(My sermon from Friday, May 31, 2013)
Which emotion do you think is the most critical to human survival? Love, trust, happiness? How about fear?
Which emotion do you think is the most critical to human survival? Love, trust, happiness? How about fear?
As defined in the Medical Dictionary: fear is “the unpleasant emotional state consisting of psychological and physiological responses to a real external threat or danger, including alertness, tension, and mobilization of the alarm reaction.”[i] And that alarm reaction is, of course, what enables us to then make critical decisions that often prevent harm. Fear lets us know when to flea a dangerous situation. It’s how we know what risks not to take.
But
fear isn’t just about our reactions to the real threats that we see and
experience. Fear also includes our
reactions to the perceived dangers we imagine.
This is where the concept of anxiety comes from. “Anxiety reflects a
combination of biochemical changes in the body, an individual’s personal
history and memory, as well as social situation. As far as we know, anxiety is
a uniquely human experience. Other animals clearly know fear, but human anxiety
involves an ability to use memory and imagination to move backward and forward
in time. The range of anxiety each human experiences varies, but anxiety in and
of itself is something that every person experiences.”[ii]
I tend
to think that we Jews know a thing or two about fear and anxiety, whether real
or imagined, because the truth is that we Jews have been worrying and fearing
for a really long time.
Do you
know what the most repeated commandment is in the Hebrew Bible? Al
tirah – do not fear. God or God
speaking through someone else says some form of this phrase over 120 times in
the TaNaKh. The command “not to fear”
becomes a poignant trope throughout our most ancient Jewish text, as it is
employed at every point of danger and every point of destiny along our
ancestor’s path of wandering from Egypt to the Promised Land.
And
the truth is: whether real or imagined or anything in between, fears in our
lives today often, not always, but often sit at this same crossroads between
danger and destiny. Our anxieties often
sit in contradistinction to our own advancement. And so, I can’t help but feel the poignancy
and relevance of the command “Al tirah”
for us still today. After all, we live
in an age that sociologists claim is governed by the culture of fear. In his book with the same title, Sociologist
Barry Glassner writes: “There has never
been another era in modern history, even during wartime or the Great
Depression, when so many people have feared so much. Three out of four
Americans say they feel more fearful today than they did twenty years ago.” [iii] The truth is: fear, when experienced in
proportion, functions as a healthy guide for people and societies vis a vis
survival. It helps us avoid dangerous, destructive, overly risky scenarios. But when fear is hyper-emphasized, it often
distorts reality, at a minimum holding people and societies back, if not
causing them to regress somewhat or entirely.[iv]
This
is not a modern phenomenon. It is the
main factor at play in the Torah portion, Shelach L’cha. In it, our
ancestors actually reach the border of the Promised Land only two years into
their journey. Twelve scouts from among their leaders enter into the land to
assess the situation. All report that
the land is indeed good, but it is also heavily fortified by its
inhabitants. Ten of the spies emphasize
the size of these inhabitants, calling them giants and reporting that the
Israelites must have looked like grasshoppers in the giant’s eyes. With this, the entire people begins to panic. Two of the scouts- Joshua and Caleb, announce
that despite the obstacles, the people should still move forward. They will be safe because God is with them,
the land is indeed good, and twice, they cry out: “Al
Tira-u - Do not fear!” But it is too
late – the people are overcome with worry of the perceived danger that they may
face, and they beg to return to Egypt.
And as you might imagine, that response does not go over so well. The entire generation, save Joshua and Caleb,
are condemned to wander the desert for the rest of their lives – none of these people who
actually stood at the border will ever see the Promised Land again.
When
that generation of our ancestors encountered their moment of danger and
destiny, their fear caused them to forget that God had been and would continue
to be with them, that their perceived dangers were no more real than any
monster that exists in dreams but disappears in the morning’s light. Their anxiety so clouded their vision that
they completely lost sight of their destiny.
In the
case of Shelach L'cha, those ten scouts who disseminated the frightful
message serve as what Glassner calls “Peddlers of Fear” – individuals and
groups that energize and promulgate messages of fear for their own benefit. In a modern context, the top two “Peddlers of
Fear” in our world today are the media and politicians. But at a certain point, we can’t just place
responsibility on the ten scouts, on MSNBC or Fox, on the DNC or GOP. At some point, just like each of our
ancestors, we each become accountable for our own responses and actions. So we need to ask ourselves, have we become
our own peddlers of fear in those liminal spaces in- between danger and
destiny? What are those moments, those
times of “stuck-ness” when we, like our ancestors, need to quiet the voice of
“I can’t” and heed the command “Al tirah?”
