On the 17th of Tammuz

I skipped lunch today.

I suppose this is not, in itself, a rare occurrence in these modern times. We get too busy to stop for lunch some days. Or we don't have time to pack a lunch in the morning and the lunches for sale nearby seem too far away, or too expensive, or too junk-food for our taste. 

But today I was at home, and there was food in the fridge and the pantry, and I was hungry. And I skipped lunch anyway.

Because today is the 17th day of the Hebrew month of Tammuz, a minor fast day in the Jewish tradition.

Now technically, I should have fasted from first light (not sure how this is defined in halacha) to nightfall (enough darkness to see three small stars, or alternately, 50 minutes after sunset). But I'm still a baby Jew and, to be honest, I didn't notice that it was a fast day until well after breakfast. Oops. And thanks both to the My Jewish Learning daily email and to the Jewish calendar the Chabad people send me every year for reminding me when I took the time to look.  

But, as I was driving to work to set up a lab test for tomorrow, hearing my tummy rumble and pointedly not reaching for a snack, I got to thinking. Here I was, commemorating a few of the historic pains of the Jewish people with my own hunger pangs...but why? 

I know, for example, that the upcoming Tisha B'Av is a day marking the many externally-imposed tragedies history has imposed on the Jewish people: the destruction of both the First and Second Temples is said to have happened on this day, as is the expulsion from Spain and many other historic tragedies. 

But I have heard people argue that this day of mourning should no longer be so poignant for us, what with the success of today's Jews in winning nearly-equal status in many Western democracies (if you think we are entirely equal, try fully celebrating all of the holidays Judaism wants you to – which would require taking about a dozen days off of work – while doing your best to ignore all of the Christianized pagan holidays that rule our culture) and of world Judaism in establishing our own sovereign country in our middle eastern homeland for the first time in nearly two millennia. I mean, the Jewish people as a whole are no longer a suffering and wandering minority, strangers in strange and often-hostile lands. I've even heard the thought voiced that mourning the loss of the Temple makes no sense for progressive Jews, since our entire way of being Jewish would never have come about if the Temple cult still reigned supreme over Judaism. 

And these thoughts, while I'm not saying I endorse them whole-heartedly, have a bit of truth to them.

But then I looked a bit deeper into what the 17th of Tammuz is commemorating. Many of the tragedies of this day focus on idolatry. It is said to have been the day that Moses came down from Mount Sinai, bearing the tablets of the law for the Jewish people, all aglow with excitement, only to discover many of his people holding a pagan rite of some sort around a golden calf. Centuries later, Israeli King Menashe is said to have erected an idol in the First Temple on this date, and centuries after that a greco-roman persecutor is said to have erected an idol to one of his gods in the Second Temple on this date, doubling the insult by burning a torah scroll. 

And I got to thinking again: while Jews in modern-day America (who add up to roughly half of the world's Jewish population) or in the modern State of Israel (who account for nearly the other half) can hardly be said to be suffering religious persecution en masse or seeing the destruction of our holy places or even living under the threat of mass expulsion any more, we are just as susceptible to the creeping threat of idolatry as ever we were before – perhaps even more, given that we are no longer forced to live as a people apart from the majority culture. 

Now, obviously you don't see golden calves popping up in synagogue parking lots (though I have seen plenty of "lion of Judah" motifs – I'm not sure why those are okay when golden calves are not, but I can't say I've studied the matter enough to know) or idols being erected in front of the ark (and I'm not going to go on a diatribe here about how we venerate the Torah scrolls), but the modern world has plenty of other idols to offer for us to, if not worship, at least be highly distracted by. 

Today is also, for example and quite ironically, Amazon Prime Day. How many Jews, I wonder, have no idea that they are supposed to be fasting today but have been quite thoroughly primed by mass media outlets to know that today is a day to do your duty as a modern consumer? 

Myself? Guilty as charged. I made my obligatory sacrifice to the great A-to-Z before I managed to take the dog and the kids on their morning walk today. 

Still not convinced I'm an idolater? 

I pay more attention to my Facebook feed and the 24-hour news cycle than I do to remembering to fit in any of my daily prayers, in part due to peer and family pressure, which comes because I carry an electronic idol in my pocket. Actually, my smartphone is worse than the old-fashioned idols: it buzzes and cries out for my attention hundreds of times a day. And saying goodbye to it for an entire Shabbat has been traumatizing on more than one occasion. 

I worry about my bank account too much to give tzedakah, and yet I spend to satisfy the idols of consumerism. I care about the health of myself and my family, and yet I give in to the idols of food marketing more often than I would like to admit. I care about building King's beloved community, but far too often I let the idols of politics and culture wars decide my opinions of people and my reactions to their ideas and ideals. 

Whether you are Jewish or of some other religion or even of the "spiritual but not religious" persuasion, I urge you to take some time on this 17th day of Tammuz to think about the idols our culture has offered you recently, many of which I suspect you have given at least grudging obeisance to, to take your attention away from the things you really value, the things your religion tries to teach you, the things you know you should do but just never can manage. And then at least skip a snack to feel the pain of all the lost opportunities and to motivate you to do better tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.