Our tradition has some surprisingly direct advice about that. to a passage from Sifrei Devarim, a collection of early rabbinic legal interpretations on the Book of Deuteronomy. We're looking at a verse that talks about going "to the place wherein the L-rd your G-d chooses to repose His name." Where is that place? Well, the text tells us it refers to both Shiloh, an early sanctuary, and later, of course, to the Temple in Jerusalem.
But wait, there's a practical legal point being made here, too. Imagine you're bringing your bikkurim, your first fruits, as an offering. A beautiful act. But what happens if those precious fruits are stolen or lost on the way? According to this passage, you’re responsible! You have to make restitution because you haven't yet "gone to the place" – the offering hasn’t reached its destination.
Now, what if they become ritually impure, tamei, within the azarah, the Temple court itself? That's a different story. You scatter them. You don't recite the required declaration. And importantly, you're not obligated to replace them. Why? Because you have "gone to the place." The intention mattered, the journey was completed, even if the offering was ultimately disqualified. It's a subtle but important distinction.
But the real kicker comes a little later. The text quotes Deuteronomy again: "And you shall come to the Cohein – the priest – that shall be in those days." Seems obvious. Who else would you go to? But Rabbi Yossi poses a brilliant rhetorical question: "Would it enter your mind that you should go to a Cohein that is not 'in your days'!" It sounds funny, but the point is profound.
The Sifrei Devarim is telling us something essential: focus on the present. Deal with the reality in front of you. Don't get hung up on some idealized version of the past. As it continues, it quotes Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) 7:10: "Do not say: 'How was it that former times were better than these?'" How often do we romanticize the past? How often do we hear, or even say ourselves, "Things were better back then"? Maybe they were in some ways, but clinging to that idea prevents us from engaging fully with the present. It blinds us to the opportunities and challenges that are right here, right now. We can learn from the past, absolutely, but we can’t live in it.
The Cohein of the past is gone. The Temple as it was exists only in memory. Our task is to find holiness, meaning, and purpose with the Cohein and the "Temple" – metaphorical or literal – that we have today. To deal with the world as it is, not as we wish it were.
So, the next time you find yourself longing for the "good old days," remember Rabbi Yossi's question. Remember the bikkurim that made it to the azarah, even if they weren't perfect. And ask yourself: what can I do, right now, with what I have, in the place where I am? The past is a teacher, not a prison.