Rosh Hashanah 5785 Day 1 – Taking Care of Each Other
This past spring, I participated in a seven-week program with the FBI entitled the Citizen’s Academy. FBI agents nominate different people in the community to participate, with the hope that the attendees become educated about, and public supporters of, the agency. I was nominated because one of the head agents for New Hampshire has gotten to know me as antisemitism has been on the rise in the state and I was the target of two different antisemites.
When the seven weeks ended, we were invited to a graduation dinner and asked to join the FBI’s Citizen Academy Alumni Association. I first hesitated. But then we were told that members of the Alumni Association would have the opportunity to travel to DC to visit the FBI headquarters in the capital, as well as the training and lab facilities at Quantico. So, I joined the Alumni Association. And I went on the trip to DC.
It was fantastic. I learned so much about the agency: First, was its history, especially during the nearly 50 years that J. Edgar Hoover served as the director.
Second, was its jurisdiction – the kinds of cases it investigates and its reach both domestically and internationally. The amount of cooperation the FBI has with foreign governments is astounding. And because so much crime today is online, the agency must be able to pursue people who live outside of the U.S.
Third, was its research capabilities, some quite old fashioned and some so new that most of us didn’t understand the technology. The three-D version of the Capitol building created for the January 6 trial, was an exact replica, down to the placement of every last tree near the building.
Fourth, was its reverence for the past. At Quantico, as we moved through the weapons processing lab, our guide stopped us in front of the “gun wall,” which was behind glass. She showed us the actual guns used by Al Capone, John Dillinger, Patty Hearst, and other notorious criminals of the past century.
Fifth, was its level of security. We needed security clearances just to attend the seven-week class. At the Boston office where our class was held, at the DC headquarters, and at Quantico, we passed through several other layers of security and had to leave behind our phones, tablets, and even Apple watches.
Sixth, and this was my biggest take away, was how much the employees of the FBI care for and take care of each other. For the seven weeks of classes, I saw it as the agents and non-agent staff members shared presentations, bantered with one another, deferred to each other, and knew so much about each other’s personal lives. At Quantico, I was surprised to see a non-denominational chapel in one of the buildings and to learn about the FBI’s chaplain program, where volunteers come to Quantico to provide chaplaincy to employees for two-week intervals.
At the Boston office (and I’m sure at all 54 local offices), at the DC headquarters, and at Quantico, I was deeply moved by the FBI’s Wall of Honor, a tribute to every employee – special agents, intelligence analysts, linguists, financial experts, scientists, security specialists, support staff, and more – who died while in the line of duty. For the past twenty years, the Wall has also included FBI agents and staff who died from health complications associated with exposure to toxic air during the 9/11 recovery efforts. In each location, the Wall of Honor is prominently displayed in a way that draws your attention.
In Talmud study, there is a notion called kal v’chomer, where you start with something easy and move to something more difficult. It’s not only about text study – in fact, it’s not really about text study at all.
Here’s an example. Judaism teaches that when we get up in the morning, we are to feed our animals before we feed ourselves. Why? So that we don’t forget to feed those who are dependent on us or need us. Kal v’chomer – if we can remember to do this with our animals, how much more so should we remember to do this with other people.
So, I’ll apply the concept once again. Kal v’chomer – if the people at the FBI can express their deep care and concern for each other, why not the rest of society? The more time I spent with FBI folks, the more I came to understand their relationships as kal – light or lenient. My clergy friends and I often say that no one understands what we do other than other clergy. I think that is true even more so with FBI employees. Their lives are regulated and dictated. Day in and day out they put themselves at tremendous risk. They work for an agency with a horrible historic reputation. Every employee, from a Special Agent overseeing a regional office to the secretary for the bus mechanic, must spend several weeks or months secluded at Quantico for their initial and often subsequent training. Most of them can’t talk about their work until whatever case they are working on is over. They have to turn to each other. They desperately need each other. And they’d be lost without one another.
But for the rest of us – people who don’t work for the FBI – our lives are far more independent. We can talk about our work, even those of us aware of boundaries and confidences. We generally don’t put ourselves at risk when we go to work. We may go through a background check, but not even close to what an FBI employee must endure.
Taking care of each other is a core Jewish value, starting with the Torah. The most repeated mitzvah, or commandment, asserted eighteen separate times, is to take care of the stranger. Often in the same breath we are reminded to take care of the widow and the orphan, that is, society’s most vulnerable people.
Jewish tradition doesn’t end there. We must care for our neighbors, our friends, and of course, our family. The Talmud teaches, Kol Yisrael arevim zeh la-zeh, “all Israel is responsible for one another.” The concept of tikkun olam, healing of the world, is especially central to Judaism, and in particular, Reform Judaism. Just consider some of the things we do here at TBJ – host families experiencing homelessness through Family Promise; host Asaf and his family, refugees from Afghanistan, with members of the U.U. Church; feed those who are hungry once a month at the Friendly Kitchen; fill grocery bags with nonperishables to be donated to people in need through Concord’s welfare office – and through me when I visit members of the community in need.
Those are examples mostly of how we care for strangers. I see the need that so many of us in this community have to be cared for – or even just noticed – by others. It’s been such a hard year. I spoke last night about what is happening on college campuses. On Yom Kippur morning I will speak about Israel. We know that antisemitism is rearing its ugly head in ways not seen for a decade. Very few people have said outright that they need others. But let me share three observations that lead me to this conclusion.
The first has to do with the number of people who have volunteered to participate in these High Holy Day services.
More than twice as many people as last year came forward and asked to read. I believe it comes in part from a yearning to be seen and to belong in a safe environment.
