considerable debate, the sages of Yerushalayim refused the offering, and Nero assembled an army and began the march upon his province of Judaea. Even though he gave up the leadership and in fact converted to Judaism (one of two Roman emperors to do so, the other being Marcus Aurelius, the “Antoninus” who befriended Rabbi Yehudah HaNasi – see Avodah Zara 10b, Tos. Divrei HaMaschil Kol), Vespasian and later Titus completed the task of re-conquering Eretz Yisroel, destroying Yerushalayim, demolishing the Second Bais HaMikdash, and killing or enslaving millions of Jews.
Certainly, the recounting of this sad event has inspired millions of drashos on the need to respect our fellow men and on the consequences of our neglecting to do so. However, says, HaRav Avigdor Miller zt”l, the gemara in Yuma (9b) tells us another dimension: “The generation of the [destruction of] the Second Bais HaMikdash were engrossed in Torah, Divine service, and acts of lovingkindness. [If so,] why was it destroyed? Because there was senseless hatred.” Asks Rav Miller: If the Jewish nation of that time was busy engaged in acts of lovingkindness, where was the senseless hatred? Furthermore, he notes, the Sages at the time of the Destruction included Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai, Rabbi Eliezer ben Hyrcanus, and Rabbi Akiva – utterly holy rabbis whose entire lives were dedicated to bringing the light of Hashem into this world. Can anyone imagine that they would approve of a man being publicly embarrassed, as happened to Bar Kamtza? What’s more, he says, Bar Kamtza must have realized that his treacherous act would not only bring revenge upon his perceived enemies –- his one-time host and the Sages -- but a Roman invasion would also most likely doom the rest of the Jews living in Eretz Yisroel, including his own friends and family. In short, he would be ruining his own life. Who would do such a thing?
The question becomes even stronger when we consider the incredible level of devotion our ancestors in that time. When we became a holy nation at Har Sinai, we were given the power to rise to the level of angels, who say “Holy, Holy, Holy, is Hashem of Legions.” Indeed, the Gemara in Yuma, which describes the Jewish people at the time of Churban Bayis Sheini as engrossed in Torah, Divine service, and acts of lovingkindness, is merely a sweeping summary of their greatness. The Jewish nation as a whole was wildly in love with the Torah. Every city teemed with sages and their disciples. The Gemara (Sanhedrin 3a) declares that at this time, “out of every three men, at least one knew the laws of the Torah.” The Sages taught to enormous audiences; Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai had so many talmidim that there was not a building in the entire city of Yerushalayim which could accommodate them; instead, he taught outside, at the foot of Har Habayis (Pesachim 3b) As far as Divine service, one only need to look at the events on Chol HaMoed Succos for a glimpse of the fervor of the Jewish nation at the time before the Churban. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Chananyah described how the rejoicing simply did not stop; for eight days straight, they danced and sang with the Leviim, witnessed the many offerings in the Bais HaMikdash (including the Simchas Bais HaShoievah), joyfully learned Torah, and ate and drank at their festive meals, to the point that the only time that the many thousands upon thousands of participants slept came when one briefly put his head upon his neighbor’s shoulder. (Succos) Pesach was no less; the Gemara (Pesachim 64b) relates that King Agrippa, the one righteous monarch from the House of Herod, once wished to know the Jewish population. Rather than utilizing a direct count, he asked one of the cohanim to set aside one kidney from every korban Pesach which was brought that year. The total came to 1,200,000. Assuming that at least ten people shared every korban Pesach (according to Rav Chiya, it was fifty, and according to Bar Kappara, it was a hundred), and keeping in mind that those Jews who were tamei’im (as often was the case for mourners) and those who were too far away (such as many on the eastern edges of Bavel) were not counted, we come to a figure of some 100 million Jews all participating in a religious ceremony. To put this annual event in modern perspective, take the most recent Siyum HaShas (which attracted 100,000), multiply it by 1,000, put everyone in one place (not divided into several dozen locations, linked by telecom), make everyone (not just the Shas-finishers) active participants, add the kedushah of Eretz Yisroel, and now imagine the powerful force of inspirational spirituality that is generated. This spirit of service pervaded the nation all year; when Chazal tell “even the empty ones [the lowest of the Jews] are