Not Letting Fear Get the Best of Us: A Jewish Response

In one of the most known and sung Jewish prayers, Adon Olam, the author ends the prayer, “When I sleep as when I wake, God is with me; I have no fear!” On the one hand this line can be comforting as a profession of faith in God’s will and protection. On the other hand, is it true that we have no fear(s)?! From Paris to Jerusalem, to schools and movie theaters right here at home there is much in our world today to be afraid of. Instead I would argue that indeed we always have fear(s) but what matters is how we manage and cope with them.

Throughout the Torah, our tradition models both positive and negative ways to manage our fears. From the beginning of the redemption from slavery in Egypt, it is possible to see fear as an underlying presence in the Torah. Moses’s mother fears for his life and sends him away. The midwives stand up against the Pharaoh’s orders and the text says they we righteous and had, “fear of God.” Moses fears the wrath of Pharaoh after killing the Egyptian and flees to the wilderness. Then when God calls him at the burning bush, Moses is fearful of taking on God’s prophetic mission. Even when the Jewish people march to freedom in the book of Exodus, God is fearful that the newly freed people will experience war, be afraid and want to turn back. God therefore sends the people on the longer journey through the Sinai instead of the coastal road. It is almost hard to imagine having just witnessed God’s power of the ten plagues that our people would be standing at the sea yelling at Moses that his plan all along was to kill them. Or immediately after crossing through the sea and seeing Pharaoh’s army destroyed, that our people would be fearful of dying of thirst in the wilderness. I think it is very easy to be overly critical of our ancestors in these moments and if we are truly honest with ourselves then we can admit that we all have fears. How would we have reacted with Pharaoh’s chariots bearing down on us? And maybe more importantly how do we cope with our own fears?

Whether it is fear of failure, fear of growing old, fear of being alone, fear of losing a job, or fear of death; if we are honest then we can recognize that we all have our own fears. If we look more closely at the way the Jewish people and God deal with fear, two reactions seem to emerge. The first reaction to fear is the most automatic and instinctual – namely fight, flight or freeze. As humans our lower brains are hardwired to respond to danger in this way. When a lion enters the cave, we can either, run like the wind, attempt to kill it, or play dead and pray it goes away. This reactionary response serves us very well in life/death predicaments but when faced with more complex and enduring challenges, ends up more detrimental than helpful to us because it does not let us process and use our best faculties. In her work as a trauma counselor and researcher at the University of Chicago, Dr. Mary Jo Barrett suggests that when we utilize our mid and upper brains (emotions, logic, planning, values, etc.) we can manage our fears more successfully and develop healthier coping schema and responses to them.

The first step in engaging our higher faculties is to breathe, pause, and ponder. We then truly begin to confront our fears by first identifying them. While obvious, this initial step takes humility and honesty to acknowledge how our deep fears seep into our lives affecting our relationships and our health - physically, mentally and spiritually. This process of self-awareness raises our fear response out of our lower brain and engages our mid brain. I often find that the Amidah (the Silent Prayer) often allows me to refocus, to breathe. Particularly the weekday Amidah sections, which acknowledge my fragility and remind me that God seeks my growth not perfection. Also helpful are the Psalms in which the psalmist speaks of brokenness, longing and a desire for God’s healing presence. My favorite is Psalm 130, said during Tachanun (A twice daily section of supplication and reflection) which begins, “Out of the depths I call to You…” For others it might be Psalm 23, “Yea, though I walk though the shadow of death, You are with me. Your staff and Your rod they comfort me.” In each of these Psalms, God is portrayed as a comforter who journeys with us through the ups and downs of our lives.

It is only after we have identified and named our fears that we then can use all of our resources and logic to find ways to cope and manage our fears. In particular, Judaism reminds us that we are in this together. In fact, our individual fears are most likely shared by others, and that through community we can not only share them but also learn from others how they deal with them.