The second has to do with the number of submissions we received from congregants who want their loved ones’ names included in the Yizkor Memorial Book. Twenty more families this year than last year sent in the form. That’s an enormous number for a congregation of our size. This I believe stems from a need to remember in community. As haters have denied the events of October 7, our need to proclaim the names of our dead can act as a balm for the pain we feel at the wiping away the reality of 1200 deaths on October 7.
The third is our membership. For the past fifteen years and longer, our membership has hovered around 185 member units. In my early days we added a fair number of new members, but after a cleanup of the list and removing the people who we hadn’t heard from in years, we were back near 185. Numbers rose again in 2014, the time of Israel’s previous war and Gaza and rising antisemitism, and in 2018 after the murders at the Tree of Life synagogue in Pittsburgh, though during COVID people moved away to be near children and grandchild or aging parents, and we returned to 185.
Just this week, Beth, our president, declared that we recently topped 200 members. People need each other. They need to be cared about and to care about others. They need to enroll their children in a Jewish religious school so they and their kids can be with other Jewish kids. They need to attend adult education classes with other adults. They need to sing with other singers. They want to give and to receive, to see and to be seen, and to know and to be known. It’s up to all of us show we care.
You might be thinking that it’s hard to care for others, especially if you were not raised with parents who taught you how. But you can do it, and for the well-being of our society, you and I and everyone else must do it. But how? How do we even start?
Anna Mercury writes about how to take care of another. She suggests nine steps, which I elaborate on.
Step 1: Don’t have people in your life that you don’t care about.
If you don’t care about someone, why do you keep them in your life? If you feel obligated to them, but don’t actually want to be around them, find a way to let go of the obligation; chances are, it’s only in your head. This might sound harsh or cruel, but the truth is you can’t care about everyone. If you remove them from your circle, you will have more time for the people who you do care about.
Step 2: Care is something you do, not something you feel.
Rabbi Harold Kushner taught, “Jews don’t pray for, Jews pray with” – another way of saying “I’ll be there for you.” Just like love is a verb, a doing word, so is care. You can like someone, but if you don’t think or speak about them, you are not showing that care. Care without action is telling yourself you’re a caring person, but not acting like one. Other people’s feelings are influenced by your actions. Act, don’t just speak.
Step 3: Ask others how they are doing, and listen to their answers.
Ask from a place of genuinely wanting to know. Don’t ask to be polite; people will see through you. Make sure the person you’re talking to knows that you actually want to know how they are feeling, and what their emotional landscape is like in that moment.
Step 4: Feelings make sense, even if they don’t make sense to you.
Even if a feeling seems irrational, it is always logical. Rationality does not apply to feelings. There is no such thing as a wrong feeling. Feelings simply are. Affirm other’s feelings. If you don’t understand where a feeling comes from, ask. Asking will likely make the other person feel heard and cared for.
Step 5: Care for yourself; put on your own oxygen mask first.
Think about all the things that other people do that make you feel loved, seen, valued, and cared about, and do them for yourself, too. Things like:
• Asking yourself how you feel and how you are doing. Be honest.
• Not giving emotional energy to others when you don’t have it to give.
• Giving yourself time, energy, and love in whatever form those take.
Step 6: Be present with others in their pain.
You cannot help someone through their pain without being present with them. It does not mean taking away their pain or taking on their pain as your own; it means directing your attention towards them in the moment and accepting them as they are. Listen; don’t be thinking about what you’ll say next. Listen; don’t let your mind wander to your next meal. Listen. Actively. Watch their face and body.
Step 7: Don’t talk about yourself.
If you’ve asked someone how they’re doing, listen to what they have to say. To show you care, remember this is not about you. If someone says, “I’m in crisis right now” or “I’m in pain,” or “I’m really sad,” don’t share your most recent crisis, pain, or sadness.” You can show your empathy by talking about yourself, but these come after you’ve listened.
Step 8: Ask how they receive care, and care for them accordingly.
For some people, certain words and gestures feel caring, and other words and gestures don’t. Mismatching words or gestures of care is one of the easiest ways for people to feel unheard and even unloved. You may do or say something that would help you or that you assume will help them, but it may fall flat. Instead, ask. Would a hug help or feel too intimate? Maybe they don’t know; but by asking they’ll have to think about it. Then, within your own boundaries, show them care the way they need it.
Step 9: The best apology is changed behavior.
If you do something that hurts someone, and they tell you it hurts them, please don’t do it again. That is t’shuvah. If you do something that hurts someone, and they tell you it hurts them, and you apologize, promise not to do it again, and then do it again, you have missed the mark and failed at t’shuvah. They have every right not to trust you. If you are not putting in the work to change your behavior after hurting someone, any apology you give is hollow – and maybe even a lie that just keeps the other person in a cycle of pain believing that you will change.
Step 10: Give care because you care.
Do not care for people because you want to change them. If you’re just trying to change them, then you don’t actually care about them. You’re just trying to be rid of them as they are now. Instead, give care because you care. Make the people in your life feel cared about because you feel care for them. Make the people in your life feel loved because you love them. Have your actions reflect your authentic feelings.
General Colin Powell, the former Secretary of State, once said to a person: “You touched my soul and reminded me about what this country is all about and why it is so great. Let’s stop screaming at each other. Let’s just take care of each other.”
General Powell was responding to a man who pulled over to the side of a road to help him change flat tire. Whether it is someone we know or a complete stranger, we must all take the time and energy to care, to say that we care, and most importantly, to act like we care. Our society desperately needs it.
Ken y’hi ratzon and shanah tovah.