Next week we will observe Tisha B’Av (תשעה באב), the Ninth of Av. Traditionally, this is a day associated with calamity for the Jewish people. It’s the day on which both the First and Second Temples were destroyed, the city of Betar fell, the Romans plowed over Jerusalem, and—long before all of these events—the Israelites wandering in the wilderness were told that they would not enter the Land of Israel. These are the five calamities listed by the Rambam (רמב”ם) in Mishneh Torah, Hilchot Ta’aniyot 5:3. Since the Rambam’s time, many other tragedies have also befallen the Jewish people on this date, reinforcing its place in our collective memory as a day of grief, pain, and loss.
Grief is an inevitable part of the human experience. From an early age, we grieve all kinds of losses, both great and small. Sometimes it’s something as simple as a vacation coming to an end or a favorite toy breaking. Other times it’s the end of a relationship, the loss of a job, the conclusion of a friendship, or the death of someone we love. Grief takes many forms, and it’s something we must learn to live with rather than avoid.
For far too long, people have searched for ways to push grief aside or ignore it altogether. More often than not, that approach only prolongs pain. Judaism offers an exceptionally thoughtful framework for mourning the loss of a loved one. We begin with shivah (שבעה), the intense first week during which mourners remain at home and are surrounded by community. This is followed by sheloshim (שלושים), the thirty-day period during which one gradually returns to daily life while many of the practices of mourning remain in place. Finally, there is the year of mourning, during which mourners continue to adjust to a new reality. Although Kaddish is recited for only the first eleven months following the death of a parent, the mourning period itself lasts a full year, creating space to remember, to grieve, and to slowly embrace a changed life.
Less well known is the stage of mourning called aninut (אנינות), the period between death and burial. This is a time when grief is at its most immediate and overwhelming. During aninut, the mourner is exempt from nearly all positive mitzvot because caring for the deceased and confronting the initial shock of loss take precedence. Those in aninut also refrain from bathing and shaving, observing many of the same restrictions that apply during formal mourning. Two additional practices stand out: they do not eat meat or drink wine. Those restrictions are especially striking at this time of year.
Among Sephardic communities, it is customary to refrain from eating meat and drinking wine during the week in which Tisha B’Av falls. This year, that means from Sunday until Wednesday afternoon, since the fast begins Wednesday evening. In Ashkenazic communities, the custom begins with the start of the month of Av and extends throughout what is commonly called the Nine Days.
Although the abstention from meat and wine during aninut and during the Nine Days arises from different halachic contexts, considering them together offers meaningful insight. In the days leading up to Tisha B’Av, we prepare ourselves for our national day of mourning. We wait together for the inevitable encounter with loss. The tragedies we commemorate each year can sometimes feel distant or abstract, so our tradition gives us tangible practices that remind us we have something to mourn.
Abstaining from meat and wine reminds us that grief is approaching. It invites us to slow down and become more attentive to what our hearts are telling us. Going without these symbols of celebration acknowledges the world is not yet as it should be, and living with brokenness is neither easy nor acceptable. Our tradition teaches that grief is not something to escape but something to engage. To abstain is to grieve, and to grieve is to be human.
