Mishneh Torah, Fasts 5

Hook

When you stand at the threshold of choosing a Jewish life, you are not merely signing up for a set of rituals; you are entering a long, unbroken conversation with history. Many who are new to this path view Judaism as a religion of joy and celebration, and indeed, it is. But to be Jewish is also to carry the memory of the "not-yet"—the missing pieces of our collective home, the broken tablets, and the hushed silence of exile. The Mishneh Torah on Fasts teaches us that our commitment is not just to the present, but to a profound, intergenerational empathy. By choosing to mark these days, you are saying that the story of the Jewish people is now your story, and that you are willing to hold the weight of our shared history as a prerequisite for building our shared future.

Context

• The Nature of the Obligation: Rambam (Maimonides) frames these fasts as a necessary response to national tragedy, intended to stir the heart toward teshuvah (returning to one’s true self/God). While some aspects are debated in their legal weight, the tradition invites you to participate in a rhythm of communal mourning that bridges the gap between the ancient destruction and the modern world.
• The Goal of the Fast: Fasting is explicitly not the goal. The goal is the inner shift. As the text notes, "Fasting can, however, serve to arouse the heart and initiate the paths of repentance." It is a tool for self-reflection, not a test of endurance.
• The Bridge to the Future: The text concludes with a prophetic vision: these days of sadness are destined to be transformed into days of joy. This is central to the gerut process—you are learning to live in the tension of a world that is broken, while actively working toward a redemption that makes that brokenness heal.

Text Snapshot

"There are days when the entire Jewish people fast because of the calamities that occurred to them then, to arouse their hearts and initiate them in the paths of repentance. This will serve as a reminder of our wicked conduct and that of our ancestors, which resembles our present conduct and therefore brought these calamities upon them and upon us. By reminding ourselves of these matters, we will repent and improve our conduct."

Close Reading

Insight 1: The Responsibility of "Our" Ancestors

Rambam makes a startling claim: we fast not just because of what happened then, but because our present conduct "resembles our present conduct" and thus keeps those calamities alive. For someone exploring conversion, this can be a difficult concept. You might wonder, "How can I be responsible for the sins of people I never knew, or the destruction of a Temple I never saw?"

The beauty here lies in the radical shift from the individualistic Western mindset to the Jewish covenantal identity. When you step into the waters of the mikveh, you are not just an individual becoming Jewish; you are becoming a link in a chain. By saying "our ancestors," you are adopting their story as your own. You are accepting that the "exile"—the state of being distanced from one's highest, truest self—is a condition that still exists. Your practice of these fasts is an acknowledgment that you are now part of a people whose history is not dead, but living. You aren't "guilty" of the past; you are responsible for the present state of the world because you are now part of the family tasked with fixing it.

Insight 2: The Transformation of Sorrow

Rambam’s closing halachah is the most encouraging part for a beginner. He quotes Zechariah, who prophesied that these fasts would one day become "happiness and celebration." Why? Because there is no such thing as a "negative" entity that cannot be redeemed. The Steinsaltz commentary explains that all which appears negative is simply "hidden good."

This is the core of the Jewish spirit: we do not ignore the tragedy, but we refuse to let it have the final word. In your conversion journey, you will encounter the "dark" parts of Jewish history—the persecutions, the losses, the mourning. Rambam teaches that we don't study these things to be depressed; we study them to understand that the world is in a process of becoming. When you fast on Tish'ah B'Av or the Tenth of Tevet, you are holding the space for the eventual arrival of the Messianic era. You are practicing hope in the face of history. You are saying, "I see the ruin, but I am committed to the rebuilding." This is the ultimate act of faith: to mourn the destruction while remaining convinced that the day of celebration is coming.

Lived Rhythm

To begin integrating this rhythm into your life, start small. You do not need to observe the full intensity of Tish'ah B'Av immediately if you are just beginning.

Your Next Step: Choose one of the "minor" fast days (like the Tenth of Tevet) to observe as a "day of mindfulness." You don't need to commit to the full fast if it is physically difficult for you. Instead, commit to a "media fast." Spend the day without music, without social media, and without leisure entertainment. Replace that time with a focused 30-minute reading of the Book of Lamentations (Eichah) or a discussion with your mentor about why the Jewish people continue to remember these events. Use the time to ask: What is one habit in my life that keeps me distant from my potential? Write down your answer, and consider that your personal teshuvah—your return to your best self.

Community

Connection is the antidote to the feeling of isolation that often accompanies the "exile" of the soul. I highly encourage you to find a study partner—a chavruta—who is also interested in the Mishneh Torah. Reach out to your local rabbi or the director of your conversion program and ask: "Is there someone who is also interested in studying the laws of mourning or the Messianic era?" Studying these texts together, rather than alone, transforms the weight of the history into a shared burden. It turns "my study" into "our learning," which is the very foundation of the Jewish experience.

Takeaway

Conversion is not an arrival; it is an entry into a story that is still being written. The fasts aren't meant to make you feel like an outsider looking into a tragic past; they are meant to invite you into the very heart of the Jewish struggle for meaning. You are choosing to join a people who stand in the rubble and start building, who acknowledge the pain of the past but never lose sight of the promise of the future. Take your time, be gentle with your own learning curve, and know that every moment you spend engaging with these traditions, you are becoming more deeply rooted in the story of the Jewish people.