Yom Kippur and Reasonable Hope
The Jewish people are facing Yom Kippur, a day of soul searching and return. In an intertwining of past and present, we are also ending the week of the “anniversary” of October 7th that has cruelly rubbed in for us our ever-present pain and loss.
In these darks days it is possible to weave a story of reasonable hope, hope that is action based, available to all of us and achieved together. A narrative deeply rooted in our Jewish literature and tradition and exemplified by Jewish communities across the world and in the everyday lives of Israelis.
The texts of the Biblical Prophets who underwent destruction and loss themselves illuminate for us how to get out of despair and hopelessness. In Isaiah Chapter 58 – the text we read as the Haftarah on Yom Kippur, Isaiah describes the people of Israel crying out to God for help and there being no answer, the people of Israel are bereft and lost. Then the prophet shows us a pathway out of the darkness. He says:
“Give your bread to the hungry and give the poor that are cast out a home, when you see the naked, cover them. Then shall your light break forth as the morning, and your healing shall spring forth speedily; and your righteousness shall go before you…”
Isaiah is effectively saying to the people of Israel: when you are despondent and lifeless with crushed hope there is only one way out and that is real time action for good with others.
The psychologist Dr. Kaethe Weingarten[1] describes what the prophet Isaiah tells us in contemporary terms, and she calls it reasonable hope. She distinguishes reasonable hope as a variant of hope. Classic images of hope such as a butterfly, a rainbow, an undemanding bird that perches in one’s souls set up expectations and standards that are without limit. Reasonable hope, consistent with the meaning of the modifier, suggests something both sensible and moderate, directing our attention to what is within reach rather than what may be desired but unattainable.
Reasonable hope refers to three things:
- Actions that one takes, not feelings that we sometimes are unable to summon.
- A person who takes actions expressive of reasonable hope acts with others, whereas hope is most often considered the attribute of an individual.
- The third distinguishing feature of reasonable hope is time. Hope’s objective is most often placed in an eagerly awaited future, with the arc of time between the present and the future filled with anticipation. Reasonable hope’s objective is to do attainable action in the here and now to prepare us to meet what lies ahead. As Weingarten writes: “With reasonable hope, the present is filled with working not waiting; we scaffold ourselves to prepare for the future.”
In short: It’s not that one has to have hope for a better future.
We have ‘to do’ hope, now and together.
When I think of the work the Jewish communities around the world have committed to since Oct 7th, particularly but not exclusive to the Canadian Jewish community, I recall the profound directive of the prophet Isaiah and the idea of reasonable hope:
When we face enormous suffering and there seems no end in sight and no answer to our prayers: do hope, do it with others and do it to pave a practical way to the future and to better times. Since October 7th, Jewish communities globally have joined the incredible actions of the Israeli people and have:
- Given clothes, food and homes to those displaced evacuees from the Gaza envelope and from the north alike.
- Comforted the tormented by aiding victims of terror.
- Provided medical equipment and supplies to protect civilians and heal the wounded.
- Rallied, spoken out, built allies.
Mayor of Sderot, Alon Davidi knew the idea of reasonable hope well. Very early on, he asked that there be few professionals coming in to save Sderot from the outside. His people, the residents of Sderot themselves, they would serve as the local teachers, principals, social workers, required to do these actions in real time.
Because the thing is, when we do actions for good with others, when we exercise reasonable hope, we don’t just change our external reality, we change ourselves. As Isaiah says: The dawn will shine through you. Our own darkness will recede. Together we build a ladder out of our own well of despair.
A short while ago, I met with Aviva Sigal, the South African Israeli hostage released after 51 days, and wife of Keith Sigal still being held hostage by Hamas. I asked her what kept her sane and what kept her strong in the tunnels.
She told me two remarkable acts of hope. Aviva said that each night (when the doors were closed, and they were able to speak) – and this was Keith’s idea – they would recount to one another one good thing about their day.
And, she said, “we would put our hands on one another and say in unison in Hebrew tomorrow will be a new day.”
Or in Isaiah’s words: when we support each other, a new dawn will rise.
We know from our lived experience currently, that this is not true for everyone, and we are in deep darkness and sadness. One only has to look at the tormented faces of the hostage families to know this. Or to spend a few minutes appreciating what families in the north are undergoing as they try and live abnormal lives in a war zone. The head of one of the communities up north told me that there have been 37 deaths of the elderly in his region this year. Last year there were 11 and the year before 7. There has been an increase by 21% in the deaths of the elderly up north. We know that there are Israelis from the North who have no idea of when they will be home and what the state of their houses will be. These families, and now those living beyond the 5km evacuation line, have children that have begun the school year in new schools, or on zoom, disconnected from their friends and their habitats. And all this under a constant barrage of Hezbollah fire.
The unknown is greater than the known.
What we do know is that small and large acts of good can counteract helplessness and loss.
Finally, a word about God. In verse 9 after Isaiah outlines our course of action, the prophet says: “Then you will call, and God will answer; you will cry, and God will say: Here I am.”
We are used to Hineni – here I am – to be applied to our presence and attentiveness towards God. In Isaiah’s account and in a singular biblical reverse of the human – divine power differential: when the Jewish People do good acts with others and for others when there is devastation around then God, yes, God, says Hineni. Here I am.
On a spiritual note, I am reminded of the young hostage Alon Orel who is a pianist. In an interview on Israeli radio his mother gently relayed how Alon would play the piano every time he left home. She described this practice as a ritual of transition from home into the world. Alon’s piano lid, his mother said, remains open. To me that is a calling to all of us to play the tune of hope through our action and put pain to a greater purpose – together.
[1] Kaethe Weingarten, PHD, Reasonable Hope: Construct, Clinical Applications and Support, Published in Family Process, 2010