The Three Weeks, The Nine Days, and Tisha B'Av

Tomorrow, June 29, is the 17th of Tammuz on the Jewish calendar and marks the beginning of the Three Weeks before Tisha B'Av, which commemorates a variety of disasters in Jewish history including the destruction of both the First and Second Temples in Jerusalem. All three weeks before Tisha B'Av are a kind of mourning period during which many restrictions are practiced by some Jews, with the last Nine Days being an even more intense period of mourning.

I'm thinking about this tonight because I haven't posted much to this blog recently. That's because there's not much going on between Shavuot and the beginning of Elul in the Jewish calendar -- apart from Tisha B'Av. Also, a friend recently tried to start a discussion about the Three Weeks by sending me a long list of the restrictions during this period. A few of the most notable (for those who don't want to go read the whole article) are:

-- No weddings or other public celebrations.
-- No listening to music.
-- No haircuts or shaving.

During the Nine Days, additional restrictions are added, including:

-- Purchasing only necessities (i.e., nothing for pleasure).
-- Not planting flowers and trees or doing home improvements.
-- Not wearing freshly-laundered clothing.

On the evening of Tisha B'Av, the book of Eicha (Lamentations) is read using a special melody. People sit on the floor rather than on chairs because one should not be comfortable. Tisha B'Av is also a full fast day -- from sundown to sundown -- just like Yom Kippur.

All of this is prelude to admitting that I do not observe the Three Weeks, the Nine Days, nor Tisha B'Av, though various members of my family do so. And I have reasons for choosing not to observe, which I will get into in a moment. I know people who do follow all of the restrictions and I respect them for their choice, but I honestly feel that it is not one that I can make for myself.

The article I mentioned earlier states: The "Three Weeks" between the 17th of Tammuz and the Tisha B'Av have historically been days of misfortune and calamity for the Jewish people.  

This is the first part of why I choose not to observe this period as  a time of mourning. I've read and researched the catalog of disasters and calamities that have been historically assigned to the Three Weeks. It's pretty clear to me that some calamities for which no date is known have been tossed into the mix to increase the feelings of doom and despair. Not that that's a bad thing -- at least we confine all this catastrophe to one period rather than moping about it on separate days throughout the year. But there's a strong element of superstition at play as well, a sort of sympathetic magic. To avoid joy just because sad things once happened on the same day simply doesn't make sense to me. It makes the Three Weeks into some kind of Bermuda Triangle of diasaster -- avoid it at all costs because something else bad might happen.

The biggest catastrophes assigned to Tisha B'Av are, of course, the destruction of both the First and Second Temples. And this is the main reason why I have chosen not to observe Tisha B'Av and the period preceding it. I honestly believe that the destruction of the Temples was -- in the long haul -- a positive thing for the Jews. 

If the Temples had continued to stand, I do not think Jews would have survived to modern times. Temple Judaism was an ancient religion, made for a people who needed the sacrifices, the pageantry, the mystery. When we lost the Temple, we were forced to come up with creative solutions to keep the faith of Abraham alive. Rabbinic Judaism was that solution. In my opinion, it was a brilliant solution. Rabbinic Judaism has kept us together right up to the modern era.

I, for one, do not want to see the Temple rebuilt. I don't want the re-institution of Temple practices and sacrifices. 

One person to whom I offered these arguments asked in return "Do you want to see the coming of Moshiach - and the end of our exile?" For some people, the restoration of the Temple and ingathering of exiles is coincident with the coming of the Moshiach.

I gave her question a lot of thought, and decided that my answer would depend a lot on what is meant by Moshiach (Messiah). And exile, for that matter. (Now I feel like Bill Clinton.....)

The more I study mentions of Moshiach in the Tanakh, the less certain I am about what Moshiach is. Is Moshiach an individual human being? An ideal period which is, regrettably, in our future? It seems to me that much of the mythology around Moshiach  (and I use "mythology" in its anthropological sense -- a popular belief or assumption that has grown up around someone or something -- not as a term indicating that something that is untrue) comes from Talmudic times rather than from Biblical times. If Moshiach is an anointed leader from the line of David (which would be a little hard to establish at this remove, but I don't discount miracles) who will unite b'nai Israel (the children of Israel; i.e., the Jews) and bring in an age of universal peace -- of course I want to see that. 

Given the deep divisions in modern Jewish life, I think uniting b'nai Israel would be a miracle all on its own.

What is exile? In the times of the Bible, exile truly meant isolation, a rift between home/Israel and Diaspora. Today, with instant communications and global awareness, exile doesn't mean quite the same thing. In many ways, Jews today are more connected to Israel than at any time in the last 2,000 years or so. We can go there pretty much at will, we can find out what is happening there with minimal effort, we can help our people with our money and actions, we can voice our opinions, if we are Israeli citizens we can vote even if we aren't physically there.

In what ways are we exiled today? We have the right to return to eretz Israel. The only thing that keeps a Jew today from making aliyah is personal choice and most American Jews choose not to return. 

Having written all that, I had to laugh a little because the name of this blog is "Living in Galut" and galut means exile.The exile I had in mind when I started this blog was physical or geographic isolation from centers of Jewish life. Yet even here in the "Jewish wilderness of New Mexico" I can choose to lead a Jewish life. And, even here in the Jewish wilderness of New Mexico, I could make the choice to return to a richer Jewish community, or to make the move to Israel.