וְעָ֥שׂוּ לִ֖י מִקְדָּ֑שׁ וְשָֽׁכַנְתִּ֖י בְּתוֹכָֽם

And they shall make Me a sanctuary and I will dwell in their midst (Shemot/Exodus 25:10)

One of my many shortcomings is a conspicuous lack of material envy. I can be jealous of many things, such a fine handwriting, artistic talent, musical virtuosity, a more generous head of hair, greater equanimity and, admittedly, a more commanding height.  Any craving for “stuff” never exceeds things that are beyond my own self-sustaining needs. And the fact that someone can afford and indulge in more toys has always been just fine with me. I’m grateful to have no material debts be it to my late parents or anyone else.  I have never borrowed a penny from anyone, and consider myself blessed. Should I ever be forced to seek a loan, I would only approach friends who are in my general income bracket, never from those who are wealthy, let alone obscenely so. Empathy, yes, noblesse oblige, never.

Nevertheless, if I were subject to Jerusalem real estate envy, the last people I would be jealous of are the ones who own homes overlooking the Western Wall. The challenge of living in visual proximity to what is often (mis)labeled “Judaism’s holiest site” would be too daunting. After all, which human being is capable of maintaining the requisite awe and reverence over any extended period of time?  My guess is no one – certainly not someone whose ability to acquire such priceless real estate has far less to do with spiritual attainment than with having pots of gold.

Even if the investor in such a property were of the loftiest spiritual status, how long would it take before they become jaded and indifferent to the view from their grand salon?

Everything becomes a commonplace when it’s always there. From the most costly diamond to the most glorious mansion, it will invariably lose its emotional value unless it can be flaunted in order to trigger envy in others.  I would imagine that owners of such a prize property as a Kotel-view domicile would have to win the Guinness record for hachnassat orhim (home hospitality) in order to maintain an evergreen parade of gawking guests who would ooh and ah while feasting on chateaubriand al a Kotel.

2000 years ago things were no different.  The folks who were wealthy enough to occupy the box seat residences overlooking Har HaBayit (Temple Mount) got jaded quickly enough, and were likely glad to AirBnB their properties at usurious rates to the (of course showier) pilgrims making their aliyah l’regel on Pessah. Meanwhile they’d  escape the festival madness and camel themselves off to Ashqelon or Caesarea for some luxurious peace and quiet at a five star caravansery.

All of this leads me to a far more fundamental question: Was it ever a good idea to build a Holy Temple in Jerusalem in the first place. Indeed, was this what the Torah wanted?

Our liturgy is obsessed with the rebuilding of the Beit HaMikdash in Jerusalem, just as our prayers are for the resurrection of the royal House of David.  Yet neither monarchy nor a fixed-base sanctuary are ANYWHERE indicated in the Torah.

Regarding royalty, the Torah’s distaste for mortal kings is manifest.

כִּי-תָבֹא אֶל-הָאָרֶץ, אֲשֶׁר יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ נֹתֵן לָךְ, וִירִשְׁתָּהּ, וְיָשַׁבְתָּה בָּהּ; וְאָמַרְתָּ, אָשִׂימָה עָלַי מֶלֶךְ, כְּכָל-הַגּוֹיִם, אֲשֶׁר סְבִיבֹתָי

When........

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