R. Yehuda ibn Attar (1655–1733), who served as rabbi in Fez, is regarded as one of the greatest leaders among Moroccan Jewry. A saintly and pious man, he was known as a miracle worker and was revered by the local Jews and Muslims alike. He refused to accept a salary from the community, working as a goldsmith instead.
It is related that he was once thrown into a lion’s den and miraculously survived unharmed (Shem Hagedolim). This protagonist of this story is often said to be—apparently in error—R. Yehuda’s kinsman, R. Chaim ibn Attar (see link below).
Link: Rabbi Chaim ibn Attar
In Torah, we mirror on earth that which G‑d performs on every plane of reality.
If so, since the Torah prohibits dislocating even a single stone of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem, how could it be that G‑d brought the entire structure to ruins?
For it would certainly be absurd to imagine that the Assyrians or the Romans had the power to set fire to G-d’s house.
It must be that this was not an act of destruction. Rather, it was the initial phase of a much greater construction, one that would be eternally indestructible.
And for that to occur, the Temple had to be temporarily leveled to its foundations and G-d’s people had to be scattered to the furthest reaches of human habitation.
Why? Because as long as there is any place in this world that considers itself outside the realm of holiness, there remains a place for the destruction of G‑d’s Temple.
But in our exile, we meet face to face all that considers itself foreign to the divine. We grasp its reins, extract its poison, and channel its power.
This third and ultimate Temple, then, will be built of the outside turned inward, of darkness taught to shine, of the other converted to the One, of the most sinister enemy transformed to a faithful ally.
No opposition will remain in the universe. And so it will last forever.
Then we will see that in truth, there was never any destruction. There was only rebuilding, growth, and eternal, deep love.