as full of mitzvos as a pomegranate is full of seeds,” (Megillah 6a) in that generation, one could easily see that practically every Jew burned with a desire to serve the A-Mighty. The Jewish nation’s devotion to Hashem bordered on the superhuman; Josephus describes how conquerors sometimes kidnapped and tortured Jews to death, only in order to watch in awe how Jews would endure any suffering and not betray one letter of the Torah. (Contra Apion II, 33) And as far as that generation’s acts of lovingkindness, one could simply note that on a constant basis, the residents of Yerushalayim joyously welcomed their fellow Jews who had journeyed to the Bais HaMikdash for the festivals, to the point that “no man ever said to his fellow, ‘The space is insufficient for me to stay overnight in Yerushalayim.’” (Avos 5:7) Even when simple Jewish farmers arrived with their bikkurim baskets, no less than the leaders of the Kohanim, Leviim, and the treasurers of the Bais HaMikdash would rush out to greet them; and as the procession would wind its way through the streets of Yerushalayim, the artisans would leave their work, stand at attention, and respectfully greet them as they passed by. (Bikkurim 3:3) The leaders were paragons of chesed; whenever a rich man lost his money, Hillel would donate to him a horse with a slave to run ahead, in order that he not be embarrassed by his turn of fortune. On one occasion, no slave was available, and so Hillel himself ran in front. (Kesuvos 67b) Rav Chana bar Chanilai hired one hundred and twenty bakers – sixty worked by day, and sixty by night – solely to bake bread for the needy. For those who were too ashamed to openly take, he set out bags of flour at night, and he always kept his hand in his pocket, ready to pull out his wallet for a poor man. (Brachos 58b)
Returning to the original question, if Klal Yisroel lived on such an exalted level, how could the Churban have come in their days? Answers Rav Miller: The incident of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza illustrates a sad but recurring principle of Jewish history – our worst enemies come from within our own nation. In reality, that generation attained such incredible spirituality under a great handicap -- they lived under the boot of the Tzaddukim and the Herodians, two small but rich and powerful groups which aped the gentile ways, especially the corruptions of Greece and Rome. Says Rav Miller: we see one other mention of Bar Kamtza. In his Antiquities of the Jews, Josephus mentions a certain “Kampsis bar Kampsis,” who supported the Herodian puppet government of Judaea. With one notable exception – Agrippa, who would accompany the above-mentioned bikkurim bringers, even placing a basket upon his shoulders (Bikkurim 3:4) – the Herodians despised the Torah and persecuted the Sages and the vast multitude who followed them. Herod himself killed every talmid chacham he could get his hands on. (Bava Basra 3b) Now, says Rav Miller, the deep meaning of the Gemaras in Gittin and Yuma becomes clear. That “party” was no mere social gathering. Rather, it was a front for a secret meeting, called by the Sages, to discuss the troubling situation in Yerushalayim. As soon as Bar Kamtza sat down, he realized that he had been given a front-row seat to overhear the plans of the opponents of the government. No doubt, he was mentally preparing a slanderous report. When the host saw him, he realized the danger, and threw him out. Now we understand why the rabbis in attendance had no qualms about the “bum’s rush” meted out to Bar Kamtza – they knew him all too well. And now we can understand why Bar Kamtza had no qualms about slandering and bringing about the destruction of millions of Jews in Eretz Yisroel. Infected by the virus of Western “civilization” and driven by lusts for money and power, he felt no affiliation for Klal Yisroel; his heart was in Rome, and he couldn’t have cared less for Yerushalayim. But there’s more . . .
We see this concept throughout our history. Keeping in mind the Ramban’s understanding of Chumash as “the events of the Forefathers are portents for their descendants,” Yitzchok contended with Yishmael, and Yaakov strove with Esav. No doubt, when Yoseph’s brothers began to suspect him, they had precedent. Renegade Jews also spread themselves like a cancer throughout Klal Yisroel, bringing other Jews down with them. Due to Korach, for example, 14,700 Jews died in a plague, aside from the original members of the conspiracy and their families. (BaMidbar 17:14)
At this sad time of year, it is worthwhile to review at length the history of our nation from this perspective, for many misconceptions of Jewish history have woven their way into our mindsets. Rabbi Miller is the foremost modern authority of the subject, and this summary comes primarily from his work Torah Nation.
