A Moment in Anger, A Lifetime in Goodwill. Rosh Hashana

I recently delivered a keynote at the MacKillop Institute’s “Lead the Way” conference about how I cared for myself and supported members of my Australian Jewish community. I reflected on the middle ground between anger and absence of anger, between ignoring danger and debilitating anxiety and between shamelessness and persistent shame. This is the path I have walked since the mass murder of 15 people at Bondi Beach on 14 December 2025. The multiple emotions that I have navigated have been heavy.

 

The feelings of loss and hurt are varied and I make no judgement on how others deal with their pain. However, we can still explore different ways of striving for emotional wellbeing to get to as good a place as possible.  After all, however difficult it may be to receive emotional support, the cost of not getting relief is high.

Limited Duration Emotions

In Genesis (1), Cain felt angry and his “face fell” after his offering of fruit was rejected by God. The fallen face is a classic shame response. God challenged Cain with two questions. The first was; why was Cain angry? The second question was, “Why has your face fallen?” While Cain had failed to please God with his offering, and an initial feeling of shame was understandable, ruminating on rejection that led to persistent shame was not helping Cain.

One of the Chasidic masters compared a person in a low mood to a wrestler who is feeling down and can be easily defeated by a weaker but positive opponent (2). If we allow our negative emotions to drag us down, we won’t have the energy we need to prevail over our inner struggles. 

Trying to deny or squash one’s emotions does not work because they, especially fear and anger, are like alarm clocks, natural alerts telling us that a response is needed.  If I feel anger because something is wrong, and it leads me to have an adrenaline spike and I use this emotion as fuel to motivate myself and others to change something specific, then the anger is clearly beneficial.

However, we can regulate our emotions to feel them for shorter amounts of time. Emotions are like an alarm clock - anger, fear, etc are a response to a situation to alert us that a response might be needed. Once our alarm clock rings, we need to switch it off. For those of us who are in the habit of scrolling social media, we have ongoing stimuli that trigger ongoing emotions. It is like spending the whole day with an alarm clock ringing at top volume.

When strong emotions such as fear, anger or despair become more pervasive and semi-permanent, they start to eat away at our well-being, with diminishing returns in terms of righting any wrongs or solving any problems.

Another argument for shortened anger can be made based on a psalm referring to divine anger. “For one moment, I find myself in His anger, a lifetime in His goodwill” (3) The Talmud states that God’s anger lasts for one 16^th of a second, every day! (4)

A values Star

Another factor is inner coherence. My clarity about my principles and my work with Muslims and others was strong enough to dismiss an angry outburst at a cemetery at the end of the funeral of a friend killed at Bondi, on 16 December, just two days after the murders. A man yelled at me that “my Muslims” did this and included some profanities.  The reason this rant did not hurt me was, first, that his accusation was absurd. But second, I have been on a journey toward what I call having a settled soul that comes from internal clarity.  

The Together for Humanity team was working recently with some 13-year-old girls at a Jewish school. Out of a menu of 18 values, we asked the girls to prioritise five or six values and paint a wooden star to depict their choses top values. The purpose of this exercise was to give the students representations of their values to help them navigate life and be less thrown by strong emotions.

The process for selecting the values drew on the Schwartz theory of basic human values, which encompasses hedonism or fun and the desire for power and control as well as care for others, universalism and tradition. We hope that a clearer sense of their most important values would make the girls less vulnerable to the judgement of others; when we know who we are, others’ representation of us matters less.

Ruminating after Bondi

One form of fear I have noticed recently in the Jewish community is a persistent anxiety or heaviness – which of course is completely understandable. The anxiety is made worse for some people in the community by ruminating on everything that is wrong and terrible, fed by doom-scrolling and endless circular conversations in person and on WhatsApp. Being more intentional about our attention might help some people, at least some of the time. My reduced use of social media in general – at least a lot of the time – has been very helpful to me.

Hope

Despite all the concerns, I remain hopeful – at least some of the time - and I have spoken to Jewish communities around Australia, arguing against voices of despair.

When I spoke to a Jewish community in Perth, some in the audience said that all hope was lost for Jewish people in Australia and that we need to move to other countries. They argued that our time is similar to what they experienced in the former Soviet Union or what happened with the Nazis in the lead-up to the Holocaust.

I acknowledged that there are legitimate safety concerns, that there are people who wish to do us harm and are prepared to put such wishes into action. On the other hand, there are important differences between what is happening now and what happened in the past, and the future is still up for grabs. The future has not happened yet. There are decisions being made now that can take our country in a good direction. We can improve education in schools to encourage intercultural curiosity and wellbeing for all; we can have leadership in the public sphere that pushes back on narratives that represent people as less than others or collectively deserving of hatred. 

The same group of Jewish girls I mentioned earlier met a Muslim woman in a hijab whom I will call Fatima. Fatima talked to the girls about her experience at their age of attending a government school in regional Australia and craving to fit in and blend in. Despite this desire, she kept her scarf on because this was important to her as a young person of faith. The Jewish girls applauded her choice. In doing so, they not only showed care and respect for another, but also normalised their own place in multi-faith Australia. The warmth and love shown by those girls gives me hope.

We can be furious and fearful about specific behaviours and harm and take ethically considered action to respond to those emotions in ways that address the problem without causing unjustified harm. Then we can be intentional about directing our attention to thoughts and stimuli and self-care practices that enable us to be calm in ourselves and caring toward our neighbours. Renewing our social contract and flourishing together requires nothing less.

