It has been awhile since I have written on this blog, but I felt it would be worth re-activating it to reflect on some of my recent experiences, particularly fasting on the Jewish holiday of Tisha B'Av during the Muslim month of Ramadan.
Tisha B'Av, or the 9th of Av, is when we Jews commemorate the day both of our temples were destroyed (they were destroyed hundreds of years apart from each other, but took place on the same day on the Hebrew calendar.) This day is part of 9 days where Jews are not allowed to eat meat, shave, or partake in anything celebratory such as weddings. On the last of the 9 days, we fast from sundown to sundown, or a whole 24 hours with no food or water. There are some similarities to the month of Ramadan, but the key difference is that Muslims fast from dawn until dusk (so 12 hours), and every day for a month. Ramadan is not really a time for mourning in the same sense of Tisha B'av, but more of a time of reflection and self-discipline. As I understand it, the purpose of Ramadan is to celebrate the revelations of the Quran to the Prophet Muhammad (pbuh), to feel solidarity with those who are hungry around the world, and to achieve a level of self discipline.
I fasted Tisha B'Av this year not because I have any particular sadness about an event that took place thousands of years ago, but because I am trying to be a better Jew and become closer to G-d. I definitely felt that something was missing from my experience, yet I could not identify it until now.
On the last night of Tisha B'av, we Jews read the Book of Lamentations, or a poetic book from the Hebrew Bible describing the destruction of the Holy Temple at the hands of the Babylonians (6th century BC), composed by the prophet Jeremiah. I found it to be some of the most beautiful, yet saddest poetry I have ever read. It talked about how Zion (Jerusalem) was like a solitary widow with no one to care for her, abandoned by her g-d, how g-d was punishing Israel, with powerful metaphors describing the feelings of the Israelites at the time.
Now, how does this all relate to Ramadan and Muslims? Well, it does so in a sort of awkward sense. As some of you may know, one of the holiest sites in Islam is the Dome of the Rock, built right over the temple mount. Control of the temple mount is today one of the most controversial aspects of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.
The question is, how do we deal with a place so important for two communities in conflict? Should we wait for the messiah to come and re-build the temple, or Jesus to return with the Mahdi and establish justice all over the world after slaying the dajjal (false messiah)? (The former is what Jews believe, latter is Islam).
Both communities have great yearnings for their end of days. For me it is irrelevant, because both the scenarios are so similar, with both believing that peace and justice will be established all over the world.
Now, back to the Book of Lamentations. It made me sad to read it and reflect, but back then I did not know why I was sad. Now I do. It is because the supposedly holy city of Jerusalem to me has become unholy; marked by the putrid stench of religious conflict with no clear end in sight.
I do not have an answer, but I know this: Israel is not going to just give up its capital or control of the old city, and East Jerusalem is home to 500,000 Palestinians who have roots to the city just as deep as Jerusalem's Jewish residents. Both communities must acknowledge that each has deep ties to the city, and inshallah (g-d willing) they will find some way to share it. I am doing my part by doing everything I can to promote interfaith cooperation, and am not willing to wait for the Messiah or the Mahdi to come and figure it out.
The Book of Lamentations is not just filled with despair, but also with hope that the people of Israel will return to Zion and recover from their misfortune. I too was filled with sadness, but also hope.
I know that most Palestinians and Israelis do not want this ridiculous conflict to last forever. I hope it will not take until the end of days for this to happen, but g-d willing in my lifetime, Jerusalem will be holy for me and there will be peace.
The essayist and noted defender of Christianity Jonathan Swift wrote: "We have just enough religion to make us hate, but not enough to make us love one another." We just need more of the kind of religion that will make us love one another.
*In the Jewish tradition, we are not allowed to write out g-d's name (which is why I left out the "o") unless it is meant for holy purposes, such as writing a Torah. It relates to the commandment to not write out g-d's name in vain, and if written out, it can only be disposed of in ways appropriated by halacha, or Jewish law.
Aaron blogs at faithbridges.wordpress.com
