Mourning the Unknown: Meditations and Music for the 10th of Tevet

by Olivia Devorah Tucker, Strategic Advancement Associate, Alumni and Partnerships

Olivia Devorah is standing in the SVARA bet midrash, holding up a small book as if to show it to everyone in the room. The photograph depicts two learners in the foreground, whose faces are very blurred as they look toward Olivia.

Do you ever get that feeling? That feeling that something you never really knew is gone, a sadness both present and out of reach? If so, the 10th of Tevet might just be your holiday. 🌔 Whether you’ve been looking forward to being purposefully sad on this day, or sinking into the significance and symbolism, I’m glad you’ve found your way here.  Together we’ll explore the range of tragedies remembered on this day, and for each one I’ll offer some questions I’m sitting with, some prompts I’m sharing with friends during this observance, and some of the ways I deepen my spiritual connection to the moment. And once we’ve learned about the holiday, I’ll link you to a song I wrote to honour the day – which I also hope can be an invitation to find a creative personal connection with this day. 

Today is Asarah b’Tevet עשרה בטבת, the 10th of Tevet, a minor fast day on the Jewish calendar. (“Minor” meaning that the fast -in whatever healthy and meaningful form it takes for each person who is fasting- is from sunrise to sunset as opposed to sundown to sundown. It does not mean that it’s of minor importance, although many Jews do not know of it or observe it.) Its primary commemoration is the Babylonian’s siege of Jerusalem around 588BCE. This siege would culminate a year and a half later, first near the 17th of Tammuz, which commemorates the breaching of the walls, and then on the 9th of Av (Tisha b’Av), which commemorates the destruction of the First Temple (Solomon’s Temple), which marked the start of the Babylonian Exile. 

On this day we ask: Which communities around the world are suffering similar sieges today? Which side of their walls are we on? How can we be in solidarity and interrupt the oppressive powers? How might we use the tragedy we’ve faced to help others? 

Similarly to how Tisha b’Av has become a magnet for other catastrophes (e.g. destruction of the Second Temple in 70 CE, Expulsion of Jews from Spain in 1492, etc.), other lamentable events have been rolled into the 10th of Tevet.

First, the death of Ezra the Scribe, on 9 Tevet. This Ezra is (chance to guess…) the Hero of the Book of Ezra. When the Persians defeated the Babylonians and invited the Jews to return from exile, Ezra assisted in the rebuilding of the walls and established community Torah reading. Some say his counterpart, Nehemiah of the Book of Nehemiah, also died on 9 Tevet.

On this day we ask: Who are the authors or poets, builders and rebuilders, the Divinely Inspired creators who we have lost this year? Who shared a teaching with us that has given us the strength we needed? Which of their traditions do we carry on?

Another event rolled into the 10th of Tevet is the completion of the Septuigent (“70”) – the first translation of the Hebrew Bible into Greek, on 8 Tevet. The legend goes (in Megillah 9a & The Letter of Aristeas, which I first learned of this year from Judaism Unbound’s ApocryFest podcast) that, around 250 BCE (not long before the events of Hanukah), King Ptolomy of Hellenized Egypt gathered 72 Elders, six from each of the 12 Tribes, and put them all in separate rooms. A miracle occurred and they each came out with the same translation. Though some (me, I) say a greater miracle would have been if 72 Jews could have agreed on the same translation in one room! Hang out in the SVARA Bet Midrash and you’ll see half the magic is that we all can find divergent and holy translations inspired by our lived experiences~ 

But why did the sages instruct us to fast for this? While the Septuigent is now an amazing historical gift, the sages knew that translation, especially one for those who have power over you, would lead to changes and corruption of the holy word. They taught that after the translation was completed, the world was in darkness for three days.

On this day we ask: What is lost in translation? Who has no choice but to betray their personal or cultural wisdom to those who may misuse it? And, on the other hand, what projects which terrify us today might actually be a great gift to our descendants?

Lastly: In the legal code the Shulchan Arukh (Orach Chayim 580, c. 1560s) there is a list of many historic occasions to fast, which includes: בט’ בו לא נודע איזה היא הצרה שאירע בו – “On the 9th of Tevet: it is not known who/what the trouble was that occurred.” Or as the Tur puts it בט’ בו לא כתבו רבותינו על מה הוא “Our teachers didn’t write what happened.” You may have your own guesses, but I choose to think of this as either a deliberate cover-up or a sanctification of that haunting memory just out of reach… I believe this aspect to be one of the greatest gifts of this fast day, making sacred the sadness we didn’t even realize was there.

On this day we ask: How many tragedies will we never learn of? Will they be obfuscated by governments and media, or swept under the rug in families and communities. How many of our personal devastations will we be unable to share with anyone? What are righteous responses to all this pain?

