Rabbi 360

In a few days, the Jewish community will mark Tisha B’Av (“the ninth of Av”), a day on our calendar of mourning and commemoration. The historic events at the center of the observance is the destruction of the First Temple at the hands of the Babylonians in 586 BCE and the Second Temple at the hands of the Romans in 70 CE. Rabbinic and later tradition will also tie other calamitous events to this day so that it becomes the focal point for the expression of communal loss and the themes of destruction and survival.

While historically the destructions of the Temples were caused by outside conquest, the ancient Jewish sages in examining these events posited reasons for the destructions that were generated from inside the Jewish community. Whether to explain the destructions theologically as God’s punishments for the communal sins of the Jews, or to describe sociological and political strife that led to internal weakness, this focus on how the Jews either implicitly or explicitly brought this destruction upon themselves is an interesting and challenging approach of the rabbis. The message seems to be that if we are not careful, we will bring about our own demise.

One of the more famous and interesting stories (perhaps “folktale” is better) that describes this internal strife leading to the destruction of the Temple is found in the Talmud, Gittin 55b-56a:

This is as there was a certain man whose friend was named Kamtza and whose enemy was named Bar Kamtza. He once made a large feast and said to his assistant: Go bring me my friend Kamtza. The assistant went and brought him his enemy Bar Kamtza.

The man who was hosting the feast came and found Bar Kamtza sitting at the feast. The host said to Bar Kamtza. “You are my enemy. What then do you want here? Arise and leave.”

Bar Kamtza said to him: “Since I have already come, let me stay and I will give you money for whatever I eat and drink. Just do not embarrass me by sending me out.”

The host said to him: “No, you must leave.”

Bar Kamtza said to him: “I will give you money for half of the feast; just do not send me away.”

The host said to him: “No, you must leave.”

Bar Kamtza then said to him: “I will give you money for the entire feast; just let me stay.”

The host said to him: “No, you must leave.” Finally, the host took Bar Kamtza by his hand, stood him up, and took him out.

After having been cast out from the feast, Bar Kamtza said to himself: “Since the Sages were sitting there and did not protest the actions of the host, although they saw how he humiliated me, learn from it that they were content with what he did. I will therefore go and inform against them to the Emperor.” He went and said to the emperor: “The Jews have rebelled against you.”

The emperor said to him: “Who says that this is the case?”

Bar Kamtza said to him: “Go and test them; send them an animal to be brought in honor of the government, and see whether they will sacrifice it.”

The emperor went and sent with him a choice three-year-old calf. While Bar Kamtza was coming with the calf to the Temple, he made a blemish on the calf’s upper lip.…Therefore, when Bar Kamtza brought the animal to the Temple, the priests would not sacrifice it on the altar since it was blemished, but they also could not explain this satisfactorily to the authorities, who did not consider it to be blemished.

The blemish notwithstanding, the Sages thought to sacrifice the animal as an offering due to the imperative to maintain peace with the government.

But Rabbi Zekharya ben Avkolas said to them: “If the priests do that, people will say that blemished animals may be sacrificed as offerings on the altar.”

The Sages said: “If we do not sacrifice it, then we must prevent Bar Kamtza from reporting this to the emperor.” The Sages thought to kill him so that he would not go and speak against them.

But Rabbi Zekharya said to them: “If you kill him, people will say that one who makes a blemish on sacrificial animals is to be killed.”

As a result, they did nothing, Bar Kamtza’s slander was accepted by the authorities, and consequently the war between the Jews and the Romans began. Rabbi Yoḥanan says: The excessive humility of Rabbi Zekharya ben Avkolas destroyed our Temple, burned our Sanctuary, and exiled us from our land.

So, wow. There is a lot going on in this story, and it is in and of itself a fascinating portrait of how a cascading series of events can lead to disaster. One error can compound another, because I think in this story, no one gets off clean, everyone is responsible in some way for aggravating the situation. The assistant makes a mistake (out of laziness, carelessness, or something else?), the host is rude to his guest, the Rabbis don’t interrupt the humiliation, Bar Kamtza lies to the authorities then blemishes the animal to set up a challenge, Rabbi Zakharya objects to two seemingly opposite actions because of his interpretation of and adherence to Jewish law, both of which could have saved the community.

Interpersonal conflict, embarrassment, lack of inclusivity, strict interpretation, and a host of other ethical violations are seen as the harbingers of destruction. Again, the rabbis are not saying that these actions are a straight line to Roman oppression (or even that this story is true) nor are they “blaming the victim.” But internal dissention can create the conditions for the collapse of community. Indeed, this story comes in the Talmud in the context of a reference to larger political factions fighting with each other within the Jewish community at the same time they are trying to resist Rome.

As we enter Tisha B’Av this year with its focus of destruction, Jerusalem, etc., it is hard not to think of the October 7 attacks and the subsequent war in Gaza. We need to be careful in making a direct connection between these ancient events and the modern and contemporary political movement that led to the establishment of the State of Israel, a connection that bypasses other aspects of Jewish history. At the same time, the observance of Tisha B’Av is a tradition that demonstrates that for Jews there is a historical and spiritual connection to this land and region, and the notion of self-determination gained and lost is important.

Which makes Tisha B’Av so potent this year. We so desperately want to see the restoration of broken families and communities. We need to defend against the ruin of another Jewish population by those who would seek to destroy us. In the face of external threats, as Jews have faced throughout all of our history, we hope for—we need—safety and continuity.

At the same time, we need to recognize how the ongoing control of Palestinian lives and the devastation and despair rained down by Israel on Gaza and the West Bank is I believe laying the foundation both for the ruin of another people and for internal damage to the moral core of the Jewish people. Palestinians also hope for and need safety and continuity.

We can and must hold both at the same time. Let us grieve for our losses and let us grieve for the losses we have caused. That shared recognition and shared grief is the step to rebuilding.

And while we continue to work for and pray for a ceasefire and the release of hostages, humanitarian aid and medical support, a shared future of peace for all of the land’s inhabitants, and the survival of the Jewish people in all parts of the world, we would be mindful to heed the warning of the rabbis—that it is the internal divisions that can do as much if not more lasting harm than the external ones.

The story of Kamtza and Bar Kamtza is one of an intra-Jewish community conflict. The host alienates another while still others watch. And Bar Kamtza, in response, aggravates the situation by not only distancing himself even more but by turning against that community and seeking to bring real harm.

It seems too in the story that both the host and Bar Kamtza are projecting untruths on each other, and are unable to truly see and empathize with each other. This often happens in our discourse, strengthening one’s position comes by assumption or intentional mischaracterization of the other. And it doesn’t help when one perceived disagreement is met by another. I would like to think that there would be a way to bring the host and Bar Kamtza together. (And maybe even Kamtza, who doesn’t really appear in this story.)

[And to be honest, reading this story this year I identify most with Rabbi Zekharya ben Avkolas, the leader who was caught in the middle of competing claims. I recognize that sometimes we are faced with a set of not good options, and no matter what one chooses, what one does or doesn’t do, there are going to be people who are hurt. That is a very real and not uncommon situation.]

However you may choose to observe Tisha B’Av in practice, I invite you to consider this story and these themes: who are you in the story, what could have been done differently, how can we soothe internal divisions while navigating external ones, and how can we be a force for healing and peace and not suffering and destruction.  

For ultimately, while we mourn on this day, Tisha B’Av is also about the hope and promise of a rebirth after communal loss, and the creativity and vision that can arise when determined to make a new and better future. As it was then, may it be so now.