“When will this be over?”

“I am running out of patience with the kids. It’s too much.”

“They say the state is re-opening soon. Then what?”

We know that the Covid-19 era will eventually come to an end. It has certainly imposed substantial material hardship on many families. Yet all of us are waiting and waiting, feeling more and more worn down with each passing day.

Waiting does not come naturally to us. A baby in utero does not experience hunger or need. They are part of the mother, and all nourishment is provided automatically. Needing and having to wait for our needs to be met begins at birth. It is part of the human condition. Chazal taught us, “V’al korchecha ata nolad.” “Against your will are you born.” (Avos 4, see Rashi on Tanchuma, parshas Pikudei). Once we are born, life in Olam Hazeh is continuously imperfect.

Beginnings

                        When a baby is born, the most central anxiety for them is survival. All creatures are equipped with the instinct of survival, and humans are no different. When a baby feels hungry, they cry out of discomfort. The mother comes and feeds them. If there is a delay, the baby gets more uncomfortable and the crying is louder and more insistent. It becomes frantic because the cries are infused with anxiety about survival. Maybe the nourishment will not come, and they will die.

All creatures are equipped with a drive for survival as well as with a sense of danger when that survival is threatened. Crying is the mechanism by which Hashem enabled babies to communicate with their mothers. When a mother hears an infant crying her maternal instincts propel her to give the baby what they need. If she hears them crying frantically, she runs. When maternal care is prompt and consistent, the baby will settle down after a month or so because they have learned to trust that when they cry, survival is not threatened; their mother will come. Over time, they learn that it is not a catastrophe to wait a little. However, all waiting is accompanied by feelings of frustration—because our needs are not being met—and anxiety because maybe they won’t be.

          The other most critical part of our beginnings is human connection. Without it an infant will die. Without it, all future living is ultimately lifeless and meaningless—the embodiment of living death.

As we get older and learn to wait, the feelings of frustration and anxiety get repressed—they are there, but we unconsciously push them down. But when we are asked to wait…and wait…and wait some more, these feelings build up. Eventually, frustration combined with anxiety reaches a critical point, setting off angry outbursts, ballooning anxiety, and—for some—depression.

Human connection nourishes us through its variety. We not only need people, we need and are nurtured by different people. Having the same people around day after day is difficult. Unfortunately, there are those among us who are enduring far more than the strain of having just their family around. Any family that must take care of a special-needs child or that lives with other chronic stresses is subject to extreme pressure and tension right now. But even in ordinary circumstances, there is nothing quite so unnatural to the human spirit as being isolated from our fellow beings. We are being prevented from going out and about to enjoy new people and new experiences with them. Worst of all, we do not yet know when it will be truly safe for us to go out and resume normal life again, and we are helpless to do anything about it.

Uncertainty and helplessness. This is what makes the ongoing monotony and the feeling that life is on hold so very difficult. If there were a set date, we could muster up the patience to wait, knowing it would finally be over. If there were something we could do that would give us the feeling (or illusion) of control, we would feel better.

Uncertainty and helplessness are mental states that are very difficult to tolerate.

Feeling that we know is very important in enabling us to move forward in any area of life. For example, if we want to know how to do the mitzvah, we need to know enough to ask the shaila. We need to have enough knowledge to make sound decisions. When we have enough information to make intelligent choices, we are a little more at peace. We have done all we can, and we can leave the rest up to Hashem. As David HaMelech taught us, “Hashlech al Hashem yi’havcha vehu yechalkilecha.” “Cast your burden on Hashem and he will sustain you.”

Feeling helpless is different. It is the feeling that no matter how much we know there is nothing that we can do. We are stuck and have no power to change the situation.

But are we helpless, really?

No, we are not. As Jews, are not helpless. We can daven to Hashem. We can give tzedakah to a stricken family. We can cheer each other up. Additionally, not knowing what to do may be Hashem’s way of opening us up to understanding our situation in a completely new way. David HaMelech said, “Horeini Hashem darkecha, ahalech ba’amitecha.” “Show me, Hashem Your way, and I will walk in Your truth.” The Piasechna Rebbe teaches us that David HaMelech said this throughout his life, even after he had conquered his yetzer hara. He was constantly in a state of not knowing, always asking to be filled with new understanding. So maybe I don’t need to know what to do right now. Maybe I don’t have to feel that it is up to me to “fix it.” Hashem is carrying my burden, and He will give me what I need, perhaps in a way that I don’t expect and cannot anticipate. All I have to do is be open to possibility.

So, we’ll hang in there and help each other, waiting together for Hashem’s yeshua. May it come quickly and completely.