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September 26, 2016 / 23 Elul, 5776

Posts Tagged ‘anger’

A Soldier’s Mother: A Quiet Unyielding Anger

Monday, September 12th, 2016

It’s been 15 years since one of my children called me to the television to tell me something had happened. There were bombing attacks in Israel on a regular basis; many brought to my attention when the cartoons they watched back when we had a television were interrupted.

First there was a map of a city somewhere in Israel with a voice explaining about early reports of an explosion. There was never a question that it was terrorism; never a thought of who had caused it. It was only really about what city was hit this time, how many were hurt, and how many funerals the next day would bring.

I walked to the top of the stairs after I was told about “something,” only this time, there was news from America, and an image of the World Trade Center. It took me a second to understand. It wasn’t Israel. It wasn’t a bomb. It wasn’t a bus. It was New York. It was a building. A building I knew, I’d seen, I’d been in. The World Trade Center. A Plane. They didn’t know the cause of the “accident”, they said, but I did. It wasn’t an accident. I knew. I knew it and I longed to reach across the ocean and tell them they had to stop pretending. They had to take it seriously. They had to understand.

That which has hated us, hates them too. That which reaches out to murder my people had crossed an ocean to murder theirs. Wake up, I cried inside. Say it. Say it already. Terrorism.

Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under attack in a series of deliberate and deadly terrorist acts. The victims were in airplanes or in their offices: secretaries, business men and women, military and federal workers, moms and dads, friends and neighbors. Thousands of lives were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of terror. The pictures of airplanes flying into buildings, fires burning, huge — huge structures collapsing have filled us with disbelief, terrible sadness, and a quiet, unyielding anger. These acts of mass murder were intended to frighten our nation into chaos and retreat. But they have failed. Our country is strong.

And as I waited for them to admit what I knew without question was the truth, I discovered inside myself a tiny emotion that has filled me with shame for all of the last 15 years. My first reaction to the attack on the World Trade Center was horror, but the second was some small sense of…not happiness, never happy, but “good” – good only because now I thought America would finally understand what it was like to live with the agony of terror.

I listened with disappointment and almost pity as the news broadcasters bantered around about how a plane could have come to crash into one of the tallest building. “Silly man,” I almost shouted, “Terrorism. Come on, you can say it.”

And then, in horror, as I watched, the second plane hit. I started to cry as the shocked voices could be heard through the television; I started to pray, “Oh God, I didn’t mean for this. I didn’t want this. I just wanted them to understand, not this.” My children looked at me, trying to understand. I stopped crying and told them it was time for a snack. I bribed them with cookies and milk upstairs in the dining room; I brought them crayons to color and did everything I could to keep them away from what we loosely called the “TV room”. The television droned on and I would slip away, or sit on the steps and watch half-turned so I  could watch my children and keep them far from what was happening in the distant city where I had met their father, fallen in love, married, and brought three of them into this world.

Two towers on fire, rescue workers rushing in, people panicking in the streets as the Pentagon was hit next; all planes ordered to land. Suddenly, there was a loud sound and I watched in horror again, as the south tower crumbled into itself. And then the northern tower. The people, I thought. oh God, how many were inside? How many didn’t get out?

Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve. America was targeted for attack because we’re the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining. Today, our nation saw evil — the very worst of human nature — and we responded with the best of America.

They kept saying “as many as 50,000 people” came to work each day. I remember them saying that another plane was missing and last tracking said it was heading towards Washington; the White House was evacuated. The count down was running as to when it would hit Washington and the potential targets. Then, reports of a plane crash in Pennsylvania…was it the fourth plane? No one knew and so they kept waiting for it to hit Washington.

Hours and hours of horror. I don’t remember it growing dark here in Israel or putting my children to bed that night; I do remember praying for the injured; even praying there would be injured and not just endless bodies to recover. I remember sitting and crying as I listened to George Bush.

Each year, like tens of thousands of people all over the world, I remember what I was doing on September 11. And I watch the videos. And I pray for the families. I light a candle in their memory – all of them, everywhere they died.

Last year, in shock, I listened as the United States approved the Iran Deal – what a joke, I thought. They are rewarding the very people who perpetrated 9/11. That’s how they commemorate the day?

