As one famous joke has it, the theme of every Jewish holiday is: “They tried to kill us; we won; let’s eat.”
You don’t have to be a member of the tribe to appreciate its wit, which lies in the combination of historical accuracy and comical self-deprecation. Let’s face it: Jews place a lot of emphasis on food.
Nor is this focus only on consumption. It’s also on fasting—not the “intermittent” kind or Ozempic method of chemically altering one’s appetite, but rather that which is related to the ritual abstinence required on certain somber days in Judaism.
Ironically, secular and moderately traditional Israelis emphasize this particular aspect of our faith/ethnicity, while similarly inclined Diaspora Jews consider synagogue attendance paramount. Take Yom Kippur, for example.
As the former tend to honor it by remaining at home resting and counting the 25 hours until we can put something in our mouths, the latter spends most of the day praying in shul. Of course, the Day of Atonement is also the anniversary of the 1973 war, when the Jewish state was the victim of a surprise onslaught by a coalition of surrounding Arab armies, which adds a layer of national significance to the soul-searching and breast-beating.
It’s no wonder, then, that the Oct. 7 massacre, which caught Israel totally off guard, evokes memories of that existential battle five decades earlier. Though the mass murder and abductions took place on Simchat Torah, the cheerful celebration of the annual cycle of public Bible readings will be forever marred by the memory of the atrocities.
This brings us to Tisha B’Av, which begins at sundown on Monday. It is a fast day when Eicha (Lamentations) is recited and commemorates the destruction of the First and Second Jewish Temples.
This year, it’s taking on special meaning for two reasons. One is the internecine strife in Israel that is likened to the sinat chinam, or “baseless hatred,” culminating in the above events that occurred hundreds of years apart.
The other is the report by Sky News Arabia last week that Iran and its Lebanon-based proxy may choose Tisha B’Av precisely for the type of missile-and-drone strikes with which they’ve been threatening Israel since the recent assassinations of top Hezbollah commander Fuad Shukr near Beirut and Hamas politburo chief Ismail Haniyeh in Tehran.
Whether or not the date is set in stone, Israelis know enough by now to realize that radical Islamists are well aware of our calendar and seem to make serious efforts to render our wisecrack about celebrating victory by stuffing our faces no longer a laughing matter.
So far, the jihadists haven’t been successful at their ultimate aim of wiping the Jewish state off the map. But some Israelis fear that the current situation could be a game-changer. While quipping about preparing for the imminent “apocalypse” by purchasing canned goods, batteries and bottles of water—only to use them up while waiting to be blitzed—we’re greeting one another by asking if “it’s happening tonight.”
The wondering isn’t accompanied by panic, however. No, it’s more philosophical than gut-wrenching—in Tel Aviv, at least. The sounds of air-raid sirens will shift that mood in an instant.
At that moment, residents of the center will understand temporarily what those in the north and south have been living with on a daily basis.
In the meantime, news items briefly cause our hearts to race. The ruling issued earlier in the day by the Israel Defense Forces Military Rabbinate that all combat soldiers and those on guard duty in Gaza, on the northern border, and in Judea and Samaria are forbidden from fasting this Tisha B’Av. According to the IDF statement on the matter, these men and women in uniform need sustenance to be able to function properly.
The order was made after two soldiers became dangerously dehydrated on July 23 while observing the fast of the 17th of Tammuz, the start of the nine days of Temple-destruction mourning leading up to Tisha B’Av.
When the army’s religious authority determines that fasting is a no-no on such an occasion, Israelis consider it a sign to stay in safe proximity to a bomb shelter after dark. And so we wait, laughing and lamenting at our surreal predicament.