Renegade Kings in Bayis Rishon
This trend continued throughout Bayis Rishon. With very few exceptions, the kings of Yehudah were great tzaddikim. Even when Scripture relates that a certain king did evil, usually it is “in the eyes of Hashem,” Who saw the great yet unfulfilled potential in that king, but not within human perception. Those few kings who broke the boundary, however, did lasting damage to the nation. Achaz embarked upon a campaign of idol-worship, to the point that he had a foreign altar erected in the Beis HaMikdash itself, while at the same time he shut the doors of the Temple building itself, snuffed the Menorah lights, and stopped the burning of the ketores and the burnt-offerings. (See Divrei Hayamim 2:29:7) In spite of incredible defeats on the battlefield, Achaz refused to attribute his losses to Hashem’s displeasure; rather, he credited his enemies’ deities for their successes, and so he pressed on further in his foolishness. Even though his son Chizkiyahu restored the service and the nation’s allegiance to Torah, the damage was done – Achaz had waged such a thorough war against Torah that certain issues of the actual text of the Torah remained in doubt until the clarifications of Ben Asher and Ben Naphtali, seventeen hundred years later!
What inspired such evil in Achaz? Says Rav Miller: certainly, Achaz received the best chinuch, for both his grandfather, Uzziah, and his father, Yosam, had been great tzaddikim. However, a tragic incident scarred the lives of all three. Uzziah’s enthusiasm for serving Hashem took a tragic twist, for one day he decided that the prohibition against non-kohanim serving in the Bais HaMikdash did not apply to kings like himself. He ran into the Bais HaMikdash and attempted to offer ketores, over the protests of the kohanim. Suddenly, Uzziah was struck with tzaraas on his forehead. Forced to flee, he spent the last years of his reign outside Yerushalayim, a lonely metzorah. While Yosam continued in Uzziah’s pious ways and even built the upper gates of the Bais HaMikdash, he refrained from entering the area, because of the humiliation to his father. Achaz had been four years old when Uzziah died in his solitude; no doubt his formative years were greatly influenced by the controversy that ruined his grandfather and by his father’s decision to avoid the Bais HaMikdash, for he made war upon the Temple, the Torah that commanded it, and the Creator Who brought it all about.
Achaz’s grandson Menashe threw himself into such a frenzy of avodah zarah that his thirty later years of teshuvah were not sufficient to pull the nation out of the tailspin to destruction, for “even though he repented, they [those inspired by him] did not.” (Sanhedrin 102b)
In the northern kingdom, the royal influence was in general far more sinister. Yaravam ben Nevat, who tore ten tribes away, established two temples with golden calves as cheap substitutes for the Bais HaMikdash, and Achav introduced the worship of the Ba’al. Still, even in the worst of these times, no one dared to uproot the Torah as the law of the land, they simply added foreign gods and ideas to their deeply-implanted worship of Hashem. When Eliyahu called for a showdown between himself and the priests of Ba’al, he admonished the people at Har Carmel with “How long will you dance between two opinions? If Hashem is G-d, go after Him! And if the Ba’al, go after it!” (Melachim1:18:20) Even the false prophets, who misled the kings and the people into a sense of unjustified security, were not snake-oil charlatans, but consisted of individuals of stature, top graduates of the yeshivos of those times, who had convinced themselves that they too had received communications from Above.
Early Travails in Bais Sheni
After the return to Eretz Yisroel, however, the difficulties with rebels against the Torah took a more evil twist, for the nation’s spiritual descent had allowed room for heresy and trouble. From the moment that Nechemiah received permission from the Persian ruler Artaxerxes to give up his high court position and rebuild Yerushalayim, he and the other pioneers were harassed at every turn by an apostate Jew, Sanballat, and his cronies, to the point that Nechemiah was forced to set up a 24-hour guard over the rebuilt wall. Half of the workers built, and the other half stood watch. (Nechemiah 4:10) Failing in a direct attack, Sanballat sent public letters to both lure Nechemiah into an ambush and to frighten the people into thinking that the Persian king considered their toil to be acts of sedition. When that bait failed, he bribed Shemayah, a false prophet, to try to convince Nechemiah to enter into the newly-rebuilt Bais HaMikdash, and thereby cause a scandal, for Nechemiah was not a kohen, and could not enter. Nechemiah saw through Shemayah’s words and escaped the trap. (6:10-13)
The Glory and the Tragedy of the Hasmoneans
