This piece was first published in Hanassi Highlights, 9 July 2026. Thanks to ChatGPT you can also read it in Hebrew if you click here.
The Gemara (Makkot 11a) offers one explanation: the Kohen
Gadol should have prayed more fervently that such tragedies would never occur
during his lifetime. As the spiritual leader of the nation, he bore
responsibility not only for the Temple service but for the welfare of the
people as a whole.
The Rambam, however, takes an entirely different approach.
In the Moreh Nevuchim, he explains that the killer remains in exile
simply because, with the passage of time, the anger of the victim's family
subsides. The death of the Kohen Gadol marks the moment when the accidental
killer may safely return. But this raises an obvious question. What if the
Kohen Gadol dies only days after the tragedy? Surely grief does not disappear
so quickly.
Perhaps the answer lies not in the amount of time that has
passed, but in the significance of the event itself. The death of the Kohen
Gadol is not merely a personal loss; it is a national tragedy. The entire
nation mourns together. In that moment, the bereaved family discovers that it
is no longer carrying its pain alone. Their personal grief is not erased, but
it is placed within the larger story of Klal Yisrael.
The Kohen Gadol embodied precisely this perspective. On Yom
Kippur, as he entered the Kodesh HaKodashim on behalf of the entire nation, one
of his prayers was that Hashem should not accept the prayers of travellers
asking for the rain to stop. Their request was understandable, but the needs of
the nation came first. The role of the Kohen Gadol was always to elevate the
perspective from the individual to the collective.
As we enter the month of Av, this message feels especially
timely. At the root of the Churban stood sinat chinam—a failure to see
ourselves first and foremost as members of one people.
Over these past years, we have witnessed remarkable examples
of the opposite. Bereaved families, despite unimaginable personal loss, have
repeatedly spoken not only of their own pain but of the strength, unity, and
future of Am Yisrael. They have reminded us that while grief is deeply
personal, it can also become a source of national resilience.
Perhaps that is one of the enduring lessons of these days.
Healing begins when we move from "I" to "we." As
individuals we carry our own joys and sorrows, but as members of Klal
Yisrael we carry one another as well. That shared sense of responsibility
is not only what sustained our people throughout history; it is also what will
enable us, with Hashem's help, to rebuild once again.
Shabbat Shalom!
