Did I ever tell you about my sister's oven?

            There's not much to tell except that her oven is about a hundred years old, inherited from the previous owners of her bungalow upstate, and the only way to close the oven is by closing the metal latch. You know which latch I mean. The same hook and eye that is used in the bathrooms of pizza stores in order to keep the door shut when the doorknob simply refuses to work any longer.

            That's my sister's oven.

            And every year, when we have our first barbecue at her place, and we are counting twenty-two years this summer, inevitably somebody is going to burn themselves on the latch trying to close or open the hot oven in order to take out the spicy fries, and say, “Ruchie, what is with your oven already? When are you going to fix the stupid thing?”

            And my sister, for twenty-two years laughs and says, “I know. We are going to change it.” But she hasn't. Yet.

            She has gotten used to her oven. They have become good friends. Most of the time she doesn't even think there's a problem with her oven. Maybe once she did, but it's a distant memory. She and her oven get along very well, although nobody else understands how.

            Sounds funny, no? It is.

            But you know what is not so funny? How we all have our these weird ovens in our lives. The ovens with the latch that seem quaint instead of dysfunctional; so much so that we do not recognize anymore how ridiculous we are, how something needs to change but our complacency and immersion in the ridiculous distorts our perceptions. Once, we may have felt uncomfortable with our ovens. But then as time passed, we not only forgot the discomfort, but our ovens became causes for celebration.

            It is the distortion of lives lived in Galus.

            This reminds me of a beautiful song composed by Rabbi Michael Twerski of Milwaukee. The Palace Child speaks of a prince who leaves his palatial home to the lures of the beckoning world. By day, he revels in the pleasures of the world outside of the palace grounds, but when night comes, he is frightened of the forest and the beasts within.

            The song is a dialogue between King and Prince, each in turn begging for the Prince's return to his rightful home.

            While first it is the prince begging his father to take him home, he becomes disillusioned in his exile and cries:

Is it years or eons now

stop trying to figure how

you've managed not to hear my prayer

what happened to your word

it just seems too absurd

can it be you no longer care?

            And then, the prince, with these words, admits that his exposure to the outside world has infiltrated his soul so that:

I find I've lost my fright

Of the wild forest night

the beast has entered in my soul

There's no more time to stall

for I fear when you call

I may no longer want to go

            The king exhorts him not to lose his sense of self, the royalty that he is:

do not the beast befriend

'twould be your certain end

so keep the embers yet aflame

for if against the dark

you can't sustain my spark

then who shall bear my name?

            The poignancy of this dialogue is our story. It is the story of the gloriousness of our Bais Hamikdosh, it is the story of the devastation of our Churban. It is the desolation of our nation, reduced to a scattered collection of individuals that bears no resemblance to our former glory as a world power; it is the personal devastation of each of us who have lost our sense of royalty.

            And our challenge in Galus is a terrible one.

            As long as we cannot change, as long as we do not rip out the beast within us, we cannot go Home, be redeemed from Galus. But we have become complacent in this life. Not only does it not seem so dreadful, but it seems normal, enticing, really okay.

            On the one hand, when we were first sent into the Galus, the grief of the those exiled was annihilating. On the other hand, if we would continue to feel that kind of heartbreak in the Three Weeks, the Nine Days, on Tisha B'Av, we would not be able to function in our lives. If the grief of being in Galus would have not abated since the Churban, very simply, we would be a royal mess. Complete basket cases. All headed straight for Bellevue Psychiatric Center.

            Today, each of us are faced with our own tragedies and griefs. If we are paralyzed by pain, we cannot grow. If we find tranquility in our challenges, does that mean those struggles no longer challenge us and we no longer experience growth?

            Are we allowed to be okay with our limitations, is it okay to be okay with the claws and fur and sharp teeth of the beast within us? Because if we are okay, then how will we change? But if we cannot accept a little fang or fur, then anxiety and depression and despair may overwhelm us at the enormity of our descent in Galus.

            How do we balance the concept that out of pain, growth emerges; yet, we need peace to function in our daily lives?

