Chazal provide many reasons for the destruction of the second Beit HaMikdash, but one in particular has captured the attention of the Jewish people. Campaigns abound about how to stop or counteract sinat chinam, baseless hatred (Yoma 9b) and for good reason. With modern technology enabling us to demean others without consequence, the avenues for unnecessary hatred are ever increasing.
And yet, when we think critically about the meaning of sinat chinam, it seems the punishment does not fit the crime. We are all, unfortunately, only able to imagine what the Beit HaMikdash was like. But it’s safe to say that most of us would describe it as a place to directly serve Hashem. The Kohanim and Levi’im took care of daily, voluntary, and periodic korbanot. The Sanhedrin decided and adjudicated halacha, and the general population made pilgrimage three times a year to “see His Face” (Devarim 16:16). If the Beit HaMikdash served as the epicenter of our connection to Hashem, why would our negligence in connecting to others cause its destruction? Can we not maintain our service to Hashem even if we’ve been lax in our service to others?
Of course, in essence, every bein adam lachaveiro (interpersonal mitzvah) is ultimately also a bein adam laMakom (a mitzvah between man and G-d). Any halacha, and certainly any verse in the Torah, is the word of G-d. So on one level, our failure to treat others properly is inherently a failure in our service to Hashem. But if we drill deeper into the nature of interpersonal relationships, we may begin to understand why they bear even greater significance, especially in relation to the Beit HaMikdash.
“Hashem hates us” (Devarim 1:27) is a startling phrase. When Moshe Rabbeinu recalls the people of Israel saying these words, one might instinctively assume they were uttered during a terrible calamity or at least a challenging moment in their history. Counterintuitively, the people said this because “He took us out of the land of Egypt.” How could they possibly claim that Yetziat Mitzrayim led them to believe Hashem hated them? Did they willfully forget the many miracles He performed on their behalf? The unrelenting force He brought against their enemies? What prompted such a shocking conclusion about their relationship with Hashem?
The Kli Yakar (Devarim 1:1) suggests that this wasn’t due to anything Hashem did or didn’t do. Instead, it was a feeling they projected onto their relationship with Him, independent of their past experiences. In his words, the Kli Yakar explains: “They reasoned that once each of them hated the other, then, naturally, Hashem must also hate them.” It was how others made them feel that shaped how they perceived Hashem.
Our interactions with others are not played out in a vacuum. How we treat others – and how we are treated – changes us, not just in that moment, but for future interactions as well. Even if those future interactions are qualitatively different or seemingly unrelated, the emotional residue carries over. If we feel unappreciated by a coworker, we might feel unappreciated by a spouse.
Is it any wonder, then, that in a world where communication has devolved into impersonal text messages and shorthand, superficial statements to no one in particular, we also find it difficult to communicate in our tefillah? How we engage in our day-to-day relationships influences how we engage with Hashem. If we don’t feel heard by others in our everyday lives, it becomes harder to believe we’re being heard when we open our siddurim.
On the flip side, we can cultivate that sense of connection, positively, for others. If we are attentive to others, they may be more able to feel heard by Hashem, too. In that sense, how we treat a spouse doesn’t only preserve shalom bayit; it can also strengthen their emunah. Listening to a coworker doesn’t simply fulfill our workplace responsibilities; it may also help make their Mincha more meaningful.
Sinat chinam doesn’t just deserve punishment because it violates commandments. Our mistreatment of others creates the very feeling of divine neglect. When we make others feel ignored or unwanted, we can lead them to believe “Hashem hates me.” The Beit HaMikdash is the space where our most important relationship, with Hashem, is cultivated. If we are not invested in that relationship, we are not worthy of the place that facilitates it. And at the same time, it is through strong, healthy, and loving human relationships that we help others nurture their own relationship with Hashem.
In the spirit of Rav Kook’s boundless love for every Jew, let us learn to appreciate the unique contributions of those around us. Let us become that all-too-rare, sincere, listening ear for one another. Through our ahavat chinam, our baseless love, we can help others become more attuned to the enduring love already being shown to them by Hashem. And ultimately, as we reignite our collective desire to cultivate that relationship with Him, may Hashem grant us the rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash, speedily in our days.
Rabbi Shaya Katz is the rabbi of Young Israel of Oak Park.