Lessons from a Story of Vengeance

Commemorating the 9th of Av personally and communally

Today is the Tisha B’Av on the Jewish calendar, the 9th day of the Hebrew month of Av, that is known as the saddest day of the year because it commemorates the destruction of both Temples in Jerusalem plus other horrible things that have befallen the Jewish people. It is also a day of fasting and mourning rituals, so it is not only about reciting penitent prayers and listening to Eicha, the plaintive text from the Bible about the destruction of Jerusalem. It is also about adopting a posture of mourning and sadness. My struggle each year is how to make these sad days relevant to my life today given the challenges of fasting in the summer with young kids at home and Jerusalem feeling so far away despite the reminder from Psalms on my bedroom wall: If I forget you, Oh Jerusalem, let my right hand wither.

What often helps me connect to the day is an often told and disturbing story from the Talmud in Tractate Gittin about what, according to the Rabbis, caused the destruction of Jerusalem and the Second Temple in 70 CE. It began at a party where humiliation leads to vengeance. The host, whose name is not revealed, asks his servant to invite his friend, Kamtza, but instead, the servant invites Bar Kamtza, the host’s enemy.

One wonders what Bar Kamtza may have felt receiving an invitation to a party given by someone unexpected as what happens here. Perhaps he felt grateful to be included and excited at the possibility of finally ending the personal feud between them. But those feelings are short lived because at the discovery of the mistaken identity, the host asks Bar Kamtza to leave. In order to stay, Bar Kamtza offers money, first for half the feast and then, when the host refuses, for the entire feast. He begs of him to allow him to remain at the party and not to embarrass him this way. Yet, rather than acquiesce or even consider this an opportunity to repair a relationship, the host takes Bar Kamtza’s hand and leads him out of the party while all the guests look on, including, the Rabbis themselves.

Clearly, this is an upsetting story and one in which we derive many lessons on how not to treat people. This would be enough material to discuss on Tisha B’Av, to delve into what results from senseless hatred between people: the prohibition on embarrassing others in public, being inclusive and reaching out to those with whom we disagree, the responsibility of those witnessing injustice to speak out.

However, the story continues down a dark path. Bar Kamtza concludes that since the great Rabbis witnessed this and did not intervene, they must approve of the hosts actions, and so he devises a plot of revenge on the entire community. He tells the Roman Emperor that the Jewish people are rebelling against the Roman authority and to test them by asking them to offer a sacrifice in the holy Temple on their behalf. If they do it, they are loyal to Rome; if not, then Bar Kamtza’s false accusations are true.

When the designated animal comes to Jerusalem, Bar Kamtza sabotages it by blemishing the animal which would make the animal unfit for sacrifice, knowingly putting the Rabbis in a bind about whether or not to perform the rite given the implications either to God or to the Romans. The Rabbis debate the issue and one Rabbi’s hesitation about the message to the community about sacrificing an unfit animal leads them to deny the Roman authority’s request. Thus, Bar Kamtza’s revenge is complete. The Roman army attacks Jerusalem, leading to the destruction of the Temple and the exile of the people.

The second half of the story illustrates another type of decision which leads to the destruction. The priest’s choice to be stringent regarding the rules of sacrifice came at the expense of the community. Bar Kamtza really knew just how to enact the worst kind of plot, to get the Rabbis so locked in Jewish legal debate that they risked the survival of the community. Thus began the Diaspora and the challenge to make Judaism withstand the loss of the Temple and how to adapt to a new reality.

I wonder if the Rabbi would have made a different choice knowing what befell the people? Would he still argue that only a pure sacrifice could be offered no matter what the consequence because of the slippery slope argument? Or could he perhaps have considered that the mortal threat outweighed all else? Perhaps he too argued on behalf of saving the Jewish people, just in the spiritual sense.

I find the Talmudic narratives to be the most fascinating in Rabbinic literature. It did not escape me the Rabbis themselves tell a story that implicates them as well in the destruction of Jerusalem. They do not offer judgement or moralize; they simply share this and allow those who study it to draw conclusions.

Tisha B’Av, a day to commemorate destruction and loss of life, ancient and more current, has resonance through time. We still live in a world where injustice and prejudice pervade our reality.  We also see the role of political maneuvering where decisions are made to benefit the few over the many, the wealthy over the poor.

How do we make our day of fasting matter? How might it offer resonance beyond this day alone? My friend and fellow writer, Loren Edelson, offers this perspective on fasting and offers great tips in her recent post: Fasting as a spiritual and physical reboot. I also recommend rededicating ourselves to eradicating hate wherever we see it. Speak out when you witness injustice or even moments of unkindness. We teach the importance of kindness in our home as a primary value, and my hope is for it to make its way outward, reaching far beyond our own walls.

I also believe that finding ways to save lives in a practical (rather than merely philosophical or fear-based) takes precedence over other considerations, and that while the lone Rabbi’s voice was heard above others, it led to violence and destruction.

I pray today for a world of peace and understanding between people, where people are given the benefit of the doubt and take seriously the concept of tikkun olam, the betterment of the world.