This year, I am filled with sadness as never before. The United States stands on the edge of a more dangerous world than ever before. What Hitler did in 6 years of war, Iran could now do in minutes. The Soviet Union, the evil, repressive, totalitarian society which imprisoned its own people is no more; Russia today is weaker, divided, and still searching for ways to return to the glory that was their former incarnation.

And America, weaker as well. Divided, isolated and much ridiculed by the world. You play a dangerous game of denial; terrorism has been relegated to being less dangerous than lightning, getting hit by a bus, or meeting death at the “hands” of a lawnmower. This is what people post to Facebook…because terrorism is not their main concern, perhaps not even a concern at all. They laugh and joke about the bus and the lawnmower. Are they laughing today? Probably not, but they will laugh again tomorrow and deny the dangers, just as they did that mourning as the first tower burned.

The numbers are manipulated, 9/11 erased because by factoring it in, the numbers would be so much scarier, or perhaps not. Maybe 15 years later, the pain has lessened, the horror of watching those towers collapse somehow faded?

I don’t know. I can still cry each time I think of that day. The World Trade Centers were relatively new when I started college and we all made fun of them. How ugly we thought they were; how modern and without character. At Columbia University, the buildings were older and so dignified. Years later, I can confess that as a student living in New York, I never liked those towers. They represented a world dedicated to money and business when I was learning about things that seemed so much more important – life, history, humanity.

And then they came down and I have missed them terribly. For years, I missed the innocence I felt was stolen from America on that day. I mourned for the families, but for the nation as well.

I haven’t been to America in 18 years. The timing was wrong, my family was growing. Finances. Life. One son in the army and then another and another. From far away, I have watched in sadness. I hurt for what America has become. Racial intolerance still shocks me. The first best friend I ever had was a young black girl in my class (no, she wasn’t African American then, she was black) and someone called her a nasty name and she looked about to cry. I turned to her as we walked past those nasty children and I asked her if she was black. It had never occurred to me that she was, or that her parents and siblings were. It wasn’t in my vocabulary; not something I noticed. She said what she was. My friend. My neighbor. Sherry. She nodded in what I now think was a rather solemn way and said that she was black. I remember answering, “Oh.” And then remembered I wanted to tell her something about what happened in school. We never discussed her race again; we never discussed my religion. We were two little girls with a love of dolls and playing house. We walked home from school together that day, as we always did because she lived in an apartment on the other side of the open court where we played together. And the next morning, we walked back to school, and home and back and home and back. Until a year or two later, she and her family moved away.

I have always loved that I didn’t know that my best friend was black because it was completely and entirely irrelevant to who we were. Yesterday, I read a long story about “the Falling Man.” Over the last 15 years, the media has been obsessed with identifying this man who was captured falling to his death. Paragraphs and paragraphs of how reporters went from family to family, going through lists of names as if identifying him was some holy grail.

Ultimately, said the article, they think they know who he is. Yes, but what about the wives and children you harmed by invading their privacy and showing a picture of a man seconds away from his death before their eyes? All that 9/11 is about, is lost to people such as these. It isn’t about Sherry being black or the name of that man. It isn’t about each individual,

It was never about that little black girl or her best friend, the white girl who lived across the courtyard. It was never about that man falling. It was always about America.

I ask for your prayers for all those who grieve, for the children whose worlds have been shattered, for all whose sense of safety and security has been threatened. And I pray they will be comforted by a Power greater than any of us.

There are those that say 15 years on,  Al Qaida is weakened…other than a few massive terror attacks here and there. There are those that say they know how to make America great again…and those who ridicule that statement simply because of who made it.

There are black people dying in the streets of Chicago, Los Angeles, New York – daily. Literally, every day. There are cops, police officers being murdered – murdered and their deaths considered a just response in a violent and racist society. Where have you gone, America?

I look at the images of the burning towers and I remember listening in shock, as President George Bush addressed a nation in pain. I had never liked him before…until that speech. Sometimes, when you make a wrong turn, all you can do is go back and correct your error. After 15 years, America, you need to go back.

This is a day when all Americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace. America has stood down enemies before, and we will do so this time. None of us will ever forget this day, yet we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world. Thank you. Good night. And God bless America.