Notes

1)       Genesis, 4:5

2)       Rabbi Shneur Zalman of Liadi, in Tanya chapter 26

3)       Psalm 30:6

4)       Talmud, Brachot, 7a 

After Bondi - Leaders’ self-care and service

It is 5 am in New York, and I can’t sleep. I awoke feeling highly alert from a disturbing, relatively mundane but vivid dream about feeling frantic and let down. Wide awake, I take a moment to reflect on what is going on for me these days.

My initial response to the Bondi Beach Hanukkah massacre was a mixture of sadness and responsibility. I showed up for the bereaved and did what I could to address the challenge of Muslim-Jewish relations in Sydney and Australia. However, leaving Sydney and having a break from work with my family in New York has proved challenging some of the time. There is sometimes a sense of unreality about everything that is not the horror of what happened or the work that flows from it. At such moments, I feel alienated.

Creative Commons 4.0 image credit: 
https://www.mentalhappy.com/blog/holiday-priorities-dont-leave-self-care-off-your-list

On Friday night, my nephew, Chaim Kastel, a member of one of the bereaved families, talked at the Shabbat dinner table with my parents and other extended family, about the inspiring response of the Sydney Rabbis, about their service to the community, setting aside any differences or conflicts and rising to the challenge of caring for a community shattered by violence and tragedy. His words moved me to gratitude.

To all my rabbinical colleagues, I thank you and acknowledge your service. It is not easy or clear how to be there for others when you and your families are in pain. Thank you to my brother Mendel, working for the best outcomes for bereaved families and for culturally and religiously appropriate practices for the dead.  This is only a fraction of what you have done. I salute you, older brother, and I celebrate all the Rabbis for everything they have done and are doing.

For me, having (mostly and temporarily) stepped away from “the doing”, I feel a jumble of feelings that are hard to isolate. Anger, as well as sadness. I am not sure where my anger is directed. I have angry thoughts about God. It is ok to feel frustrated with God in the Jewish tradition, particularly in the Chabad school of thought. I will never forget the echoes of the Hebrew word for “Why?” (“Lamah?” “Lamah?”) echoing off the hills at the funeral of Mumbai couple Rabbi Gabi and Rivki Holzberg, murdered by terrorists. The question was posed by Rabbi Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi, (1943-2015, then Chief Rabbi of Kfar Chabad, Israel). We don’t accept the argument that human atrocities are just the choices of humans. Our theology teaches that God is present in human events, even if he “hides his face” (1).

I feel drawn to the complaint of Moses after he sent to Pharaoh to solve the problem of the suffering Hebrew slaves. At first, Pharaoh’s response to Moses’ efforts was to make life even harder for the slaves by removing their supply of straw that they needed for building but demanding that they still build as much as before, and when they failed to do the impossible, they were to be beaten (2). The Israelites expressed their annoyance to Moses who then turned to God with the complaint, “Why – (Lamah) have you done bad to this people? And why did you send me (3)”.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe wrote that regardless of God’s response to Moses – that things would improve – the fact that the Torah records Moses’ complaint reflects a degree of legitimacy of that complaint (4). As Jews we are required to believe that God is good and that everything is ultimately for the best, yet we are allowed to cry out in pain about human suffering.

Moses’ complaint seems to have two parts. One was about the people’s suffering, and the second part was about the impact on him as a leader having been sent on a failed mission. Leaders often show great care for others, but we are still human. The pain of failure or the absence of hoped-for achievements is not only an experience in sharing the community’s pain; it also carries a personal cost of frustration and distress.

For me, Bondi was a nightmare that I dreaded could happen and was hoping could be prevented. The failure to prevent it does not make me feel guilty, but it weighs heavily on me as a personal disappointment.

The personal disappointment is a little embarrassing. “It is not about you,” chastises my inner critic. I agree that the suffering of bereaved families is more important than my feelings, and so is the greater suffering of the Jewish community in Sydney and other impacted communities. Yet, I feel what I feel and I am as worthy of care as anyone else. In addition, if I am going to be useful to anyone, I need to acknowledge how I feel and process these feelings.

I draw comfort from commentaries about Moses’ frustration at his involvement (5) in an apparently futile attempt to alleviate the suffering of the slaves. “If they were not going to be saved why involve me in this?” Alternatively, he complained about the timing of his mission when he said, “Why send me now if God is not ready to free the people at this time?” (6)

There are other commentaries that explain Moses’ complaint as being focused on the suffering of the people rather than on himself (7), such as his question, “If sending me was not going to help the people anyway, what was the point?” In other words, Moses had hoped that his mission would reduce the suffering of his people a little, right away. When this failed to eventuate, Moses asked why he was sent if there was no immediate relief. (8)

For leaders, it needs to be about both the people we serve and our own self-care and management. I hope that my colleagues and I do what we need to do to look after ourselves and our emotions. At the same time, along with my inspiring colleagues, I will be there for others and do what I can for a better future. Moses eventually saw the exodus come to fruition and also worked through his personal challenges.

 

1)    Deuteronomy 18:31

2)    Exodus, 5:6- 5:21

3)    Exodus 55:11

4)    Schnneerson, Rabbi MM, Likutei Sichos Vol 1, Shemos.

5)    Seforno, Bechor Shor,

6)    Ohr Hachayim, one explanation, the Netziv in Haamek Davar

7)    Ohr Hachayim alternative explanation

8)    Ralbag, Ibn Ezra, Chizkuni