Maybe?
The Mishnah in Pirkei Avos (4:1) records the following:
Ben Zoma says… Who is the one we attribute honor to? He who honors his fellow human beings as it is said: “For I honor those that honor Me, but those who spurn Me shall be dishonored” (I Samuel 2:30).
Covid-19 forced us to challenge our daily routines for the sake of a greater cause. There were those who resisted, but for the most part the entire world changed itself. Social distancing, masking, staying home, and giving up our norms. And while we might have done all this out of fear for our own safety, the world took compassion seriously. In March 2020, Dovid Kohn wrote on our listserve “We are taking extreme measure to protect the vulnerable, we are sacrificing routine, comfort, predictability… we are tolerating boredom. Anxiety. Stress. Frustration. Pain. Fear. And across the planet, humans everywhere, are doing this. To protect the vulnerable. So, remember this… this beautiful, tender, universally collective act of care, consideration, kindness, and generosity.” This was so true.
The world is so much more beautiful than the sum-total of all that is wrong with it. People are more considerate than what the news reports. More humble than what we post on social media. More loving than politics and more transcendent than entertainment. It is hard to remember this. But it is true.
I have strong feelings about the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. As any Jew should. I have read what I wanted to and listened to the arguments on both sides. I have also allowed my feelings about what goes on to be moved by my religious beliefs and affiliation. But there is something so much more tangible for me than my outrage at whichever side I do not agree with. Something so much more immediate and urgent to say.
Human dignity has been traded for moral platitudes. It is true in the way we politic. It is true in the way we argue about how “woke” we are. And it is true in how talk about tragedy. As a therapist, I was taught to never sacrifice anyone on the altar of a treatment modality. My teachers said, “the people who sit in your office are human beings first and foremost. They are not cases, clients, or patients. They are not diagnoses, dinner table discussions, nor opportunities to practice a therapeutic technique. People. With the same search for meaning and happiness as you and me.” And I endeavor to take that to heart.
There is a callousness that has crept into our lives when we make fun of our political opponents, when our rage for the opposition makes us say things that we would cringe if our children said. There is a lack of human dignity when the loss of life becomes a statistic or the talking point of in an argument. There is a lack of sensitivity when we are more interested in the details of any situation than we are in the loss of life.
I get it. We are afraid of vulnerability. To say the words, “I am scared” or “This makes me sad.” Especially to others who we want to impress. But I watch this recent flare up in Eretz Yisrael and cry inside, “I am scared. This makes me sad. As a Jew I fear the United States of America will not be the same in 20 years. I fear humanity is descending into turpitude, into hell on the backs of justification. First Covid, then Meron and now Hamas...” I do not care about who is right or wrong. I am simply afraid.
Hardships cause us hard feelings. Steeling ourselves against the intensity of things, we respond with as much intensity as we can muster up. We fight rage with rage, we fight platitudes with the same wit and strength we feel attacked with. We dish it out with the same vitriol as we receive it or perceive it. It is so much more stimulating to be right than to be sensitive.
Maybe… just maybe… Hashem wants us to feel. Perhaps He wants our sensitivity more than He wants our knowledge of how many rockets were fired at 2:23 am. Perhaps He wants us to reclaim our human dignity and find softer, more beautiful ways to be with each other. Perhaps He wants our hearts to open a little wider. To cry a little more when things hurt and to laugh with a little more vigor when things are funny. Perhaps He wants me to be a little more dignified with myself. Perhaps He just wants us to care about each other with a little more interest, a little extra hug, a larger ear. And maybe… just maybe, He wants us to be more just a little more sensitive with Him.
Hashem, I just want You to listen better to me. Even when my mouth cannot articulate the pain in my heart. Daddy, please pay a little more attention. It hurts to hear about so much death on any side. It hurts to have to think about Rebbi Shimon’s tragedy. It hurts to think about masks and death tolls. It hurts to live in the world today. Maybe… just maybe… You can find it in Your heart to be a little more sensitive with us… please?