Listen to this speech. Read it. Look at the unity. Listen to the voice of a leader. It was the first time I thought that George W. Bush had really stepped up to meet the challenge. It was a speech like none we have heard since. Forget the economy, forget the politics. Listen to the speech of an American president – perhaps the last one who cared more for his country than his party.
Text of President George W. Bush’s speech, September 11, 2001.

Good evening.

Today, our fellow citizens, our way of life, our very freedom came under attack in a series of deliberate and deadly terrorist acts. The victims were in airplanes or in their offices: secretaries, business men and women, military and federal workers, moms and dads, friends and neighbors. Thousands of lives were suddenly ended by evil, despicable acts of terror. The pictures of airplanes flying into buildings, fires burning, huge — huge structures collapsing have filled us with disbelief, terrible sadness, and a quiet, unyielding anger. These acts of mass murder were intended to frighten our nation into chaos and retreat. But they have failed. Our country is strong.

A great people has been moved to defend a great nation. Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings, but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel, but they cannot dent the steel of American resolve. America was targeted for attack because we’re the brightest beacon for freedom and opportunity in the world. And no one will keep that light from shining. Today, our nation saw evil — the very worst of human nature — and we responded with the best of America. With the daring of our rescue workers, with the caring for strangers and neighbors who came to give blood and help in any way they could.

Immediately following the first attack, I implemented our government’s emergency response plans. Our military is powerful, and it’s prepared. Our emergency teams are working in New York City and Washington D.C. to help with local rescue efforts. Our first priority is to get help to those who have been injured, and to take every precaution to protect our citizens at home and around the world from further attacks. The functions of our government continue without interruption. Federal agencies in Washington which had to be evacuated today are reopening for essential personnel tonight and will be open for business tomorrow. Our financial institutions remain strong, and the American economy will be open for business as well.

The search is underway for those who were behind these evil acts. I have directed the full resources of our intelligence and law enforcement communities to find those responsible and to bring them to justice. We will make no distinction between the terrorists who committed these acts and those who harbor them.

I appreciate so very much the members of Congress who have joined me in strongly condemning these attacks. And on behalf of the American people, I thank the many world leaders who have called to offer their condolences and assistance. America and our friends and allies join with all those who want peace and security in the world, and we stand together to win the war against terrorism.

Tonight, I ask for your prayers for all those who grieve, for the children whose worlds have been shattered, for all whose sense of safety and security has been threatened. And I pray they will be comforted by a Power greater than any of us, spoken through the ages in Psalm 23:

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil for you are with me.
9/11 attack on Twin Towers: Will Obama use next week's anniversary as a platform to attack the Assad regime?

9/11 attack on Twin Towers: Will Obama use next week’s anniversary as a platform to attack the Assad regime?

This is a day when all Americans from every walk of life unite in our resolve for justice and peace. America has stood down enemies before, and we will do so this time. None of us will ever forget this day, yet we go forward to defend freedom and all that is good and just in our world.

Thank you. Good night. And God bless America.

Paula Stern

Constructive Anger

Monday, August 29th, 2016

There are five ways to use anger constructively:

A – Attack Anxiety
N – Negate Negativity
G – Give & Grow
E – Empowerment
R – Relinquish Resentment

 

Attack Anxiety

Anger and anxiety are opposite emotions and simply cannot be felt simultaneously. So when you feel anxious – get angry and watch your anxiety dissipate! For example, suppose you’re feeling really anxious before an interview, use your anger and attack that anxiety. You can shout – “Yes I can do this! I’m going to do great! God’s on my side, so I accept whatever the outcome may be – for it’s all for the best!”

 

Negate Negativity

When noticing your inner critic throwing negative thoughts your way – tap into your anger and negate those negative beliefs. You can shout things like: “It’s not true! I am worthy even though I’m imperfect… I am lovable even though he can’t love me… I am deserving even though I’m so angry etc!”

 

Give and Grow

Anger gets ignited when we feel our ego has been attacked. The best way to sooth our ego – hence our anger – is by giving and growing. When we give we move beyond our juvenile self-centered selves and the belief that “it’s all about us.” We come to realize that the “attacker” may have been feeling insecure or insignificant and that is what caused him or her to say or do something hurtful. We can give through thoughtful actions, kindhearted words, or simply by praying for others, especially the ones who have hurt us. Giving to those who have hurt us, helps us forgive them, as our egos have been soothed through positive growth.