The miracles of Chanukah illustrate the difficult times, for as Rav Miller points out, the real war that Matisyahu and his sons fought was not against the Syrian Greeks, but against the Misyavnin – assimilated Jews. He describes the chain of events in this order: At that time, the settlement in Israel lay under the domain of King Ptolomy Euergetes of Egypt, who counted upon the Kohen Gadol to collect taxes. However, the Kohen Gadol of that time, Shimon ben Chonio (not to be confused with his ancestor by the same name, whom we know as Shimon HaTzaddik), did not possess the energy to gather enough money to satisfy Ptolomy, who, losing patience, threatened to expel all the Jews and divide the country among his soldiers. The Jews were terrified. At that point, an ambitious nephew of Shimon’s, Yoseph ben Tuviah, volunteered to save the situation. Desperate, Shimon agreed. Yoseph then borrowed money from some Cuthean friends and approached Ptolomy. “Let me purchase the right to collect taxes and give me a garrison of your soldiers,” he declared, “and you will get your money.” Ptolomy gave him a chance. Yoseph then chose from his family and friends and created a new social class in Israel – the muchasim, tax-collectors, ruthless individuals who had no qualms about mercilessly shaking down their neighbors to collect far more than Ptolomy required (and which they pocketed). Needless to say, ain derech eretz ain Torah -- the muchasim’s level of observance fell to a low never before seen in Jews, as they spent their nouveau riche wealth upon every physical pleasure they could find. For forty years, the Jewish settlement in Israel groaned under the dominion of Yoseph and his minions. Then, Shimon’s son and successor Chonio expelled all members of Yoseph’s party from Yerushalayim. In revenge, they sent one of their own, Jason, a corrupted Kohen, to bribe Antiochus Epiphanes, the new ruler of Syria, which had taken control of Israel from Egypt, to appoint him as Kohen Gadol. Never one to refuse money, Antiochus agreed, and Jason’s first major act was to establish a gymnasium near the Bais HaMikdash, where he and his comrades indulged in all the Greek corruptions. Because the Greeks exercised with no clothes on, the Jewish participants would become ashamed of the “mutilation” of their bris milos. Some would even have surgery to undo the milah, which also demonstrated their rejection of Hashem and Israel. They are the reason that the Rambam lists a “moshech orlaso” among the twenty-four categories of Jews who lose olam haba. (Hilchos Teshuva 3:6) Deposed, Chonio was assassinated by the muchasim, who then found even Jason not evil enough for them, so they removed him and installed one Menelaus, who shocked the nation with his depravities. When the Torah-loyal nation quite understandably showed signs of rebellion, Menelaus appealed for help to Antiochus, who led his army to the Yerushalayim, where none other than the Misyavnin opened the city gates for him, gave him access to plunder the Bais HaMikdash, and pointed out the Torah-loyal leaders of the opposition, whom Antiochus slaughtered. Now begins the story of Chanukah that we all know, albeit in a much different light.
After the Maccabees had driven out the Greek armies and had restored the Bais HaMikdash, a bizarre twist led to their own downfall and destruction. While Matisyahu and his five sons displayed incredible loyalty to the Torah and to the Sages (four of the five were killed during the thirty-year long war), after it was over, the last surviving son, Shimon, who now ruled, appreciated the Misyavnin’s talents in finance and diplomacy and hoped to use them for the good. He therefore sought to win over the Misyavnin by allowing some of them to remain in office. His son and successor, Yochanan Hyrcanus, made them his closest advisors. They of course seized upon any power they could take. Like chameleons, they changed their colors and showed at least at the beginning a superficial allegiance to Torah. However, they adhered to the teachings of Tzaddok and Bysus, who twisted the teachings of Antigonus, the previous gadol hador (See Avos 1:3), and so denied Torah she-ba’al peh and techiyas hameisim. With the Torah now reduced to an unintelligible work, the Tzaddukim were free to indulge their lusts for money and power. One primary task of theirs was to flatter and influence Yochanan to forsake the Sages and to join them. It was no easy task, for Yochanan had survived forty years of entering the Kodesh Hakadashim on Yom Kippur, which required a pure soul. However, he had spent his youth not in the bais midrash, like his grandfather, father, and uncles, but on the battlefield, and so eventually he broke down and became a Tzadduki himself. (Kiddushin 66a) Once ruined, Yochanan sought to spread his disease. The Sanhedrin was disbanded, and some sages were killed; others, such as Yehoshua ben Perachiah, fled; and still others, such as Shimon ben Shatach, went into hiding. Yochanan then sought to abolish all Rabbinic decrees, for one of them, that a woman who had been captured could not be married to a Kohen (and that their children were also ineligible for the Kehunah) was reported to apply to his mother.
