The great unmasking

Shabbat, Simchat Torah October 7, 2023. At first, I thought it was a major exaggeration. That gave way to shock. Then anger, frustration and finally, a deep clawing sadness permeated my core. A kind of alternate (of Kubler-Ross’s) five stages of grief.

A major holiday which falls on a Shabbat is considered twice blessed, special. That was the case in 2023. So, when news of the horrible events of that day began to spread throughout the country and beyond, it was a major blow. Once again, after years of relative calm, our enemies waited to strike on a date that had meaning for us. Pesach 1944, Yom Kippur 1973. Once again, Jews became aware, on a very visceral level, that things would no longer be as they had been. And once again in our collective national history, time would now be divided into before and after.

Here in Israel we have become living specimens of the effects of trauma on the human body and brain. There is a complex process at work here.  Our young men and women are in battle while the rest of us are doing what we can to keep on going and to help them go on. Food and Jews has long been the quintessential pairing because, like most successful jokes, there is truth to it. Cooking for soldiers is a very popular way to help out. What happens to a soldier who has been fighting for weeks, or even months away from family? When s/he is presented with a homemade stew like Mom makes, it is very difficult for the regulatory nervous system to combine what the eyes and ears have just witnessed with the delight of what s/he is now experiencing. This is not a normal sequence of events, and the body can’t process it well.  Not to mention the strain on the brain. Hence the upsurge of PTSD.

For the average non-combatant who is busy not only with war related activity, but is trying to keep his/her business running, looking after young children and even aging parents, the pressure is non-stop and the anxiety is palpable. And yet, we can go out to eat, go food shopping, buy new shoes, or get a tooth filled. In the evening, Netflix helps us get to sleep.  Such a mishmash of contradicting realities! I ask myself, is this resilience or self preservation? On the 17^th of Tamuz it became clear that, as a nation, we are once again in an everlasting recurring loop of history. Another story of a protective wall being stormed and breached by our enemy.

I am now seeing a certain look in the eyes of people. I know that feeling.  I saw it in the faces of my parents and relatives, all “survivors.” When I was really young I felt it, too. The same fear of being too optimistic, of being too trusting. Living day to day, not wanting to admit the power that evil forces still have on us and our people. Having to face the sobering knowledge that there are so very many people who want us to disappear without ever having met us. As time went on, we youngsters let go somewhat of those pseudo-memories and began to live a more free and optimistic life. It was over now, we told our parents and each other. We all agreed; our parents scoffed.

As we come to Tisha B’Av, the similarities of ancient Israel and the here and now are difficult to deny. Or to ignore. Turns out that history, especially Jewish history, moves on a giant revolving belt, waiting for us to make a move, to know when to make a change. It seems to me that we are being faced with the same situation again and again till we deal with it correctly and can get off the belt that never goes anywhere. Over time, similar situations present themselves and, as a nation, our response is either avoidance or too little too late. Wanting to be like the rest of the world. Like begging G-D for a king when we had Him.  Way back in time, at the beginning of our nationhood, we promised one thing, but did another. It’s a tale of cause and effect, recovering and forgetting. As though, when things are going well for us, we can’t bother to remember how it was when things got bad. And they got very bad. (Look at what our prophets had to say). Many of us did not make it, but as a nation, we survived, even thrived. And slowly, year by year, we forgot and we slipped back into being callous, full of hubris, taking our remarkable journey for granted, wanting to be like everyone else. Everything is peachy. Then again, the world’s giant invisibility cloak is striped off and we finally see the reality.

Before we take our seat on the floor or on a low chair this Tisha B’Av (signs of mourning), may we be reminded that the megilla of Eicha (Lamentations) is not a story. It is an eye witness account that we have heard many times before. It is a diary and a reminder of what happens when the Jewish nation forgets its purpose. I imagine that most of us will now listen to the words we were only barely hearing before.

This year we will probably be able to hear the screams and feel the horror.  With this renewed understanding and insight, may it be the last time such a story is told about us.