The Shabbat of Vision

And I, Daniel, alone saw the vision, but the people with me did not see it; yet a great terror befell them, and they fled into hiding

But if they did not see the vision, why were they terrified? Because though they themselves did not see, their souls saw

On the ninth day of the month of Av (“Tish’ah B’Av”) we fast and mourn the destruction of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem. Both the First Temple (833–423 bce) and the Second Temple (353 bce–69 ce) were destroyed on this date. The Shabbat preceding the fast day is called the “Shabbat of Vision,” for on this Shabbat we read a chapter from the Prophets entitled “The Vision of Isaiah.”[1]

But there is also a deeper significance to the name “Shabbat of Vision,” expressed by Chassidic master Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berdichev[2] with the following metaphor:

A father once prepared a beautiful suit of clothes for his son. But the child neglected his father’s gift and soon the suit was in tatters. The father gave the child a second suit of clothes; this one, too, was ruined by the child’s carelessness. So the father made a third suit. This time, however, he withholds it from his son. Every once in a while, in special and opportune times, he shows the suit to the child, explaining that when the child learns to appreciate and properly care for the gift, it will be given to him. This induces the child to improve his behavior, until it gradually becomes second nature to him—at which time he will be worthy of his father’s gift.

On the “Shabbat of Vision,” says Rabbi Levi Yitzchak, each and every one of us is granted a vision of the third and final Temple—a vision that, to paraphrase the Talmud, “though we do not see ourselves, our souls see.” This vision evokes a profound response in us, even if we are not consciously aware of the cause of our sudden inspiration.

The Holy Temple in Jerusalem was the seat of G-d’s manifest presence in the physical world.

A basic tenet of our faith is that “The entire earth is filled with His presence”[3] and “There is no place void of Him”[4]; but G-d’s presence and involvement in His creation is masked by the seemingly independent and arbitrary workings of nature and history. The Holy Temple was a breach in the mask, a window through which G-d radiated His light into the world. Here G-d’s involvement in our world was openly displayed by an edifice in which miracles were a “natural” part of its daily operation[5] and whose very space expressed the infinity and all-pervasiveness of the Creator.[6] Here G-d showed himself to man and man presented himself to G-d.[7]

Twice we were given the gift of a divine dwelling in our midst. Twice we failed to measure up to this gift and banished the divine presence from our lives.

So G-d built us a third temple. Unlike its two predecessors, which were of human construction and therefore subject to debasement by man’s misdeeds, the Third Temple is as eternal and invincible as its omnipotent architect. But G-d has withheld this “third suit of clothes” from us, confining its reality to a higher, heavenly sphere, beyond the sight and experience of earthly man.

Each year, on the “Shabbat of Vision,” G-d shows us the Third Temple. 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. It is a vision of the Third Temple in heaven—in its spiritual and elusive state—like the third set of clothes that the chld’s father has made for him but is withholding from him. But it is also a vision with a promise—a vision of a heavenly temple poised to descend to earth, a vision that inspires us to correct our behavior and hasten the day when the spiritual vision becomes tactual reality.Through these repeated visions, living in the divine presence becomes more and more “second nature” to us, progressively elevating us to the state of worthiness to experience the divine in our daily lives.

The metaphors of our sages continue to speak to us long after the gist of their message has been assimilated. Beneath the surface of the metaphor’s most obvious import lies layer upon layer of meaning, in which each and every detail of the narrative is significant.

The same applies to Rabbi Levi Yitzchak’s metaphor. Its basic meaning is clear, but many subtle insights lie hidden in its details. For example: Why, we might ask, are the three temples portrayed as three suits of clothes? Would not the example of a building or house have been more appropriate?

The house and the garment both “house” and envelop the person. But the garment does so in a much more personal and individualized manner. While it is true that the dimensions and style of a home reflect the nature of its occupant, they do so in a more generalized way—not as specifically and as intimately as a garment suits its wearer.

On the other hand, the individual nature of the garment limits its function to one’s personal use. A home can house many; a garment can clothe only one. I can invite you into my home, but I cannot share my garment with you: even if I give it to you, it will not clothe you as it clothes me, for it “fits” only myself.

G-d chose to reveal His presence in our world in a “dwelling”—a communal structure that goes beyond the personal to embrace an entire people and the entire community of man. Yet the Holy Temple in Jerusalem also had certain garment-like features. It is these features that Rabbi Levi Yitzchak wishes to emphasize by portraying the Holy Temple as a suit of clothes.

The Holy Temple was a highly compartmentalized structure. There was a Women’s Court and a courtyard reserved for men, an area restricted to the kohanim (priests), a “sanctuary” (heichal) imbued with a greater sanctity than the “courtyards,” and the “Holy of Holies”—a chamber into which only the High Priest may enter and only on Yom Kippur, the holiest day of the year. The Talmud enumerates eight domains of varying sanctity within the Temple complex, each with its distinct function and purpose.

In other words, although the Temple expressed a single truth—the all-pervasive presence of G-d in our world—it did so to each individual in a personalized manner. Although it was a “house” in the sense that it served many individuals—indeed the entire world—as their meeting point with the infinite, each and every individual found it a tailor-made “garment” for his or her specific spiritual needs, according him or her a personal and intimate relationship with G-d.

Each year, on the Shabbat before Tish’ah B’Av, we are shown a vision of our world as a divine home—a place where all G-d’s creatures will experience His presence. But this is also a vision of a G-dly “garment”—the distinctly personal relationship with G-d, particularly suited to our individual character and aspirations, that we will each enjoy when the third divine Temple descends to earth.

Based on the Rebbe’s talks on Shabbat Chazon, 5742 (1982) and 5744 (1984)[8]

[1]. Isaiah 1:1-27. This reading is the third of a series of readings, called the “Three of Rebuke,” that are read on the three Shabbatot preceding the 9th of Av (see The Intimate Estrangement, WIR, vol. IX, no. 42).

[6]. The Talmud (Yoma 21a) relates that the Temple and its furnishings defied the most fundamental characteristic of physical objects—that they take up space—in that “the space of the ark was not part of the measurement.” The chamber which housed the ark containing the tablets on which were inscribed the Ten Commandments measured 20 cubits (approx. 30 feet) by 20 cubits; the ark itself measured 2.5 x 1.5 cubits; yet the distance from each of the outside walls of the ark to the walls of the room was a full 10 cubits, meaning that the rk, though itself a physical object with spatial dimensions, did not take up any of the space in the room.