Mishneh Torah, Fasts 5

Hook

At first glance, the laws of fasting in Mishneh Torah appear to be a straightforward calendar of national grief. Yet, the non-obvious truth embedded in Rambam’s structure is that these fasts are not memorial services for the past; they are diagnostic tools for the present. Rambam insists that we fast not because of what happened then, but because our present conduct is a mirror reflection of the very behaviors that caused those calamities to happen in the first place.

Context

To understand the weight of these laws, one must look to the concept of Teshuvah (Return) as defined by the Rambam in Hilchot Teshuvah. Rambam views history not as a linear progression of trauma, but as a series of recurring spiritual cycles. A crucial literary note is the influence of the Jerusalem Talmud (Yoma 1:1), which famously asserts, "Every generation in which the Temple is not rebuilt should consider it as if it was destroyed in its days." This isn't merely a poetic sentiment; it is a legal anchor. It implies that the Churban (destruction) is not a finished historical event, but an ongoing state of existence that we actively maintain or dismantle through our daily moral choices.

Text Snapshot

"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, as Leviticus 26:40 states: 'And they will confess their sin and the sin of their ancestors.'" (Fasts 5:1)

"When the month of Av enters, we reduce our joy... All these practices were instituted to recall Jerusalem, as Psalms 137:5-6 states: 'If I forget you, O Jerusalem, may my right hand lose its dexterity... if I do not recall Jerusalem during my greatest joy.'" (Fasts 5:7, 5:13)

Close Reading

Insight 1: The Anatomy of Repetition

Rambam’s insistence that our current conduct "resembles" that of our ancestors is the structural engine of this chapter. He does not treat the fasts as static, archeological commemorations. By linking the fasts to the diagnostic act of confession, he turns the calendar into a mirror. If the fast is merely a physical abstinence from food, it is a failure. The "structure" of the fast is defined by the intent (kavanah)—the physical void of food is intended to create a psychological void where we can finally confront the "wicked conduct" we would otherwise ignore. The Ohr Sameach and Steinsaltz commentaries clarify this: the tragedies are not "past" because the underlying spiritual failures are still "in force" (betokef).

Insight 2: The Key Term "Teshuvah" (Return)

The term Teshuvah is often mistranslated as "repentance" (an act of penance), but as the notes on Halacha 1 suggest, it literally means "Return." The fasts are designed to force a return to one’s "fundamental self." We are, in our essence, Divine; the calamities of history are departures from that essence. When Rambam speaks of the fasts being "transformed into days of rejoicing" in the Messianic era, he is signaling that the "negative" elements of the fast—the hunger, the tears, the lack of music—are merely the necessary friction required to strip away the false layers of our current, broken reality.

Insight 3: The Tension of Public vs. Private Mourning

Rambam carefully balances the public nature of the fast with the internal, private experience of the mourner. Note the contrast in Halacha 11, where he discusses Torah scholars and their behavior. He demands they remain "idle" and "in agony," not as a display for the community, but because their sensitivity to the loss must be greater. The tension here lies in the "performance" of mourning: if one is a public figure or a scholar, their silence and somber tone carry the burden of the collective memory. It is a tension between the obligation to feel and the obligation to teach through one's own emotional state.

Two Angles

The debate between the Ramban (Nachmanides) and other authorities regarding the laws of mourning often highlights the fundamental tension in these halachot. Rashi and later Ashkenazic authorities (like the Rama) often lean toward a more literal, visceral interpretation of the mourning rites, emphasizing the "external" signs of grief—the lack of washing, the sitting on the ground, the specific physical restrictions. They view the Churban as a reality that must be physically enacted in our homes, down to the last detail of the unpainted cubit on the wall.

Conversely, Rambam (as reflected in Hilchot Teshuvah and these Fasts) pivots toward an internal, intellectual, and transformative approach. While he maintains the physical requirements, his focus is on the cognitive shift. For Rambam, if the fast doesn't lead to an "intellectual development" (truth) and "emotional harmony" (peace), the fast has missed its mark. The tension is between a Judaism of commemorative practice (Rashi/Rama) and a Judaism of transformative intentionality (Rambam). The former ensures the memory never dies; the latter ensures the memory drives the redemption.

Practice Implication

This chapter transforms decision-making from a simple matter of convenience to a matter of national consciousness. When a business owner or a parent considers whether to engage in an "ornate" activity during the Nine Days, they aren't just following a "rule"; they are actively deciding how much space to leave in their life for the memory of the lack. The "unpainted cubit" in the home is not a symbolic decoration; it is a tactical decision to keep the "incompleteness" of our current reality visible. In our daily lives, this means we must cultivate "holy discomfort." We should not be perfectly comfortable in a world that is still fractured. Decision-making during these periods—choosing to skip a festive event or choosing a simpler meal—is a way of saying, "I am aware that the world is not yet what it is meant to be," and that awareness is the first step toward the "peace and truth" promised by the prophets.

Chevruta Mini

1. If the fasts are meant to be "transformed into joy" in the future, does this mean the pain we feel now is inherently "good," or is it only a necessary evil on the way to a higher end?
2. Why does Rambam insist that the scholar must be more somber than the common person? Does this create an elite class of mourners, or does it hold the leadership to a higher standard of historical empathy?

Takeaway

The fasts are not a mourning of the past, but an active, diagnostic return to our best selves, ensuring that we do not continue the very behaviors that necessitated the destruction in the first place.