            As a therapist, I am faced with my clients' pain over and over again. And when my client is a deeply religious person who accepts her challenges as Hashem's means to help her spiritual growth. This is what I sometimes hear, “Mindy, if facing my challenge is the way I grow, then what happens when I take my challenge with love, peace, and acceptance? Does that mean I begin to stagnate in my growth? Do I need to always struggle in order to grow?”

            This challenge may be facing illness, marital discord, infertility, loss. Or some other life altering situation.

            It's an interesting question in context of crisis in therapy. Therapists know that the most intense change occurs when there is a crisis. It's when a client is most motivated to change. Once the crisis passes and equilibrium is established, the motivation decreases significantly.

            In psychology, there is a concept of dialectics. How two things can be opposite and true at the same time

            My friend and colleague, Toby Werdyger LMHC, explained, “Life can be painful and challenging and at the same time the pain can give you perspective on how to grow. Dialectics is about balancing acceptance and change. Your client is describing a dialectical behavior skill called radical acceptance.”

            Radical acceptance in Dialectical Behavioral Therapy is accepting the reality of what is. Not only that, but accepting that the painful reality has a cause, has meaning. And lastly, accepting that life can be worth living even with pain.

            “Accepting a difficult challenge like illness allows for the change,” Toby said. “Acceptance is actually a prerequisite for change and growth. We believe everything is as it should be and at the same time we need to move towards change.”

            Chaya Friedman LCSW, another friend and colleague, chimed into our discussion. “Acceptance, especially radical acceptance, is a process. There are times a person needs to practice this concept day to day or hour to hour. A person can go back and forth between acceptance and an inability to believe this is happening to them, and that's normal. Especially if it's a case where someone needs chronic treatment for the rest of their lives, or if they are getting progressively worse in their illness.. Then acceptance is a constant work in and of itself. If someone is able to get themselves to accept time and time again, then perhaps therein lies the growth!”

            Sometimes my client will go on to protest, “Being a frum Jew means that life is a struggle, and my tafkid in this life must be to tackle one struggle and then when I succeed, then immediately go on to the next struggle. How do I reconcile the idea of a Jew's life being a struggle with accepting my limitations that I simply cannot struggle anymore? Even more, what if my limitations are so difficult for me that I need to stop struggling in order to achieve stable mental health? Because all the struggle is making me anxious (or depressed)?”

            And Chaya responded, “We are all born to do different things and go through different things. The positive resources and gifts people have as well as situations or handicaps that we perceive as limitations are tools to help create and spread good and light in the world. They are also tools to help us work and grow in our own middos, faith, and relationships. For some people, just getting up in the morning is fulfilling their tafkid; for others it is running an organization.”

            Existential therapy addresses the meaning of life and givens of existence. Many therapists, whether or not they identify as such, are religious existentialists that weave this into the therapy work.

            Which is evident in Chaya's existentialist observation. “We know what our tafkid is by recognizing the positive tools and limitations that are in front of us. We must ask, 'What is Hashem asking of me now? What is this situation supposed to be accomplishing now? That can be our guide.”

            So how we balance the need to strive for change, and yet maintain some type of peace so we can function without extreme anxiety or pain is the modern day conundrum.

            And as much as we as therapists address this in the therapy room, the answer must flow, first and foremost, from a Torah perspective.

            And I posed this conundrum to Rabbi Twerski, composer of the Palace Child, whose articulate words elucidated this concept so eloquently.  I have tried to retain the integrity of his words, only inserting my words where I could not type fast enough to catch the flow.

            “Life is a struggle,” Rabbi Twerski said, “and the reason its so meaningful because we are called upon to make our best decisions. We must walk a fine line between respecting ourselves and examining of what we are capable. It is not mutually exclusive to know our limitations and also our potential. This seesaw of limitation and potential creates a healthy tension. The minute that guilt or stress replaces the tension between who we are and what we can become it is no longer healthy. Those are depleting, ruinous, and negative thoughts and feelings.

