Small tidbits and Sparks of wisdom

During the Three Weeks and especially the Nine Days, we are reminded that Judaism does not want us merely to remember a historical tragedy. It wants us to feel that something essential is still missing. The destruction of the Beis HaMikdash is not simply an event that happened nearly 2,000 years ago; it is a present reality. As long as it has not been rebuilt, we are still living in galus.

One of the greatest dangers of exile is becoming too comfortable. Human nature is to search for ways to make every inconvenience disappear. While halachah certainly provides legitimate leniencies when appropriate, a person must be careful that the pursuit of comfort does not replace the feeling that we are still in exile. If galus becomes comfortable, the longing for redemption slowly fades.

Chazal teach that every generation in which the Beis HaMikdash is not rebuilt should view itself as if it had destroyed it. The mourning, the tears, and the daily prayers for its rebuilding are not merely acts of remembrance—they are themselves part of what brings the Geulah. If we stop yearning for the Beis HaMikdash, we become spiritually settled in a place that was never meant to be our permanent home.

This week’s parashah teaches the same lesson.

The Torah commands:

«”אַל־תִּתְגָּרוּ בָם… כִּי יְרֻשָּׁה לְעֵשָׂו נָתַתִּי אֶת־הַר שֵׂעִיר.”
“Do not provoke them… for I have given Mount Seir to Esav as an inheritance.” (Devarim 2:5)»

The Kli Yakar explains that Hashem commanded the Jewish people not to provoke Esav because Esav believed that Yaakov had taken the blessings that rightfully belonged to him. If the descendants of Yaakov would openly display their wealth, prosperity, and success while passing through Esav’s land, it would only strengthen Esav’s belief that “they took what was mine,” increasing his jealousy and hatred.

This teaching extends far beyond that generation. Throughout our long exile, the Jewish people have often lived among nations that viewed Jewish success with suspicion and resentment. The Torah therefore teaches us to carry Hashem’s blessings with humility. Wealth is a gift from Hashem, not something to flaunt.

This does not mean a Jew should hide his Judaism or deny Hashem’s kindness. Rather, it means remembering that success in exile is temporary. We are guests in a world that is not yet complete.

No matter how comfortable life becomes, no matter how much wealth, influence, or security we achieve, our hearts must never become attached to galus. Our true home is Eretz Yisrael, and our ultimate destination is the rebuilt Beis HaMikdash.

When we live with that awareness, our prosperity is accompanied by humility, our success by gratitude, and our daily prayers by genuine longing. It is that yearning—the refusal to accept exile as normal—that keeps alive the hope of redemption.

May we merit to see the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash במהרה בימינו, אמן.

“אַל־תִּתְגָּרוּ בָם… כִּי יְרֻשָּׁה לְעֵשָׂו נָתַתִּי אֶת־הַר שֵׂעִיר.”
“Do not provoke them… for I have given Mount Seir to Esau as an inheritance.” (Deuteronomy 2:5) �
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You can incorporate the Kli Yakar’s idea as follows:
Writing
The Kli Yakar explains that Hashem commanded the Jewish people not only to avoid waging war against Esav, but also to avoid conduct that would arouse his hatred. Esav already believed that Yaakov had taken the blessings that rightfully belonged to him. Therefore, if the descendants of Yaakov would display great wealth, prosperity, and success while passing through Esav’s territory, it would only reinforce his belief that “they took what was mine.” Such behavior would provoke jealousy and intensify his resentment.
This lesson extends far beyond the generation in the wilderness. Throughout the centuries of galus, the Jewish people have often lived among nations that viewed their success with suspicion and envy. The Torah therefore teaches a principle of humility: do not unnecessarily flaunt wealth, power, or privilege before those who already harbor resentment. Material blessings are gifts from Hashem, not trophies to display.
This does not mean hiding one’s Judaism or denying Hashem’s blessings. Rather, it means living with modesty, recognizing that our permanent home is not in exile. A Jew should never become so comfortable in galus that he forgets where he truly belongs.
The continued mourning for the Beis HaMikdash, the daily prayers for its rebuilding, and the constant awareness that our real home is in Eretz Yisrael keep this perspective alive. The tears shed over the Churban are not merely remembrance of the past—they are part of the process that brings the future redemption. As long as we genuinely yearn for the rebuilding of the Beis HaMikdash, we affirm that exile is only temporary and that our ultimate destination remains the Binyan Beis HaMikdash במהרה בימינו.