A Light: My Tisha B'av Timeline

Photo taken and graphic made July 26, 2004.

Once upon a time, in 2004, I properly observed the no-food, no-drink fast of Tisha B'av that starts Monday night for the first time. The fast, in a nutshell, commemorates a variety of tragedies that have befallen the Jewish people, most notably the destruction of the Second Temple in Jerusalem in 70 C.E.

So what did I have to say on July 26, 2004?

Tonight begins Tisha B'av. If you don't know what that is, feel free to click here: Learn about Tisha B'av! It's a day of fasting, low-key activities, and reflecting on the destruction of the Second Temple. It's the first holy day of the yearlong cycle for me. I'm kind of excited to participate in my first fast of my path to Judaism. It sounds ridiculous, but I feel a part of something.

I'll admit that I did edit that a bit -- but only for the sake of capitalization and compound modifiers. Later, on July 27, 2004, around 6:30 p.m. I wrote this:

Ok, so fasting is hard. Especially when you promise to meet someone at THE COFFEE HOUSE and then remember you can't drink/eat in respect of the day. So I slept in as late as possible in order to not have to be awake and then went to the coffee house around 3 p.m. and there was Gregory. We sat for about 2-1/2 hours doing our respective tasks and talking in between about the holy grail, Christianity, Atlantis, people, Oasis, music, and everything else you can imagine. I absolutely love my time with Greg because he makes me laugh, a lot. Which I shouldn't have been doing on a day such as today, but I couldn't help but laugh. And now, now I'm here at the DN doing my normal thing. I'm starving though. For pancakes. Chicken tacos. Anything. Everything. Aghhh! Especially coffee. 

I found this quote from MARK TWAIN, which appeared in HARPER'S in SEPTEMBER 1899: "All things are mortal but the Jew; all other forces pass, but he remains." 

It made me brilliantly happy, it did. It makes sense, as well. It seems that although numbers of Jews have decreased, the continuity of the people is what stands and stands tall, might I add.

Ahh. I need to occupy myself for the next several hours. Agh. The sunset is scheduled for 8:47 p.m. folks. It will be a long two hours. Help? Maybe I'll go use my free ticket to see Cat Woman?

Did I go see Cat Woman? No way to tell. But I clearly wasn't doing anything remotely related to Tisha B'av other than fast. (Later that night, while watching the Democratic National Convention, I predicted that Barack Obama would someday be president -- albeit the prediction was for 2016.)

Tisha B'av in 2005 is a void -- I have no record, and I can't recall what I did or didn't do. Did I fast? Did I even get what fasting involved? I was in Denver, CO, interning at The Denver Post, so chances are I was busy sleeping and then working, and chances are I broke my fast by going to Subway for the Teriyaki Chicken sandwich. But that's just a prediction. Who knows what really happened. 

Then, in 2006, I wrote about my experience fasting on Tisha B'av and my frustration with one Jews approach to Tisha B'av for Secular Jews. I think I was the most reflective then. I was frustrated with the idea that Secular Jews don't need Tisha B'av because there's no need for a Temple, so why mourn something that was destroyed when it doesn't impact us today? Of course, at that time, I was a Reform Jew. And it still bothered me. Now, as an Orthodox Jew, it still bothers me. Back then, I wrote the following about the fast and day of observance:

It isn't just about religion, it's about the people and the history and the furthering of the existence of Jewishness.

I suggested that if everyone in the world spent a single day fasting and reflecting on destruction, drought, disease, war, famine, oppression, abuse, and inequality, perhaps we'd all be startled into action. But maybe it's a naive hope. After all, as I said then and I say now, What do I know? I'm just a Jew from Nebraska who grew up in the Ozarks.

In 2007 I wrote about my frustration with the sentiment that on this day we "mourn for a life we no longer want." I was wondering -- and still am -- whether if/when the Temple is rebuilt (G-d willing), will we still observe sacrifices in the same way? Or will the messiah come with some ethically evolved plan for sacrifice that is inline with how we observe things today. Finally, in 2008 (and last year) I wrote about how I felt distant from Tisha B'av, as if I were just going through the motions.

Will I sleep all day and wake up to check blog posts and see everyone else's meaningful and positive declarations of Tisha B'av observance on Tuesday? I don't know. What I do know is that I plan to read -- and read a lot -- on Sunday night and Monday in hopes of properly preparing myself for Tisha B'av. 

And, as the saddest day on the Jewish calendar, I think it's only proper to consider what it means to bring light into the world. To mourn a loss of light in our time, but to imagine a restored light. I suppose by emptying ourselves, literally, of food and drink, we have a chance to fill that place inside with light -- a light that can move outward through a fight for justice and peace. 

I hope that everyone who observes the fast to finds a unique meaning in it, and for those who don't observe the fast to still consider what it means to fill the darkness of the world with light. 

Mourning and Minhagim: How to Decide

Yes, I know what everyone is going to say: You should have figured this out before you got married! Come on!

