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Love Should Never Have to Hurt

Yom Kippur - 2009, 5770 by Rabbi Joshua Hoffman

Al Chet Sh’Chatanu L’fanecha – We say it. We beat our chest. It is an odd ritual - beating our chests. It ranks up there with using fresh scallions to playfully beat fellow Seder participants to relive the pains of enslavement in Egypt on Pesah. There’s even the lesser known but equally peculiar beating of the willow branches on the lulav toward the end of Sukkot. It’s a symbolic act to beat out any remaining sins we possibly forgot to atone for on Yom Kippur. These are difficult acts to comprehend, especially compared to many loving gestures we cherish like the warmth of bringing Shabbat light into our souls with the circling of our hands, the joy of dancing with the Torah, and enwrapping ourselves in the protective folds of the tallit in prayer. 

On Yom Kippur, beginning to understand this custom rests in the rhythm and cadence of the beating - like an army we present ourselves en masse before God and the world to announce that we have been neglectful. Our weaknesses are revealed and we beat our chests to point a finger at ourselves. “We have done this,” “Al Chet Sh’Chatanu L’fanecha” - “For this sin which we have committed against You, God.” Sometimes we beat our chests to recognize there are sins we could have done but didn’t act upon. Sometimes we even beat our chests to recognize our potential to commit a sin. 

And, there is a darker impulse in those beatings. I’ve felt it myself, as my cadence increases and my focus narrows. “For the sin which we have committed for speaking carelessly.” My fist tightens and my brow furrows. I want to feel the pain. I need to feel the physical response in my body as my mind races to the moment when I acted so carelessly. It feels good after the beating, like I have accomplished the goal. I’ve beat the truth out of my soul - the secret is somehow revealed. I think, “Maybe I deserve the pain.” Is this why I beat my chest? Because I deserve it? 

Maybe I’m misled. Maybe we’re all misled. 

The gesture is misleading, after all. The beating of the chest could be seen in two ways. By beating our chests, we’re trying to break through the callous layers of avoidance, blame, and denial - trying to reach deeply inside ourselves to touch the truths that lay beneath. Or, by beating our chests, we are wielding power, power to demonstrate that we are better than our shortcomings, power to remind ourselves that we can and must do better, power to control our emotions exactly the way we think they should be felt and expressed. We symbolically beat our chests to reflect real actions we have taken and to express our shame and our disappointment for being weaker than we imagine. To beat our chests like this is an acceptance that violence is a valid response to powerlessness. 

I’m really concerned about that kind of power, because it is so misleading. We easily confuse trying to be better with trying to do better. If only a beat on my chest could change my behavior! If only a beat on my chest could wipe away my limitations, my shortcomings, my angry impulses, and the harm I may have caused others! We have all felt this before - the shame of failing to live up to our own expectations. “If only I had…, I wish that I could…., I should have….” These moods cripple the spirit. We can control the force of the fist on our chest. But, when the confusion festers inside, when we have no place to let go of these painful thoughts, when we begin to feel hopelessness, the force of the fist will manifest elsewhere. What happens when the beat of our chest is transferred to another? The beating of words? The beating of critique? The beating of the body? 

This confusion of power has a definition - abuse. And abuse gets its power in secrecy, shame, and silence. 

Victims of abuse wear the same clothes, drive the same cars, and eat in the same restaurants. Perpetrators share the same groups of friends, and are decent hard working members of the community. We all sit together here on holidays and on Shabbat - victim, perpetrator, and bystander. There is no guarantee that by observing Shabbat, keeping Kosher, praying three times a day, or studying the Torah will prevent any of us from abusing another or from becoming a victim of abuse. God knows there are too many examples we see of rabbis, educators, parents, men, and women who should know better, but transgress. 

There are victims and perpetrators of abuse in our community. Abuse is happening here among us and we need to talk about it. Today we must do better as a community to speak about this uncomfortable truth and reveal the potential for abusive behavior within us. For the words of Rabbi Abraham Twerski teach, “Abuse occurs in a community that tolerates it.” We must confront and shed light on the truths we shroud in secrecy. There are those among us who abuse and there are those who are abused among us. 