We all
know about these in-between moments when we find ourselves standing on the
border in-between, when the future’s call of potential whispers from the
distance, but the loud beckoning of the status quo or the past reverberates
powerfully. We may experience this in
different ways:
·
In
our relationships that putter on: in our marriages, with our parents, with our
siblings, with our children, or with our friends - relationships that we know
could be more, that we know we need more from. But the thought of entering in
to that conversation, of taking that first step toward change, also presents
the risk of cracking the relationship open and potentially damaging or even
losing it.
·
In
our jobs or courses of study where we've been safe, that have sustained us, but
where we know we could do more and be better. Where the thought of asking for a
change or promotion, or the possibility of stepping away from it and into a
different path seems at once appealing and at the same moment terrifying.
·
In
our personal behaviors where we so deeply desire to be known and appreciated,
but again and again choose to put up walls and defenses that keep others at a
distance for fear of being vulnerable and thereby potentially wounded.
So
how can we tell the difference between the real fears – the ones that can actually avert legitimate
danger – verses the anxieties that seem real but prove only to hold us back –
that in reality are distractions, avoidances, those vaporous ghosts that
diminish and eventually disappear once that first bold step is taken?
Modern
psychology and mindfulness teachings offer many tips, but personally I like a
more traditional process, as taught by Rabbi Alan Lew, of blessed memory. The first time our ancestors hear the command
“Do not fear”, it is in response to what appears to be a very dangerous
situation. Trapped, with the waves of the Sea of Reeds lapping at their feet
and the massive Egyptian army rapidly closing in on their backs, the Israelites
cry out in terror, “Was it for want of graves in Egypt that you brought us to
die in the wilderness?” Moses and then God
respond to the Israelites with the following statements, beginning with the
command Al tira-u – do not fear. It
is the first time the Israelites hear this, and it is also the first time they
are confronted with the reality that destiny doesn't come easily. The command is then followed by 4 verbs,
presented in rapid sequence, that distill the process of moving beyond fear.
First: hityatzvu – gather yourselves. In the context of the story: unify,
get together, feel less alone. But as a
teaching for us as individuals – collect yourself, get yourself together, take
that first deep breath. An interesting
thing about hityatzvu: it comes from
an ancient near eastern word that means “to build”[v]–
thus if in preparing to build a structure, one must first gather the proper
tools and materials in order to do so, in this situation, one must collect the
appropriate emotional tools with which to handle the situation – think: perspective, analysis, optimism, cool
headedness. Second: Re-u - See. See clearly.
Look around you to see what is really happening. Not the fears of your mind that run rampant,
but what is actually real. See with open eyes the danger, the promise, and
everything in between. Third: tacharishoon – be still. Different from hityatzvu, that first deep breath, this stillness implies a more
empowered and focused stance. This is
place from which decisions are made – not before. And decisions about facing fear cannot be
made in a place of hyperactivity. Even if the world around is full of turmoil,
the self can find a place of stillness.
And then, if you find that what you initially so feared is nothing more
than a peddler selling his wares of worry, then it is time for the 4th step
– yisa-u – get going. Step forward, bravely, boldly, collected, and
eyes set firmly toward what awaits you.[vi]
Because
at the end of the day, the difference between danger and destiny ultimately
comes down to just one step. A step of
faith into the beckoning promise of the future in spite of an awareness that
the potential of the unknown can be scary, sometimes scarier than the known
trouble and struggle of the present and past.
Because
fear may indeed be the most important emotional resource we have when it comes
to survival, but when it comes to really thriving, to true actualiziation and
optimization, we must remember the powerful, still relevant call to our
ancestors and to us: “Al tirah” –
then and now, “Do not fear.”
[i]
http://medical-dictionary.thefreedictionary.com/feared+for
[ii]
ibid/ anxiety
[iii]
Glassner, Barry. The Culture of Fear: Why
Americans Are Afraid of the Wrong Things. New York: Basic Books, 1999.
[iv]
Zbigniew, Brzezinski, “Terrorized by ‘War on Teror’: How a Three-word Mantra
Has Undermined America” The Washington Post, March 25, 2007
[v]
as taught by Rabbi David Ingber
[vi]
I first learned about it from a teaching by Rabbi Alan Lew of blessed memory in
his powerful book on Jewish meditation – Be
Still and Get Going.
