18. Be calm when the unthinkable arrives.
Modern tyranny is terror management. When the terrorist attack comes, remember that authoritarians exploit such events in order to consolidate power. The sudden disaster that requires the end of checks and balances, the dissolution of opposition parties, the suspension of freedom of expression, the right to a fair trial, and so on, is the oldest trick in the Hitlerian book. Do not fall for it.
-Timothy Snyder, On Tyranny
I Will Not Fear[i]: Practicing for These Times
Born in 1951 and raised in an Orthodox community in the Bronx, NY, I have always “known” that the Golden Age of American Jewry would end—just as it did in Spain and in Berlin. And with dozens of members of my maternal grandmother’s family recently disappeared without a trace, I assumed that when our good time here ended, the progression of events would mimic what happened in 1930s Nazi Germany. Would my non-Jewish friends and neighbors turn me in or hide me in their attic?
There was never any doubt in my mind that the majority of non-Jewish Americans (or non -Jews anywhere!) wouldn’t care what happened to me. In 1956, for example, during the Sinai conflict, my first-grade teacher Morah Nathanson chilled us with terrifying tales of Arab gorillas sneaking across the border to kill Jewish children. I didn’t know she was talking about guerillas. I was petrified as I ascended the stairs of our Bronx walk-up every afternoon, expecting an ape to spring out of the shadows. And I knew not to walk down certain streets where it was likely that Italian or Irish kids would assault me.
Most Jews suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder varying in intensity. It causes us to be triggered by any verbal or physical violence against Jews—as if it is the beginning of the looming, inevitable danger that awaits us, sooner or later. The current increase in antisemitism is undeniable, and the security measures we implement since the Tree of Life massacre are absolutely necessary, but we are quick to catastrophize. Some people have been planning detailed, effective strategies to thwart the implementation of Trump’s nefarious goals should he be elected again. Thank God for the ACLU. But it is possible to do that important work without assuming that it is genocide that we are fending off.
So my first strategy to remain calm is one that I employ whenever I’m afraid. I ask, what is true at this moment? I learned this from my teacher, Sylvia Boorstein. What is true at this moment is that I am sitting safely in my home in a suburb of Philadelphia, in a nation that operates on the basis of the Constitution and legal precedent. I am privileged to have a comfortable sum in my retirement account, and I am connected with a web of people who would defend me if that became necessary. Yes, all of that could be torn apart as it was in 1930s Germany, but in this moment, that has not happened. And for now, I try to focus on actual current dangers, not on possible future nightmares.
In a world of perpetual change (Blessed are You, who turns night into day and day into night), it is essential for me to distinguish between pain and suffering. Pain is real; when we are hurt, we feel pain. But suffering is optional. Suffering occurs when we add to the pain—growing angry or afraid, re-experiencing what was hurtful, perhaps fantasizing how we should have responded, perhaps planning revenge. What is true, for example, is that my colleague Everett insulted me, and it hurt. What is not true is that he has always hated me or did this intentionally, or that it is part of a pattern of insults I have endured throughout my life. If I am mindful of how my suffering is being caused by all of this rumination, I might find that it will be less daunting to tell him how it felt, maybe even eliciting a healing apology, or I might think more clearly about the advantages and disadvantages of seeking another job.
Reb Kalonymus Kalman Shapira wrote from the Warsaw Ghetto, instructing his Hasidim about how use mindfulness practice to cultivate faith and equanimity.
The most important foundation on which my responses to fear stand is my cultivation of a practice of acknowledging that the future is unknown, that I cannot control what happens and the conceit that I am alone, independent and in charge is an illusion. At the end of the prayer Adon Olam, I sing, “I place my spirit in God’s hands for protection… God is with me, I will not be afraid.” I do not believe in a personal God who protects me or intervenes on my behalf. I do cultivate a relationship with a non-personal God in which I feel accompanied, supported and held as I navigate frightening circumstances. I trust my ability to respond, with divine support and in concert with other people, as well as I can, to act courageously and compassionately, even while I am shivering in my shoes.
Among the exemplars I revere is Reb Kalonymus Kalman Shapira, the Piaseczno Rebbe, who wrote from the Warsaw Ghetto, instructing his hasidim in the Ghetto about how to cultivate faith and equanimity. He did not survive, but his writings[ii] were buried underground and were later recovered. We lionize the leaders of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising, as well we should. We should also learn from this spiritual giant about how to resist spiritually in the direst of circumstances.
Desired outcomes are not guaranteed. The future of American democracy is not assured. What is assured is that, to the best of my ability, I will live by my values and will not abandon them. The faith I have is that, with divine and human support, I can make it through the unthinkable with my values and mettle intact, planning the more strategically to work for what I believe, because of the calm and clarity that is the fruit of my practice.
Rabbi Nancy Fuchs Kreimer quotes Sylvia Boorstein at the conclusion of her introduction to this symposium: “These are the times we have been practicing for.”
Amen!
[i] Psalm 23:4. “Though I walk through the darkest darkness, I will not fear evil, for you are with me.”
[ii] Andrea Cohen Kiener, Conscious Community: A Guide to Inner Work, 1977; Kalonymus Kalman Shapira and Yehoshua Starret, To Heal the Soul: The Spiritual Journey of a Chasidic Rebbe, 1995; Nehemia Polen, The Holy Fire, 1999.