I want to be clear here; I am not speaking about self abuse, substance abuse, excessive gambling or abuse of the environment. Abuse comes in many forms - but the most insidious are those that are masked in love - expressed verbally, physically, sexually, and psychologically. It’s an abuse of intimacy. It is when we break a loved one’s trust by our own lack of control. It happens between spouses, parent to child, child to parent, sibling to sibling. Love should never have to hurt. 

Of all the confusion abusive behavior reveals, family violence wields the sharpest sword - the power of love. Love is the most powerful emotion we possess, more powerful than anger or fear, spite or grief. Love is the power within us to be vulnerable, and to take responsibility for another‘s vulnerability. Abuse is the corruption of that love - and when anger, blame, and shame are wielded against someone we love, it ceases to be about responsibility for the other. Rachel Lev, a Jewish therapist and victim of abuse says, “Violating boundaries is never about love. It is about power, control, and self-absorption.” 

For many of us, when we hear words like domestic violence, it is like watching a movie on the Lifetime television network. We imagine the angry and drunken father stumbling through the house chasing after a child, or a wife. There may be a time you sense the awkward feeling when someone averts eye contact in conversation or you may even identify bruises in places where they don’t belong. You may bristle to a shrillness of loud and controlling voice, see a spank on the tush hurt a little too much, or shiver after hearing a berating comment in public. To these, you can point and say, “That’s abuse!” 

The faces of abuse are far more elusive - and far more common than we imagine. Looking around you probably won’t be able to identify one person who is a victim of abuse here – that’s the power of secrecy, shame, and silence. Today we break that silence. Today, we must dobetter. 

We beat our chests for that potential within us – to know that our feelings of failure, our feelings of shame can easily be transferred to another, our partners, or our children, even extended to our friends. There is this potential in all of us. And pointing that finger at everyone else begins inside. Al Chet Sh’Chatanu L’fanecha B’Timahon Levav– We have sinned before You, God, for a confusion of our values. 

Consider that Los Angeles is the second most stressful city in the country. All of it - from the traffic and congestion to the relentless pursuit of glamour and attention – we’re living in the town to see and be seen. These are pretty stressful conditions by themselves. And when times like these days are tough, we see more and more abusive behavior. It is that stress that has local Jewish Family Services and Vista del Mar reporting a dramatic increase in domestic violence this year. And we know that for every reported case of abuse, there are so many that go unreported. 

There are still people who say, “Not in the Jewish community!” “Not Jews and not in our neighborhood.” Consider the facts - domestic violence affects the Jewish community at the same rate as the general population – meaning 25% of Jewish women will experience abuse from an intimate relationship. The facts are that 40%-50% of children growing up in abusive homes often grow up to become abusers themselves, or to marry abusers. Left unspoken, the cycle perpetuates. Left in the shadows of secrecy and shame, we are complicit, for others and ourselves. “L’dor v’dor” – Will these truths be what we pass on to our children and grandchildren?” 

The 50% also reminds us – We have a choice here! 

We all struggle to find the delicate balance between power and love - between secrets of the self and the flaws we see in others. Remember our essential teaching about love, “V’ahavta L’reacha K’mocha.” “Love another as yourself.” Think about how difficult it is to really live up to this mitzvah. Ask yourself further, what if you weren’t loved? What if love meant a punch in the arm or the gut, a kick in the leg, or a push into a wall? What if love meant screaming the loudest to get your point across? Abusive behavior is usually progressive. It starts with only one bad fight, only one angry push, one uncomfortable touch. Love your neighbor - your partner, your child, your parent, always remembering love should not have to hurt. For the victim, “Love your neighbor as yourself” - the intimacy and security of love has been breached - its consequences are biologically and psychologically permanent. 

When I think about love, I think about the couple under the huppah – the wedding canopy. Those moments under the huppah are the most precious and the most promising for love. The couple professes their love for each other. Promises are made, blessings are given. The boundaries are defined. Everyone who is present relives their own experience of love - moments when they too were kissed by God. That is why, there are times when I take a few moments under the huppah and speak to the couple about that glass the groom is about to shatter. I explain that the shattered pieces of glass are more than a memory of an ancient Temple destroyed. They are the cautionary shattering of words spoken in anger, words spoken carelessly and in haste – their jagged edges hurt. And just as the broken glass can never be fully repaired, the shattering of trust, of intimacy is very difficult to heal. Love is so powerful – it’s why it can be so easily confused. 

