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- The Calm After the Storm
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In this issue: The Calm After the Storm, The Feast After the Fast
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(Measured) Comfort After the Storm Has Passed
It’s been a week.
One of those weeks when things seem so on edge that you expect the other shoe to drop.
Not just work stuff or some urgent bills.
More like blood to be spilled (G-d forbid).
Even if you’ve been hiding in Ali Baba’s cave a while, the news about Israel’s turmoil has almost certainly reached you.
Not the usual parliamentary hijinks, not some street fight or Israelis yelling at each other.
We’re talking about hundreds of thousands of Israelis marching to and camping at the Knesset, Israel’s Parliament in Jerusalem.
Foe what seems like the last 6-7 months, at least.
And let’s not forget all those elections that came before, all the demonizing of “the other” by both sides for a few years now.
The atmosphere here feels downright toxic with protests, turmoil, the extreme heat.
And to make it even worse, to bring it home as few things can for Jews, last week, the government majority pushed through a judiciary reform to revise and replace the “reasonableness/unreasonabless” standard written into Israeli Basic Law for decades.
I’m not here to argue about the reform itself, whether or not it’s necessary or correct.
The point here is much bigger than some legalese.
It’s bigger even than the corruption at all levels of government, the incompetence and the insane cost of living here.
It’s the nature of our Jewish state, as a whole.
The timing of said reform could not possible have been any worse.
Coming on the same week as the most tragic day of the Jewish calendar, Tisha B’Av, a day when baseless “Jew vs. Jew” hatred came to a boil, destroying our nation from the inside when the First and Second Temples were both destroyed (centuries apart, but still on the same calendar day)…
Heavy is a word that comes to mind, but it doesn’t do justice to the real feeling.
Impending doom is also not quite it.
Apprehension is more like it, I suppose.
Thank G-d, nothing too insane happened after the vote to put the reform into law.
There will be legal battles and more protests to come, to be sure.
All (ok, most) the same firebrands now speak of a need for unity, etc.
But in the moment, the fear of violence, escalation and worse was awful.
Let us pray the worst has passed. Let us prepare for worse, nevertheless.
But let us also create unity.
As the time for Tisha B’Av approached on Wednesday night, there were news of secular protesters vowing to fast (a huge deal) and of gatherings planned between protesters and counter-protesters to humanize each other.
Let us hope healing is in progress. There is much work to be done.
The fast itself was mercifully not bad for me.
The feast afterwards that my wife made was the best break-fast I ever had.
The Shabbat afterwards (Shabbat of comfort) was much needed, if hot as hell.
My wife’s family is visiting, including her aunt and her 2 daughters, as well as another cousin.
During Shabbat, I did something which I hadn’t done in quite some time.
Seemingly years. Downright shameful. But ya know, life gets in the way.
I took a long nap, but most importantly, I read a book I hadn’t read since I was 15/16, Thomas Mann’s Buddenbrooks.
I’ve always loved Thomas Mann’s work and this was the first of his books I read.
The book itself is excellent.
But the experience of re-reading it is beyond special.
Not even because of the subject matter or great storyline.
What’s so truly wonderful is remembering an earlier version of yourself that read the same book 25 years ago.
The impressions, the sense of naivete, the unbridled optimism, the fervor and magic of learning something secret and inexplicable for the first time.
The feeling of discovering elemental truths most people could never even knew existed, in the first place.
I don’t mention this because of nostalgia.
That has long passed, with very rare exceptions.
There is no wistfulness, no regrets.
This isn’t the way I live.
Although G-d knows, it used to drive how I saw myself and my life.
Life sort of beat it out of me, but not for bad.
Just for different, for many reasons that I’m still uncovering with time.
When I shared this feeling with my wife’s cousin, himself a bibliophile, brilliant lawyer and fantastic, hilarious human, he readily shared the magic of rediscovery.
The two of us are probably weirdos that just understand each other.
Both HSPs (highly sensitive people) with “unusual” literary, intellectual, linguistic pre-occupations.
On paper, we’re from totally different backgrounds (Ashki and Sephardic, grew up secular vs. grew up religious, Russian vs. French, etc).
