“Adopting a victim mentality is ultimately harmful to us — spiritually, emotionally, and communally”

Vetoing the Victim Mentality [Guestlines / Issue 1088]

I very much appreciated Rav Aryeh Kerzner’s article on our mindset in galus. He highlighted an important point: Even when parts of a victim narrative may be factually true, adopting a victim mentality is ultimately harmful to us — spiritually, emotionally, and communally.

Unfortunately, his point is a general observation about our mindset: Our generation struggles with a broader cultural mindset of victimhood. But the more we define ourselves through that lens, the more we unintentionally undermine our own standing in the eyes of everyone else. And what makes it worse in this case is that whether fair or not, many people look at Jews today — a community with money, resources, and a sovereign homeland — and simply do not understand why we speak at length about being victims of anti-Semitism. It feels exaggerated to them, and it breeds resentment.

Of course, real anti-Semitism exists and must be confronted. But when we overemphasize a narrative of victimhood, it doesn’t strengthen our case; it weakens it. It reinforces the very misunderstandings that fuel anti-Semitism rather than dispelling them.

Yitzy Stern

We Have Intrinsic Worth [A Storied People / Issue 1088]

In last week’s issue Rabbi Nachman Seltzer shared a story about a student who was bullied until her classmates found out she had a beautiful voice. It was a touching story, but it got me thinking… What would’ve happened to that girl if she had no special talents to speak of? Why was she suddenly “worthy” of the girls’ kindness when they found out she was talented?

The real chinuch happens when you teach girls to value each girl because the Torah says “V’ahavta l’reiacha kamocha” and because each of us has a tzelem Elokim.

Leebi S. 

Belief in Torah’s Power [Inbox / Issue 1087]

I would like to respond to Rabbi Rafi Broidie’s critique of Rabbi Rosenblum’s article “Fanning the Flames.”

There is something uniquely painful when a visibly religious Jew behaves in a way that creates a chillul Hashem. Someone who wears the banner of Torah represents not only himself, but Torah and Hashem in the eyes of the world. When that representation is distorted, it wounds us far more than when the same behavior comes from someone with no such association. It is not only a chillul Hashem to outsiders; many frum Jews experience a subtle disillusionment and disconnection when they witness such behavior. The honor of Hashem and Torah is lowered, and the ripple effects can be profound.

Chazal teach that what is expected of a ben Torah is higher precisely because Torah is meant to refine a person’s middos. Of course, we must still love and feel compassion for every Jew, including those who struggle interpersonally. But acknowledging that special responsibility — and the disappointment when it is breached — is not a lack of love. It is an expression of our deep belief in what Torah is meant to accomplish.

We also need to make clear that being a religious Jew means reflecting not only Hashem’s kedushah but His middos as well. That is the heart of Rabbi Rosenblum’s point, and it is a call to growth, not a criticism of those who are trying. We must put real effort into aligning ourselves with our ultimate purpose of being mekadesh Shem Shamayim. This sensitivity belongs at the forefront of our minds and our avodas Hashem.

Rabbi Shraga Freedman

Director of the Living Kiddush Hashem Foundation

The Root of the Problem [Inbox / Issue 1087]

Last week’s letter by Rabbi Plotnik with regard to alcohol abuse in our communities caught my attention. While I agree with the letter’s urgency and emotion, I felt the writer was being overly optimistic in assuming bans on alcohol will solve this deep core issue.

During my relatively short lifetime, alcohol abuse in our community has gone from clear outlandish behavior to the with-it behavior. Just a generation ago, if a father was leaving davening to drink, it was obvious to everyone that he had a problem (even if not to himself). The kiddush club drinker was a clear exception to the norms and his behavior itself was a testimony. Nowadays, we have reached of level where one feels strange if he does not drink!

We have buried our heads in the sand by labeling drinking parties “toahmeha,” and by exploiting kavod Yom Tov, Shabbos Kodesh, siyumim, parlor meetings, simchahs, and really anytime as moments that can only truly be experienced with drinking. There are even many offices that have bottle collections. So many in our community can’t envision a life without the bottle. When the billboards and newspapers in Lakewood are reminding us not to drive after we get drunk [on a Tuesday night], we have a big problem!

I don’t claim to have the solution — and don’t want to be the one just bursting the bubble. I wish that bans would solve this disastrous problem. It would be wonderful if we could snap our fingers and have this curse wiped away. But we are too far deep into this problem. Merely banning the substance without getting to the core issues driving this mageifah would be a waste of time.

Now that this magazine has gone public with this terrible issue, we must confront it. Confronting this issue also requires us to figure out how we got here in the first place. Our generation is blessed with more spiritual and materialistic gifts than any other generation that comes to mind. Yet we are collectively struggling on the most basic fundamental level. Not being able to handle the ups and downs of life without clutching that bottle is indicative of a serious core flaw.

Of course, any suggestions I have or any one person has is still merely one person’s perspective. There are so many truths and they all must be expressed. I am not optimistic enough to think the problem will be instantly solved through collective contributions and feedback, but it would seem like a good way to start. We still may not all be sober — but we will collectively be more self-aware and become stronger together.

Name Withheld

In Their Parents’ Footsteps [True Account / Issue 1087]

I enjoyed reading your recent article about the late Rabbi Yecheskel Plancey and his wife Miriam. Miriam’s mother was my father’s sister.

Rabbi Plancey was also beloved for being able to say the right thing at the right time to anyone, no matter the person or the situation. His speeches at simchahs will be missed by the whole family.

Although I did not know Rabbi Plancey’s parents, I knew Miriam’s parents — the Hirsches of Paget Road — who were known and beloved by everyone in Stamford Hill, regardless of religious affiliation. Mr. Mordechai (Rafael) Hirsch was involved in almost every organization that served the community. His yahrtzeit is 14 Sivan, right between the Planceys’.

It is no wonder that the Plancey home followed so naturally in the footsteps of her parents, and it is equally not surprising that their children continue the tradition they absorbed from their remarkable parents.

Yisroel Ferber

Overwhelmed and Indecisive [Inbox / Issue 1084]

I am not a psychologist or a social worker but I am a (relatively) indecisive wife and mother, and I wonder if the woman in Dr. Wikler’s article (who I do not know) did not have low self-esteem (or anxiety, depression, or OCD) but rather just suffered from... indecisiveness. Personally, when my husband asks me if I want to attend a simchah with him or about booking a vacation, unless I’m sure I can’t, my answer is always “maybe.”

It’s not because I have low self-esteem, but because it’s really hard for me to commit to something happening in a week, a month, or certainly several months when my day-to-day life is so busy. When I feel like I’m drowning in work, grocery shopping, supper prep, laundry, doctors’ appointments, homework, etc., it’s really hard to say that I can go to a bar mitzvah in two weeks or that I want to book a bungalow for the summer.

My husband has learned that he’s usually better off just saying yes. He can always tell the baal simchah that something came up and I couldn’t make it or we could cancel the summer home (and yes, we might lose money). Usually, by the time we get closer, I do want to go. So my advice to this husband would be — forget the compliments (those are good too, but better yet, wash the dishes!) and RSVP for you and your wife.

Another Busy Mom

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 1089)