Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav famously taught: The whole world, all of it, is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is not to be afraid at all. Kol ha-olam, kulo, gesher tzar m'od, v'ha-ikar lo l'fached klal.
What does it mean to live in the world when we know that any day and any place could be where the next random act of violence occurs? Rabbi Nachman acknowledges: The whole world, all of it, is a very narrow bridge. Nothing we do today can change that.
We will try to see to it that places, especially childrens' places, are as safe as they can be — that doors are locked and reinforced, that plans to make security tighter are not left on the shelf. We will look again at the laws that permit a citizen to own assault-style weapons.
We will, maybe, think about how we do and don't care for the most challenging cases of mental illness. If we are all in the image of God, why has God allowed some people to suffer with the most intractable mental illnesses, which resist every form of therapy and love people have come up with so far? As hard as it would be to come up with effective forms of gun regulation, it is infinitely harder to see how to help or control a human being seemingly lost to the urge to harm others. Why, God, have you created us in this way?
A very narrow bridge. We can and should do what we can, to widen and reinforce the bridge. But Rabbi Nachman reminds us that there can be no illusion of a life with no risks and dangers.
His advice seems very extreme: Do not be afraid at all. I can't imagine he means that we shouldn't feel fear ever. Or that we shouldn't worry about our children when we send them somewhere for the day or the summer. I think his message is what the father of 6-year-old Emilie Parker z"l, Robbie, said:
As we move on from what happened here, what happened to so many people,
let it not turn into something that defines us, but something that
inspires us to be better, to be more compassionate, and more humble
people. Let us please keep the sentiments of love that we feel for our
families and the compassion that we feel for others, even complete
strangers, and keep them with us at all times, not just in times of
sorrow and tragedy.
I cannot imagine what it took to say these words, as a grieving parent. But they are the definition of what it means to live on this very narrow bridge without fear. As Robbie Parker said it, not just today or this week when the fear is present and raw, but at all times.
Rabbi Nachman said: The whole world, all of it… A lot of us are shaken by the Newtown shootings because the victims were mostly children, because it was a school, because it was a close-knit community. Because it was New England, or America. People like "us." Let's not forget that all over the country, and all over the world, children and people of all ages are murdered senselessly. Random violence, tribal and sectarian brutality, the murderous oppression of today's tyrants. If we mourn here, we must mourn for the other places as well. If we take action here, we must not turn our backs on what we can do for other places.
Tragedies like Newtown remind us of what is most important, and shake out the questions that are most essential in our lives. If I can help you talk out or think about any of those questions, in their theological and spiritual and ethical dimensions, don't hesitate to call. If you have a reflection of your own to share, add it as a comment here.
L'shalom,
Rabbi Jon
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