 

Empowerment

There is no doubt that anger empowers us. However, we need to be sure to use our empowerment to spur us into positive action, as opposed to putting others down through an empowered and inflated ego. When we use our sense of empowerment to break through resistance and take positive action, we sooth our egos and anger vanishes.

 

Relinquish Resentment

Resentment comes from suppressed and repressed anger. Yet having resentment sit on ones heart is extremely uncomfortable for their soul. So how can one let go of resentment when they’ve been hurt so badly?

Crying is the body’s natural way of releasing painful emotions and then healing. As anger is our natural response to feeling judged or attacked, we need to get angry in order to bring up the hurt lying right beneath it and then embrace our pain and cry. When one turns his or her pain into prayer and begs God to help him or her release the resentment, he or she is doing what needs to be done to heal the heart and free the soul.

Here’s one technique to do alone: Take a pair of old shoes and use it as a metaphor for feeling judged by another – “She had the audacity to step in my shoes and judge me” – by throwing them on the floor while shouting out all your true feelings. You can say something like: “I’m so angry at you… how dare you judge me… you have no idea what I’ve been through… you are so cruel to have said those things and hurt me… why should I forgive you – I hate you! etc.”

Although it can feel quite uncomfortable to allow oneself to feel this kind of anger, it’s extremely therapeutic and it’s okay to forgive oneself for using the anger to bring up the hurt and free oneself from the resentment.

Remember: “Your deepest pain lies right beneath the very emotion you are running from.”

Leah Field

‘Move De Line’: Shalom Bayit; Shalom Aleinu

Thursday, August 22nd, 2013

In parshah Ki Tetzei, Moses teaches us, almost as an afterthought, “Do not hate an Edomite because he is your brother.” This teaching is understandable. After all, even an estranged brother who has wronged me is still my brother. But then, in a leap hard to grasp for many of us, the Torah goes on to teach, “Do not hate an Egyptian, because you were a stranger in his land” (23:8).

What? How can we help but hate those who enslaved us? Whose king demanded that “every male Israelite born be thrown into the Nile”? There must be a deeper meaning to these words. How can we be expected to develop good relations with such a mortal enemy? Which do we do? Do we recall our suffering in Egypt (l’maan tizkor et yom tzetcha m’eretz Mitzrayim) or do we “not hate an Egyptian”?

When I studied at Yeshiva University, hundreds of us would rush to the cafeteria after morning seder to quickly get our lunches so we could make it to our afternoon shiur on time. As you can imagine, the line could grow very long. There, standing behind the counter, dishing out daily helpings of whatever was on the menu was a gentle Holocaust survivor, Mr. Weber. To this day, so many years later, I can still hear his voice prompting us along: “Move de line, move de line.”

Over the many years of my life, his constant refrain has become integral to my personal philosophy. To me, he was not simply asking us not to slow down the line; he was telling us not to get stuck in a tough spot and, by extension, not to remain mired in the bitterness of the inevitable challenges and disappointments we all face – not to bear grudges for the rest of our lives.

We all have to “move de line.”

That means letting go of the negatives that hold us back – the things that enslave us, that humiliate us, that degrade us. Ironically, until we can let go of those things, we will remain enslaved, even long after our captors have set us free. We need to “move de line” if we are to forge new paths and realize new goals.

Hurt begets hurt. Anger begets anger. Hate begets hate. If you want to move de line, you have to let go of hurt and anger. If your “captor” allows you to go free, the least you can do is grant yourself the same grace. As long as you continue to be enslaved by negativity, you can know no freedom; you cannot embark on a new beginning. You are stuck.

As Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks eloquently teaches, “To be free, you have to let go of hate. That is what Moses is saying. If they continued to hate their erstwhile enemies, Moses would have taken the Israelites out of Egypt, but he would not have taken Egypt out of the Israelites. Mentally, they would still be there, slaves to the past. They would still be in chains, not of metal but of the mind – and chains of the mind are the most constricting of all.”

But what of all the mitzvot centered on Yetziat Mitzrayim – including those recalled on Shabbat, when laying tefillin, putting on our tzitzit or reciting the ancient truths at our Seders? In fact, there is no hate, no rage, no call for revenge or retaliation – not even a shred of negativity – in any of these mitzvot. Instead, they focus on the positive: Remember. Learn. Grow.