Finally, when we reach a level of understanding ourselves, we can better recognize when fear is driving our life decisions and getting the best of us. Our tradition teaches that the motivations of love, compassion, kindness, and faith can and do lead us to better selves and better places. And for that reminder I am eternally grateful to the poet of Adon Olam.

I'll Leave the Light On For You

Of all the candles in the Hanukkiah, the one that usually gets the least respect is the shamash. The original meaning of the word, shamash, is attendant, servant, janitor, caretaker or orderly. The shamash is the candle that kindles all of the other Hanukkah candles but is not counted toward the eight days of Hanukkah.  Yet, without the shamash none of the other candles could be lit, since each of these other candles, according to Jewish law, cannot be used for any purpose other than providing their Hanukkah light. So what can we learn from the “servant” candle? - That no matter a person’s job, they should be treated with respect and dignity, since without their hard work most of the things we take for granted could not be fulfilled.  Indeed the Rabbis realizing this lesson required that the lowly shamash, be given a place of honor either higher than the other candles, or set to the side from the other candles.

Yet, all too often the people in these roles become “invisible people.”  People that while they are serving, helping, cleaning, working behind the scenes or literally right in front of us are simply looked past, and ignored.  From cashiers, sandwich makers, toll collectors, nurses, maintenance people, hotel staff, etc. It is amazing to see the smile on a persons face when they are simply thanked or wished a great day. For someone to acknowledge that the work they do is valued and appreciated but even more that they are human beings worthy of respect, kindness, and dignity.

          On Hanukkah, we all can remember the efforts of the many different people, big and small, throughout the year, whose hard work and efforts make our world and our lives better. Hanukkah Sameach! May the Festival of Lights fill your home with warmth, cheer, and love and may we all be privileged to share it with those around us.

A Simple Sound To Bring Down Walls

      From the walls they could see the men circling around, not with swords drawn or spears raised but instead with ram’s horns, shofarot, whose piercing sound shattered the hot mid-day stillness. Seven times they circled, the walls shook with greater ferocity, and the haughty defiance of the defenders faltered with each resounding blast.  Finally with one final unified blast the shofar’s sound like thunder from heaven fulfilled its God given mission to break down the walls, and indeed they submitted and came tumbling down. – my creative adaptation of Joshua 1:2

Ah, the hustle and bustle of living in our fast paced world.  In a New York minute (or Bethlehem minute as the case may be) the connectivity of cell phones, text messages, I.M., twitter, and email only add more to the already full plates for so many of us.  We are over programmed and indeed many would suggest our children are over programmed as well.  We can get so bogged down in the speed of life that we can forget to live.  And yet just as we are about to be consumed by the blur of our schedules, there is a great miracle that we are blessed with each year which I believe helps us remember what life is all about.  The clarion call for deeper meaning which our soul’s seek.  This is the miracle of the shofar blast which jolts us out of our daily routines and prepares us for the Yamim Noraim, the Days of Awe.

Beginning with the 1^st of Elul, Jews throughout the world listen to the blasts of the shofar each day, signaling the coming of Rosh Hashanah and a new year.  This ancient alarm clock with its three varied notes somehow is capable of making us stop and listen.  All of a sudden we want to be quiet enough to hear it.  It captivates us without the use of words, either written or spoken, spontaneous or established.  The mitzvah is only to hear it.  It is precisely the antidote to over intellectualization, over complication, and over programming.  The shofar’s beauty lies in the way it can touch our most genuine feelings in the simplest, most human of ways.  The Rabbi’s looked at the shofar as the ultimate prayer without words, which had the capacity of stirring God’s deepest emotions from judgment to compassion, from anger to love.

The prospect of change, teshuvah, doesn’t require a doctorate in Jewish spiritual renewal or a fluency in Hebrew liturgy.  What it does require however, is the ability to look deep inside ourselves in an honest and genuine way.  The shofar holds up that big red stop sign, which allows us to free ourselves from all of the distractions which inundate us, and allows us to connect to our visceral spiritual selves. We stand quietly, listening, as the shofar blasts carry us to a different place within ourselves. God commanded Joshua to use the shofar’s power to topple the strong walls of Jericho, how much more so can it have the power to penetrate the walls of our own hearts, knocking down apathy, hubris, and misplaced values.  

