Our Rabbis certainly did. They grappled with this very question, especially when comparing the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem.
In Shir HaShirim Rabbah, the Rabbis delve into the verse, "We have a little sister" (Song of Songs 8:8), interpreting it as a reference to the returning exiles from Babylon. But why "little"? Because, the text explains, their numbers were small. And then comes a truly poignant line: "And she has no breasts" (Song of Songs 8:8). This, they say, alludes to five crucial things missing in the Second Temple that were present in the First.
What were these missing elements? Heavenly fire, anointing oil, the Ark of the Covenant, the Ruach HaKodesh (Divine Spirit), and the Urim ve’Tummim (oracular devices used by the High Priest). That's quite a list. It's a stark reminder that the Second Temple, while holy, was somehow diminished.
There's an interesting textual point brought up here. The verse from Haggai (1:8), "I will accept it and be honored [ve’ekaveda]," is written without the letter heh at the end. The numerical value of heh is five, a subtle allusion, according to the Rabbis, to those five missing elements.
But the Rabbis didn’t just lament what was missing. They also explored why things were this way. "What shall we do for our sister?" (Song of Songs 8:8) becomes a question about missed opportunities. There was a decree, the text says, that "Whoever has crossed the Euphrates has crossed, and whoever has not crossed shall not cross." This refers to the opportunity to return to Israel from Babylon.
The text continues, "I am a wall." Here’s a powerful idea: Had Israel ascended from Babylon "like a wall"—united and strong—the Temple wouldn't have been destroyed a second time. It suggests that internal division and a lack of collective will contributed to the tragedy.
We even get a glimpse into a personal anecdote. Rabbi Ze’eira, a Babylonian Jew, goes to the marketplace and is rebuked by a local who blames his ancestors for the destruction. Ouch. Rabbi Ze’eira, initially defensive, realizes the painful truth: everyone bears some responsibility. He then hears Rabbi Shila expounding on the very same idea – that a united return could have prevented the Second Temple's destruction. It's a powerful moment of self-awareness and communal responsibility.
The Midrash (rabbinic commentary) then shifts to the idea of God as an advocate for Israel. Even with those missing elements in the Second Temple, God still defends us. The text reminds us that after the later prophets (Haggai, Zechariah, and Malachi) died, direct prophecy ceased. However, the Bat Kol (Divine Voice) remained.
The text shares stories of the Sages relying on the Bat Kol for guidance, even in the absence of full prophecy. There are accounts of Hillel the Elder, Shmuel HaKatan, Yoḥanan the High Priest, and Shimon HaTzadik, all receiving messages or insights through this Divine Voice. It's a testament to God's continued presence, even in times of perceived absence.
Rabbi Ḥonya, quoting Rabbi Reuven, offers a beautiful analogy: Even if the king isn't physically present, his image still holds power. Similarly, even after prophecy ceased, God's presence remained with Israel, though perhaps not as directly responsive as before.
The text then returns to the theme of the Babylonian exile and its consequences. Rabbi Yoḥanan suggests that the "trembling heart" mentioned in Deuteronomy (28:65) – a state of anxiety and fear – accompanied the exiles upon their return. Rabbi Shmuel, however, believes that they were healed upon their return. Reish Lakish, on the other hand, criticizes the Babylonian Jews for not forming a "wall" upon their return, implying that their lack of unity contributed to the Temple's downfall.
Finally, the Midrash ends with messianic overtones. Rabbi Abba bar Kahana says that seeing Babylonians filling the benches in the Land of Israel is a sign of the coming Messiah. Rabbi Shimon ben Yoḥai offers a similar idea, connecting the presence of a "Persian horse" (Babylonia was under Persian rule) in the Land to the Messiah's arrival. The text even delves into the figures who will usher in the messianic era: the seven shepherds and eight princes.
What are we to make of all this? It seems to me that these Rabbis were wrestling with profound questions about history, responsibility, and the nature of God's presence in the world. They weren't simply offering historical analysis; they were searching for meaning in the face of loss and change. They invite us to consider what it means to be a community, how our choices impact the future, and how we can find hope even when things feel incomplete. Perhaps, by learning from the past, we can build a better future – a future where we rise together, like a wall.