Fasting for a Better Future

Reflecting on Unity, the Connection to Israel, and Jerusalem

Photo of Jerusalem sunrise (taken by myself)

As the first light of dawn broke over Jerusalem on the 17th of Tammuz, I sat on my balcony overlooking the rebuilt Jerusalem, deeply reflecting on the intertwined histories and identities that make this land sacred.

Fasting on this day, commemorating the Romans’ breaches of Jerusalem’s walls and marking the beginning of three weeks of mourning for the destruction of the First and Second Temples, invites us to ponder our past, present, and future. It is a day to recognise our enduring connection to Israel, our return after 2000 years, reflecting on the complexities of coexistence, and an opportunity to contemplate the profound need for unity and understanding among all its inhabitants.

View of Rebuilt Jerusalem from my Balcony (taken by myself)

Recently, a drive from central Israel to visit my daughter in a Yishuv (a new Israeli town) took me through the West Bank, an area we call Judea, Samaria, or Benjamin. It struck me how I transitioned from central Israel’s familiar landscapes to the West Bank’s diverse realities within just a few minutes. The space between major Jewish towns and Palestinian areas is very short, and it highlights the need and potential for shared coexistence that remains largely unrealised.

As I observed the impressive mansions and improved quality of life in Palestinian areas, I could not ignore the stark reality of division. Red signs restricted entry to Israelis, and the ever-present threat to Jewish visitors underscored the deep-seated hatred, rejection, and conflict that persists. Despite significant efforts by the State of Israel to improve living conditions and foster economic growth, physical and ideological barriers remain.

In my Jerusalem suburb, adjacent to Arab suburbs, where interactions are more fluid, and people walk freely, it feels like a fragile utopia. This coexistence, while promising, is overshadowed by persistent tensions and a sense of mutual distrust. The contrast between this potential for peaceful coexistence and the ongoing conflict highlights our challenges in achieving true harmony.

Fasting and three weeks to Tisha B’Av is not just about remembering past tragedies; it is a moment to reflect on the present and future. The Jewish connection to this land, deeply rooted in our history and identity, faces ongoing challenges from those who deny this bond and seek to undermine our rights. The events of October 7th and the global reactions to them reveal a troubling pattern of hypocrisy and misunderstanding.

One reason the Temples were lost was a lack of unity. Indeed, in shul this morning, Reb Ayreh, a sensitive and wise soul, shared these words:

“The Wall of Kotel is made of individual stones; each stone is essential to keep the wall together. Likewise, our most significant conflict is our schism among ourselves. We’re taking out the stones. We’re saying, this Jew is not my type. This one’s from the left. This one’s from the right. So, we must overlook all this dissension and realise that every stone, every Jew, is essential for that wall. We do that by stopping looking at everybody as looking, coming from the right or the left, and simply looking at each person and recognising and respecting our differences of different opinions,. We don’t call it right or left. Each human being has a different opinion, but we need to look beyond this so we can love each other and build our wall against all those nations and people who want to destroy us.”

When these stones are separated, our enemies attack us and exploit our weaknesses. This led to the breaches of October 7th. Dr. Tanya White shared these words:

“If I’m honest, in the past, I found it challenging to identify with this period in the year. On the 17th of Tammuz, the idea of ‘breaching walls’ didn’t resonate with me particularly religiously or emotionally. Living in what I termed a ‘golden age’ of Jewish history, where I was walking the land my forefathers and mothers walked and living a national reality my great-grandparents could only imagine in their wildest dreams, sometimes it felt like I was ‘faking’ the grief and mourning of this period. Today, we all know most viscerally what a breaching of the fences looks and feels like. On a personal and national level, our grief and pain consume us in a way we barely know how to handle. In some ways, I am ashamed of the brazenness with which I treated the significance of this period and its messages to us. This week, I have written about the Parsha, which is filled with motifs of boundary breaches (the people of Israel with the Moabite women, Pinchas’s zealousness, and the daughters of Zelophehad) and tried to plumb the depths of its significance for us today.”

Here is a link to her article: Parshat Pinchas: Breaching Boundaries and Conflict Resolution.

Indeed, the month of Tammuz is about the perfection of our seeing. What we see reflects our thinking. We must know that we are not limited or stuck in our thinking. We can change and transform our negative thinking. This month, we need to breathe, meditate, and be open to seeing life more clearly and calmly. During this month of Tammuz, we may be asked to see through appearances, and if necessary, internal and external structures will begin to break down to allow us true seeing to occur. During this month of reversals, we may find that what we held as true is now seen as false. It isn’t obvious and not always easy or comfortable. But the truth is most important. As it is said, the truth will set us free (Credit: Melinda Ribner).

So, too, we must see the other with a more caring eye. This can be both our Jewish brothers and sisters and Arab neighbours.

Reflecting on this period of three weeks of mourning, I am moved by a profound desire for unity, reconciliation, and peace. The space and opportunities in this land could be a foundation for shared prosperity if only the deep-seated animosities could be overcome. I hope that, through reflection and understanding, we can work towards a future where all inhabitants of this land can coexist peacefully, with mutual respect and recognition of each other’s rights.

We must dedicate ourselves to pursuing a future where the harmony among its people matches the beauty of this land. May we strive to create a reality of unity and respect for our differences, where our historical and spiritual connection to Israel and Jerusalem is honoured, and where we can all work towards a just and compassionate world.

Indeed, quoting Rav Kook, “The Temple will be built from many different parts, and the truth of the worldly light will be built from different perspectives, and all the opinions will be made clear, and ‘these and these are the words of the Living God’. The differing paths of education and worship will come together, joining things that will not contradict each other. The multiplicity of opinions that come through the diversity of souls is what enriches wisdom and causes a broadening and understanding that without which we could not build peacefully. It will be built through the influences that seem to defeat each other” (From the Siddur of Rav Kook ‘Olot Haraya’ page 330).

The Shul I attended did not say Shlichot (special prayers for the fast day), so I questioned this, and Reb Aryeh, who shared the analogy of the stones, said in jest that we should say Hallel – psalms of praise. On reflection, he is right. We never had it so good in Israel. Just look at what a fantastic country this is. That’s also something to think about on this fast day. Recognise the good that we have in our lives. Recognise the blessings in this country and the world despite the hardships. It’s all very easy to think negatively about life. Think about the positives; in line with what Rav Aryeh shared with us, look at the positives in each other, us, and our situation; look at shared history and future.

Rabbi Pinni Dunner was speaking to a group of Christians who are very supportive of Israel and Zionism. He highlighted the shared history and destiny of faith amongst religions. I thought it was beautiful, and I’ve also written extensively about it. But I asked him, what about the elephants in the room? And I think, you know, we’re all carrying these prejudices, the elephants in the room, and we’re all carrying our baggage of hate and prejudice. So, I think we have to, at some point, put this behind us. It’s very hard. And I think if we can do that, then maybe there’s hope for the future.

Conclusion

As we enter these three weeks of mourning, our reflections on history and identity remind us of our deep connections with this land and its people. The lessons from our past, the challenges of our present, and the hopes for our future all converge in contemplation. Unity, mutual respect, and a commitment to understanding are essential to overcome persisting divisions. By embracing these values, we honour our historical and spiritual connections and pave the way for a future where all can coexist in peace and harmony.

May these thoughts inspire us to build a world where the beauty of our land is matched by the harmony among its people, where differences are respected, and where we work together towards a just and compassionate society.