Now that we’ve learned about this holiday, I’d like to do a little “Sugya Show-and-Tell” and share with you all a song I wrote for Asarah b’Tevet 5784. 

A “Sugya Show-and-Tell” is a practice I inherited from SVARA teacher Julie Batz, who organizes one at the end of each zman (semester of learning); they are an opportunity for everyone to share a creative way they’re processing their learning – from poetry to visual art to skit to mocktail recipe to grammatical phylogeny diagram journeys! By doing so, we all get to investigate our own connection to what we’ve learned, and bask in the unique relationships our fellow classmates have been developing. A Sugya Show-and-Tell also makes for some fabulous artefacts when I want to look back on my learning! Huge recommendation if you’re putting together a Talmud shiur ~ So, here’s what I did with my research around the 10th of Tevet:  

“You Hold My Heart Like Jerusalem” – A Ballad for the 10th of Tevet

Find the video recording on this page and read the lyrics at this link.

In 2023, the 10th of Tevet fell on December 22nd. This meant that once Chanukah was over on December 15th, I was prepared to give anyone wishing me a “Happy Holidays” an earful like: “Actually, the next Jewish holiday is anything but ‘happy!’ Do you think a little-known prelude to exile which most Jews don’t know about is ‘happy?’ Just say ‘Merry Christmas’ and let me tell you I’m Jewish!” (One could also opt for “Holidays, huh?”) 

My local queer DIY theatre, The Glitterbox Theater, holds a yearly Holiday Variety Show, and I’ve taken to making a yearly tradition of composing a song for the community on some obscure Jewish topic. Nittel Nacht one year (“Who’s That Sneaking Up The Toilet”) and “Hanukkah’s Not Late” (A Love Song for the Lunisolar Calendar) this year, both at www.TalmudMagic.com. 

Last year, I wanted to honour the 10th of Tevet with some Edu-tainment in the style of Christmas Ballads, like “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” (Walter Kent [Jewish]/Kim Gannon/Bing Crosby) and “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas” (Irving Berlin [Jewish]/Bing Crosby [again]). I think that these songs really help me to discover how I feel about the holidays, and can be catchy ways to share my research with the world. 

The Siege of Jerusalem felt like it could translate well to a love song about being *very* close to your lover, toxically even – in the way that the relationship dynamics of Christmas songs are also often rather questionable. The other events which the 10th of Tevet commemorates proved fruitful for romantically melancholy phrasing as well. For Verse B I turned to the consequences of the Babylonian exile, and drew from Psalm 137, “By the Waters of Babylon” which depicts the laments of those who were carried away after Jerusalem was eventually breached and the Temple destroyed. Here I used it to illustrate how even after we’re out of bad situations, we might still grieve for what was good about them. Paradoxes. 

I do wonder if in a hegemonically Jewish world (like the one depicted by the Facebook page Jew Who Has It All) songs like this would play as oppressively as Christmas Music plays in stores around this time. Can you imagine? 

How would you commemorate 10 Tevet in song? In art? What aspects are you connecting with about this day?

A safe and meaningful fast (in whatever way/ways make sense for you) if you’re fasting today. May you have an uneventful 10th of Tevet.

Further Resources

“The Tenth of Tevet & The Mourning After” by Brian Tice/Sage Insights on Sefaria – For sources

“Tenth of Tevet” by Dr. Guy Miron at My Jewish Learning – for the notes on “Memory Places”

“Jewish Perspectives on Early Christianity – Nittel, the Ninth of Teves and Pope Simon Peter” from speaker Dr. Shnayer Leiman on YUTorah. He asks if the “something” on 9 Tevet was the death of an undercover Jew in early Christian circles (summary here) More 10 Tevet drashes.

“Tenth of Tevet Posts” from Sara Rivka AKA Creative Jewish Mom || Painting by Israela Lev (2020)

“Walls of Jerusalem Challah for the 10th of Tevet”

Braided, Baked, and Photographed by Olivia Devorah Tucker – Dec 25, 2020

Photograph of a loaf of challah in the shape of a city wall. There are two three-strand braids on each end as turrets, and the wall is a lattice of bread that makes for crenelations at the top. There is a small gate cut out of the bread. Dusted with sesame seeds. The challah is stood upright and rested against two Shabbos candlesticks. The last flicker of the candle is caught in the photograph.

Image Description: Photograph of a loaf of challah in the shape of a city wall. There are two three-strand braids on each end as turrets, and the wall is a lattice of bread that makes for crenelations at the top. There is a small gate cut out of the bread. Dusted with sesame seeds. The challah is stood upright and rested against two Shabbos candlesticks. The last flicker of the candle is caught in the photograph.

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