The Nine Days

Judaism is always gearing up for some event or another. This may be true in other religions but the only gearing up I have ever noticed for Christmas, let's say, is commercial. If the Christians are doing any religious preparation -- which they may well be doing -- it has totally missed me. I won't even begin to comment on Islam or any other religion because I don't know enough about them.

In Judaism we always seem to be entering a phase: getting ready for Passover, praying for forgiveness in the weeks leading up to the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur), and my personal least favorite -- the three weeks and then the nine days leading to Tisha B'Av.

Tisha B'Av is a fast day that commemorates the destruction of the first and second temples in Jerusalem, which apparently happened on the same day, 656 years apart. Every other bad thing that happened to the Jews of antiquity is also mourned on this date. As a result, TB is considered the "saddest day in Jewish history".

Never people to let a sad day go by without making it sadder, there are several prohibitions surrounding the day. Some are observed for the three-weeks leading up to TB; and others for just nine days. Besides fasting for 25 hours on the actual day, observant Jews are prohibited against washing or bathing, applying creams or oils, wearing leather shoes, or having sexual relations during the days leading up to it.

Now here is the twist. Tisha B'Av falls in July or August. And whether it is true or not, it seems to me, that it most often falls very, very, very close to my birthday. And over the years, it has been the ultimate party pooper. I have missed more birthday cakes on account of TB than I care to count. Now that I am beyond celebrating my birthday anyway, it is less of an issue -- although fasting isn't my idea for even a quietly festive birthday.

Last year, was one of those years when my birthday fell on Tisha B'av. So, where do you go with that? Obviously, not out for lunch, for starters. You can't even get up and have a happy birthday cup of coffee. That is truly cruel. And then, late afternoon when you think you couldn't get any hungrier or crankier, it is always possible that the other adult in the family will say: "Hey, let's go to Jerusalem for the last few hours of the Fast." Talk about festive. You get to go to the Western Wall and sing with all the other starving people. Actually, as a woman, you get to stand outside the singing circles, which are comprised of more than 100 boys and men, all arm-in-arm rocking back and forth like a bunch of crazed Girl Scouts.

Okay, so then the Fast ends and everyone runs for the nearest restaurant. We break the Fast with Bonkers Bagels connected with a gallon of cream cheese. Some of the tougher fasters break the Fast with juicy hamburgers. It might be my age and accompanying digestive system, but the last thing I want to eat after a hot July day of fasting is a bloody hamburger.

This year, lucky me, my birthday only fell during the Nine Days so I celebrated by not bathing. Okay, I am joking. I bathed because I figured that my birthday was cause enough to get clean -- I think you can fairly call that creative celebrating. But since I took that liberty I have used up my Get Out of Jail Free card and now I have no choice but to sit around trying to be sad until Thursday night, when I can get back to thinking about the commercialization of Christmas.