Move de line.

Rav Soloveitchik views the Egyptian exile and suffering as the “…experience which molded the moral quality of the Jewish people for all time.” Rather than embitter us, our experience in Egypt and subsequent emancipation teaches us not to hate and retaliate but rather “…ethical sensitivity, what it truly means to be a Jew. It sought to transform the Jew into a rachaman, one possessing a heightened form of ethical sensitivity and responsiveness.”

The most practical method of teaching compassion, sensitivity and concern for others, the most direct way of imparting a sense of mitgefiel, is to recall one’s own experience of tzarah. It should come as no surprise that it is often he who has suffered sickness who best understands the discomfort of the ill; he who has sustained loss who can best comfort the bereaved, and he who knew wealth and success but who suffered reversals who can best identify with a colleague or neighbor who confronts similar obstacles.

Rabbi Eliyahu Safran

Brokenhearted Mother: ‘Time to Stop the Meanness’

Wednesday, January 23rd, 2013

My recent columns on compassion touched many hearts. I’ve received numerous letters in response. I feel it’s important to share the following one with readers:

Dear Rebbetzin Jungreis,

If I could, I would have every school principal and teacher, every father and mother, read your columns, especially those on the true meaning of rachamim. The challenge you posed – How much chesed do our children see in their homes and in their schools? – should make every one of us stop and think.

I am of European background. My parents were survivors of the concentration camps. I was born in a displaced persons camp after the war. When we came to the Unites States I experienced a culture shock for which I was totally unprepared. My parents enrolled me in a Jewish school. I thought surely that in such an environment everyone would be friendly and kind, but my disillusionment came quickly.

I was a foreigner. My English was difficult to understand and many of the girls were warned by their parents not to get too involved with me for fear I might tell them nightmarish stories of the Holocaust. Thanks to my strong and loving family I did not fall apart and eventually integrated and became part of the school.

Never would I have imagined that when my own daughter would start school she too would be tormented and rejected by her peers. And yet that is exactly what happened. The girls in my daughter’s class were very “clicky” and “catty.” They called her a nerd and other uncomplimentary names. She was always left out of social events. Seldom was she asked by her classmates to participate in Shabbos afternoon get-togethers. She would sit home and when she looked out the window and saw her classmates passing by on their way to a get-together, her hurt was beyond words.

I went to the school to speak to her teachers and pleaded with them to do something. They listened politely but there was no help forthcoming. The girls were never put in their place. They were never told this was not the Torah way and that such conduct was a heinous sin.

Soon my daughter developed behavioral problems. Very often she would “act out.” I guess that was her way of trying to get attention. Whenever something went wrong the finger was always pointed at her. She became even more depressed, angry and rebellious. Not once but many times I went to the principal. I begged for help but instead of helping her they labeled her a “troubled child.”

My husband and I were called to the school and told we had to take our daughter for intensive therapy. Having no option, we complied – but it was all futile. She was deeply scarred. Her heart was shattered. She felt disconnected, abandoned and alone. She gave up on life. Again and again I asked, “What is the point of telling a child who was hurting, who needed some love, some guidance, to go out and stand in the hallway or to sit in the principal’s office?”

I wondered why a teacher couldn’t talk to her after class. Even a little smile would have given her hope but she saw and heard only anger, rejection and admonishment.

To be honest, I never had any illusions. Nowadays most teachers just do not make this effort. It is so much easier to send a student out of class and label her a “troublemaker.”

My daughter started to cut classes. She hung out on the streets and of course found the worse element to associate with. One day the principal of the school asked that my husband and I come to see him. With trepidation in our hearts we went to his office and were told we had to find our daughter a new school.

I don’t know how many of your readers have experienced the agony of searching for a school that would agree to take their child – a child whose references shouted “problems” and “disturbed.” It seemed that every door was shut to us. Finally we did find a place out of town, far away. It was a school for “troubled” girls. We hesitated. We feared that under the influence of her peers who were also “troubled” she would deteriorate further. But having no options and despite her objections, we sent her.

Rebbetzin Esther Jungreis

Printed from: http://www.jewishpress.com/judaism/rebbetzins-viewpointrebbetzin-jungreis/time-to-stop-the-meanness-letter-from-a-brokenhearted-mother/2013/01/23/

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