This Sunday (Aug. 3) is Tisha B’Av. The ninth day of the month of Av. Jews around the world will sit on the floor, read by candlelight, abstain from food and drink, and chant the book of Lamentations.

They do this because on this date, both the first and second temples in Jerusalem were destroyed. Over the centuries since, many other dreadful things happened to the Jewish people on or around this date. As one of my rabbi/teachers said, this is the hottest part of summer, and tempers flare.

This year, thinking of the hostages still chained in dark tunnels, and the people starving in Gaza, many of my colleagues have written new liturgies. They have been sharing them with each other via the Internet, adding things that they wish to lament in the modern world. They are heart wrenching, of course. That’s what lamentations are all about. Tearing your heart out.

But this year I will not use their new laments. I will not sit on the floor. I will not read the original book of Lamentations. I will not fast. I will not observe this holiday.

Why would a rabbi do this? Because I have come to believe that observing Tisha B’Av in the normal manner does nothing. It does not improve me or make the world a better place.

Perhaps if I did not know to feel sad, it would be different for me. But I know about these sorrows. I feel them in my heart and my bones every day.

I have shed tears over the horrors of October 7. I wear a military style dog-tag daily to remind myself and others of the remaining hostages. I have cried for Palestinian babies and teenagers and adults starving in Gaza.

This world is such a mess. My Israel is such a mess. People are behaving in ways that I find unfathomable. People who consider themselves good Jews will indeed be fasting, weeping, sitting on the floor, reading the painful words of Lamentations. And then, God help us all, some of these so-called settlers in the West Bank will go out and perform despicable acts of violence against their neighbors because they refuse to see their neighbors as their fellow human beings.

I do not need a holy day to remind me of the horrors that happened in the past, the horrors that are happening today, and the horrors that inevitably will happen tomorrow.

And I’m done. I’m done being sad, and I’m done feeling helpless and hopeless.

This year, I will observe Tisha B’Av by turning it on its head. I will engage in as many acts of hope and hopefulness that I can manage. I want to live a day of resilience, a day of renewal, and a day of kindness.

This year, I will observe Tisha B’Av by turning it on its head. I will engage in acts of hope and hopefulness. It will be a day of renewal, and kindness.

I will give money to charities that feed people in Gaza, in Israel, and in my hometown. I will be kind to everyone I meet. I will pet dogs and smile at strangers and leave an enormous tip when I eat lunch. I will do everything in my power to spread positivity.

Because that is all I can do. I cannot fix this world. I can’t bring the hostages home or give a bottle to a starving baby. But sitting on the floor and crying will not change a thing.

I want change. I want a better, safer, healthier world. I want it for everyone. And I want to do whatever is in my power to help make it happen.