When do we
stop sitting shiva for the Holocaust?
by
Rita Corriel
Sitting Shiva for the Holocaust
Dom Martin
Pencil on Paper (2007)
www.propheticimagery.com
I marched and lobbied in DC last June to call for an
end to forty years of Israeli occupation and the US policies that support
it. The sign I carried posed a single question. It is one that urgently
begs to be addressed, debated and answered. I believe it holds significant
implications, not only for Jews, but for the entire Middle East. "When do
we stop sitting shiva for the Holocaust?"
Shiva is the traditional seven-day period of mourning which follows a
Jewish funeral. It takes place in the home of the closest surviving
relative, because this is where the spirit of the recently departed is
traditionally believed to be present. So where in the world were we as a
people, go to sit shiva for the six million Jews who died in the
Holocaust? It seems that the state of Israel was destined to become the
designated "shiva house" for the Holocaust. And based upon a kind of
literalistic biblical perspective, it would appear to make a certain
intuitive sense. It could serve as the spiritual and ancestral home for
those who died in the death camps in Europe. It may even be seen by many
as G-d's compensation for "allowing" the Holocaust to happen, a kind of
divine reconciliation.
However, this formal period of mourning is only the first step in the
process of healing and growth. So why haven't we moved on? Why has the "shiva
house" become a living, breathing war machine, fueled on self-destructive
fear and violence? Why the dehumanizing oppression of a people who did not
even participate in the Jewish genocide? How can this "House of Israel"
continually try to justify crimes against humanity while still claiming
victimhood? Why does it expect the rest of the world to feel perpetual
empathy, when it refuses to hear the cries of anguish and outrage echoing
from within its own walls and throughout the planet?
While sitting shiva we disconnect from the outside world. We do not leave
the house or conduct business as usual. We refrain from listening to the
news of the day. Those who come to pay a "shiva call" bring food and
sustenance, comfort and support. There is no talk of today -- only
yesterday. We remember. Our mirrors are covered with black cloth so we
cannot reflect upon our own image. We are not to care about how we appear
to others. We exist in a state of suspended animation. Time stands still.
After the week is ended, we are directed to leave the house and re-enter
the world of the living. This is when we begin to experience and process
the meaning of our loss. If we are deeply sincere with ourselves,
confronting and working through our most profound feelings of anguish,
pain, fear and rage, it brings us to a deeper understanding of ourselves
and of life itself. Our perspective expands, our maturity grows and we
become ever wiser. In other words, we learn and evolve. This is the path
of psychological and spiritual healing. But we are the ones who must take
the responsibility to do it. Sitting shiva is intended to be part of a
much larger process. It is a means to an end, not an end in itself. If we
do not take the next step and move forward, we lose our sense of reality
and direction. Our world view becomes distorted and constricted. We become
deeply depressed, alienated and irrational.
It seems clear that we have had a profound failure of imagination since
the construction of the state of Israel. We have lost our way and are
afraid to move on. We are stuck in a downward spiral of guilt, violence
and dread. We keep ourselves psychologically insulated because we can't
bear to confront the nightmare we have created. It is time to tear the
coverings from the mirrors and face what we have become. We do need to
care about how others percieve us. We have no choice but to break through
the walls of memorialized trauma and enter into the world of the here and
now. We have a moral obligation to grapple with profoundly disturbing
emotions and existentially tough questions. The truth is that we don't
know where to go from here, because we lost our faith sixty years ago. We
have reached an impasse and it is time to admit it. Our very survival
depends on it. When our only sense of security comes from weapons and
brute force, a loss of trust and vision are clearly implied. When the US
pays a shiva call, it brings aid and comfort in the form of military
funding. Weapons sustain fear and hatred, not human beings.
Our shiva sitting has become interminable, because what we are truly
grieving is the apparent loss of our relationship with G-d. We gave up on
G-d when it seemed that G-d gave up on us. And this is precisely where and
why we are stuck. We were supposed to be "His Chosen People." We had a
Covenant. How could this have been allowed to happen? And although these
questions have been brought to the table, we've never really gone the
distance and arrived at meaningful conclusions. We haven't brought
authentic meaning to the Holocaust because we've never found the
transformative element within that experience. And it can't happen until
we take seriously our ethical imperative to "wrestle with G-d." This is,
after all, the meaning of the name, "Israel."
The story goes that on Rosh Hashanah, a group of inmates in Auschwitz put
G-d on trial and found "Him" guilty of cruelty and betrayal. That evening,
after pronouncing the verdict, the group met to recite prayers. This is
the quintessential expression of the dissonance that has yet to be
authentically and fully addressed and resolved. We tolerated G-d's
less-than-steadfast protection for three-thousand years, but this time
life went too far. And our outrage expresses itself in our contempt for
international law. G-d broke a sacred covenant with us, so why should we
be expected to uphold our end of the agreement? Any Palestinian who
suffers abuse and humiliation at the hands of Israeli soldiers at the
checkpoints, is being punished for our unresolved anger at G-d. Each time
a home in Gaza is bulldozed or an undetected cluster bomb rips the limbs
from a Lebanese child, innocent human beings are being victimized by our
self-righteous, unexamined rage.
