We see even from the teachings of Chazal that our structure of mourning must remain limited to what is practical
Anumber of years ago, I spent the summer break as the rav in a prestigious girls camp outside the Tristate area. Campers came from all over the country and made for a wonderful blend of girls and young women. At the onset of the Nine Days, I delivered a presentation about making the Churban meaningful and relevant, citing various maamarei Chazal and classic sources.
As I headed back toward my cabin, a young lady who was perhaps 14 or 15 approached me and respectfully asked if she could pose a question about my speech. I assumed she needed some more encouragement and ziruz on the topics I had touched upon, but her question completely threw me for a loop.
“Why was the Rav talking about all the mundane things we lost as a result of the Churban?” she asked. “Why didn’t he speak about galus haShechinah and the tzaar associated with it, and our need to mourn for that?”
I responded with the first thing that popped into my head, and asked her if she even knew what galus haShechinah meant, especially as I had recently seen from Rav Chaim Shmuelevitz ztz”l that even he didn’t feel he was comfortable enough with the concept to speak about it.
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