But what do I know? As a convert married to (for all intents and purposes) a ba'al teshuva, I really didn't anticipate all of the issues with "do we do this? do we not do this?" that would come up in our marriage. Technically, before Tuvia and I got hitched, I could have adopted Sephardic customs (although, let's be honest, it would be hard to describe to anyone why I, a fair-skinned, dark-haired Jewess is eating rice on Passover). Likewise, because the customs that Tuvia inherited within his family are few and far between, with very few regarding kashrut or general family minhagim, he, too, could have chosen his path. In the end, we adopted a Yekki style of hand-washing before kiddush and motzi on Shabbos (what!? it streamlines the process!), but that's about it. (Yekki = Jew of German descent)

Right now, then, the question about customs to which I'm referring involve The Three Weeks -- those days weeks that started with the fast of the 17th of Tammuz (on Tuesday) and culminate with Tisha B'Av. There are a lot of customs, a lot of minhagim that many adhere to in public and private, others just in public, and some not at all.

For example, many will not shave, get a haircut, get married, or listen to music during The Three Weeks, and this is standard Ashkenazic custom. When the Nine Days arrive, leading up to Tisha B'Av, many Jews won't eat meat or do laundry, either.

Where does this come from? The first source for a special status of The Three Weeks as Bein ha'Metzarim is found in Eikhah Rabbati 1.29, which glosses Lamentations 1.3's "All Zion's pursuers overtook her between the straits" and understands "straits" as "days of distress." These days of distress are 17 Tammuz through 9 Av, as cited by Rabbi Isaac Tyrnau in his book Minhagim, a record of Austrian customs. His opinion was then cited as halacha by Moses Isserles in Rema on Shulchan Aruch.

And where does the seriously decreased happiness during The Nine Days come from? In Mishnah Ta'anit 4:6, "from the beginning of Av, happiness is decreased." Okay, that makes perfect sense. But what does that mean? I can decrease my happiness while still eating meat and listening to music, right? What if I only listen to Britney Spears, which makes me sad? And I overcook my steak? Well, many refrain from meat and wine, laundry, and warm baths. Sephardim tend to only observe these restrictions from the Sunday prior to 9 Av, and Yeminite Jews don't maintain any of these customs. (And don't we often cite the Yeminite community as being "the closest" thing to "authentic" old-school Judaism?)

Here's my take: Weeks of mourning tend to diminish the impact of an event itself. When something happens suddenly, your body, soul, and mind are assaulted by the event. I imagine that the Israelites of the First Century BCE didn't think it would really come down to the destruction of the Holy Temple, just as the Jews of Europe didn't think that Kristallnacht would lead to the destruction of 6 million Jews. The sudden impact of reality is what shatters the soul into complete mourning. 

Am I a tzaddik? Am I a rabbi? No. I suppose not. But for Tuvia and I to sit down and have a conversation about what we will and will not do during The Three Weeks and The Nine Days, well, I think that we have to be aware of community standards as well as our own expectations and understanding of the meaning of these times.

What do you observe? What don't you observe? Are there any special family minhagim for this period that you've adopted?

A New Look.

I've been Jonesing for a new look for a while now (I can't even remember when I opened up my last blog layout, but since then, this blog has grown and grown and grown and I need more coffee!), and this is what I've come up with.

Do you like it? Do you not like it? Give me your feedback, and we'll go from there.

I hope y'all had an easy fast (tzom qal), although someone pointed out on Facebook that maybe all this easy fasting is why we haven't seen much change in our situation, eh? Here's to hard, painful, exhausting fasts in the future!

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Tisha B'Av Cometh!

Jews the blog-o-sphere over are blogging about the impending fast of Tisha B'Av (literally, 9th of Av) that begins tonight and lasts for 25 hours through tomorrow evening. We eat a big meal tonight, followed by a hard boiled egg dipped in ashes, and then we begin our fast. We go to shul, we hear the reading of Lamentations, and we spend the day avoiding work, not wearing leather shoes, sitting low to the ground, and reflecting on the day in the Jewish calendar that seems to swallow up all the of the bad things that happen to us.

Four years ago, I wrote about my experience fasting on Tisha B'Av and my frustration with one Jews approach to Tisha B'Av for Secular Jews. Three years ago, I wrote about my frustration with the sentiment that on this day we "mourn for a life we no longer want." Two years ago, I wrote about how I felt distant from Tisha B'Av, as if I were just going through the motions.

Last year, of course, I was in Middlebury, Vermont, attempting to deal with the whole "kosher catfish" situation and touring the "kosher" kitchen on Tisha B'Av while attempting to stay sane amid classes without air conditioning in the steamy and humid Vermont heat. I was, in a word, miserable. I also was feeling pretty distant, again, from Tisha B'Av, focused, instead, on my exhaustion and the heat.

What was I doing prior to four years ago? I'm not sure. I can't remember whether my Reform experience back in Nebraska necessitated me fasting, and from what I can tell about my writings of four years ago, I'm guessing that's a big "no" on fasting and/or seeing any significance in Tisha B'Av as an active and important day in the Jewish calendar.

So what does this year mean for me? I'm not sure. I'm all the wiser, much busier, and not looking forward to fasting. As I get older, I find my body less and less accepting of fast days. I will, however, have the option of studying the necessary texts related to the day.

