One of the most famous chapters in the Hebrew Bible is
Isaiah Chapter 58. General familiarity with it is due, no doubt, to the fact that it was selected by our Sages as the Haftara reading for Yom Kippur. However, its harsh and
unrelenting critique of religious hypocrisy and the shallowness of mechanical ritual
observance is most definitely the source of its immense and enduring power. 
Contemporaries of the Prophet Isaiah complained that despite
their fasting and self-flagellation their prayers elicited no response from the
Almighty. They cast doubt upon the omniscience of God and insinuated that He
did not see their holy deeds or turned a deaf ear to their plaintive cries. The
Jews simply could not fathom why their acts of piety had no results.
For day after day they seek me out; they seem eager
to know My ways, as if they were a nation that does what is right and has not
forsaken the commands of its God. They ask me for just decisions and seem eager
for God to come near them. ‘Why have we fasted,’ they say,
 ‘and you have not
seen it? Why have we afflicted ourselves,
 and you have not
noticed?’
The prophet’s rejoinder to the people is clear and straightforward
 
“Yet on the day of your fasting, you do as
you please
 and exploit all your debtors.
Your fasting ends in
quarreling and strife,
 and in striking each other with wicked fists.
You cannot fast as you do today and expect your voice to be
heard on high.5 Is this the kind of fast I have chosen,
 only a day for people to afflict
themselves?Is it only for bowing one’s head like a reed
 and for lying in sackcloth
and ashes? Is that what you call a fast,
 a day acceptable to Hashem?
Fasting had become a ritualistic activity, a
kind of magic strategy for winning God’s goodwill. But the fast day was mere
pageantry; there was no self-reflection, no introspection, no genuine change. Indeed,
the same unjust, violent and selfish objectives pursued on ordinary days continued
on the “sacred” days of fasting.
Isaiah does not stop at offering a critique of
the fasting, however. He provides recommendations for a better approach to
replace it:

Is not this the fast that I have chosen – to loose the fetters of
wickedness, to undo the bands of the yoke, and to let the oppressed go free,
and that you break every yoke? Is it not to deal your bread to the hungry, and
that you bring the poor that are cast out into your
house? When you see the naked, cover him, and that you hide not yourself from
your own flesh?
Then shall your light break forth as the morning, and
your healing shall spring forth speedily; and your righteousness shall go
before you, the glory of Hashem shall be your rear guard. Then shall you
call, and Hashem will answer; you shall cry, and He will say: ‘Here I am.’ If
you take away from the midst of you the yoke, finger-pointing, and speaking
wickedness; And if you pour out your soul to the hungry, and satisfy the
afflicted soul; then shall your light rise in darkness, and your gloom be as
the noon-day.”

