Tisha B’Av mourns destruction and displacement. It layers on ancient, medieval and modern experiences, linking the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem with pogroms through the ages, whether or not they fell on the 9th day of the month of Av.
Av falls in July or August, months of attenuated synagogue involvement in many Jewish spaces. A member of the Jewish community who is not otherwise attached to daily Jewish observance might never learn what this full fast day looks or sounds like. Youth who attend Jewish summer camp, depending upon the style or denomination, might have an appropriately calibrated activity, or observe some of its components, yet it is mostly folded in to a typical camp day. Unless you’ve been fully embedded in a traditionally observant community, you might wonder what takes place.
There are some oddities to “full sleeve” Tisha B’Av observance. While it is a full sundown-to-sundown fast, it is not a festival day with its typical “work” restrictions. Tefillin, or phylacteries, usually only worn for morning prayer, are worn for the mincha or afternoon prayer service. Like the erev or evening service, it includes the mournful chanting of the book of Lamentations, or Eicha, and the recitation of special poems for the day called kinnot.
The core vibe is marked by the wailing and moaning of these texts and chants. In other words, our tradition mandates the opposite of silence at the collective memories piled on to this one date. Tisha B’Av holds, therefore, a set time for collective grief, not limited to one moment in time. Just as we are mandated to return each year to teshuvah during the Days of Awe – or, as we sing together, “return to the home of your soul” – the invitation of Tisha B’Av makes a space for us to wail and moan that which we are witnessing in our time.
What has, and is, befalling our people is a kind of spiritual destruction. The soul of Judaism is besieged. My dear friend and colleague Rabbi Sandra Lawson posted this week about Moral Clarity, Gaza, and the Soul of Judaism:
“ In this moment of global suffering and devastating violence, especially in Gaza, too many of our institutions have failed to respond with the compassion, integrity, and prophetic vision our tradition demands…Judaism, at its core, is not neutral in the face of suffering…
[O]ur moral compass must be strong enough to hold complexity. We must be able to condemn the killing of Israeli civilians and the killing of tens of thousands of Palestinian civilians. We must grieve the hostages and grieve the children buried under rubble. Anything less is not moral clarity. It’s moral collapse.”
When the walls of the second Temple collapsed, Judaism as it was practiced was almost destroyed. It took vision, it took more suffering, yet our people survived, and our religion evolved. Perhaps this moment in history is manifesting the potential for another paradigm shift. Maybe this year, Tisha B’Av can also hold all of questions, our questing for a Judaism that, in Rabbi Lawson words: “is expansive enough to hold grief and outrage, complexity and compassion.”
Rabbi Liz
