On Facebook last week, one of our member’s posed the following set of questions, asking about how the past year has affected us: “Are you less hopeful (or more)? Were things harder than you would have anticipated? Were some things better (or worse) than you thought they would be?”
Here are some of the answers they received:
- I learned that merging work and child care didn’t make me that much worse as a scientist, but it makes me a way worse mom.
- The past year made me realize how I dislike the way I lived, especially my job and everything I had to do with the job.I feel I’m in a much happier and healthier state right now.
- I have learned that fresh air is even more magical than before Covid.
- I’ve learned I love my family and am grateful we get along.
- I’ve learned my faith is much deeper and stronger than I imagined.”
As we approach the end of our Second Passover in Covid, I think it is a good time to reflect on how far we’ve come and how far we have yet to go.
Lately, I have been reading a wonderful book I happened upon in the Amherst library called “Humankind: A Hopeful History” by Rutger Bregman. In it, the author suggests people are a lot better than we are given credit for.
Read the Buffalo News, watch the television news, or scroll through Facebook on any given day and you may be convinced we are truly awful and depraved creatures. Take this past week alone for example, we had seven mass shootings, including three last Saturday alone. The famous words of Rodney King posed in 1992 echo in the air, “People, I just want to say, can’t we all get along.”
But, in actuality in day-to-day life, people are generally good and helpful. Over the entirety of the world there are very few examples of people actively trying to hurt one another. So, why the misconception?
For Bregman, two psychological biases cloud our understandings: the negativity bias and the availability bias. The negativity bias says that we are more attuned to bad news to good. This is compounded by the availability bias which says that if we can easily recall examples of a given thing, we assume it must be common. Together, these impulses lead to what Bregman calls a “nocebo.” What is a nocebo? Well, it’s the opposite of a placebo, the imaginary sugar pill that makes us better. Instead of making us better, a nocebo makes us worse. In other words, because we fervently believe humanity is bad, we, in fact, become bad.
For years, Danish psychologist Tom Postmes has been asking his students the following question: “Imagine an airplane makes an emergency landing and breaks into three parts. As the cabin fills with smoke everyone inside realizes: we’ve got to get out of here. What happens?
- The passengers turn to their neighbors to ask if they’re okay. Those needing assistance are helped out of the plane first. People are willing to give their lives, even for perfect strangers.
- Everyone’s left to fend for themselves. Panic breaks out. There’s lots of pushing and shoving. Children, the elderly, and people with disabilities get trapped underfoot.”
Which scenario do you think is more realistic?
Ninety-seven percent choose A, but in actuality people are much more likely to behave according to B. We are good And, how do I know this to be a fact? Passover is my example.
How so rabbi, you ask? Have you forgotten about Pharaoh and the task masters, and hundreds of years of servitude? And, what about the drowned babies? How good were our fellow human beings then?
My answer to you is two words – Shiphrah and Puah – the brave Egyptian midwives who risked their own lives to defy Pharaoh’s decree. These are the real heroes of the story and of my faith in humanity. When asked to kill Israelite baby boys, they refuse claiming that “Hebrew women are not as the Egyptian women; for they are lively and deliver before the midwives come to them.” While we are not told their fate, we can only imagine what cruel punishments they were given for their reticence to follow Pharaoh’s command.
This is an example of humanity at its best. But, what about the rest of the Egyptians, you ask? Don’t think for a second that Moses was an anomaly, the one Israelite baby boy saved from drowning in the Nile! Yes, Pharaoh commanded, but I very much doubt any of his subjects listened. And, who saves Moses, none other than Pharaoh’s daughter, acting as a righteous gentile for our ancestors. Indeed, righteous gentiles, people that are willing to risk their own lives to save a persecuted population, are not just the exception, but the rule. A few years ago when I visited the righteous gentile garden at Yad VaShem, I found out that they had received so many examples they were no longer able to plant trees in their honor. At this point there are 27,712 from 51 countries.
And, what also gives me hope in humanity? You do. The way we have come together to make sure not a single congregant has been left behind. We, too, are not the exception. Shir Shalom is an example of the way human beings are designed to work together. That is our superhero skill, our key advantage over other animals.
Let us not exit our second Passover under Covid in a pessimistic state. Let us think about the many ways we were helped out and were able to help others over the course of the past year. I hope it’s been a Zissen Pesach, a joyous holiday, one where each of us in our way makes this a better, more habitable place to live. I am so grateful to share this planet with you.
Chag Sameach and Shabbat Shalom,
Rabbi Alex
Last Updated on 04/12/2021 by Marc Slonim