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I know that the word does not exist in any dictionary, and there is no recommended alternative, but I find that it describes certain situations best, even if I was the one who created the word: retraumatization. I intend its use to describe a situation where someone who has experienced trauma experiences it again. The second experience might not be identical to the original, but it can cause the sufferer to have a comparable reaction. I have experienced it multiple times since 10.27, and can recall the moments, although this is not an exhaustive list: the attack upon the Chabad synagogue in Poway on the last day of Passover in 2019; the premier of the anthology that I created; the first time I viewed the two most familiar films about 10.27. And then there is October 7, 2023. It has not been merely that one day, but sometimes it feels like every day since that horrific day. Then came the attack upon two Jewish students on the Pitt campus followed by the return of six hostages that may have been slaughtered just before the IDF discovered them.

While I have not experienced the pain of the families of all of the hostages, and now the pain of six families who held out hope that their loved ones would be returned alive that has transformed into the pain of indescribable loss, I understand and empathize with their trauma. And their trauma is not merely specific to them – the entire State of Israel is traumatized by this, as are Jews throughout the world. We witnessed this trauma in the aftermath of 10.27, an event unprecedented in the United States. There are moments that all of us cry out to God: When does the pain go away?

Some of you might recall the red tool box. It is a cumbersome, somewhat heavy metal box that is not always easy to carry. When you open it, you find a black plastic tray where smaller tools that are used most frequently as well as a loose collection of fasteners are kept. When you lift up the tray, you find the hacksaw, a hammer, and other tools that do not fit in the black tray. In coping with trauma, we turn to the toolbox and the tools in the black tray. Sometimes the content of that tray is sufficient to cope with the trauma. Sometimes it is not. I came to learn that by lifting up the black tray, which I had not done previously, there were tools in my toolbox that I did not know I possessed, and they helped me manage my trauma. The pain doesn’t necessarily go away, but with time and the proper usage of the tools under the black tray, we can learn how to integrate the trauma into our being. Usually the under-tray tools work; once in a while they do not in the initial moments. But given proper usage, the generosity of time and self-care, they will work as intended. On the rare occasion when nothing in the tool box seems to work, a good mental health professional can help you identify new tools to put in the box. You see, the toolbox is magical, almost Harry Potter-like, in that it can expand to fit new tools. There will always be room for new tools despite the seemingly limited dimensions of the toolbox, almost like the outside versus inside of the Tardis (see Dr. Who).

In the trauma that we all feel right now, permit me to offer a few tools that we all possess:

1. Access to mental health professionals. It is perfectly okay to say “I’m not okay right now”. If your heart was not okay, you’d go to a cardiologist. If your lungs were not okay, you’d go to a pulmonologist. If your emotional state is not okay, you go to a mental health professional.
2. Sharing as a community. There is something curative about being together as a community. Jews have known this ever since the minyan was created. We hug each other, console each other, and draw strength from each other. Come to shul. That’s where your community resides.
3. Don’t keep it in. It may surprise you to learn that other people close to you feel the same way. Don’t be afraid to begin the conversation, or join in on one already in progress. Learning that others feel exactly as you do can be cathartic.
4. Find joy. It is unhealthy to exclude joy from your life because you feel guilty about it. You may recall the Rabbinic tale from the Talmud that I have shared before. A funeral procession and a wedding procession are each heading down a different road, and will meet simultaneously at a fork in the road. While Yogi Berra will tell you to pick up the fork, the Rabbis ask: “Who goes first?”. They are unanimous in stating that the wedding goes first, because joy supersedes sadness. But not only are the wedding celebrants to go first. The funeral procession must hide out of site so as not to lessen their joy. Joy must be a normative part of our daily experience. Do the things that give you joy. Seek out additional opportunities for joy.

We at the Tree of Life have a great deal of experience in these nearly six years utilizing our toolboxes. Now is another time to take it out and use it. Please note that you are not alone. If you need me, call me, as Carole King writes, and soon I will be there. I may not come running, but I’m there for you. Let’s be there for each other. See you in shul.