Fasting in Jerusalem- Tenth of Tevet 5773

Today is the tenth of Tevet. I posted my reflections on this day last year.

For some reason, I have always felt a connection to fast days. Even before identifying as Jewish, the first days of the Jewish calendar that observed were fast days.  I don’t exactly know why I feel such a strong connection to them, but an idea I have is that because fasts mark times that were hard for our people. Not only in Judaism, but in every religion. It is a way of mourning during our year. We don’t just remember the past, but we recognize that the wounds are fresh. Time is thrown out the window, and we sit with the communities before us who felt pain and sorrow. This is really the reason I love all holidays, but there is still something special in fasts. I think the lack of extravagance in a fast makes me more apt to reflect more.

With every holiday, I connect myself with the history. This year, being in Jerusalem for a fast about the siege of Jerusalem made it harder to find that connection. It sounds strange that being in the city would challenge me more than help me, but it did. It felt strange mourning over Jerusalem when I was clearly in the modern, Jewish city going about my day. Why mourn when I know how the story is now? I was free to practice my religion in this city along with many, many other Jews.

As the day goes on, I knew there was a way I still related to the biblical story. Maybe Jerusalem is an autonomous Jewish city now, but it is sadly an exceptional instance in history. Although we are free here, there is still a fragility. We need to remember and connect to this day, even in Jerusalem, because it can so easily happen again. If we don’t make a point of mourning the loss that our people had, we risk forgetting how precious, sacred and fragile Jerusalem is for us. It is important to actively remember the day, take action by fasting on the day, in order to inspire action to protect our current Home.

May everyone fasting have a safe and meaningful fast.

My Family will be Mourning. My Heart will be Full of Joy.

Since the beginning of Lent, I have felt strange not following the liturgy. Ever since I was young, Lent was my favorite liturgical season (yes, I have favorite liturgical seasons) and the services of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday were even more anticipated than midnight Christmas Mass. In years prior, I already felt removed from the Lenten narrative, but like many non practicing or believing Christians I still abstained or added a practice for Lent. For me, this was not so much about Lent as just a practice in self-control and trying to move closer to Hashem. This was the first year that I in no way participated in even the most remote practices of Lent or Easter. This is also the first year I will not be with my family on Easter. Which I made sure to let them know was not because I didn’t support their religious practices, but because the timing of Passover prevents me from visiting family.

Last year, was the first time in my life that I said “halleluyah” during Lent. The Catholic Church does not sing halleluyah during Lent because it is a time of mourning, but since I would daven the Shema and Amidah each day I would quietly say it to myself. This year, the first Shabbat after Ash Wednesday (the beginning of Lent) was the  first time I publicly said “halleluyah.” I remember the moment it came to say “halleluyah” in the repetition of the Amidah. I took a deep breath and with strength and joy I declared, “halleluyah.” For everyone else in the shul, the moment came and passed unnoticed, but for me it was a clear declaration of my theology and praise for Hashem.

In the Western Church, the Lenten season is coming to an end. This is an intense time for many Christians as Palm Sunday has passed and there is anxiety as the liturgy goes through the last days of Jesus’ life on earth and eventual death.  These days lead up Easter, which is full of joy, but in the mean time many Christians are stricken with grief. All of lent has been a time of mourning, but it culminates in these last few days of the season. This year the last days of Lent coincide with the beginning of Pesach (Passover). Now with Pesach approaching, I await the moments of looking up to the heavens and joyfully singing Hallel. I can’t help but feel strange by the fact that as I open my heart to let the praise and joy flood out for Hashem and redemption my family will all be without liturgy of praise and in a moment of emptiness. Jews and Christians around the world are set in tension on Friday and Saturday when one community experiences Hashem answering their cries for freedom and the other community is crying with great loss. Friday night and Saturday are moments  when the people of Israel are being drawn closer to redemption and freedom and Christians are ultimately in a state of emptiness and darkness. The Israelites are on their first steps towards returning to Israel and Christians are deeper in exile from freedom than any other time.

When my heart is full of joy for bnei Israel (children of Israel) from all generations that are making their way from slavery to freedom, my family, along with all Christians, is mourning. I will sing songs of praise and scream from the depths of my soul “HALLELUYAH,” while they sit in a place of darkness.

Before the weekend is up, they too will experience freedom in their own way. Yet, still, the tension will remain.