Fast Days That Are Real Slow?

This Sunday is the fast day of 17 Tammuz. Among the calamities that occurred on this day are the breaking of the Luchos (Tablets of the Law) when Moses descended Mount Sinai and found the people worshiping the Golden Calf. Another is the burning of a Torah scroll by Apustamus. The breaching of the walls of the Holy Temple in Jerusalem is yet another.

Many see these anachronistic practices designating days of national mourning for events that took place two to three thousand years ago as being over the top and stifling. Why not just move on and let it go already? A fair enough question. Perhaps the following stories will open up some alternative modes of understanding that lean more in the experiential direction.

A well-known Tisha B'av story (9th day of Av, the day of the actual destruction of both the first and later second Temple in Jerusalem):

Napoleon passed a Shul as he was walking through the streets of Paris. He heard crying coming from within and sent one of his captains to investigate. He returned and told Napoleon that the Jews were mourning the loss of their Temple. Napoleon was furious! "How come I didn't know about this? When did this occur?" He responded, "They lost their Temple in Jerusalem on this date 1,700 years ago." Napoleon stood in silence and then said, "Certainly a people which has mourned the loss of their Temple for so long will survive to see it rebuilt!"

The book Pirchei Aharon has another version: (some say this is the original source of that story)

"While in Vilna, Napoleon saw Jewish people sitting on the ground mourning the Temple. He wondered what this practice could possibly achieve? He didn't understand the idea that mourning for the Temple was a way of keeping alive the national dreams of seeing it rebuilt."

Another story from the same source: (these are all my translations from Hebrew and I take responsibility for any inaccuracies, though it is pretty straightforward) "When we were in Jerusalem in 1927 and had the merit to pray at the Western Wall (the only remains of the Holy Temple), we saw water dripping from the walls and we were extremely moved and inspired: the "skeptics" present attributed it to the aftereffects of an earthquake that had happened just days earlier on the fourth of Tammuz. The Chasidim and the Sefardim however, who were there to recite the book of Eicha (lamentations traditionally read on this day) began to dance and sing exuberantly. They explained that the dripping water meant that the Western Wall and G-d himself had joined in the crying— and that it was a good omen for the hastening of the Redemption. When asked what the basis for this was, they were told that it was based on the Midrash: 'When Jacob sits and cries and Joseph sits and cries, and Israel cries, G-d responds by creating the Light of the Messiah!'"

I really do love the powerful symbolism of these days (though fasting has become a bit more challenging) and I believe they contribute a great deal to character development and discipline. Perhaps most importantly, they facilitate a sharpening of the personal nature of the unique "I-Thou" nature of covenantal responsibility that we each bear individually–to find ways to do our part in rebuilding the brokenness of the world and alleviate the rampant suffering of people all around us.

Additionally, the ways our tradition manages to keep the memories of the destruction alive, at least enough to keep us emotionally engaged in a personal sense of relevance to the historical unfolding of our foundational stories, resonates powerfully on many levels.

In many ways, the continuity of those stories in our collective memories and associated spiritual practice is the unfolding and manifestation of the G-dly "creation of the light of the Messiah" invoked by the above-mentioned Midrash.

The real power here hides in plain sight, and speaks directly to the concern of contemporary relevance etc., once we notice it, is that our tradition DOES indeed encourage us to "let it go": by singling out ONLY these specific days as national days of mourning, that would de facto designate the bulk of the days of the year outside of these few as upbeat days of positivity, hopefulness, and all around good energy vibes. This would suggest that in our tradition, it is the JOY more so than the OY that is meant to power us up to actively seek an end to all traces of dystopian existence, paving the way to ultimately usher in (במהרה בימינו) a cosmic new age of heightened G-d consciousness and planetary oneness.