Coming Together in Fear and Anger

Our people are hurting and they are scared. Not everyone and not all of the time, but clergy in the groups I facilitate frequently tell me that congregants are looking for reassurance – that spaces are safe, that we are protected, that our children will navigate this challenging time without scars. They send out statements full of compassion and reassurance. They are working hard to make us feel okay.

But I know that fear is an early warning system that doesn’t dissipate simply because you tell me I am okay. Fear, like pain, is our brain’s alert that action may be required. Neither should be ignored; they should be evaluated and responded to.

I know our clergy and institutions are trying to reassure us. But I doubt these messages do much. Parents of college kids or Brown alumni don’t feel less traumatized because we tell them to. They feel unheard. Even messages of increased police presence don’t take the fears of Bondi away. In many ways, they validate our fear.

What we need is each other. We need to be together. We need spaces to celebrate and to talk and to name our own miracles.

A Rabbi told me recently of a Hanukkah gathering at her shul. Instead of teaching the story, she asked those present to share the miracles in their lives. There were children and grandchildren, new jobs and retirements, achievements and people we had lost. She created community. And they lingered and talked to each other and made connections.

We need more of this. Instead of reassuring emails, what if we offered pop-up times for people to come together? What if we reminded ourselves that we feel safe in our sacred spaces because they are our sacred spaces? What if clergy came off of the Bima and facilitated (but did not lead) opportunities for us to share both our fears and our pride? What if we reminded ourselves that ritual is grounding, that Shabbat brings us home to who we are?

We need to show up. To show up for each other, for Judaism. And we need spaces that not only allow us to show up, but to show our feelings, our anger, our fear.

I know we don’t all need time together. Some of us are furious at the world’s indifference. Some of us are overwhelmed by grief and loss. Some want to march and others want to hide. But I am reminded by the thousands of us who found comfort in shared spaces after Tree of Life. Community matters, now more than ever.