            “When a person travels, he needs to experience the journey at least as important as the destination, so that the trip itself becomes an adventure. That is how our growth should be experienced; as an adventure. We should be invigorated, feel a sense of purpose, and experience joy in the journey.

How can you tell if your struggle, if the series of your life's journeys, are pathological or  productive? Use your inner barometer: if you are feeling burdensome, heavy, stressed, anxious, depressed, resentful, angry...these are signs that the wrong kind of tension exists.

            “The right kind of tension is exciting. So you can tell by the polarity whether a particular struggle is a positive or negative force; it lets you know if what you are feeling is destructive or constructive

            “A pearl is made by an oyster that is irritated. While it is true that we may feel the irritation, we create a better self when we are in touch with our potential and create around the irritation a pearl, not the morass of black, sticky tar.

            “Any kind of organism that is developing, that growing towards its maturity like a blossom that stretches itself to the sun, like a butterfly squeezing itself out of its cocoon is an experience of life; although the process most certainly is a struggle.

            “However, it is a mistake to believe that we are somehow supposed to be a complacent cow. It is possible to be tranquil in spirit and still enjoy the ride.

            “Accept the present as your starting point. Looking back is only for the purpose of learning from past mistakes. Not to blame or denigrate. Not to pass judgment on ourselves as being failures or flawed.

            “A perspective to support is that today is the first day of the rest of your life. Nothing is gained by negativity or negative self esteem that rob us of the ability to move forward.

            “Teshuvah is the most powerful tool in this world. The only way to be successful is to examine where you are now and where you want to go. Once you navigate into that place, you can begin to ask, “Where I am today?” and “What I am fixing today?”

            “It is okay to ask yourself, “Am I in this difficult place today because of my past decisions? Am I here because of my parents'?” And you can even think you may be in the position you are in because of past gilgulim and whatever you are struggling with is relevant to us in a divine sense.

            “Hashem has custom tailored us, be it through our limitations or flaws, or through our parents, or because of past gilgulim that need a tikun, to overcome the challenges we have today.

            “The truth is that we are faced with devastating trials in life. Death, illness, abuse, divorce. Heartbreak, sorrow, tears, and tragedy.

            “The fact is that  the Ribono Shel Olum runs this world in the most absolute perfect way. He is perfection, even if in our limited understanding we are not in the place to appreciate it. The most important thing is the interplay between these two apparently dichotomous realities. His perfections; the seemingly imperfections of our world.

            “Recognition of what we are doing in the moment requires that we meet challenges with resources we have. Success or failure not in our hands.

            “We may have an obligation to do whatever we can to use our resources, for example those of modern medicine, or our own talents. Whether or not the intervention is successful is a divine judgment that we can only appreciate at end of history when Hashem will remove the film from our eyes so we can see the truth, the true picture.”

            The poetry of Rabbi Twerski's words help us understand our tafkid when juggling life. And when we can balance the dialectic of acceptance and change, then we can be comforted in our grief. At our collective Churban, in our individual churbanos.

            And then our Father will say, as the King says to the prince:

You will no longer be alone

I've come to take your hand

back to the promised land

together we will be coming home

            Hashem tells us this Shabbos Nachamu, “Be comforted...” Not because it is okay to have all these imperfections, but because “I am coming to get you.”

            And because we know He is coming for us, we balance the dialectic of acceptance and growth. And we change despite ourselves. We manage our anxiety and despair and transform our pain to joy and celebration.

            My clients and I, my colleagues and friends, we fight the beast daily.

            So I ask you Ruchie, dear sister of mine with the beastly oven, will you get rid of it, please. Unless it can change!

Originally published in Binah Magazine

Look me up on LINKEDIN  https://www.linkedin.com/in/mindy-blumenfeld-a8067583   

Check out my book THERAPY SHMERAPY,  available in bookstores and through Amazon

Browse through my previously published articles on my former blog Therapy Thinks and Thoughts at frumtherapist.com/profile/MindyBlumenfeldLCSW

Read current articles in my bi-weekly column THERAPY: A SNEAK PEEK INSIDE in Binah Magazine, available on newsstands every Monday.