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July 2, 2004/Tamuz 13 5764, Vol. 56, No.41
Fast day recalls historyOZZIE NOGGIf the way to a man's heart is through food, could the way to God's heart be through fasting? Jewish history and practice seem to answer, "Yes."Besides Yom Kippur, Tisha B'Av and four minor fast days on the calendar, Jews have throughout history used private and community fasts in an effort to get something from God. A child. Rain. Bountiful harvests. We fasted to avert locusts and pestilence, to prevent mildew and the withering of crops, to fend off the collapse of buildings and counteract the frightening effects of nightmares. Jews fasted to end oppression and war, but these fasts rarely worked, so then we fasted in remembrance of defeats, subjugations, annihilations and other calamities. Which gets us back to the above-mentioned minor fasts; specifically, the fast of 17 Tammuz, which falls this year on July 6. According to tradition, these minor fasts are associated with events that ended in the destruction of the Temple, each fast commemorating a different stage in that catastrophe. The Jerusalem Talmud says 17 Tammuz marks both the date when Nebuchadnezzar's troops breached the walls of the First Temple in 586 BCE and the date when the Romans stormed the Second Temple almost 600 years later in 70 CE. The Fast of 17 Tammuz commemorates other disasters in Jewish history, too. It is said that on this date (in different years, of course) Moses came down from Sinai, found the Israelites cavorting around the Golden Calf and proceeded to smash the Tablets of the Law; the daily Temple sacrifice was abolished; Jerusalem's walls were breached by the Babylonians; and Apostomos, a Greek general, put idols in the Temple and burned the Torah. Besides holding the record for multiple disasters, 17 Tammuz has the distinction of ushering in the period known as "Between the Straits" (also called "The Three Weeks"). During this period of mourning for the destruction of the Second Temple, dozens of prohibitions go into effect (no weddings, no celebrations, no new clothes, etc.) and we are taken to task by Jeremiah and Isaiah in Haftarahs filled with dire warnings of destruction, retribution and wall-to-wall chaos. The three-week period increases in gloom, and the fasting customs escalate until we observe Tisha B'Av, when (according to the Mishnah) joy is totally eliminated and full-blown mourning over the loss of the Temple and of Jerusalem has everyone in a state of total, abject grief. Despite a Talmudic tractate devoted to its laws, and despite mystics, kabbalists and ascetic groups who carried fasting to a high art, Judaism does not prize obsessive denial or self-abnegation. In fact, the Tal-mud warns that we have no right to afflict ourselves by fasting lest we become a burden to the community. Furthermore, said the sages, fasting is not an end in itself. Alone, it has no value. A fast, to be meaningful, must be partnered with a sincere effort to change our ways. We are told that God took pity on Nineveh not because the people fasted but because they truly repented. Prophets urge, "Get up early and imp-rove your deeds. Seclude yourself in your chambers and search your ways." Saddiah Gaon was more succinct. "Rather than fast," he sug-gested, "don't sin." So, having said all that, where does the fast of 17 Tammuz fit into our agendas today? In the words of the Encyclopedia Judaica, "Except for Yom Kippur and Tisha B' Av, fasting seems to lack general appeal." Going a step farther, some argue that the minor fast days have lost all significance and should be done away with, especially since the estab-lishment of the State of Israel makes the idea of mourning for the Temple unnecessary. But other scholars and philosophers make a case for not throwing the baby out with the bath water. Even though the catastrophes associated with 17 Tammuz are far removed from us, and the custom of fasting and mourning (so strictly observed by our ancestors) is irrelevant to many Jews, nonetheless, these ancient practices are rooted deep within our consciousness and help us stay connected to the land of Israel and to our people. Ozzie Nogg is a free-lance writer in Omaha, Neb. |
