Menu
Menu
December 9, 2023
Author(s): Rav Hazzan Aliza Berger,
Parashat Vayeshev
Fight for your heart
December 9, 2023 —26 Kislev 5784
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
Ever since October 7, I have been living in an anxiety-filled, doom-driven stupor. All day, from the moment I wake up until I go to bed at night, I check my news apps compulsively and obsessively, worried that there will be some new development that will rock my world the way that horrible attack did. At night, I delve deeper. I doom scroll. I read every new article I can find. I search for stories and testimonies I haven’t read yet. We sleep-trained the baby, so now he mostly sleeps through the night (thank goodness), but I’m still waking up every few hours just to check, to make sure nothing has drastically changed.
In the morning, every morning, Solomon and I have the same conversation. Solomon shares his concern about how much I am marinating in all of this. I share how essential it feels to know what is happening. After all, if I don’t read the paper, how would I know that Oakland is having a teach-in where teachers have been given lesson plans that include books for kindergarteners with pages like “I is for Intifada, Intifada is Arabic for rising up for what is right, if you are a kid or a grown-up![1]” How would I know that 93 members of the House refused to acknowledge that anti-Zionism is Antisemitism[2]. If I am not up to speed with what is happening in the world and what is being said about it, how will I possibly engage with young adults who write to me that they aren’t sure they can come to Yisod anymore because they are decidedly pro-Palestine. How will I help young adults to process what is happening and to maintain their connection to Israel if I don’t know what they’re reading and seeing and responding to?
Every morning, Solomon makes an appeal for Eder. He reminds me that stress and worry elevate cortisol and stress hormones in my body. He says if I am not concerned for myself, I should at least be concerned about the level of stress hormones which end up in the milk I’m feeding our child. Eder is literally ingesting the pain and worry I carry for the world. I know that cognitively, but I also know that part of being a Jew in the world is processing pain and fear and worry—he’s just getting that a little early.
But then my body entered the conversation. My milk supply started to drop. Precipitously. I discovered that there is a relationship between my doom scrolling during the night and the pumping I do during the day: the more news about Israel and Antisemitism I consume, the less milk my body is capable of producing. Suddenly, I faced a stark choice. I realized that I could either continue to obsess about the state of the world and the pain unfolding in Israel or I could feed my child.
That’s when I realized there are really three fronts to this war—there are the battles that are taking place in Gaza to destroy Hamas, there are the battles that are happening world-wide to root out antisemitism, and there is the battle each one of us is fighting in our own hearts to prevent Hamas from sabotaging our mental health and physical well-being.
Every one of these fronts matters. We all know that if we don’t win the war in Gaza, it will not be safe for our loved ones to live in Israel. We all know that if we don’t win the war against rising Antisemitism, it will not be safe for Jews to live anywhere. But we don’t often think about what happens if we win those wars but lose our inner equilibrium. What happens if this season causes all of us to stress so much that our cortisol levels shoot through the roof and our bodies age prematurely? If Hamas manages to steal years of happiness and vitality from Jews around the world? What happens if Hamas changes our hearts, sabotages our ability to be compassionate and present with our loved ones, with ourselves? We can’t change what happened on October 7th. We have limited capacity to help win the war in Gaza and to fight back against Antisemitism. The only front on which we have total control is the battle over our consciousness. On that we must stand strong and fight back with everything we’ve got.
And this is where our tradition is so important. When we celebrate a wedding, we have a beautiful ritual. Just before the wedding concludes, after the wedding couple has exchanged rings and committed their love to one another, we break a glass. Ostensibly, the ritual is to remind us of the Temple that was destroyed long ago. In practice, it’s a grounding ritual that reminds us that even in the moments of our most profound joy and happiness, we should never forget about the pain and brokenness that exists in the world. This moment with the war in Israel and the fight against global Antisemitism calls for a different practice. We don’t need to break a glass—we’re all feeling the brokenness. Instead, we must do the opposite. We must carve out a little bit of joy amidst all the pain. We must find calm and equanimity amidst all that anxiety and stress. We must find something amidst the brokenness that we can repair, that we can make whole.
How do we do this?
Loosen, loosen baby, you don’t have to carry the weight of the world in your muscles and bones. Let go, let go, let go.
We need a SONG.
S is for savor. When you’re going about your day and something makes you smile, stop to savor the moment. Don’t rush by. Take your time and enjoy the spot of joy that opened for you in that moment. Train yourself to see and amplify the goodness that exists around you.
O is for open reflection. Take time every day to open your photo album on your phone and flip through sweet photos or open a journal and write about the blessings that fill your life. Think about your mind like a muscle—the more you exercise negativity and doom, the more it will dwell there. But if you can build up your gratitude muscles, when your mind is at rest it will go there instead of focusing on all the darkness that exists in our world.
N is for no more endless scrolling. When you are going to read the news or listen to the radio, set a timer. Give yourself permission to read for X number of minutes. That will mean that you need to be thoughtful about which articles you consume and for how long you dwell there. That will mean you can’t spend hours doom scrolling or doom searching after you finish those articles. Get the information you need and get off. If you’re someone who likes to set spiritual intentions, you might begin reading with the simple intention of “I am choosing to read this article so that I can be a warrior for Israel and the Jewish people.” When we read with purpose, and with defined limits, we have the power to limit negativity and to maintain health.
Savor the good moments. Open your photos/journal and reflect. No more endless scrolling. And then GO sing. Research has proven that making music in the context of community can reduce anxiety, stress and fear, affirm identity, and stimulate the pleasure and reward centers of our brains. That’s why we gather for services every day in the Gann Chapel and every Shabbos here. That’s why we’re having ROOTS tonight in Cambridge at 4 PM. And if music isn’t your thing, go to an exercise class or an art class. Just make sure you’re going somewhere and joining other people. As my rebbe used to say, “the only way to get it together, is together.”
In this season of Chanukah, our challenge is not to submit to the darkness. We cannot allow Hamas to win the war in Gaza. We cannot allow Hamas to win the war of Antisemitism in the world. And we certainly cannot allow Hamas to win the war in our hearts. Sing your S.O.N.G. See you tonight for Havdalah at 4:00 PM.
[1] Oakland Educators Hold Unauthorized Teach-in Supporting Palestinians – The New York Times (nytimes.com)
[2] House Declares Anti-Zionism Is Antisemitism, Dividing Democrats – The New York Times (nytimes.com)