The Intellectual and Emotional Toll of Kitzur Nefesh

One of the special things about learning Torah every day is that you have access to deep wisdom to reflect on constantly. This is always a blessing but never more so than when life is challenging. We know that putting our pain into words is a way for us to begin to deal with it.

This has been confirmed by brain researches and is even a parenting strategy I used when my children were young. When your pre-verbal child gets hurt and is crying one way to help them calm down is to give them language to capture what has happened. “You bumped your head! That hurts!”

When we have pain, fear or anger, our most primitive brain, the amygdala is engaged. When we name the feelings and put words to our experience the cerebral activity moves to the prefrontal cortex where we make rational decisions (article). Even as an adult, there is a level of comfort in feeling that you know that is bothering you and why, even when you have no idea how to improve your situation.

Such a moment occurred for me this Shabbat. I was reviewing Rashi’s commentary in the Parsha and arrived at his explanation for what the term kitzur nefesh means. The Torah describes that the Jewish people became discouraged from their track in the desert and not yet entering Israel. English translations render it as the people grew “short” (Artscroll), “restive” (Sefaria) or “disheartened” (Soncino). None of these capture much of where this feelings stems from.

Rashi’s explanation resonated deeply with me to capture some of what I am feeling 9 months into this war, in the 280^th day of captivity for the hostages, with endlessly upsetting biased media reports, agitators manufacturing campus encampments and tepid university responses. What am I feeling? Kotzer Nefesh. I think the whole Jewish people feel a sense of Kotzer Nefesh. Rashi says there are two aspects to this term, one intellectual and one emotional.

We are unable to get our head around what is happening. What is being said, at rallies, on social media, by people we thought were our friend, who we assumed had a moral compass. I find myself reading news items and just shaking my head. My mindset is not expansive enough to accept these realities in my world. And the second aspect is even more true. There is no more place in my heart for these painful stories to live. How can I read another interview from a parent whose child is in Gaza, another post about the Bibas children, another soldier who has been killed and leaves a young family behind or a solider who inspires us because of how they move forward after losing limbs?

I do not have an answer to these feelings except to wish for an end to all of this. But, at least to these feelings that sometimes threaten to overwhelm us all, I can say, “I recognize you. You are Kotzer Ruach. And we will dance again.”