When Darkness Touches the Soul
The Talmud tells a story about Rabbi Akiva and his colleagues. They were traveling to Jerusalem and arrived at Mount Scopus. When they arrived, they all tore their clothing.
They then descended to the place of the destroyed Bais Hamikdash and the place of the Holy of Holies. There, they saw a fox walking through the ruins.
Rabbi Akiva's colleagues began to cry, and Rabbi Akiva, in response, began to laugh.
Rabbi Akiva asked his colleagues why they were crying. They replied that they were witnessing the fulfillment of the prophecy that the place of the Temple would become a plowed field. Rabbi Akiva said, "It is for that very reason that I laugh, because now I know that the other prophecy will also be fulfilled." That prophecy states: "There will yet be heard in the cities of Judah the voice of joy and gladness, the voice of the bride and the voice of the groom."
The story requires clarification. Why did Rabbi Akiva ask them why they were crying? It seems self-evident. Conversely, what problem does his response—and his laughter—resolve?
I recently heard a beautiful explanation of this passage. Rabbi Akiva was really asking, "What is it exactly that you are crying about? Are you simply crying over an external loss, or does this touch you deeply? Do you truly embody the tragedy of the destruction?"
They responded that they were seeing the fulfillment of the prophecy, and therefore the tragedy touched them in the deepest possible way. It wasn't something external to them. It was something they embodied.
Accordingly, Rabbi Akiva responded, "It is for that very reason that I laugh. The fact that you experience this in such an embodied way means that there is hope for the fulfillment of the other prophecy as well."
In life, we oftentimes experience things externally, even when they are deeply emotional. The question is: does an experience touch us so deeply that we experience it in an embodied way? If it does, then we have the capacity to create change.
We just commemorated Tisha B'Av, the darkest day on the Jewish calendar. These days, it can feel quite dark. The question we ought to be asking ourselves is: are we simply bothered by the events going on in the world because they affect us externally, or do they touch us deeply?
If they do touch us deeply, that means we are getting in touch with the Divine experience that is hidden within the darkness around us. (See last week's email.)
When we can do that—when the darkness truly touches us deeply—we can be confident that better times lie ahead, because we are not only experiencing the darkness externally; we are actually accessing the deepest light contained within it.
This is similar to what I wrote about last week. When we see the darkness as something outside of ourselves, it doesn't necessarily motivate change. However, when we see the challenge as something that reaches into the depths of who we are, it becomes a catalyst that elevates us to a higher place.
May this Shabbos usher in a deeper connection to the blessings, light, and salvation that await us.
Good Shabbos!
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