Passover is upon us, and spring is in the air. In some ways, as we fly through the weeks, it feels as if we just celebrated Passover not that long ago; and in other ways, given all that has happened in the past year, it feels like eons ago. We are living in historic times.
No one could have anticipated last year that we would still be at war. We can endure almost anything if we believe it to be time-limited. When events have a beginning, a middle, and an end and are more predictable, we can anticipate a time afterward of moving on, moving forward, and even growing, despite having experienced tremendous adversity.
When an event goes on and on and on, however, without a proper end in sight, it becomes much more difficult to find positivity.
We all want our hostages home, an end to the war, and to feel safe. That is a given. From day one, the concept of “bring them home” has wrongly put the onus to do so squarely on Israel’s shoulders.
While we have witnessed miracles in the past with hostages being swooped up and saved, “Let my people go” is more fitting in acknowledging our innocence and putting the pressure where it belongs – on our enemies, the horrific captors. Today, especially at this moment, the word “freedom” has taken on new meaning for every one of us.
We have been amazing these past 18 months. There have been numerous acts of kindness and a warm, caring feeling of being in this together, more so than we could ever have imagined. Our soldiers have endured so much hardship, but their fighting spirit has greatly helped to strengthen us.
Yet despite our great moments of unity, it has been unraveling. We have also been divided in ways not necessarily reflecting how we want to be seen as individuals and as a nation. This has been heartbreaking.
A friend shared a story about when he was 10 and saw his teacher for the first time outside of school, shopping for groceries. It immediately reminded me of my beloved second-grade teacher, Mrs. Harlan.
Mrs. Harlan was an “old,” gentle, and incredibly kind teacher who lined us up just before we were dismissed and gave us a hug, a kiss, or a pat on our shoulders when it was still acceptable to show affection to students. One day, my mother invited Mrs. Harlan for “tea” – the first and last time that she thankfully did something embarrassing like that. I wish that she were alive today so I could ask her why!
Like my friend, I realized that day that my teacher, too, had a life outside of the classroom. I knew nothing about her private life, with the exception that she drank tea and wore a houndstooth skirt similar to the skirt my mother was wearing.
My friend mentioned his teacher as part of a discussion about who we are and how that gets reflected on both the outside and the inside. We are each unique. Searching for and appreciating this uniqueness with compassion and not judgment is what helps us to connect with others.
This sense of connection is what has helped us in Israel through the past 18 months.
WHAT, THEN, are the lessons each of us is meant to learn from the war, and have we learned them?
As we sit at the Seder table and speak of the Four Sons, perhaps we see a little bit of each of them, for better or worse, in ourselves and in others. We recognize that each of us is inherently different, yet we can see goodness in the things that we and others do.
This can help to unite us when we choose to work together. We must learn to recognize that what we share and what holds us together is greater than what keeps us apart. Our job is to work on ourselves and make space for those whose thoughts and values are different from ours.
At times, this is not easy, but we can find good in everyone if we look for the beauty and essence of others.
Whether it is you or your children who search for the afikoman (piece of matzah “dessert”), you recognize that this search is an important part of the evening. So, too, is this compassionate search we all must do now with others.
There was a story circulating recently on social media (#onlyinisrael) about a bus stuck in Jerusalem traffic for over an hour. An older woman complained loudly. A 16-year-old sitting nearby shared the woman’s frustration and offered her water and reassurance. The woman shouted again that she was hungry and had not eaten all day.
A young haredi (ultra-Orthodox) woman seated behind – who, like her, was in a rush to get home, in her case to nurse her baby – asked the woman what she liked to eat. This young mother, followed by the 16-year-old passenger, got off the bus, bought pizzas, bottled water, and extra food, and distributed it to everyone on the bus.
People offered to pay the young woman for the food and drink, but she refused, asking only for prayers for a speedy recovery for her son, Yehuda ben Shani.
This act of kindness truly exemplifies who we are and demonstrates what we can achieve when we work together. This story reminds us of the importance of not passing judgment – be it toward the exasperated older woman, the haredi mother, the teenager in ripped jeans, or the Arab bus driver – but rather to appreciate the strengths and character of others.
When my children were younger, they played an educational game where instead of having a winner and losers, all players won if they found a way to work together. Everyone lost, however, if they tried to find a way to get ahead on their own. What an amazing concept, and one well worth adopting.
We all win when we learn to appreciate the importance of others. Wishing you a chag Pesach sameach.
The writer is a licensed clinical psychologist in private practice in Ra’anana, specializing in trauma, grief, and bereavement. The author of Life’s Journey: Exploring Relationships – Resolving Conflicts, she has written about psychology in The Jerusalem Post since 2000. ludman@netvision.net.il, drbatyaludman.com