In the midst of all this tumult, Yochanan committed an act which ultimately doomed his family. Under Tzadduki urging, he forcibly converted the Edomeans, a nation under Jewish domain, to be ovdei Canaan, slaves. The Edomeans were never actually forced to work, however, and so came to consider themselves as full Jews. The nation, however, refused to marry with them, and the Edomeans came to hate the nation which had conquered, yet never fully accepted them.
After Yochanan died, his dissolute son Aristobolus imprisoned all his brothers (even though they were fellow Tzaddukim), ruled for a year, then died. Aristobolus’s childless widow Shulamis, the righteous sister of Shimon ben Shatach, then freed the brothers and had one of them Alexander Yanai, marry her by yibum. Grateful to his wife, Yanai at first tolerated the Sages. Shimon ben Shatach came out of hiding and led a restoration of the rule of Torah (Kiddushin 66a). Among the most important takanos of this period was that of compulsory education of all boys. While the Gemara (Baba Basra 21a) gives Yehoshua ben Gamla, the Kohen Gadol, the credit for this innovation, which revolutionized Torah learning until this very day, the Yerushalmi (Kesuvos 8:11) attributes it to Shimon ben Shatach. Explains Rav Miller: really, Shimon ben Shatach was the driving force behind universal education. In order to divert the Tzaddukkim’s attentions away from him, credit was given to the wealthy Kohen Gadol, whom they did not suspect as a collaborator with the Sages.
Over time, however, Shulamis’s influence over Yanai began to wane, and his Tzadduki advisors convinced him to crush the new spirit of the people. They chose the ceremony of Nisuch HaMayim, during Succos, as an opportunity to provoke the nation. Instead of pouring the water into a hole in the altar, Yanai deliberately poured it upon his feet – a gross act of disrespect. The outraged spectators pelted Yanai with their esrogim. At a prearranged signal, the king’s non-Jewish soldiers fell upon the people and slaughtered 6000 of them, thus “putting down the insurrection.” Now Yanai had his excuse; for the next six years, he brutally repressed the people, killing 50,000, including many Sages. Desperate, the people scraped together enough money to actually hire Demetrius, the king of Damascus, to come to their aid. Demetrius and his army marched on Israel, destroyed Yanai’s entire army, and forced him to flee to the mountains. Some of the nation, naively remembering the great good that Yanai’s ancestors had done for Israel, came to his assistance. Demetrius saw that his job was done, took his money, and left. Once Yanai felt secure, he took his revenge by terrorizing the nation. In true Greek style, he nailed 800 of their leaders to crosses in the streets of Yerushalayim. While they were dying in agony, he then dragged and executed their wives and children in front of them.
Shortly thereafter, Yanai fell ill at the relatively young age of 46, directly due to his corrupt ways. Thoughts of repentance welled up in him, and he commanded his long-suffering widow, Shulamis, to put authority into the hands of those Sages that he had not managed to kill. Over the next three years, Shulamis quietly invited back her brother, Shimon ben Shatach, and other Sages, who accepted Yanai’s repentance and gave him an honorable funeral after his premature death at the age of 49.
For the next nine years, the Sages ruled the land of Israel, and the Jews there enjoyed their happiest times since the First Bais HaMikdash. The Tzaddukim had impoverished the nation with heavy taxes, which they then frittered away on fruitless military campaigns. The wise management of the Sages, on the other hand, led to different results; “In the days of Shimon ben Shatach . . . the wheat kernels grew as big as kidneys, the barley seeds reached the size of olive pits, and the lentils looked like gold coins.” (Ta’anis 23a) So much was left over that Shimon was able to raise a standing army so formidable that neighboring countries willingly sent hostages to Yerushalayim, so that the Jewish nation would not attack them.
