The Gift of Ambivalence

I am convinced that the main difference between humans and other mammals is our ability to hold two ideas at once, two feelings at once. I can adore my children at the same time as I am hurt by them. I can do things I wish I didn’t have to do. I can love my country and decry its policies. I can be moved by prayer I’m simply reciting by rote. I can be excited and scared at the same time. In fact, there’s a great deal of similarity in the physiology of fear and excitement – much of the difference is in how I label my experience.

I admit, I’m not an animal psychologist. I’m a human psychologist. I know much more about people than elephants or whales. But this sense of being able to hold two ideas, two feelings, two approaches is, I believe, what makes us distinctly human.

In the clergy groups I facilitate, we have spent a great deal of time talking about holding two feelings at once. Deep grief, fear, a sense of loss. Love for our countries coupled with a need to speak out to their leadership. Both distress and understanding at the differing views of congregants. A sense of hope and a sense of despair.

I am increasingly convinced that this is what the Torah means when it tells us “Let us create them in our image.” (Genesis 1:26) God makes us, each of us, able to hold ambivalence. Just as God must hold two ideas at once – God loves us though God knows we are deeply flawed – so must we.

The dictionary defines ambivalence as the state of having mixed or contradictory feelings or ideas about something or someone.

Isn’t ambivalence one of the important tasks of being human? I need to see other people with a level of complexity. I need to see the goodness in others, even when I dislike them or their ideas. For many of us this is an enormous challenge. Can I see humanity in people who have harmed me, in people who upset me, in people I find reprehensible? In the same way, I need to see the flaws in the people I love and still find them acceptable. Because love without deep understanding is shallow and vulnerable.

I hold my ambivalence close at times like this. Times of national and international discord. The month of Elul when I must take a hard look at myself and my behavior. A time when I need to reach out to people I have hurt.

If what makes me human is the ability to hold complex feelings and ideas, then my humanity also produces discomfort. It would be easier to see the world in simple terms. It would be easier to know who is good and who is bad, to reject those who do not share all my beliefs. But then I’m not acting in the image of God, which ultimately is my goal and my responsibility.

In this month of Elul, how can we allow ourselves the gift of ambivalence?