Making the Fast Count for Something

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The tenth day in the Hebrew month of Tevet, which this year corresponds to January 10^th of the Gregorian calendar, is the second of the four days throughout the year that the destruction of the Temple is remembered and commemorated. It was on this date that the siege of Jerusalem by the armies of Nebuchadnezzar commenced, and like two of the others – Fast of Gedalia and Seventeenth of Tammuz – includes the communal recitation of communal prayers and lamentations and a daybreak-to-nightfall fast. The fourth of the quartet, Ninth of Av, is the culmination of the annual commemoration but unlike the other three, the fast on that day lasts twenty-five hours – from nightfall to nightfall.

Prior to my Aliyah, non-Jewish colleagues were often curious as to why every so often I would not join them for coffee or lunch breaks. They were, of course, accustomed to my “Jewish eccentricities” – the kippah, mid-day escapes from the office on Fridays during the winter months, absenting myself for ten minutes each day for afternoon prayer, etc. But while they understood the rationale of fasting on Yom Kippur as a way of atoning for sins committed during the previous year, abstaining from food and drink as a complementary process to the act of mourning and grieving for the destruction of both the first and second Temple made, to them, little sense. And, to be perfectly frank, I never found it easy to explain why going hungry and thirsty were instituted as an expression of sorrow for the loss the Jewish nation is still grieving over.

It would have certainly been easier if fasting was part of the ritual associated with mourning over the loss of family members. On the contrary, during the period in which one sits shiva for a departed parent, child, spouse, or sibling, friends and neighbors go out of their way to make sure that the mourners are not without proper meals. Moreover, many, including myself, have the custom of bringing into the synagogue schnapps, cakes, and other refreshments on the yahrzeit (the Hebrew date of one’s death) of a departed loved one, when the mourner’s prayer (kaddish) is recited in their memory. How, then, do you explain to outsiders that mourning for the destruction of the Temple – both the first and the second – is more intense than expressing grief over the loss of a parent?

It helped, to some degree, pointing out that the four, Temple-related fasts are specifically mentioned in the bible. Although the fast of Yom Kippur – undoubtedly one of the main attributes for which Jews are associated with – is expressed as a day for “self-affliction”, there is no specific obligation to fast.

In his prophecy, Zecharia, on the other hand, foretells that “…the fast of the fourth month, the fast of the fifth month, the fast of the seventh month, and the fast of the tenth month shall become occasions for joy and gladness, happy festivals for the House of Judah…” The inference is clear; during the prophet’s lifetime those four fasts were designated as days of mourning which, at some deserving time, will be converted into days of joy.

To that, my colleagues wanly smiled and nodded their heads. Even though my explanation added to rather than reduced their confusion and ambiguity, they, at the very least, understood that the fasts were biblically ordained and not the invention of some rabbi or politically appointed committee.

I also thought it prudent to let them know that in several places in the bible, fasting was determined to be a basic reaction to a harsh edict or ruling. The most obvious and well-known example of this is found in the Megillah Esther of Purim, where, in response to Haman’s decree that the Jews of Persia should be destroyed, there was throughout that community fasting and weeping, which was the natural reaction in the hope that G-d would somehow overturn this evil pronouncement. Elsewhere, In the Book of Daniel, fasting was identified as a way for the people to express their hope that G-d will protect them during the long exile.

And insofar as many non-Jews are familiar with Chanukah, I referenced that festival by citing a passage from the book of First Maccabees in which the desolation of Jerusalem under Antiochus IV Epiphanes resulted in considerable sorrow and grieving, including the gathering of the people in Mizpah where they fasted and donned sackcloth.

Fasting, in other words, was an act of self-deprivation that Jewish sources view as a way of convincing G-d of His people’s sincerity and devotion. To this my colleagues readily related, and went away with a slightly better understanding of what being Jewish was all about.

As we prepare for the upcoming fast on the tenth of Tevet, it’s important to keep in mind that the travails and threats that the Jews have endured and survived throughout the last five thousand years are continuing. Antisemitism has become nothing less than a festering plague, a hundred or so men, women and children remain imprisoned as hostages to blood-thirsty terrorists, and families throughout Israel are forced to take cover in reinforced environments as missiles from different directions threaten the lives and well-being of us all.

The fast, then, should not simply be a remembrance of the siege that ultimately resulted in the destruction of the Holy Temple and the bitter exile that the Jewish nation suffered through. It must, in addition, be used to ask G-d that He, once again, provide us the love and protection that was promised to our ancestors. Doing without a coffee and bagel for one morning is a small price to pay in return.