June 29, 2024
Author(s): Rav Hazzan Aliza Berger,
Parashat Sh’lach
Metabolizing Trauma
June 29, 2024 — 23 Sivan 5784
Temple Emanuel, Newton, MA
This week, we laid to rest a pillar of our community, our beloved Channah Berkovits. As we were reflecting with her family about her incredible life, I kept thinking about what a powerful teacher she was for me and for our whole community.
Channah radiated positive energy. I remember when I first met her—she was this petite woman dressed in a bright purple suit, who seemed to always be here for every class and every service. Whenever she saw me, she would call me over and would start speaking to me in Hebrew, usually to give me a heartfelt blessing. If I asked her how she was doing, she would always say something positive about how grateful she was to be here, about her wonderful family, about the beautiful day. And she always ended every conversation with her trademark phrase, חיבוק של אהבה. She was so positive that at some point I asked my colleagues if they knew her secret. I remember them saying to me, “I don’t know what her secret is, but you should know she is a survivor.”
At her funeral, I heard for the first time her story as a young adolescent. She was only thirteen when she was sent on a cattle car to Auschwitz with her mother, her two brothers, and her grandmother. Her mother had heard through the grapevine that Germans were murdering children upon arrival, so she forced Channah to put on all these additional layers of clothing so she would look older. Channah, as an emerging teenager, was not happy with this arrangement. She didn’t like having to wear all those extra clothes. It was hot and uncomfortable. And so, when their cattle car arrived at Auschwitz, she ran ahead of her family. When she got to the front of the line, Mengele sent her in the direction of life. Behind her, he sent her family to the gas chambers.
It’s hard to fathom that kind of intense and immediate loss. What must it have been like for her, at such a young age, to witness such horrible atrocities, to endure such unimaginable suffering? And that was only the beginning. It would have been so easy for that darkness to overpower her life. And yet, somehow, Channah chose to focus her attention on what was good, even during those terrible years. Her daughter, Naomi, recalled that she never hated anyone, even Mengele. Mike, her son-in-love, recalled a story that she told him hundreds of times, about a Nazi soldier who was kind to her and gave her a pear on her way to Auschwitz.
How did Channah do that? She had this powerful ability to metabolize trauma into positivity. She never allowed herself to wallow in the pain of the past, instead she consciously directed her attention to what was good. Even when she was physically suffering, or remembering a painful moment, Channah chose to articulate gratitude.
Wow.
In this week’s parsha, we read about our ancestors on the precipice of promise. Following God’s instruction, Moses sends scouts into the land. Their mission is to perform a feasibility study: to see how many people inhabit the land, the strength of their fortifications, the quality of their soil, and to bring back fruits and agricultural samples. We all know what happens next. They come back with gorgeous produce including a single bunch of grapes which was so huge, it took two scouts and a wooden frame to carry it. They report that the land is abundant, literally flowing with milk and honey. And yet, they say, when they saw the people, they felt like grasshoppers. They were so anxious, so filled with fear. Yes, they say, the land is full of promise, but we could never conquer it. It’s just not possible.
We all know the story. God is furious and punishes them by stranding them in the desert. An entire generation is literally frozen in time, halfway between slavery and freedom, stuck in the middle of nowhere because of their fear of the unknown.
I always thought this story was about the people’s fear of the unknown. But this week, hearing Channah story, I started to wonder if maybe, the Israelites were afraid because of what they knew.
What if the people were so focused on what happened in Egypt that the pain of the past corrupted their experience of the present and sabotaged their future?
Let me phrase it a little bit differently. Obviously, the enslaved Israelites witnessed injustice and oppression. Undoubtedly, they suffered under cruel taskmasters. But what if, unlike Channah, they focused all their attention on those atrocities? What if, as they were walking out of Egypt, they were just remembering how cruel the Egyptians were and how powerless they felt? Their memories are so vivid that the ten plagues barely register, their memories are so powerful that even God’s presence doesn’t comfort them. And the more they perseverate, the more they become convinced that any non-Jew in any new place would ultimately oppress them. What’s the point of scouting if you are so rooted in pain you can’t even process what’s happening around you?
We all get this. You don’t have to be a Holocaust survivor or an ancient Israelite to have a story of trauma. As Brenee Brown put it, “everyone has a story or a struggle that will break your heart.” And we all know, it’s so easy to stay focused on that heartbreak. It is so easy to focus again and again on what’s wrong with our lives and what’s wrong with the world.
We all get this. We are all still reeling from the horrific attack on October 7. And even though we know the stories of unbelievable heroism and kindness that also unfolded on that day, it’s so easy to just focus on the attack, on the trauma, on the loss. And the more we focus on that pain, the more we become convinced that everyone is an Antisemite and that everything is a threat. We can’t see any possibility on the horizon.
It happens with little things too. Recently I’ve noticed that whenever someone asks me how I am, I will launch into the saga of how little sleep we’ve gotten. I’ll share about Eder’s latest ear infection, about how exhausted I am. It’s true that sleep deprivation is hard, but the more I focus on what we don’t have, the more I miss the miracle of being a parent and the wonder of raising a little energetic toddler.
Our parsha this week is a warning. If we allow ourselves to wallow in the past, we will miss the Promised Land. We will get stuck in the desert. Instead, we must be like Channah. We must search through those painful memories to find moments of light and we must focus on that light for all we are worth.
Channah made it to the promised land. She found her way to Israel, became a nurse, fell in love with and married her beloved Barouh. Channah moved to Newton, joined Temple Emanuel, raised three beautiful children and lived to see them all grow up, marry amazing partners, and build beautiful families of their own. Channah was able to do all of this because she chose to focus her attention. Channah started and finished every day saying Kaddish, and she experienced that prayer as an affirmation of life and a statement of gratitude for all of the goodness she was privileged to experience.