NOTE: This is the 4th in a series of posts linking social and environmental justice issues to the 7 sephirot of the Omer cycle. Previous offerings are available in the archive of this blog.
WEEK 4: “I believe I can do this!”: Learning from Nezach – Confidence/Persistence
a Collaborative Offering, curated by Debra Seltzer
Just over a year ago, at the end of July 2022, members of Sukkat Shalom met a family originally from the Democratic Republic of Congo, who had spent fifteen years in a refugee camp in Uganda. The parents and their five children arrived in the United States with help from HIAS (formerly Hebrew Immigrant Aid Society) with refugee status.
This post is not about them, but about what some of us who have been supporting them for this past year have learned from the experience as it relates to the sephriah of nezach. Thank you to Joanie Calem, Jodi Kushins, Michelle Moscowitz Brown, Cheryl Lubow, and Emia Oppenheim who reflected on this work over the past year in the below post. Other key members of the support team are Dan Barash, Maureen Zorndorf, Aaron Brown, Doug Calem, Emma Loss and Paul Eisenstein. Many others have contributed in a wide variety of ways over the year.
A special shout out to two people in particular who have consistently given in the true spirit of tzedakah to the family: Paul Eisenstein and Joanie Calem who have been substantially involved in deep support of the family, connecting with bureaucratic systems and navigating barriers, and providing organizational leadership for our efforts.
This is the first day of Elul we are entering the week of Netzach, week 4 in our seven-week journey through the Sephirot to the Days of Awe – this is the half way point. In their “The Omer Workbook,” Amanda Herring and Mo Golden define netzach as – endurance, winning, ambition, perseverance, confidence, persistence, eternity, fortitude, victory. They quote Rabbi Jeff Stombaugh who describes netzach as the voice inside you that says “I believe that you can do this!” Netzach is what keeps you going long term. This is such an essential trait for any kind of hard work – it is easy to feel inspiration when we get started, harder to continue as the obstacles become clear and the way becomes difficult. As you will see in the reflections below, our refugee resettlement work has been both challenging and rewarding.
Joanie Calem
The pairing of these two words actually makes me laugh out loud, because in modern Hebrew, Netzach means eternity, so I interpret this pairing as the requirement to be persistent for eternity. Which kind of sounds exhausting, but actually sounds like an accurate reflection of real life in general, and certainly an accurate reflection of my experience over the past year of working with the refugee family that we are trying to support.
Persistence is kind of my middle name, and I do credit my stubborn persistence to having gotten me where I am personally and professionally in all kinds of good ways.
But, as a follow-up to Debra’s wonderful post last week on the sephirah of Hod being synonymous with Humility/Admitting/Gratitude/Simplicity, my experience of attempting to help our refugee family has been one of tremendous humility mixed in with my natural persistence.
As a group we accomplished so much because of our persistence, collective and individual, but there is so much that we cannot help them with, and so much that we cannot solve for them. We can’t change the inadequacy of the systems that are in place to assist refugees, we can’t change the convoluted nature of so much American bureaucracy, we can’t change the economic inequity of the world that is part of why they had to leave their homeland and come here in the first place. And we can’t erase or heal their histories, the details of which we still know so little about. No amount of persistence will solve any of those factors, so on one level I have become resigned to the understanding that I just can’t help them in the way that they want.
But I am forever encouraged by tidbits from Pirkei Avot, the Sayings of the Ancestors. And one of my favorite quotes sums up my experience of attempting to help this wonderful family find their footing in this increasingly chaotic country, that is still better than where they came from. And that quote is from Chapter 2/16: He [Rabbi Tarfon] used to say: It is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it…”
So, persistence has to be for eternity. We get to wherever we get to. We help in whatever way makes sense. We can’t do it all. And that is eternally humbling for me.
