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Sometimes, I begrudge how many fast days about the Temples pervade the Hebrew calendar. Tzom Gedalia, the 10th of Tevet, 17th of Tammuz, 9th of Av – all right already, the Temples fell, and great misery ensued. How much heartache do I need to hold for these ancient events? Perhaps, these layers of lament offer something beyond prolonged kvetching. A one-and-done fast fails to represent the conditions that permit tragedies of this scale to occur.
Israel and Judah’s downfall was not an overnight ambush. The prophets warned that widespread corruption and immorality would lead to the destruction of the Temples. The concentration of wealth, deviation from justice, and lack of mercy created cumulative distress. With each prophet’s message and each sign of increasing threat, the people possessed the capacity to reassess their actions. Nevertheless, they continued to undermine and exploit one another and abandon the instruction of Torah. Our ancestors were not victims of GD’s momentary temper. The breakdown of community care and the rule of law over decades corroded the strength and holiness in their midst.
The individual actions of our ancestors probably seemed negligible. Occasional obscuring of the truth or directing toward self-interest could not usher their downfall. However, the everyday decisions of leaders and regular people contributed to what the people accepted as normative. When everyone else acted poorly, it made sense to follow those precedents. Without any intervention, this trajectory destroyed the trust and cooperation needed for a functioning society.
The sequence of fast days marks the steps along a path to devastation. We remember a series of tragic events to remind ourselves to confront our transgressions before their consequences prove insurmountable. By observing Tisha B’Av and the related days of mourning, we awaken ourselves from a destructive spiral. The status quo endures and worsens until individuals and a community decide to alter it. If current norms contribute to poverty and suffering, we need to confront them before they reach the worst possible outcomes. Tisha B’Av highlights the catastrophic absence of a reckoning.
As we embark upon the fast day, I invite us to contemplate how the breakdown of conscience led our people to our low points and our deep grief. I pray that this brokenheartedness unsettles us. We can emerge startled enough to reassess the assumptions, misdeeds, and systems that have grown so deeply entrenched among us that they appear ordinary. As we pivot toward the season of teshuva, I hope that our grief rouses us and helps us rise to the change each of us needs to make to alter our collective path.
Adam Graubart
Cooperberg-Rittmaster Rabbinical Intern
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