A true fast, the prophet insists, has nothing to
do with abstaining from food and drink or with dressing in sackcloth; rather,
it is a day of freeing the imprisoned and taking care of the poor, needy and
homeless. It is a day of uprooting injustice and wickedness from our midst and of
eradicating the forces of oppression. Were this to transpire on a fast day, the
prophet tells us, God would unquestionably respond to the prayers of the Jewish
people and alleviate their suffering.
We must ask one basic question about the lesson
of Isaiah in this chapter. We can fully understand and sympathize with his
condemnation of the hypocrisy of those who afflict themselves through avoidance
of nourishment, expecting God to favor them, while continuing to pursue evil.
We can also appreciate his emphasis on the importance of facing the REAL
problems that plague Jewish society – indifference to the poor, exploitation of
the needy, obsession with material goods and power and endless conflict over them.
Addressing these issues would mean seeking to implement real, lasting change in
our communities.
Why, though, does Isaiah claim that “this” – the
struggle against injustice – “is the fast that God has chosen”? After all, a
fast has a specific definition – it is a day of no physical indulgences, or at
the very least, no eating and drinking. Isaiah should have said “forget about
fasting – it’s not necessary – just do these things, care for the needy and the
oppressed, battle the wicked and arrogant, and then you will be redeemed”. But
he does not say that. He says that the fight for justice IS the fast. How can
this be?
I believe that Isaiah offers a profound insight
here that is relevant to every single one of us. Before revealing that, though,
let’s consider a more general question, a perennial mystery that is deeply
vexing and is worth exploring.
Religious people seem to have little difficulty
observing rituals. Indeed, not only will they go to great lengths to keep the
commandments, they even embrace additional stringencies that can invite further
hardships and complications upon them. They may adopt stricter practices in the
laws of kashrut, Shabbat, or the wearing of Tefillin, and this is part and
parcel of what it means to be a religious Jew.
At the same time, for some inexplicable reason,
religious people have tremendous difficulty keeping even the most BASIC laws
that govern conduct between themselves and other human beings. They struggle
mightily to refrain from gossip, slander, insulting or embarrassing others,
cheating in business, and other such violations of the Torah.
Prophets and rabbis, from time immemorial, have
commented upon and bemoaned this inconsistency and hypocrisy. How can we take
our relationship with God so seriously while neglecting our relationships with
our fellow men and women – especially when these relationships are also meant
to be governed by the wisdom and laws of the Torah we revere? Why aren’t we just
as careful, just as strict, just as amenable to self-sacrifice in the area of
interpersonal mitzvoth as we are when it comes to the mitzvoth between us and
our Creator? After all, these commandments are all written in the same Torah!
I would like to suggest that there is a very
basic reason for this double standard. Religious ritual, because it is between the
individual and his God, is thought to elevate the person, bringing him even
closer to his Creator. In fact, when someone is more stringent in his observance,
he may believe that this makes him superior to others who are less meticulous
in their practice. In other words, at least in our imaginations, rituals can set
us apart from and above our fellows and have the power to situate us “closer to
God”, as it were. 
It is inherently appealing and relatively easy to embrace a
lifestyle that reinforces our pre-existent sense that we are especially
important to and adored by the Almighty, not to mention much more valuable in
His eyes than most of the other inhabitants of this planet.
Laws that govern our interactions with other
people, by contrast, have just the opposite effect. They emphasize that, in
reality, we are NOT more precious, special or worthy than others simply by
virtue of some minor religious, practical or material advantage we may possess.
The homeless person who sleeps on the street is no less deserving of dignity than
I am, no less entitled to a warm bed or a hot meal than I am, and no less of a
beloved creature to God than I am. 
The person toward whom I harbor negative
feelings or who owes me money or who works for me is just as significant a
member of the human race as I am. I have no right to mistreat him, slander him
or oppress him. I have to think about his feelings, his concerns, his welfare
and his struggles. To observe these laws requires me to humble myself, to
recognize that I stand in this world on an even playing field with those around
me and that I have no inherent right or prerogative to place my needs and
desires above those of my fellow human beings.
Let us return to the issue at hand – fasting. The
purpose of fasting is to humble oneself, to break down one’s ego, drop one’s
defenses, and honestly evaluate one’s character and conduct. However, fasting
can also be transformed into a ritual action, a ceremony that makes me feel
holier, purer, and closer to God. It can reinforce my innate sense of
superiority, encouraging me to think even more highly of myself than I did
previously and to feel even more entitled than I did before. This is precisely
what was happening in the era of Isaiah (and what continues to happen today!). 
The fasting, rather than fostering humility and repentance, merely served to
inflate the egos of the participants, causing them to expect even more from the
Almighty and to be even less sensitive to the needs of those whom they believed
were not as important as themselves.
This is why Isaiah explains that we
have the
concept of fasting all wrong. The essence of fasting is not pumping up
your ego
with an extra dose of piety through self-affliction but is focusing on
your
unworthiness, your flaws, and your defects. It is not about looking
heavenward
and saying “look how great I am, how much better I am than these less
religious dullards, I must be so precious to you, Oh God, so please
answer me.” 
Instead, it is about
looking at the human beings around you who are created in the image of God just
like you are and who have problems just like you do and who have families and
emotions just like you do and who are suffering from poverty and oppression,
and saying “I am NOT better than you are, I am not more entitled to blessing than
you are, I have no right to exploit or mistreat you, and I have no right to sit
idly by while you suffer the indignity and pain of being oppressed or
persecuted.”
This, Isaiah says, is the essence of fasting –
internalizing an attitude of humility and a consciousness of our shared
humanity which will put an end to callous indifference and selfishness and will
inspire the sincere pursuit of justice world over. Abstaining from food and
drink is one way of opening our hearts to these insights but when we fail to “fast”
properly we reduce the whole exercise to an empty, and even counterproductive,
ritual. Not eating and drinking merely scratches the surface of what a genuine
fast is all about.   
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