Va'eschanan: Rabbi Akiva and the Destruction of the Temple: A Lesson in Perspective

There is a well-known story at the end of Masechet Makkot that involves four Tannaim—Rabbi Yehoshua, Rabbi Eleazar ben Azariah, and Rabbi Akiva—who were walking together toward Jerusalem. As they approached the city, they saw the remnants of the Beit HaMikdash, which had been destroyed. A fox was seen running out of the place where the Holy of Holies once stood.

The first three Tannaim started crying, while Rabbi Akiva began to laugh. Puzzled by his reaction, they asked him, "Why are you laughing?" He responded by asking, "Why are you crying?"

They answered, "Of course, we're crying. The place where only the Kohen Gadol (High Priest) could enter once a year now lies in ruins, and even foxes are running through it. How can we not weep?"

Rabbi Akiva then explained his laughter: "I laugh because I now see the fulfillment of two prophecies. One, from the prophet Uriah, speaks of the destruction: 'Therefore shall Zion for your sake be plowed as a field.' The other, from Zechariah, foretells the future redemption. Until now, I wasn't sure if the prophecy of redemption would come true. But now that I've witnessed the fulfillment of Uriah's prophecy of destruction, I am certain that Zechariah's prophecy of redemption will also be realized." To this, the other rabbis responded, "Akiva, you have comforted us! Akiva, you have comforted us!"

This story raises an important question: What was each side of this argument thinking? The first three rabbis obviously believed in the fundamental Jewish principle that everything God does is for the good. If so, why were they crying? They knew what Rabbi Akiva said—that this destruction would ultimately lead to redemption. Yet, they were deeply saddened by the reality they saw before them. What insight did Rabbi Akiva provide that they didn't already know?

The Lubavitcher Rebbe explains the crux of the argument as follows: The first three Tannaim understood that while bad things happen for a reason and will ultimately lead to good, that good lies in the future. At that moment, all they could see was the present reality, which was filled with destruction and sorrow. They questioned why God needed to bring about such extensive destruction. They didn't judge the present based on what the future would bring. To them, the present was unequivocally bad, and any goodness would only come later.

Rabbi Akiva, however, viewed the situation differently. He did not see the destruction as a separate, negative reality that would eventually lead to something good. Instead, what seemed presently bad was actually the beginning of that future goodness. He compared the destruction to plowing a field. While plowing might seem like it is breaking the ground, anyone with basic knowledge of agriculture knows that plowing is actually the first step in cultivating new growth. Rabbi Akiva was telling them not to view the present as a calamity that would eventually be rectified but as the beginning of something good. With this perspective, one could look at the present reality, acknowledge the current negativity, and still find reason to be optimistic.

The other Tannaim were moved by this insight, saying, "Akiva, you have comforted us." This mirrors the double consolation found in Isaiah, where God comforts the Jewish people twice. The first comfort is the knowledge that things will improve in the future. The second, deeper comfort is the realization that the present difficulties are themselves the beginning of that improvement.

Rabbi Akiva's unique ability to see this perspective stemmed from his own life experiences. Unlike his colleagues, who came from prestigious families and had relatively smooth spiritual journeys, Rabbi Akiva's path was rocky. He was the child of converts and did not begin studying Torah until he was 40 years old. If he had lived only in the present, he might have been paralyzed by despair, thinking, "How can I ever make something of myself?" But instead, he learned to look at his present and future together, understanding that his current situation was merely the beginning of what could be a remarkable journey. He saw his past not as a negative backstory but as the foundation for a beautiful future.

This idea is captured well in a saying I recently heard: "If you find yourself in a dark place, you have a choice: You can define it as being buried or as being planted." How we choose to respond will shape our future, just as it did for Rabbi Akiva. His ability to see the present as the beginning of something positive rather than as a separate, negative reality is a powerful lesson in faith and perspective.