Rabbi Meir taught that we should blow the shofar one hundred times, corresponding to the one hundred blessings which are recited each day.  As we stop to listen to the shofar blast, may its ancient call hold blessing for us and the entire Jewish people for a new year filled with life, joy and sweetness.  

L’shana Tovah Tikateivu v’Tichateimu! – May you be inscribed and sealed for a good new year!

If I Forget You, O Jerusalem...

       The month of Av approaches with the saddest day in the Jewish calendar (aside from Yom HaShoah - Holocaust Remembrance Day), Tisha B’Av (9th of Av) looming. This year as rockets continue to rain down on Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Haifa, Beersheva, Ashkelon, Ashdod, etc., more than ever the words, “If I forget you, O Jerusalem may my right hand wither, let my tongue stick to my palate if I cease to think of you…” (Psalm 137:5) seems not only the dirge of the ancient Psalmist but an immediate command upon all our hearts. 

On Tisha B’Av our tradition teaches that we mourn not only for the destruction of our Temples, our loss of independence, and our long troubled years of exile, persecution, and the diaspora which followed - but that we mourn the baseless hatred - sinat hinam which led to these events. The history of the destruction of the Second Temple reveals that the zealots believed any action was justified, even if it meant the murder and death of their fellow Jews. So warped were their values that they even burned the food stores inside of Jerusalem to prevent innocent civilians from fleeing the siege. How could it be that our people heirs to the gift of Torah, where God commands us to choose life, sacrifice our children for religious nihilism?   Tisha B’Av comes as a stark reminder that hatred and fanaticism are not only destructive to those that hate but, also to those who tolerate and ignore it. Therefore, we fast, mourn, and seek to ingrain in our very DNA this lesson from our past.

Yet, the question we confront in our world today is - What will it take for the Palestinians, Syrians, Iraqis, Pakistanis, Afghanis, etc. to stop the hate and extremism? When will their peoples rise up and demand - Life & Peace!? There can be no doubt that Hamas's hatred of Israel and hatred of Jews outweigh any thought for the sanctity of innocent life, even their own children. We are witness to the thousand plus rockets launched at Israel by Hamas from civilian areas. Hamas sees no moral problem using hospitals, schools, and mosques, to store and launch missiles indiscriminately at Israeli civilians with the only goal of bringing terror, and killing as many as possible. In contrast, Israel has gone above and beyond to try to spare civilian casualties on both sides. Israel twice has agreed to a cease-fire for the sake of innocent lives, continuously warning civilians by phone and by “roof knocking” to get away from Hamas before bombing a terrorist target. Also thank God for Israeli ingenuity whose passion to save lives fostered the building of the Iron Dome which has shot down countless rockets, early warning sirens, and for the home front command which built a smartphone app to warn citizens when to seek refuge in reinforced bomb shelters. As Prime Minister Binyamin Netanyahu neatly summed it up,"the difference between us is that we're using missile defense to protect our civilians and they're using their civilians to protect their missiles." 

This Tisha B’Av we will once again fast, read Eicha (Book of Lamentations), and sing kinot (dirges) but, I for one will also be mourning that the world has not yet learned what we did so many years ago - that baseless hatred only leads to death and destruction. “Peace will come when the Arabs love their children more than they hate us.”  This famous sentence spoken by Golda Meir to the Washington Press Club in 1957, continues to ring hauntingly true and sadly unfulfilled. May we live to see the day when love, peace, and life triumph over hatred, war, and death. And let us all say, Amen.

The Last Word

       If I were to ask the question what the first word of the Torah is, most people would be able to answer - “In the Beginning” (B’reishit). Yet, I would wager most people would not know what the last word of the Torah is. Again tellingly, I think most Americans could start the Declaration of Independence, the Preamble of the Constitution, or the Gettysburg address but, ending them is a whole other story. I believe this phenomena exists because it is inherently more memorable and easier to begin things; while it is much harder to finish them, and see them through to the end. In our personal lives we can probably count home projects or ideas that we started but never finished. Sometimes we simply lose interest and focus, and other times life just gets in the way. 
 
