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That feeling of just too much has returned. It’s different from eating way too much at the Passover Seder, as that passes. It is the continuous flow of bad news with no escape. I’ve experienced it twice within the past 5 ½ years. The first was within the first six months of 10.27, when the onslaught of media, requests for interviews, telephone calls, text messages, a steady flow of visitors and so much more made when wonder what I can do, or where can I go, just to escape. The second was this summer, during what I personally labeled the “trial of the century”. It reached a point where I had to stop attending the trial, as it was just too much. Again, there was no escape from reporting, telephone calls, and so forth. The feeling is back.

The ongoing war in Gaza, which the world solely blames Israel for; the complete departure of unbiased reporting of what is happening in Gaza (to rephrase Simon & Garfunkle, “Where have you gone Walter Cronkite, the nation turns its lonely eyes to you?”); rampant antisemitism, especially on college campuses; politicians in both parties in the United States making declarations devoid of reality or truth; motions in both city and county councils demanding a cease fire; ignoring the fate of over 100 hostages who within less than three weeks will have been captives for half of a year; dismissing the rape of so many Israeli women on October 7; and so much more.

I cannot imagine the pain and heartache of the hostages’ families and those who have suffered losses, and do not suggest that they be ignored. The batteries just cannot keep a full charge every hour of every day. While I am not a mental health professional, I would think that there needs to be an occasional break from the constant weight of the present.

My go-to text, Psalm 121, has not always proven to be effective. Sometimes it is the understanding borne from praying to God to learn that, while I cannot control world events, I can control my response. And sometimes my response has to be: take a break. While it is not possible to totally eliminate all input, a brief respite can do wonders. A short stroll through Frick Park. Enjoying the beginning of second or third Spring after the conclusion of fourth Winter, especially since the deer did not eat my five daffodils this year. Watching a short video of my granddaughter. Sitting on the porch and doing the NY Times crossword puzzle. I’ve come to learn that these too must be a part of my life, and not only when I need them like now, but on a regular basis. Sometimes it is sending a bad dad joke to my son, since I have to keep in practice and prepare to recycle them for a new audience, my granddaughter.

Another well-worn and meaningful experience is attending Shabbat services, communing with God and schmoozing with your fellow congregants, as long as you acknowledge which one should come first. While I tragically continue to remind the congregation of the hostages with a tallit draped over an empty chair in the front row, sometimes my remarks will stray from the overwhelming news of the day, as I suspect that many may feel the same way I do. We can and do pray for the hostages’ release and the cessation of war, but there are times when we need to take care of ourselves, and if that means leaving the events of the world outside the door of the sanctuary for an hour or two, it seems to me that is a legitimate way to achieve a better mental health balance. Besides, everything that we left outside will we waiting for us as we exit. If you feel the way I do, join us for services. If you don’t, that’s great. You can still join us for services. You might even leave refreshed and re-jew-venated.