Gratitude is a Choice

A few years ago I watched every episode of an excellent Israeli TV series about modern-Orthodox "30 - somethings" called S’rugim.  S’rugim refers to the kippa s’ruga, the crocheted kippa that, for many, has grown to serve as a symbol for this community.  

I thought it was a compelling show.  The characters were appealing but also at times frustratingly self-absorbed.

Deanna stopped watching after season 2 and I continued.  One night when I couldn’t sleep, I went downstairs and binge watched through to the end of the third and final season.

One of the main characters is named Hodaya.  

She grew up in an observant home, daughter of a rabbi.  Of all of the characters, she departs the most from her observant upbringing.  

She is also probably the least satisfied of all of her friends. She is brilliant, creative - perhaps in some ways the most gifted of all of her friends - and yet she never seems to be satisfied.

It first occurred to me this past week - as I was preparing to speak - the irony of her character given her name.

Her name - Hodaya - means gratitude in Hebrew. Thanksgiving, actually.  

And she appears almost constitutionally incapable of being thankful.

Many people will say that gratitude is a feeling.

To some degree it is.  But I want to suggest - on this Shabbat immediately following the American holiday of Thanksgiving - that gratitude is primarily a choice.  We choose to be grateful or not.  We choose to what extent we focus on saying “thank you” for the good things in our lives and to what extent we focus on everything that is wrong or tense or problematic in our lives.

Supporting Israel with High Resolution

Last Tuesday night the Central Student Government at the University of Michigan voted in favor of a divestment resolution targeting Israel.  The vote was 23 in favor, 17 opposed, 5 abstaining.   

The vote has no bearing on the University’s policies.  The University of Michigan in the past has roundly opposed divestment resolutions and in all likelihood will oppose this one. But it's quite disturbing nonetheless.  

I want to affirm today what I’ve said all along.  When it comes to how students relate to Israel, understand Israel, and advocate for fair treatment of Israel, the best thing we can do is educate them as deeply as possible about Israel, the Palestinians, the peace process and the larger Middle Eastern context.

That does not mean presenting Israel as completely virtuous and without flaw.  To the contrary, efforts to educate high school students this way often backfire.  The students get to college, realize it’s not so simple, and then feel that they have been misled by their teachers and rabbis.

What's called for is an approach that the educational institution Makor calls "high resolution." High resolution means knowing as much as possible in as deep a way as possible.

I want to take us to three places.  The family drama of Esau and Jacob.  The approach of an Israeli thought-leader who understands high resolution.  And back to the college campus.

Confronting the Hole in the Soul: Addiction, Trauma and Us

Rabbi Schweber and I attended an unusual performance last week at the Sid Jacobson JCC.

The performers are not professional actors but they all have two things in common.  They are all recovering addicts.  And they all participated in an unusual residential recovery program called Beit T'Shuvah.  I say it’s unusual because Beit T'Shuvah, in addition to using psychotherapy, creative arts and 12-steps, also mines Jewish tradition as a source of therapeutic healing.  Most recovery programs that have a religious bent are Christian, so this sets Beit T'Shuva apart.

Scene from Freedom Song

The performance we saw is called Freedom Song.  It features a split stage.  On one side of the stage, a family is having a passover seder.  One of the children, a young adult whose addiction caused pain to her family and was estranged from them for several years, walks in during the middle of the Seder.  

On the other side of the stage, a 12-step meeting is taking place and tension emerges between a woman and her husband, whose addiction has caused severe strain on their marriage.

The performance explores the causes and effects of addiction, not just on the addicts themselves, but on their family and friends.

At the end of the performance, Rabbi Mark Borovitz, co-founder of Beit Teshuva, spoke to the audience and answered questions.  A recovering addict himself, he said that one thing which addicts have in common with one another is that they have what he calls a “hole in the soul.” Something missing, or wounded, deep in the soul.  

Addictive behaviors and substance abuse are complicated, involving emotional, chemical and social components.  One key element, Rabbi Borovitz emphasized repeatedly, is the “hole in the soul,” a hole that addicts will try, unsuccessfully, to fill with behaviors and substances that are harmful.  

I want to talk this morning about the hole in the soul.  It’s a difficult topic.  It’s easier to avoid than to face head on, but avoiding it comes at a great cost.  Many people sense holes in their souls  - not just addicts.  In fact, I venture to say that just about everyone feels it at some point.  A pain so raw that you don’t quite know what to do with it.