      But, when we do finish a project, complete an assignment, or graduate there is a real sense of accomplishment. Often it becomes sweeter looking back over the journey and taking stock of all of the twists and turns we never could have imagined when we first began. So it is as well with the Torah. “In the Beginning” (B’reishit), starts with God creating the world but, while God finished and rested on the seventh day - Shabbat - the real journey was truly only beginning. Similarly, the last word of the Torah, “Israel” (Yisrael) or more accurately All Israel (Kol-Yisrael) is not really the conclusion of the story but, also a new beginning albeit very different. While God initiates the original Creation, in contrast the end of the Torah highlights the partnership between God and the whole people of Israel. The journey of creation has now been placed not only in God’s hands, or into any one person’s hand (like Moses) but, instead into the Jewish people’s hands as a whole. In truth, it is all Israel who are about to cross-over into the Promised Land, and create the homeland which will bear their name. 

      Similarly our life journeys have many ups, downs, twists and turns from our own “In the Beginning” to “All Israel”. For nine wonderful years I have been a part of Temple Beth David, and the larger Palm Beach Jewish community. Never could I have imagined the amazing people I would get to meet, work with, and become dear friends with. I have been truly blessed to have such dedicated rabbis, cantors, educators and lay leaders who every day strive to make Jewish life in the Palm Beaches deeply meaningful, vibrant, and sacred. Thank you for the opportunity to teach Torah, bring my voice and vision, and add my hands to the holy work of this community. As Rabbi Simlai taught, “the Torah begins with acts of lovingkindness and ends with acts of lovingkindness,”(Sotah 14a) and so too has my journey here in the Palm Beaches. Thank you for nine years of kindness, understanding, and most of all - love. 

Remembering the Shoah One Name At A Time

Everyday new studies are being initiated and conducted to determine the effects of the use of technology on our memories. Think about it, at one point in the not too distant past, people had to memorize historical dates, the Preamble of the Constitution, how to spell words correctly, and yes, other people’s phone numbers (as well as their own). Today such information is literally only a click or voice command away. Even the passwords we use to “protect” our information can be stored and saved in case we forget them.  I am not suggesting that we can or should turn back the clock or that we as a society would even want to. We are indeed privileged to live at this exciting time, and have a world of information accessible earlier generations would be envious of.

Yet, there is still an important place for first hand use of human memory. Making memories entails taking the information around us and internalizing it in a way that not only creates neuro-pathways in our brain but literally becomes part of who we are. This is more than doing a Google search or posting on Facebook. In fact research₁ shows that posts, tweets, and texts engage only short term memory, they are quick, in the moment, snapshots that don’t last long because they are followed by more posts, tweets, and texts. Arguably, this is indeed the purpose of this type of media communication but, as far as the faculty of memory is concerned this does not translate to creating long-term memories that change, enhance, and enrich us.

As Jews living after the horror of the Shoah (The Holocaust) we have often been taught, “Never Forget!” But, how do we do that? Especially in our world today?! Unlike so many of the other holidays and commemorations in the Jewish life-cycle and calendar, Yom HaShoah (Holocaust Remembrance Day) does not have a universally accepted ritual, sacred text, or even communal service of some type (let alone special foods or lack thereof). I believe that it is through these rituals that we as Jews, have been not only able to maintain our traditions but as important been able to create memories that literally transform and touch our souls. They bring meaning to our lives by connecting us through the generations, informing our relationships, our values, and our moral perspective.  Which brings us back to the challenge of Yom HaShoah. With very few survivors left, how can we ensure that their stories and those of the millions of Jews who perished will not be forgotten?

