Beginning on Oct. 7, 2023, hundreds of alumni, students and faculty I work with experienced personal loss—leaving their families, jobs and studies to serve in the military, or remaining at home while spouses, parents, children or siblings served. Many left the regions they were living in due to constant bombardment from enemies in the north or south. Worlds were turned upside down. Many remain that way, as do hundreds of thousands of others in Israel.
Yet necessity has required that everyone try to return to normal—to find new routines so we can continue to work, study, carry out military service, care for our families, or all of the above.
With immense bravery and dedication, soldiers return to battle after their friends have died right next to them; women whose husbands are serving in reserve duty continue to work and shoulder the full responsibilities at home alone. People whose relatives were killed, injured or taken hostage do many of the same things everyone else does: go to work, go to school, wait in line at the store or board a crowded bus. Often, they look somewhere between normal and heroic.
But the toll has been severe, even if we can’t or don’t always see it. More than 33% of Israelis report experiencing depression, and 67.9% report feeling stressed, according to recent government figures. We all probably know someone suffering from these challenges, or we may even be dealing with them ourselves. The country is in the midst of a mental-health crisis. And the reality is that these conditions are often hidden from view. People put on masks and carry on with their lives as much as possible.
The responsibility rests on all of us, especially educators and community leaders, not to be fooled by appearances, but to look deeper and offer help in meaningful ways. This is what Judaism demands of us, and what our future requires of us.
One of the central themes of the Purim holiday is a focus on the deeper, hidden layers of the world, in terms of both God and people. In fact, the heroine of the Megillah is Esther, a name that itself evokes hiddenness. The concept is called “Hester Panim,” when God hides His face.
On Purim, this is symbolized in reading Megillat Esther, the only biblical book in which God is hinted at, but not explicitly mentioned. It is also a holiday in which many wear masks and costumes. The more serious spiritual lesson is that the physical or surface level of people and events does not tell the whole story. Just as we need to look deeper into the story of Esther to see the Divine at work, we need to pay more attention to what is going on deep inside ourselves and those around us.
As with Purim, rather than waiting for a miracle to happen, we as educators and community leaders need to take more serious steps to address mental health and to do the work that will lead to healing.
First and foremost, we need to publicly acknowledge the extensive struggles. This includes classroom and community discussions about all of the trends: widespread trouble sleeping, PTSD among 60% of soldiers who have been treated for war wounds and the severe shortage of therapists to deal with these life-threatening issues. These discussions should happen to raise awareness so that anyone who is suffering understands they are not alone.
In addition, leaders and educators should know where they can refer individuals for different levels of professional help. My organization, with the help of generous donors, went so far as to offer in-house counseling to any and all students and staff. Help can be one-off or ongoing. Anything that institutions can do to directly provide therapy, counseling, and other forms of assistance is especially crucial. People often struggle to afford such services, feeling uncomfortable seeking them or finding providers who are not already overbooked.
Institutions or communities that are not in a position to provide their own services could help raise or collect funds to underwrite the services for those who need them. At the very least, schools and workplaces should accommodate the schedule changes that seeking therapy or other help often requires, as the change in routine required for treatment is often a barrier to seeking or completing care.
From a Jewish perspective, treating and supporting those struggling with mental health is a mitzvah central to our faith. It is protecting life: pikuach nefesh. Saving lives is of such paramount importance that we are allowed to break the Sabbath for it. Mental health is clearly seen as part of overall health; when we pray daily for the sick, we pray for the healing of the nefesh and guf—the “soul” and the “body,” with the reference to the soul coming first.
It is my prayer this Purim that we are able to dedicate more time and attention to dealing with the mental-health crisis in Israel. We will not be able to restore Israel’s strength or heal as a people unless we rise to this challenge and commit ourselves to confronting this crisis. Our national resilience depends not only on our military strength, but on the emotional and spiritual well-being of our people.