Michelle Moskowitz Brown
The approach my husband Aaron and I took to helping the family was to stick to things that were doable and we could commit to. For me that was at first cooking, looking for housing, and eventually finding a food pantry. Aaron got up at 5am to drive one of the parents to work, and supported employer communication. We also made time to have fun and celebrate with the family.
In terms of persistence versus passivity, we trusted that everyone was playing a part and we knew that each role is critical. Part of the persistence came from inspiration from the group, and feeling like this work was important enough to rearrange other commitments, and use our privilege and knowledge simply because we had it to spare.
Then there is the notion that helping makes the helper feel good, and of course the family is a joy to spend time with, even with the struggles they have faced here. From time to time, I check myself on how supporting the family has components of the white savior complex, and at the same time, feel a true connection and exchange with them.
Jodi Kushins
I have not done much for the family consistently over time. Probably not as much as I could have. I have helped when and where I could without it interfering too much with my life. Maybe that’s part of the lesson of nezach. But I have often felt guilty, thought I could and should be doing more because I don’t work a full-time job so theoretically have time to give and because I have resources and privilege to share. I don’t think I’ve been passive, but I don’t know that I’ve allowed my engagement with this project to change me as much as it could have.
I certainly feel more aware, and more empathetic to the plight of refugees settling in new places and trying to adapt to new a language and culture. I have imagined what it would be like to be in this position many times in the past year. I have felt more grateful for all I had the luck to be born into and reflected on my family’s own history of immigration.
Cheryl Lubow
I have been inspired by the courage it took for this family to begin life over again in a strange new place with a new language. I recognize that for this family, it will be a long and slow process of forming that new life. We all want better circumstances for the next generation. The lessons we can learn from helping a refugee family are patience, courage, hope, and gratitude.
Emia Oppenheim
I have thought so much about my own family’s history in this country as refugees after WWII and how my grandmother managed raising two boys here – none of them speaking the language, knowing the culture and not having any money. It comes down to many things that have not buffered this family’s arrival. My family had a community of Jewish refugees and citizens around them speaking Dutch and Yiddish. That community helped them secure jobs, provided encouragement, and housed them.
Also, American society did not have as many barriers. I have observed how absurdly complicated school, employment, food assistance, healthcare and housing have been for the family we have been helping, and I know that my family had much more straightforward paths to all these important supports. My grandmother ran a boarding house, got her groceries at the store one block away, her boys were three blocks from their school, when they need a doctor they would go on one bus to the nearby clinic that did not charge them, and their landlord lived in the building available to take rent, as well as help with minor repairs. I am not suggesting that my family had an easy transition. I have just had my eyes opened over the past year to how our bureaucracy has grown in layers over the years and how technology for a non- English speaker is a barrier not a boon. The connections to people here in the US are harder to come by because of these barriers and those connections were what was so crucial to my family’s integration into the US.
In conclusion
Deep appreciation for everyone in our community who has participated in this effort – in the largest and the smallest of ways. Every single action and donation has made a difference. We have all been learning – from the family, from each other, and ourselves. Nezach reminds us that we are eternally learning to check in on what we have to offer and how to contribute within our capacity. It is all too easy to become numb to the tragedies and very different realities that others are facing around the world – may we all work on the lesson of staying open and aware to those realities while also finding the right path for ourselves in stepping up to help.
There are myriad possible actions one could take related to this topic. We offer two concrete suggestions:
1) Learn more about what this family left in escaping the Democratic Republic of Congo by reading Sandra Uwiringyimana’s How Dare the Sun Rise: Memoirs of a War Child. Uwiringyimana’s memoir details her experience of survival and loss in Africa and her journey to the United States as a refugee.
Donate to HIAS. According to their website, right now there are a record 110 million people forcibly displaced from their homes — the largest displacement of people since World War II. Drawing on our Jewish values and history, HIAS has been active for over a century helping refugees when and where they are most needed. Now, in more than 20 countries around the world, HIAS provides vital services to refugees and asylum seekers and advocate for their fundamental rights so they can rebuild their lives.