Post by Rabbi Neil on May 23, 2024 20:42:36 GMT
A Shoteh is a rabbinic term for a wanderer, somebody who might be labelled as “insane.” In Talmud (Chagigah 3b), the sages identify the signs of a shoteh as being one who goes out alone at night, one who sleeps in a cemetery or one who tears the things that they own. Rav Huna says that a person isn’t labeled a shoteh until they display all three of these behaviors, whereas Rabbi Yochanan says that they only need to display one. The Shoteh is most likely identified with someone suffering from psychosis, and the Rabbis are acutely aware of the need to not overload such a person with too many burdens of law. In fact, they split the shoteh into three sub-categories – the one who always displays psychotic symptoms, the one who cycles in and out of psychosis, and the one who displays symptoms only in one domain. In all three cases, the shoteh is exempt from having to perform mitzvot. It’s not that they cannot, it’s just that they are in no way compelled. Added to that, depending on the level of their psychosis, they are not necessarily even held liable for damage they cause. While most people do not experience psychosis, it is interesting that the early Rabbis of Mishnah and Talmud understand that sometimes mental health challenges can become extreme and we should not overburden those who suffer from them with expectations. Not holding the shoteh liable for damages shows that we can value a person who suffers from mental health issues and understand that sometimes they act in ways that are not in their best interests out of no fault of their own. Early Rabbinic Judaism is even understanding when it comes to mental health challenges that lead to a person ending their own life. In such cases, the law held that someone who die by suicide should be denied all burial rites because their act was essentially seen as a rejection of God’s gift of life. However, in practice the Rabbis went out of their way to find exceptions to that decree. Even someone who had been found hanging was to be assumed to have died accidentally (Mishnah, Tz’machot 2:3). In modern times, many Orthodox Rabbis either assume that it was an accident or that a problematic spirit or mood descended on the person that made them momentarily irrational so they could not be held liable and mourning rituals could not be denied. From ancient to modern times, then, Judaism has an excellent record of not judging those who suffer from mental health challenges.
Non-judgement is one thing, but we obviously need to go further and provide support or relief from those with mental health challenges, and we even find a source for that in Talmud! When Rabbi Chanina visits Rabbi Yochanan who is sick, Chanina takes Yochanan’s hand and raises him from his bed. Talmud then asks why Rabbi Yochanan didn’t raise himself, to which it replies, “Because the prisoner cannot free themselves from jail” (Berachot 5b). The prisoner cannot free themselves from jail. That reminds me of the last lines from Prisoner of Chillon, the poem written by Byron:
My very chains and I grew friends,
So much a long communion tends
To make us what we are:—even I
Regain'd my freedom with a sigh.
For some people, mental health struggles are a permanent part of their life and the thought of escape, or even relief, is extremely difficult. Those struggles become a part of their identity. But we can help to lift them up, at least for a while, and a community such as ours must reach out and support those in need. Moses Maimonides wrote that “there are five general forces that need to be tended to so that they should be whole in the life of the collective and the individual. Then, appropriate force will be found in them to keep all damage at a distance to enhance life in the correct way. The first is physical and mental health, leading to a full and joyous embracing of life...” Notice how he says that – the life of the collective and the individual. How we are as a community affects how we are as individuals. The two are connected. But while Maimonides’ intentions are good in the hope that all may enjoy a full and joyous embracing of life, others suggest a more nuanced position. For example, Rabbi Shlomo Wolbe, a leading thinker in mussar (the Jewish practice of self-reflection and improvement) writes (Alei Shur, Vol. I pg. 35) that “the very knowledge of the fact that it is natural to have good days and bad days has the power to assuage a lot of despair and sadness.” In other words, it’s okay not to always be okay, because who is? Even Biblical characters suffer from depression from time to time, the most obvious being Job, who asks, “Why did I not perish at birth, and die as I came from the womb?” (Job 3:11) and who said, “I have no peace, no quietness, I have no rest, but only turmoil.” (3:26). Job suffered terrible tragedy, though, it his voicing suffering makes sense, but the point is that it’s not just him. The prophet Jeremiah says, “Cursed be the day I was born…why did I ever come out of the womb to see trouble and sorrow and to end my days in shame?” (Jer. 20:14,18). There are in fact many examples of Biblical figures, from prophets to kings, who express feelings of not just despair but of depression at times in their lives. Some look at Nachman of Bratslav, the 18th century Chasidic Rabbi, as an example of someone who lived with depression. In one of his most famous writings on this (The Gate of Tears: Sadness and the Spiritual Path), he says that “The point is not to rid oneself of struggle, but to accept it as a condition of being human. We are not meant to prevail. We must make room in the soul for an existential condition of lack.” My very chains and I grew friends.
What we know is that talking about depression or even of suicide does not lead people towards it, but might help them feel safe talking about it themselves in that setting. With that in mind, I believe that our community has a responsibility to talk far more openly about mental health and the struggles that some of us face. When we think of the Sanctuary, we often think of this building, the sacred space of prayer, but really the whole of Temple Beth Shalom, our whole community, should be a sanctuary for those who struggle. We know that there are protective factors that can assist a person suffering from depression, which include cultural and religious beliefs that encourage connecting and help-seeking, or which create a strong sense of purpose or self-esteem. If that’s not the role of a Temple community, I don’t know what is.
Let’s go back to “the prisoner cannot free themselves from jail.” In the past, we have supported teens by giving them tools for times of crisis, and those are definitely essential. But, as they’ve told us on more than one occasion, sometimes when a person is despairing it’s really difficult to use those tools. The prisoner cannot free themselves from jail. We therefore need to create a Sanctuary, a safe space for people to talk about mental health challenges, to help relieve the build-up of depression or despair. To me, this must be the number one priority of our community over the coming months, particularly supporting younger students who often look at the world around them and despair. And this week seems a particularly appropriate week to start because of the words of our Torah portion – v’chi yamuch achicha, umata yado imach, v’hechezakta bo, ger v’toshav, v’chai imach – which can be loosely translated as “when your fellow suffers and their hand falters, you shall support them whoever they may be, so that they can live with you” (Lev. 25:38). That’s our sacred task, right from this week’s Torah portion, to support all. May God support us as we support others, and let us say, Amen.