In reality, the one thing that's on my mind is that as soon as Tisha B'Av comes and goes, it's time for the High Holidays. Yikes. Seriously?

What I do want to leave you all with is a question: Can you carry out the mitzvah of being sad and mournful on Tisha B'Av in the manner that all mitzvot are carried out? With happiness?

Tisha B'av: What happened?

I've spent my afternoon catching up on blogs, Facebook messages, forum postings and the like. My intention for today was to catch completely up after having been computer-free the entire weekend, save for what little connection I could manage through my BlackBerry at home. I want to post about teh entire weekend -- Shabbos to Tisha B'av -- but first I wanted to catch up and see what the rest of the world has been up to. Thus, I wasn't surprised to find so many posts about J-Bloggers about Tisha B'av, spanning the struggle to connect or get through or relate with the day of mourning, or simply just about observing the day. Among them were Frum Satire, Aliza H., the On Chanting blog, Jack, and Ilana-Davita provides some food for thought and links to other interesting posts about Tisha B'av. Then, of course, we have the Haveil Havalim Tisha B'av edition, in case you're looking for some new blogs to check out.

But really, let's talk about my take on the weekend. I hadn't necessarily anticipated an e-free Shomer Shabbos style Shabbat, but it turned out that way. I headed to the Orthodox shul Friday night, not necessarily intending to go for a Shabbos dinner either, but I ran into a girl who I'd met months ago in Skokie and we were catching up after services and she asked me along to the dinner she was heading to. Luckily, they had room and were more than happy to have me. The dinner lasted well into the night, and I didn't make it home until nearly 2 in the morning. There was lots of singing and talking and the host, a rabbi, and I discussed my impending move to Connecticut -- it turns out he spent a year in West Hartford and knows just about everyone there is to know, so he's going to connect me. We talked about academics and grammar, since another fellow at our end of the table was a grammar nut like me. I realized that I would love to emulate this rabbi and his wife -- they are, in my mind, what Orthodoxy is meant to be. After dinner and conversation, I finally headed out with the friend and after leaving her to go her way around Addison/Broadway, I decided to hop on the bus because it was late and I was tired. The interesting thing? I got on the bus and the bus-pass reading machine was BROKEN. Because of this little spark of luck, I went home and left the lights out, didn't turn anything on, and went to bed. I woke up the next day with a migraine and didn't make it to morning services. I spent the day at home, reading and mulling about, and somehow the day managed to flitter away.

I took a nap and woke up for ma'ariv and eicha. I'll admit, I've never been around for a Tisha B'av service before, and I wasn't sure what to expect, especially since the Tisha B'av prayer book wasn't, well, transliterated. I was amazed at how many people were there -- especially on the women's side. You see, I'm guessing that during Shabbos most of the women are at home preparing for the after-shul visitors, so they don't make it in for services. But there were so many women, so many hats, so many hat-toting women! After ma'ariv we all found our places on the floor and listened as each chapter was chanted by a different male -- their voices varied in tone and volume, and it was a very interesting experience that I really actually enjoyed. I would read the English fairly quickly and then follow along in the Hebrew, and it worked out quite well. After services, I walked the whole way home becuase the weather was beautiful, on the way calling my mom to explain the holiday to her. I don't know that she was interested, but I feel like informing them might someday come in handy.

I didn't make it to morning services at shul because I was up so late the night before (my sleep schedule is off), so I slept in till about 11:30, got up, and went to shul for the movie marathon. I came in about half-way through the first film, and, well, the nudity made me a bit shifty in my chair. The second movie "Go for Zucker," was a really good movie, but definitely not appropriate for a holiday of mourning since, well, it was sort of a happy, mend-your-ties kind of film. The only relateable element was perhaps the sitting shiva, but that was a minor part of the film. I left after that movie and walked to the bookshop, but found myself unable to focus on anything, so I went home where I wasted the day away until the fast ended, at which time I ate something, took some tylenol, and then tried to sleep.

So, nu? What did I get out of the fast day? I'll be completely honest with everyone here: I felt completel distant from Tisha B'av. I went through the motions, but for some reason, my mind was fully occupied with moving, school, and changes. I'm usually good with the mourning thing. The Holocaust is still fresh in my mind, despite being utterly removed from it by both familial ties and the fact that it occured dozens of years before I was born. The destruction of the temples and the expulsion of the Jews from Spain and all of those events, perhaps because I'm so attached to academia and history, are very fresh in my mind, too. But yesterday, for some reason, I felt like I was in a daze the entire time. Like, I couldn't even think about the purpose of Tisha B'av. Like it was a mist passing over me. I'm not sure what happened. Maybe I just didn't prepare myself, maybe I didn't really take the nine days to get in the place necessary to really grieve. At any rate, Tisha B'av has passed and now we are preparing for the High Holidays. It's strange how quickly this year has gone by, and it seems that I'm less and less prepared for major Jewish milestones.

What gives? And why did it suddenly get harder? I guess I have a whole year to really figure it out. Let's hope it doesn't creep up on me next year.

Anyhow, for those wondering, that little image there has the translated text of Lamentations in a mosaic of sorts.