This behavior and attitude suggests that international laws need not apply
to Israel, because these imply a "just" and caring G-d or Universe. One
that no longer exists for us. Crimes against humanity are crimes against
G-d, and we are angry as hell and refuse see or feel beyond that. This
belligerent attitude has become part of our new identity and given us a
dangerously distorted sense of empowerment. We have exempted ourselves
from humanitarian law because we believe we have earned the right to
behave as though the ends justify the means. It is glaringly obvious that
this stance is leading to a repetition rather than a re-creation of
history. Chutzpah without wisdom and compassion is a roadmap to disaster.
There are no loopholes in universal law, and deep inside everyone really
does know this.
Do we sincerely believe that a nation-state that stands for nothing except
survivalism as an end in itself, suggests G-d's compensation to the Jewish
people? Does this place truly reflect anything that implies a "Promised
Land?" Does it exemplify transcendent values of any kind? I see nothing
transformative about the state of the state of Israel. The larger question
implies coming to terms with our relationship to the infinite, with the
very laws that suggest a meaningful universe. And we can utilize our own
penchant to wrestle with G-d as a means to move forward. We need to
realize that conceptualizing the Holocaust as an exclusively and uniquely
Jewish event, disconnected from our deeper humanity and higher
aspirations, limits our vision and keeps us trapped. This is precisely why
Victor Frankl never wanted to frame his own internment in Auschwitz within
that context. He wanted to avoid precisely this kind of finite mindset.
Infused within every traumatic experience lies the seeds of its own
redemption, its "saving grace." The more shocking and shattering the
event, the greater the potential for growth, transformation and ensuing
wisdom. An event as monumentally tragic as the Holocaust can and must be
used as a catalyst to move us beyond our traditional definitions of who we
are and bring us to a much vaster and clearer understanding of our place
in the scheme of things. A very profound re-envisioning of our identity is
called for now. Nothing less will do. But it cannot occur until we are
willing to move out of the tight box that we have quite literally walled
ourselves into. When we disconnect from something more expansive and
deeper than ourselves, we cut ourselves off from a world of infinite
possibilities, not just geographical neighbors. We are trapped within a
closed system, imprisoned within the parameters of our own fear and
unmitigated rage. This anger should propel us forward on our journey to
becoming evermore fully and universally human, not backward into mindless
and destructive survivalism. As long as these two forces are at war
internally, we will be at war externally.
The only way to stop history from repeating itself, is to change
ourselves. As Albert Einstein said, "No problem can be solved by the
consciousness that created it." The time to authentically struggle with
G-d is here and we cannot afford to stop until we come to a some kind of
reconciliation. One that generates solutions that do not circumvent our
own conscience. We need to surpass ourselves by giving G-d the benefit of
the doubt. This means summoning up the courage to take a momentous risk.
It calls for trusting that life itself may in fact make deeper sense than
we previously imagined. But as Job exemplified and Victor Frankl taught,
it is up to us to discover what that might be. It is our personal and
collective responsibility to continually seek the deepest and most
inclusive understanding of all of life's events. If we cannot currently
fathom what that might mean, we need to challenge our deepest and most
ardently held assumptions. We must navigate through the seemingly
treacherous waters of dissonance once and for all. This will surely
trigger an identity crisis of major proportions. But this is exactly what
is needed.
If we sincerely research and confront our deepest truth, we will always
arrive at new perspectives. There is a far vaster and more elegant design
than we can ever fully imagine. This is the nature of infinity. We need to
continually push the boundaries of our limited and deeply entrenched
belief systems. Not by denying our own outrage at the unfairness of life.
But by realizing, as did Job, that there must be an answer that does not
insult our intelligence or sense of justice. Job was a "righteous man"
because he never acted out destructively, even in the face of confusion
and suffering. He remained authentic and demanded the kind of meaning from
life that Frankl searched for in Auschwitz. He refused to deny his own
mind and heart and superficially go through the motions. He would not and
could not affirm the dogma of his own society. His experience forced him
to outgrow the only framework he had ever known. If he hadn't evolved, he
would have gone mad or been destroyed. His was a journey of psychological
and spiritual heroism.
Job's story reaches out from the distant past and offers us a blue print.
It shows us the way to successfully break through the immature and
restrictive assumptions that prevent our evolution as human beings. He was
a trail-blazer who respectfully wrestled with G-d and glimpsed the
infinite. And this transformed and liberated him. He was able to bring
justice to his own tragedy precisely because of his deep integrity and
love of Truth.
We can choose to use Job as a role model, and become as a "light among
nations," or we can remain trapped in our fear and anger. If we stubbornly
refuse to take seriously our responsibility to challenge ourselves in the
most courageous and essential ways, we will render ourselves irrelevant
and meaningless. And in the end, there will be no one left to sit shiva
for anyone.
Rita Corriel has been working as a psychotherapist for twenty years,
and has worked extensively with issues of grief and post-traumatic stress
disorder. She has been an ardent peace activist most of her life and
currently resides in Pennsylvania. She can be reached at rcorriel@fast.net.
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