Seeking Balance in the Instability
Rabbi Sharon Brous, founder of the LA Jewish community Ikar, recently published a new book, “The Amen Effect: Ancient Wisdom to Mend Our Broken Hearts and World.” Since beginning my rabbinic journey, Rabbi Brous has been someone I consistently look to for inspiration. She speaks and writes directly and honestly, with kindness and empathy. She delivers her prophetic messages thoughtfully, balancing her lament for the lack of justice in our world with a careful understanding of how far she can press her audience.
When Josh brought me the book to read, I was thrilled. He first suggested I could put it in the library when I finished. I wasn’t sure how to tell him we would need a second copy. Throughout rabbinical school, I learned that the best way for me to remember the parts of a book that spoke to me was to mark them up with hearts and stars, underlining, bracketing, and even circling sections that I wanted to return to. Soon after I began Rabbi Brous’s book, I told Josh I could not share it with the library because I NEEDED to write in it. I needed to track what I was reading to share it with all of you!
In the past year, our community has faced an unprecedented level of antisemitism. At UCSB, Jewish students were forced and bullied out of progressive spaces, subjected to frequent encounters with racist slurs and chants calling for their death. Some were even required to sit through lectures that attempted to demonize and de-legitimize their core identity.
Last school year, we also experienced a resurgence of communal strength and connection. Our difficult experiences inevitably brought us closer together and into more Jewish spaces.
This is the cycle of Jewish existence that so many of us grew up studying. This sort of communal traumatic experience has become so common that Jewish comedian Alan King summarized it as – “They tried to kill us, we survived, let's eat.”
The first time I saw this phrase, I laughed. I laughed because I grew up and lived in the luxury of the “we survived” and the “let’s eat” portions of this phrase. I never had to face the “they tried to kill us” section ––except, through the study of our people's history.
Of course, on October 7th, that all changed. Suddenly, along with all of you, I began living the “they tried to kill us,” or perhaps more accurately, “they are trying to kill us.” In a few days, we will mark the first anniversary of October 7th, and in a few weeks, the Yahrzeit, or Hebrew date, to commemorate the communal and individual losses experienced by the Jewish people a year ago. (breathe)
It is no surprise that many Jewish people have turned toward their Jewish community. It is a biological response to seek safety in times of distress. But what happens when that distress is maintained over an extended period? How long can we avoid the outside world before it begins to alter our identity?
It can be challenging to find a balance between loving and celebrating what is unique about our community –and embracing our relationship with others who hold different practices, values, and perspectives.
We will rarely hold these two things equally, but we must continue to hold them both. In times when our community has felt physically and socially secure, it has been easy to reach out and build relationships with those who are different from us. Yet, in times like today, when our community is under attack, it can feel impossible to reach beyond our Jewish circles.
The thesis of Rabbi Brous’s book, The Amen Effect, is simple: “People need human connection.” In her search for how we access this connection, Brous wrestles with the dichotomy of universalism and particularism in our lived Jewish experience. Our community holds a particular cultural identity–yet from the beginning of Jewish textual tradition, we are repeatedly taught, v’ahavta lereiacha kamocha, love the other as yourself–treat other people the way you want to be treated.
One way to think about the balance between universalism and particularism is through the polarities model, which maps an independent pair that requires both/and thinking. Universalism is the ideological model that proposes people should hold equal concern and loyalty for all human beings regardless of nationality, race, religion, and any other identity. Particularism supposes that people should focus on their own communities' needs above and without regard for others.
In this period of communal trauma, our particularist instincts might be guiding us toward Jewish community and away from anyone who challenges our core beliefs. But when we shift so far into Jewish spaces that we stop spending time with people who are different from us, it is possible to lose sight of critical parts of our identity.
I certainly did this last year. I stopped going to my kickboxing gym because everyone there knew I was a rabbi, and I didn’t want to discuss the war with them. I was afraid that someone would push back on my core beliefs, and I would no longer feel safe there… so my subconscious allowed me to believe that I should just avoid it altogether. In the end, this was most harmful to me. I lost money on a subscription package I didn’t utilize, and I stopped exercising for months. I also stopped being the person I want to be in the world–I avoided a potentially difficult conversation instead of allowing myself to be open to hearing someone else's perspective. In turn, I didn’t share my well-informed understanding of the conflict and the war with them. I lost myself in my particularism.
It is also possible to become so focused on the needs of humanity as a whole that you forget about the needs of your core community. A clear example we have witnessed in the past year is the way left-leaning Jews have been pushed out of progressive spaces.
Last year, Hillel offered support for Jews and non-Jews who were bullied and forced out of clubs because they believe Israel has a right to exist. These campus clubs, who tout themselves as progressive, all-inclusive spaces, were suddenly pushing out people who refused to denounce their connection to, or support of Israel. They began branding people who they once considered close friends as enemies. And not just personal enemies but enemies of a [quote] “Zionist entity” that they believed threatened the prospect of a progressive and inclusive global society.
These groups have allowed themselves to become so entrenched in their “universalist” ideology that they cannot see the glaring antisemitic rhetoric and actions they have taken in the name of progressivism. If only they could take a step back and see the harm they are causing to those who were once their friends and allies.
It is essential to find a balance between polarities–in this case, between universalism, care for all - above all, and particularism, primarily caring for your own. It is in the space between these two ideologies that allows us to honor our dedication to our own people while simultaneously caring for the well-being of others and striving for a more just society for all. Rabbi Brous summarizes this point saying, “Today, those who hold opposing political views are not just ideological foes. Increasingly, we see one another as existential threats.” She theorizes two main factors that led our society to this precipice: social alienation and tribalization.
Brous proposes that “when we don’t wonder what the other is thinking or feeling, or where the pain comes from–when we don’t interrogate our presuppositions–our hearts close to one another.”
She continues, “This leaves us less understanding of others' perspectives and more entrenched in our own dogmas and narratives, and [therefore] more susceptible to dangerous, fringe views. ”
So, how do we strike a balance? How do we maintain the necessary and beautiful deep connections we have developed within these walls [and the metaphorical walls of the Jewish campus community] AND go out and build new friendships, connections, and coalitions with the greater campus community?
To experience the amen effect–an authentic human connection–Rabbi Brous teaches that we need “repeated, ritualized encounters with the other– designed to train our hearts to see that we are all bound up in one another.”
We are constantly floating between the poles of universalism and particularism, yet there is no perfect balance to strive for. Sadly, as this week’s events have continued to prove, we are far from the end of this crisis. We don't know when it will be over, and we cannot control the way those around us behave. What we can do–in order to maintain our sense of self, and not loose sight of our core identities–is continuously check ourselves to ensure we have not slipped too far to one side or the other. God willing, we will be able to encounter those we see as others—with open minds and hearts—and ultimately feel that amen effect of being bound up in one another.
Shanah Tovah u’Metukah
Brous, S. (2024). The amen effect: Ancient wisdom to mend our broken hearts and world. Avery, an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC.
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