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We are currently in the midst of a very solemn time in the Jewish calendar, the period known as the “3 weeks”, where various calamities have fallen upon our people and most notably the destruction of both of the holy Temples. The Temple wasn’t just a building; it was the tool by which G-dliness could be perceived in the world. We aren’t just mourning the loss of a spectacular building comprised of special materials and concise measurements, of the most architecturally-impressive construction ever to exist. But we are mourning the absence of peace and clarity, a world bereft of spirituality and meaning; a world in which we have even made ourselves comfortable living in, despite it being merely a place of refuge in exile.

Chazal inform us that the causes of the destruction of the first Temple was because of the 3 cardinal sins: murder, adultery and idol worship and the second Temple was destroyed because of baseless hatred. Are we still guilty of these sins today? Most of us can testify that we are not guilty of the 3 cardinal sins, but baseless hatred is still an unfortunate daily occurrence today. The Talmud tells us that “A generation in which the Temple is not built is considered to be one in which it was destroyed”(Yerushalmi, Yoma 1:10) – this means if we still don’t see the Temple today, we are no less to blame than for when the Temple was originally destroyed because we still haven’t rectified the cause! This is what we are supposed to reflect upon during this time period; we have a mere 3 weeks a year to focus ourselves upon what we are really supposed to be doing in this world. We have the chance to mourn for what was lost and to hope for what will be, to put our involvements with our exilic world and daily routine aside – and to just remember that we are part of a nation.

It isn’t a coincidence that now during the 3-weeks there is ongoing riots amongst “charedi”-looking extremists.  To call them “charedi” is an insult to the Torah world – anyone who throws rocks, riots and causes damage is certainly not charedi, and definitely not religious. How are our more secular brothers and sisters going to view this? I am saddened and ashamed at the dreadful Chillul Hashem, G-d forbid, that has transpired. The very police that protect our borders are being assaulted, the very streets that house us are being burnt – and all by individuals dressed in religious attire. Jerusalem Police Chief Cmdr. Aharon Franco, most probably a non-observant Jew, said “I have not found a single place in the Bible where it is written that these actions are permissible” – and how right he is! Is it any wonder we don’t have a Temple? Do we deserve it, really? How merciful Hashem is that He has even given us this Land that’s still going strong, and despite a large secular population still retains strong Jewish values – and after events like this, I do wonder how. Such is the strength of our people, of Torah and of the Land! We as religious Jews have an absolute responsibility and obligation to reverse this desecration, and to condemn it explicitly and openly. These groups do not represent Torah and are behaving contrary to Torah – and we need to make this known.

Let us not only mourn the state of the world today, but we need to stand up and repair. We do not mourn hopelessly, but the flicker of light which still exists inside ourselves allows us to hope and yearn for what will be, for what has to be. When Yaakov thought he lost his son Yosef, he was inconsolable for years, which isn’t normal because the way of the world is to forget and move on after some time. And the reason he didn’t was because, unknown to him, Yosef was still actually alive. So too with us, the Temple hasn’t disappeared forever, and thus we are unable to forget. The very reason we still mourn is a sign that we can’t move on because the Temple is still alive, we will get it back. And that’s why our mourning isn’t from sadness, but from hope.

The ‘Three Weeks’ is one of the most difficult times in the year for me. Ashkenazi custom is not to listen to music, among other joyous activities, during the days between the 17th of Tammuz and the 9th of Av. This is because these three weeks are a period of mourning; the Talmud describes many national tragedies that happened on both of these days, which are designated as fast days, including critical stages of the destruction of the Temple, the Beit HaMikdash. The entire period is one of sadness, and one that has been reincarnated again and again over the generations as a time of Jewish tragedy — may there be no more! I, as a musician, find it very hard to leave my instrument aside and to minimize my music listening during these weeks.

I’m now living in Israel, and I must say that the Land is alive; there is a feeling of aliveness that is tangible in everything, and that pervades everything and every person. This sadness of mourning, too, is definitely tangible to me. While there are not many more things as joyful to me as to walk down Ben Yehuda street in central Yerushalayim, and to see Jewish men and women, boys and girls, rejoicing and celebrating life in Israel with Jewish music, my joy and pride is overshadowed with sadness and discomfort during these three weeks.

Have we forgotten that we need to be sad in this time? Have we forgotten what we need to be sad about, what we need to remember? Is the fact that the Beit HaMikdash is still in ruins, more than 2000 years after its destruction, a fact of life to be accepted as a given? What is a healthy balance between rejoicing in life, especially life as a Jew in Israel, and grieving for the destruction of G-d’s House on earth, and for our continued distancing from Him?

A living contradiction; a junction of opposites. How can you laugh and cry at the same time? How can you pray for the rebuilding of Yerushalayim, while thanking G-d for its continual rebuilding in our days? And… must we resolve these existential difficulties, or is it okay to live with them?