Devarim: what is our vision for the third temple?

It’s been quite a week
uncovered Hamas plans to send 200 miltants into Israel on Rosh hashanah
to kill/kidnap civilians
we collectively have been saved from a contemporary Haman

ninth day of the month of Av (“Tisha B’Av”) coming up Monday night
Both the first Temple (833–423 BCE) and the second Temple (349 BCE–69 CE) were destroyed on this date.
How sadly apt now that we are in this terrible war
Shabbat preceding tisha b'av: “Shabbat of Vision,” for on this Shabbat we read a chapter from the Prophets (Isaiah 1:1–27) that begins, “The vision of Isaiah .”
Isaiah's vision but also our own.
Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev: the vision is our own.
each and every one of us is granted a vision of the third and final Temple
paraphrases the Talmud, “though we do not ourselves see, our souls see.”
even if we are not consciously aware of the cause of our sudden inspiration.



Our souls behold a vision of a world at peace with itself and its Creator, a world suffused with the knowledge and awareness of G d, a world that has realized its divine potential for goodness and perfection.
a vision that inspires us to correct our behavior and hasten the day when the spiritual vision becomes physical reality.

Now, with such violence in Israel
hard to imagine such a vision
of peace in israel, between Jews and Arabs,
a peace which inspires the world to live in peace

Reb Arthur Waskow's vision:
our sages teach us that when Mashiach comes, he will rebuild the Holy Temple in the twinkling of an eye. But often have I wondered: How can this be? Mashiach will be extraordinary, yet still a human being merely …

“But now! I have seen … Well, let me tell you: At the foot of the Western Wall, the Wall where God’s Own Presence weeps and hides in exile, I have seen hundreds of thousands of Jews gathered, singing.

“Mashiach has come! — — and they are singing, dancing, as the Great Day dawns. Women, men, together — — I could not believe it! I was not even sure” — — he glanced apologetic at his Chassid — “whether Mashiach was a wo … well, forget it.

“I can see from the sun, the heat, it is late afternoon. Yet the crowd are wearing t’fillin. The only time in all the year when Jews wear t’fillin in the afternoon is Tisha B’Av, so I can see that it is the day of mourning for our beloved Temple. But there are no signs of mourning — — except perhaps the way, the wistful way, Mashiach reaches out to touch the Wall, to tuck one last petition between the great carved stones.

“I see Mashiach speak a sentence to the crowds. I cannot hear the words, but I can see that from this voice there stirs a river. Like water from the ancient stones of Wall, I see a stream of Jews flow up the stairway that rises to the Temple Mount.

“The river of people pauses on the steps. They cluster ‘round a wrinkled, tattered piece of paper, posted above the stairway. I see it is signed by the rabbis of that day. It warns all Jews to go no further, lest by accident they walk — — God forbid! — — into the space set aside as the Holy of Holies.

“Mashiach reads. And laughs. And tears the sign to shreds. The stream of people shudders — — higher, higher.

“The crowd cascades from the stairway onto the great stone pavement of the Temple Mount. Their singing turns to the thunder of a great waterfall. They look toward the other end of the Mount — toward the great golden Dome of the Rock where Abraham bound his son for sacrifice.

“Surrounding the Dome are thousands of these children of Ishmael, these Muslims. They are not singing. They are shouting, furious, stubborn. ‘Not here!’ they shout in unison, ‘Not here!’

“ ‘You will not tear down our Holy Mosque to build your Jewish Temple!’

“But I can hear the crowd of Jews — — muttering, whispering, ‘Right there, yes! — — That is the place… No doubt, no doubt, the ancient studies tell us that it is the place.’

“Mashiach is quiet. The sea of Jews falls to a murmuring, falls silent. They turn to watch. Mashiach looks, gazes, embraces with fond eyes the Holy Space. Mashiach’s eyes move across the Dome, its golden glow, the greens and blues and ivories of the walls beneath it.

I hear a whisper from Mashiach’s lips: ‘So beautiful!’

“The Muslims too are silent now. The stillness here, the stillness there — — so total that they split the Holy Mount in two.

“Mashiach raises one arrn, slowly, slowly. The Muslims tense, lift knives and clubs and shake them in the stillness. The Jews tense, ready to leap forward with their picks and shovels.

“Mashiach points straight at the Dome.

“The peoples vibrate: two separate phantom ram’s horns in the silent air, wailing forth a silent sob to Heaven.

“Mashiach speaks quietly into the utter quiet:

‘This green, this blue, this gold, this Dome — — This is the Holy Temple!’

“I blink.

“For seconds, minutes, there is not a sound.

“Then I hear a Muslim shout, see him raise a knife: ‘No! No! You will not steal our Holy Mosque to make your Jewish Temple!”

“He throws the knife. It falls far short. No one stirs. The other Muslims turn to look at him. They look with steadfast eyes: no joy, no anger. They just keep looking. He wilts into the crowd; I can no longer see what he is doing.

”Mashiach steps forward, one step. Everyone, Jew and Muslim. breathes a breath. One Jew calls out: ‘You must not do this. You must not use their dirty place to be our Holy Temple. Tear it down! — — We need our own, the Prophets teach how wide and tall it is to be. It is not this thing of theirs, this thing of curves and circles.

“He takes a step toward Mashiach, lifts an axe to brandish it.

“The man beside him reaches out a hand and takes the axe. Just takes it. There is a murmur. but the murmur dies. The man holds the axe level in both hands, walks out with it into the no- man’s land between the crowds. He lays it on the pavement next to the Muslim knife, he backs away.

“There is another time of quiet. Two Muslims reach out from the crowd, toss their knives to land next to the axe. The pause is shorter this time. Then on every side weapons come flying through the air to land beside the axe, beside the knives. There is a pile. Somehow — I could not see how — there lights a fire. The pile begins to burn. The flames reach up and up and up - — to Heaven.

The weapons are the burnt offering

the beit hamikdash, holy temple
is not a building
but the space between them, sanctified by the flames of their burnt offering