After Shimon’s and Shulamis’s deaths however, Shulamis’s two sons, Hyrcanus and Aristobolus, both Tzaddukim, vied for the throne. When the other Tzaddukim sided with the more energetic Aristobolus, Hyrcanus looked for help from one Antipater, a wealthy and scheming Edomean that his grandfather Yochanan had forcibly converted. At one point, Hyrcanus and his army (hired from Arabia) besieged Aristobolus in Yerushalayim. The Kohanim there ran out of lambs for the Korban Tamid. Hyrcanus agreed to send more over the wall, for an exorbitant price. One day, however, he sent a pig. The Torah-loyal nation suffered such a shock that when the brothers sent messengers to Pompey, the Roman leader who was then a general in Damascus, to plead against each other, the nation sent a third delegation, requesting that they be rid of both brothers, who had thrown a prosperous, peaceful country into bloody civil war. Pompey saw an opportunity, sided with Hyrcanus, marched on and conquered Yerushalayim, made it a de facto Roman province, and installed Hyrcanus as a puppet ruler. Hyrcanus’s non-government, which lasted twenty-four years, gave Antipater and his sons Phasael and Hordus ample time to launch one intrigue after the next, until they had killed off the entire Hasmonean family. (Baba Basra 3a) During this time, however, Antipater and Phasael were also killed, and Hordus, or Herod, took advantage of his Roman connections to make himself king. In order to present a façade of legitimacy, he preserved in honey the corpse of Miriam, the last Hasmonean survivor (who had killed herself rather than be married to him), proclaimed their marriage, (ibid.) and proceeded to beget a “royal family” from slave women.
Thus ended the Hasmonean dynasty. Not only had they fallen from being the greatest Torah heroes in recent history to becoming the worst villains, they also had brought into power those factions, the Herodians and the Tzaddukim, which would ultimately bring on the exile that we still endure today.
Herod ruled for thirty-four of the most bitter years that the Jews of Israel had yet endured. While he was trumpeted as “King of the Jews,” the reality was much different; he actually dreamed of founding a new Greek empire that would rival that of Rome. Utterly non-Jewish in every way, he despised his Jewish subjects as non-Greek, seized away all their rights as citizens, and crushed them with taxes to pay for his enormous gifts to Greek allies, such as entire new gentile cities in Israel. Other kings took their cue from Herod; seeing how the Jews could be trampled in their own native land, they then fell upon their local Jews, oppressing them with decrees and taxes. Greek writers such as Tacitus wrote nasty anti-Semitic “histories” which slander the Jewish nation until this day. Herod’s only worthy act, rebuilding the Bais HaMikdash, was done to shield his true plans from Augustus, the emperor of Rome. Inadvertently, Herod also aided the Torah-true nation by oppressing the Tzaddukim, whom he saw as allies of the now-destroyed house of the Hasmoneans. Indeed, the Tzaddukim were forced underground until near the end of Bais Sheni.
After Herod’s death, his son Archelaus took over. After nine years of such wicked tyranny that even his Roman sponsors were shocked, he was deposed, deprived of all his property, and exiled to the city of Vienna, then in a distant Roman province. As mentioned above, Archelaus’s son Agrippa did teshuva, but the Greeks in Eretz Yisroel hated him and managed to poison him. After him, the Herodians never held complete power in Israel; Rome appointed a series of evil and corrupt governors, among them one Titus Alexander, a renegade Jew who, later as Roman governor of Egypt, responded to a Greek attack upon the Jewish community there by sending in his troops and slaughtering 50,000 Jews. This fellow, who came from a good family, had rebelled against the Torah, taking on the worst of both the Greek and Roman worlds, to the point that when Titus marched upon the Bais HaMikdash, Titus Alexander was there, too. Imagine that, a Jew actively fighting to destroy the Bais HaMikash!
The Tzaddukim saw an opportunity to gain power; sometimes they connived with the Herodians, sometimes literally and figuratively they stabbed each other in the back, hiring “sicarii,” “knife-men,” in true Roman fashion. In their adulation of the Greco-Roman life, both groups hated the Torah-loyal majority. When they united under Agrippa II, whose corruption was unparalleled, their singleminded exploitation of the Jewish community actually drove the Jews to rebel against them, not Rome. Taking advantage of the flap over Bar Kamtza, they incited Rome to send legions to march upon Yerushalayim. In fact, says Rav Miller, Bar Kamtza did not act on his own; he was the agent sent by Agrippa II to convince Nero to fight. In a campaign as incredible for its cruelty as for its stupidity, the Herodians and Tzaddukim chose to risk having their country trampled, rather than cede control to the frum majority.
Thus, we now understand the meaning of the exchange between Vespasian and Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai. When the gadol hador explained to the Roman commander that the Jews did not oppose Rome, but that they could not control the baryonim, a wild group planted by Agrippa in Yerushalayim, Vespasian answered, “If a serpent is coiled around a keg of honey, the keg must be smashed to destroy the serpent.” (Gittin 56b) While Vespasian was referring to the baryonim, Rabban Yochanan ben Zakkai realized that a Divine message was being relayed to him: for 200 years, renegade Jews – be they Hellenizers, Tzaddukkim, or Herodians – had held the people in their poisonous grip. The only way to rid the nation of them was to destroy the entire Jewish settlement of Eretz Yisroel, including the Bais HaMikdash. Therefore, he did not answer Vespasian directly, but made a few small-looking requests, enough to serve as a seed from which to sprout a newborn nation.