One way my synagogue has found to create powerful memories is by holding a Yom HaShoah vigil in which we read the names of those who perished in the Shoah. People sign-up to read names and to come and listen throughout the day beginning after morning services and continuing for twelve hours stopping only for mincha/ma’ariv where we recite the Mourner’s Kaddish in remembrance. From families that come to read together, to our teens and older members - we read their names - we hear their names, and in doing so I feel we not only keep their memory alive but make our own powerful memories. The sacred duty to never forget becomes not only a surreal number to remember but, real mothers, fathers, and children. The Nazis counted numbers but we remember names.

We have always believed that names carry memory. As Jews we remember loved ones by naming our children after them. We still use the ancient names from our Torah - Adam, Seth, Jacob, Rachel, Sarah…It is no coincidence then that our people’s Hebrew name - Yisrael, links God’s name with ours. By remembering the names of our brothers and sisters who perished in the Shoah we link their names and lives with our own. And in that way may all of their names be for a blessing - one we never need a password to remember.

1 How Technology Is Warping Your Memory The Huffington Post  |  By Carolyn Gregoire

Save Me A Seat At The Seder Table: Why The Wicked Child Is Invited

Of all the major Jewish holidays, Pesach is focused in our homes, and more specifically around our tables. From the initial cleaning of our homes, the search for hametz, and the making of the matzah balls, the spiritual center of Pesach is sitting around the seder table and telling the story of how God saved our people, taking us from slavery to freedom. In telling the story of our exodus, our rabbis in the haggadah, use the metaphor of four children, each with different levels of understanding and each asking different questions. They wanted each of us to literally look around the seder table and tell the story so that each person there would be moved, challenged, and inspired by the story.

Yet, of all the four children represented in the story - the Wise, the Wicked, the Simple and the One Who Doesn’t Know How to Ask, why each year would the host of the seder invite the Wicked Child? As a reminder, the wicked child asks, “What mean you by this service?! By the word “you,” it is clear he does not include himself in the community.” Whoa! Talk about attitude! The question of the Wicked Child can be understood not only as his eyes rolling to the back of his head but also a total disconnect from the family, our people and the tradition. 

It is completely understandable that the first year when the wicked child initially asks their question the parent responds. In that case, the seder leader’s response seems relevant if not a necessary stern rebuke of the wicked child even going as far as to say, “had he been there (in Egypt), he would not have been redeemed!” But what is not obvious is why year after year the Wicked Child is invited back! Is it just because he had to move back in with his parents? Maybe he loves his mother’s chicken soup, or maybe it’s just some type of masochistic fetish? After all why would you want someone at the seder table who does not feel a part of the holiday or even the people, and actively taunts others about it?!

Maybe the answer lies with the very story of Pesach itself. Our people start out hungry, enslaved, and abused. We are strangers in Egypt physically but we are also estranged from our innate sense of dignity, self-worth and connectedness to our land and our right to determine our future. In the end God nourishes us, gives us hope, and restores our freedom. The journey we travel however is not a straight one. In fact when Moses first goes to Pharaoh seeking our freedom, Pharaoh not only rejects Moses but also increases the burden on our people. The people’s response to this is to blame Moses and mock him. Indeed, over and over throughout our journey to freedom, the people continually accuse Moses of trying to kill them and wish they could return to Egypt.

Likewise, the Wicked Child is hungry, estranged and adrift. Had he not been invited to the seder, he would not have been able to engage in the conversation, and would not have maybe even recognized what he was missing. Surrounded by family, by community, by food that not only nourishes the body but also speaks to the values of love, hope, and freedom, the Wicked Child may by the end of the seder have been moved. The opportunity exists only because the Wicked Child has been welcomed and invited. Remember, the Wicked Child shows up when invited every year! The tradition believes that even though the Wicked Child does not feel a part of Jewish life and tradition now, the door is always open and more specifically a place around the table has been set and is waiting for him. May our tables but more importantly, our hearts, be big enough, welcoming enough, and hopeful enough to invite all who are hungry to come and join us at the seder table.

Chag Kasher v’ Sameach!