We never assume our love will bring us to harm our partners, our children, our parents. Yet, it happens. We break the glass with our words – we break the glass with the shame, and the secrecy, and the silence – our fears to admit we have failed and that we are less than we thought we could be. 

“V’ahavta L’reacha K’mocha” teaches more. If you want to understand abuse, look deeply inside yourself - feel the agony of losing control, the impulse to act out. Take hold of the shame in knowing you’ve gone too far. “Love your neighbor as yourself” means knowing your limits and knowing that those limits are tested in each and every one of us. It’s why the great sage, Hillel, had to teach the inverse principle, “What is hateful to you do not do unto others.” 

That is also why before it says V‘ahavta L‘Re’acha Khamocha in the Torah, we are commanded to, “Rebuke your brother, or his guilt will be your guilt.” We who bear witness to the abuse of love have a responsibility to speak out - to create a community that models and educates toward healthy relationships. The Hebrew words are so important here. “Hocheach Tochiach et Amitecha, v’Lo Tisah Alav Chet.” You must surely rebuke – the words are emphasized so that we don’t mistake our task casually. It is in our nature to be silent. It’s in our nature to let matters like abuse dwell in secrecy. But God’ plan is much greater. We have to speak up - to break through the silence. 

Those who are abusive must not be hated - those who are abusive need our help, our guidance. Those who hurt need to understand the limits and boundaries of love. Rabbi Twerski again notes, “While the aggressor is the immediate perpetrator, the community cannot shirk its culpability if it allows abuse to occur and continue.” When abuse exists in our community – we are all responsible. 

The Torah here continues: “Lo Tikom v’Lo Titor et B’nai Amecha.” “You shall not take vengeance or bear a grudge against your brother.” Rebuke is not an invitation for vigilance. As difficult as it is to admit a problem like this exists among us - within us - it is even more difficult thinking there is no way out. Proverbs reminds us. “Rebuke a wise man, and he will love you.”(9:8). Friends, you are wise; there is a way for you to love that doesn’t hurt. 

Today, Yom Kippur is about doing better. We will not be complicit of tacitly salting over inflicted wounds by our avoidance. Nor will we stand silently as children abuse their elderly parents; or while spouses put down, break down or beat their wives, or parents quietly, deliberately, unrelentingly belittling their children by telling them they aren’t good enough, quiet enough, smart enough, or athletic enough. The guilt will be upon us all, where we should have done something and we didn’t. 

There is no shame in bringing your pain to the synagogue! We beat our chests together on this day for one clear reason – we all have the potential to transgress any one of these sins – the potential to harm others and ourselves is in each and every one of us. You are in a community that will not tolerate the secrecy, or the shame, or the silence any longer. We have the resources to help anyone who is experiencing violence in their lives right now. 

If you’re a bystander – heed the call, “Do not stand idly by.” If someone tells you they have been abused - believe them. Consider the courage it takes to come forward and share something so painful. Listen carefully. Tell her you’re afraid for her. Tell him you are not alone. Tell her it is not her fault. No one deserves to be abused. Help is available. 

In October, we begin observing Domestic Violence Awareness Month. 
Wear the purple ribbon – Educate yourself and others. 
Call Vista Del Mar. They need Jewish families to be role models for children – to be foster parents and to adopt children who are taken from abusive homes. 
VBS needs your help with our ongoing Adopt a Child Abuse Case Worker project. 

We have counseling resources – make the call. If you feel like you may be a victim of abuse in some way – speak up! Tell someone your story! Let us find you some real help, because love should never hurt. 

Before Yom Kippur is over, there will be more times to recite Al Chet Sh’Chatanu L’fanecha.Think before you curl that fist. Think before you strike your chest. It may not be you, but it could be. It may not be you, but it could be someone you love. On Yom Kippur, we are just Jews fulfilling the most important and most difficult mitzvah - V’Ahavta L‘Re’acha Khamocha – We love you as we love ourselves. We will heal with you as we need to be healed ourselves. 

G’mar Chatimah Tovah


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Thu, March 28 2024 18 Adar II 5784