Toward the Whole Torah on Tisha B’av
Every year on Tisha B’Av we mourn the destruction of the Beit HaMikdash. We recount the tragedies that have befallen our people and grieve not only what was lost in Jerusalem, but the suffering that has followed the Jewish people throughout history. Yet our tradition teaches that mourning alone is not enough. The Sages go further, asking: What failures within ourselves left us spiritually vulnerable?
As antisemitism rises around the world, that question feels as relevant as ever. While we must confront those who hate us, Tisha B’Av also calls us to engage in cheshbon hanefesh — honest self-examination. Are there mitzvot we have quietly set aside because they feel inconvenient, unfamiliar, or simply outside the priorities of our communities?
As someone who has spent time in synagogues across the Jewish spectrum, I have come to admire the strengths of many different Jewish communities while recognizing that each elevates certain mitzvot (commandments) over others, sometimes to the near exclusion of entire categories. To me, this results in an incomplete embodiment of Torah.
I deeply appreciate the progressive Jewish movements’ contributions to humanist values, Jewish creativity, and academic and scientific advancements. I deeply appreciate the Orthodox world’s commitment to fostering Torah literacy, holding tight to tradition, and building robust supportive networks within their communities.
The universalist mitzvot so often emphasized by non-Orthodox movements, largely in the realm of bein adam l’chavero (between man and his fellow), are essential for humanity to flourish. But they alone cannot sustain Jewish continuity in the way that the covenantal practices of bein adam laMakom (between man and God) — such as kashrut (dietary laws), Shabbat, and family purity — have done for centuries and continue to do today.
Conversely, many Orthodox communities faithfully observe bein adam laMakom while giving comparatively less attention to mitzvot that govern our responsibilities toward God’s broader creation. Bal tashchit (avoiding waste), tza’ar ba’alei chayim (preventing the suffering of animals), le’avdah u’leshomrah (serving and safeguarding the earth), and shmirat haguf (caring for our own health) are all Torah values. Yet too often they are treated as secondary rather than integral to religious life.
What if Orthodox Jews approached bal tashchit with the same seriousness they bring to kashrut? What if progressive Jews brought the same devotion to tefillah (prayer) that they bring to social justice? And what if, across all denominations, we resisted the pull of a consumer culture that prizes status, social approval, comfort, convenience, immediate gratification, and self-interest, and instead committed ourselves to the restraint, humility, and responsibility that the Torah demands, challenging and inconvenient though they may be?
The destruction of the Beit HaMikdash was more than the loss of our central house of worship. It symbolized a rupture in our relationship with God and with one another. Perhaps we experience something similar whenever we reduce Torah to the commandments that come most naturally to us while neglecting others that challenge us.
Instead of remaining comfortably within the priorities of our own communities, imagine if each of us approached every mitzvah as worthy of study, reflection, and growth — even if we interpret or practice it differently. Rather than criticizing one another for being “out of touch,” we might ask ourselves, “Which part of Torah have I neglected?”
The verse in Mishlei teaches: Dracheha darchei no’am, v’chol netivoteha shalom.(Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are peace.) Some interpret this verse to mean that any path toward Torah leads to peace, but it can also be read as all the paths together lead to peace. Just as shalom infers shalem or wholeness, true peace requires completeness, not selectivity. Perhaps each Jew needs to take steps on every path that leads to Torah, and not just the ones our denominational realms have come to focus on.
Starting does not mean finishing. In Pirkei Avot, we are told: L’fum tza’ara agra. (According to the effort is the reward.) God asks us not for perfection, but for sincere movement in the right direction. It is the journey along the path that transforms us.
The Torah encourages us to take a step wherever we are on each path. If you are used to eating in nonkosher restaurants, consider supporting kosher restaurants once a week and keeping kosher at home. If you use disposables because life is so busy, consider having your children help with the dishes or using reusable silverware that doesn’t take much room up in the sink. Every small step matters because every step broadens our experience of Torah and moves us along the path in the direction of peace. And as the years go by, and we do more and more, we continue on those paths, on all those paths at once, embracing the multitude of challenges the Torah entrusts to us.
I like to imagine that God delights in every Jewish simcha. But perhaps that joy becomes more complete when our celebrations strive to honor Torah in all its dimensions: nourishing our bodies with wholesome food that follows Jewish dietary laws, reducing unnecessary waste, expressing gratitude through prayer, and remembering that every aspect of creation ultimately belongs to our Creator.
Tisha B’Av reminds us not only to mourn what was destroyed, but to participate in rebuilding it. Every mitzvah we reclaim, every blind spot we acknowledge, and every step we take toward a more complete Torah places another stone in that rebuilding.