Agrippa and his cohorts got their Roman victory. However, they had not planned upon a unprecedented Roman demolition of the land. The Roman legions slaughtered and slaughtered, until they were literally exhausted from slaughtering. Enormous numbers of captives were sent all over the empire, as slaves and as sport. The land began to be become desolate, a process greatly accelerated by the rebellion of Bar Koziva and the fall of Beitar, which happened only because followers of Yeshu HaNotzri betrayed the Jewish positions to their Roman besiegers. To this day, we add a nineteenth blessing to our Shemoneh Esreh, cursing these traitors and their ilk. Until this time, they had been, at least nominally, members of Klal Yisroel, albeit with some strange beliefs and customs. Now they were expelled and eventually came to look to the nations for membership. As for the Herodians and the Tzaddukim, after the Churban “they fell off the body of the nation like a scab which for a time caused great distress, but is now gone and entirely forgotten; but the body continues to function as always.” (Torah Nation 242) Agrippa lived another two decades, often visiting his Roman friends, but doing absolutely nothing for the plight of his own people. With no rich country to live off of, and no Jewish principles to hold them back, they rapidly assimilated and disappeared.
Galus Europa: The War Against the Talmud
This pattern, that our worst enemies come from our own ranks, has continued throughout our exile. Anyone who has spent time in Europe knows that the most ubiquitous feature of thousands of cities, towns and villages there is an enormous ancient cathedral, sitting in the center of town. (In fact, visitors who travel through these areas complain of being “churched-out,” from visiting one edifice after the next.) While these basilicas may sit largely unused today – the young people there prefer discotheques, Wi-Fi cafes, and, increasingly, mosques – that was not the case in older times. Construction time for a typical cathedral often took over a century, and even before it was completed, the populace organized an ongoing schedule of pageantry and prayer. Most of the Ba’alei Tosafos completed their writing with church-bells constantly ringing in their ears. Many of the decrees against Jews were made in order to make their lives uncomfortable, with the hope that some might convert. It is a great credit to our nation that very, very few Jews succumbed; the English poet Andrew Marvell once declared in his poem “To His Coy Mistress,” that his love for her would last “until the conversion of the Jews” i.e. forever, because the Jews would never allow themselves to be converted.
Those few who did listen to the blandishments of the Church, however, were amply rewarded, and some of them came to turn upon their own nation. They often focused their attacks upon the Talmud. Four cases occurring in four countries illustrate the damage that they wrought. For example, a prime generator of the burning of the Talmud in Paris in 5004/1244 came from one Nicholas Donin, who, having been excommunicated by the Tosafist Rav Yechiel, converted and sent a 238-page letter to pope Gregory IX and to King Louis IX of France, slandering the Talmud. The king ordered a debate; even though Rav Yechiel won, eventually the king imposed his decree, and thousands of hand-written manuscripts were sent to the flames. Two decades later, the agitations of Pablo Christiani, an apostate Jew, led to another debate, this time with the Ramban. Once again, the Jews won the debate, but lost the war; the pope decreed that the Talmud should be scrutinized for anti-Christian content. If any were to be found, it should be burned, and anyone possessing such a book should be killed. Naturally, Talmudic manuscripts became rarer from then on. In Frankfurt, Germany two and a half centuries later, a Jewish butcher, Johann Pfefferkorn, stopped doing mitzvos and derided Jewish customs. When the community there no longer trusted his kashrus and refused to buy from him, he turned to theft, was caught, and converted to save himself from jail. He then published anti-Semitic pamphlets, which the rabbanan quickly refuted. Frustrated, Pfefferkorn went to the Kaiser, spewed his “allegations,” and convinced the king to issue a law giving him complete authority to burn any Jewish books that he deemed unfit. Frankfurt’s Jews organized days of fasting and prayer, and Hashem sent two saviors – the famed askan Rav Joselman of Rosheim and a gentile, Johann Reuchlin, who had paid the Seforno the princely sum of one gold coin a hour to teach him Hebrew. The resulting battle had two beneficial outcomes: not only was Pfefferkorn’s decree annulled, but the surrounding controversy so split the German Christians that it hastened the Protestant Reformation; no longer would the gentiles enjoy a united religious front. In 5508/1758, Yaakov Frank took remnants of Shabsai Tzvi’s