The Holy Temple was like a portal to the spiritual. Heaven on earth. Miracles abounded.
Thrice annual visits on the Holidays ensured that we were always tapped into the extraordinary. We never got too caught up in plowing the fields, and material gains and pursuits. It was like always being within proximity to a supercharger, that our spiritual batteries never depleted.
On the ninth of Av, both Holy Temples were destroyed (by the Babylonians and the Romans, some 490 years apart). So we mourn. We fast, sit on low chairs, don't listen to music, don't wear luxurious leather shoes, etc.
I remember as a child sitting on the red-carpeted stairs of the big white Shul in the Catskills where we would go. I sat there listening as the elderly Rabbi Farber - a sweet Hungarian Jew who ran the summer camp - captivated us with stories from that era, translated from the yellowed pages of his aged volume of the Talmud. (We will be retelling these same timeless stories this Sunday - see below).
We mourn, because only when we remember what we are missing, are we able to value, cherish, and hope to rebuild. A practical way to reach that end goal, is to make your own little Israel, your own mini Holy Temple right at home. Let's build our own charging port, make our own home and town extraordinary, and together we will make this world a better place when we can hope to once again have the Holy Temple.