But in real life, we relate to each other famously, better than I relate with 99% of my “own type” which abounds all around me.
It doesn’t take (or at least it shouldn’t take) an HSP to understand another human.
It’s just a question of curiosity and desire to find something in common.
Two humans is enough.
But two humans connected by a strong and thriving tradition, by family, by interests is that much stronger.
Each on our own, we might imagine that there isn’t anyone else who “gets” it.
We might try to drown or subvert or hide our “weirdness” or sharp points or hanging threads from other people, out of view.
As if cutting off a limb or some integral part of our soul.
But that serves neither us nor others.
And yet, this is what society demands of us, or so we’re conditioned to think.
If you’re too “weird” or eccentric, who will marry you?
Who will employ you?
How will you find friends?
And on and on.
Indeed, it is a sort of tragic double life.
Not because there isn’t love or care or understanding.
But because that love and care and understanding are almost always partial, incomplete, lacking true insight, never quite unconditional.
And so it goes with most of our family and friends, people who nominally know us best, with whom we’ve spent most of our lives.
Perhaps this is the tragedy of our times.
We shout and hang posters all about diversity and inclusion and belonging, even equity.
We enshrine in law everyone’s right to speak, to express themselves, to be whoever and whatever they want to be.
But the truth is that we never actually take the time to ask, to understand, to appreciate the commonality, to love the weirdness, to appreciate the hanging threads, to appreciate the hues.
We’re all too pre-occupied with playing the part of accepting another, without actually realizing we’re accepting only those like us (or at least their visible parts).
There’s no real effort to understand “the other,” just to “other” the understanding.
Our attention span is worse than a fly’s.
Our tolerance of others only extends to outward appearances, not to internal life.
It’s too hard. We have too many problems.
It’s easier to exclude than to include.
To make an enemy of someone who’s already been declared the enemy by those we trust blindly.
It’s f-ing hard to be a curious optimist in a world of Zero Trust.
But for perhaps just an afternoon after the insane storm, it’s possible to look back at a younger version of yourself and remember…
How you were once “weird” or a misfit, labelled as an enemy by someone unjustly, a time when you first felt like a total stranger, a time when you felt along and helpless.
A time with someone who didn’t seem at all similar to you…
Reached out and pulled you out from the abyss.
Someone who had no business being there, never mind being empathetic to you, spending time to help a stranger.
You truly never know how far your words of acceptance, even just a smile, a comforting hand can help heal someone from what seems to be an irreparable wound.
Even when you’re inside the storm, the protest, the revolution, the crazy project, the tumultuous relationship, the seemingly doomed effort, just that shocking, unexpected, time-stopping effort by someone to lend an ear, a hand, a friendly look can give you tremendous energy, motivation, drive to keep going.
I can’t possibly count how many times I’ve been in a dead end and only pushed through because of someone’s momentary kindness.
And because of that, I try to be that momentary kindness to others.
Doesn’t take much.
Just say hi, ask a question, give a pleasant look.
Just give a damn!
Instead of waiting for the storm to pass, be the damn calm to others.
They will return the calm to you.
Maybe now, maybe later. Maybe directly, maybe indirectly.
Maybe reciprocally, maybe forward. Hopefully both.
How can you be such a “special” person when life is so hard?
Find the comfort to be your full self, without apologies, without explications, with a full and upright posture and knowledge that you’re more than enough, no matter your shape, disposition, background, worldview or philosophy.
There’s always that one person who will “get” you.
Even your loved ones, with all their snide comments, will come to love the full you, fully.
Someone will learn to love you fully, becoming your family.
Someone will appreciate your craft.
It may take time.
Years, even decades.
But if you tie yourself to the mast, like Odysseus, I promise you that you will arrive in the right port, where you’re fully appreciated.
And even better, build the damn port for other people first.
The calm is tenuous.
There will be plenty of storms down the road.
We can’t hope for a Messiah to save us.
We have to save ourselves, so that we can save others.
We have to save others, so that we can save ourselves.
Be well, have a great Sunday.
Enjoy the comfort, ideally with some A/C and a good book, without distractions.
And don’t forget that glorious afternoon nap :)
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