How Are We Supposed to Weather This Storm?
This week we have all been scolded.
Fights about masks, vaccines, inside versus outside? It all seems so trivial when Hamas is firing rockets at our parents, children, brothers and sisters. When rioters are looting Shul in Israel. It feels silly. We feel silly.
And of course it's silly in comparison. When faced with the ancient question of Jewish survival or even existence, everything else is trivial.
In the eery calm before the storm, or perhaps it's the quiet in the center of the hurricane, Hashem gave us the the great blessing and curse of living with cognitive dissonance.
The blessing is that from time to time we can temporarily forget the existential crisis of our people. This can help us grow, and learn, and build ourselves, our families and our communities.
The curse is that we do not utilize the moments of quiet to do the work that will better prepare us to weather the storms. Instead we've focused on bickering about politics and policies.
For the past 18 months, each of us in our “bubbles”, have been an isolated little ship out at sea. Struggling to stay above water, struggling to hold onto a sense of normalcy. From the perspective of the little boat, every wave is exasperating. Every wind threatens to blow us under. The goal has been singular: Stay safe, Stay sane, Stay afloat.
Little by little however, we have learned that it is helpful if we tether a few boats together. Sharing physical, financial and emotional resources means that we all have a greater chance of survival. It's has been nerve wracking, of course. Who knows if your family is infested with the invisible killer? Who knows if it is mine instead? So we throw out tentative ropes, hold out tentative hands. Slowly we have emerged tepidly, hoping and hopping from boat to boat.
But the inherent distrust and skepticisms have invaded our hearts and minds more distinctively than the virus itself. In place of tying a rope to bind us together, we have questioned the motivations, intentions and good will of the boat next door. Perhaps they are acting exclusively in their own self interest? Perhaps they don't care about me?
This pain is natural. It is the obvious result of isolation. An isolation that began long before COVID. Our world has trained us that the only faces we have focussed on have been our own.
I know that I feel the draw to prioritize myself and those in my boat. And what of the those in the distance? Perhaps they are also prioritizing themselves? When I see them, I see a little of my own selfishness and pain reflected back at me. So when you throw a rope to me, perhaps I will not tether it so tightly. Perhaps you have not tied it so tightly on your end either. Perhaps if a bigger wave comes, you are willing to cast your rope and my boat along with it into the raging waters. So I must do the same. Neither one of us can risk a dangling anchor in a storm.
But what we have failed to realize is that when the great storms come, the only hope that any of our boats have is to be tethered together as tightly as possible. The only possibility of survival is to face the storm as one single, massive unit. And that demands that our ropes are tied with every ounce of strength. Even if I don't like the music or food or smell coming from your boat. Even if I'm afraid of your intentions. Because I know with absolute certainty that you too, want to survive the storm. Even if you don't like me. Even if you don't trust me.
Here's my promise to you. Any rope from your boat to mine will be tethered as tightly as I can possibly muster. I will not even ask you to do the same. Perhaps you do not have the strength or emotional wherewithal to do so. Perhaps your boat is already filling with water. Perhaps the people on your boat are ill, in pain, confused and hungry. Perhaps you cannot see the great storms coming, or you wonder if there is any chance for survival at all. Just know this: your rope is tied to my boat. If you need to cast it off, I bare no grudge.
I commit to this not only for the sake of our mutual survival. But because survival was never really our goal at all. The goal was to reach our destination; to escape the rocky waters of exile and emerge on dry land. To become the people who would inspire goodness and Godliness in the world. In the big picture, all of our little private concerns have negligible relevance to the great voyage of Jewish history.
But you might question: If we are tied together which way should we turn? The answer here is the magic of Jewish history and destiny:
If all of our boats are tied together with bonds that cannot and will not be severed, then each and every boat should steer their boat in the direction that they see fit. Of course, we will yell, scream and debate. I will certainly do my very best to convince you of the correctness my direction. And you should do the same. And if we are unable to find consensus, then I will steer in my direction, and you in yours. But don't cut the ties! We should never let go of each other!
How could this possibly succeed? Just think: when we magnify and multiply the pulling, tugging, and rocking of every boat of our people, we will find that it is the aggregate, collective and massive will of our people that steers us forward. We might well discover a path that none could have charted alone.
I want to be very clear here. I firmly believe there is a right and wrong direction. Moreover, I will fight for what I believe to be right. I am most certainly not suggesting that every opinion is right “in it's own way”. That's not my opinion. Maybe it is yours. But here's the point: No matter how wrong I believe your direction to be, I refuse to sever ties between us.
This is Rashi's opening to Sefer Bamidbar. Why does Hashem command Moshe to count the Jewish people yet again?
מתוך חיבתן לפניו מונה אותן כל שעה Because Hashem loves us, He counts us every moment.
We count every Jew, because every Jew counts. Your boat and mine. We all count. So here's my Tefillah: May Hashem bring us all to dry land, to The Land, physically, nationally and spiritually. So please, by all means, fight with me. Disagree with me. But don't let go.