followers and started his own cult, known as the Frankists, in Polonia, Poland. After their denial of Torah became known, the Frankists were thrown into cherem by the Rabbanim, they appealed to the local bishop for permission to set up their own community. Sensing an opportunity, the bishop agreed, on condition that the Frankists win a sham “debate” against the Rabbanim of Polonia, who were forced to participate. After the Frankists were announced as “winners,” the local Jewish communities were ordered to pay them a heavy fine, and one rav was sentenced to one hundred lashes. Inspired by the Frankists, the bishop then decreed that all copies of the Talmud would be seized and burnt in public. His decree was carried out, and anti-Semites throughout Poland pressured the king of Poland to issue a similar law throughout the entire land. Jewish leaders declared a public day of prayer, which was answered On High; as the bishop was feasting and celebrating his “triumph” over the Jews, he suddenly screamed, “Letters of fire are before my eyes! They are pursuing and striking me!” Begging the Jews for forgiveness and cursing the Frankists, he fell to his bed and died five days later. Priests of his church began having the same recurring nightmare, that their late bishop (whom they thought had gone insane) was beating them. Terrified and desperate, they received permission from the Pope to not only rescind all of the bishop’s decrees against the Talmud (and discredit the Frankists), but also to exhume the bishop’s recently interred body, cut off his head, and burn the corpse in the same place where he had burned the Talmud. The nightmares then stopped, and some clergymen were so inspired that they fled Poland, moved to Turkey, and converted to Judaism.
As far as the events of the past two centuries, hameivin yavin.
Our call to action
From this sad history, we see that our worst enemies come from our own ranks. The pattern is clear: a Jew begins to turn sour and, sensing rejection from his former friends, runs away from the domain of Torah into the enemy’s camp. If he can convince the enemy to confront Klal Yisroel, the result is often catastrophic, with often generations of Torah-inspired effort – be it in the form of a Bais HaMikdash or wagonloads of Shas – being consigned to the flames.
What can we do to stop this vicious pattern? What can be our avodah during the Nine Days, and beyond? One possibility comes to mind. During the dark times near the end of the Second Bais HaMikdash, “when the Torah was being forgotten by Israel . . . Hillel the Bavli came up from Bavel and reestablished it. (Succah 20a) We were given a gadol hador who emphasized a certain facet of avodah: “Hillel says: ‘Be among the disciples of Aharon, loving peace and pursuing peace, loving even the lowest people, and bringing them close to Torah.” (Avos 1:12) Chazal bring us ma’aseh after ma’aseh of Hillel’s compassion, even for the most spiritually downtrodden. It is easy to love the most spiritually accomplished; showing compassion for those who need it most is a challenge. In fact, there was a need for such an avodah; when the Gemara (Sotah 47a) relates Rabbi Yehoshua ben Perachia’s flight from Hyrcanus, it does so within the context of the episode of Yeshu HaNotztri. As the yeshiva made its way back to Eretz Yisroel, it stayed at an inn run by a lady who was so efficient a hostess that Rav Yehoshua praised her to his talmidim, among them Yeshu, who then spoke up and made a remark about her physical appearance that Rav Yehoshua deemed so offensive that he expelled Yeshu on the spot. Yeshu tried and tried to be readmitted, to no avail. He made one last attempt, and Rav Yehoshua was willing to accept him, but was busy saying Krias Shma. By the time he was done, Yeshu had given up, left, and had embarked upon a career that haunts us to this very day. The Gemara states its message there with unequivocal clarity: when dealing with the wayward, “one’s left hand should push, and one’s right hand should draw near.” While we must protect ourselves, the greater part of our relationship to these people is based upon love and warmth - the path of Hillel.
Every day, we come into contact with Jews in dire spiritual straits. Not only do we find them among the ranks of the not-yet-frum, but so many fine families suffer from the phenomenon of teens at risk. When a man finds himself davening behind a t-shirted kid who stares stonily at his siddur, does it cost him money to greet him warmly in the shul lobby afterwards and let him know that every Jew counts, so it’s a good thing that he has gotten to minyan this morning? When a lady finds herself at a simchah, being served by a young girl with too-much makeup smudged upon her sullen face, couldn’t she offer a few words of encouragement? If a Jew can rest his head on the pillow, knowing that he has made someone else’s life a bit brighter, a little sweeter, then that day was worth living.