Faculty and students tirelessly demonizing Israel. Massive protests in the streets of Tel Aviv and Jerusalem. A dramatic rise in global antisemitism.
No, those aren’t current headlines – they are from before the Simchat Torah massacre and the hell that has ensued over the past 12 months.
Wait, weren’t those the good old days, which shockingly ended when our lives were shattered on Oct. 7? Given how bad things are today, it is easy to forget the uproar regarding “judicial reform,” or the insidious impact that the Boycott, Divestment and Sanctions (BDS) movement has had on our nation’s campuses for decades. I remember, instead, the beauty of last year’s High Holy Day celebrations, and the excitement around the Abraham Accords. I long for that optimistic time, regardless of how I actually felt back then.
Selective memory is an essential coping mechanism. There is an extensive scientific literature showing how people block out some upsetting memories, shielding themselves from emotional pain. Many psychologists consider it to be the mind’s way of safeguarding its health.
How many of us recall childhood joys, glossing over how we truly felt at the time? I have lots of fond recollections of junior high school, for example, taking interesting new classes and making new friends. Yet, I know that I regularly begged my mom to let me stay home, pretending that I was sick. I suppose that I have largely blocked out how humiliating it was to search the cafeteria for a place to sit, among other indignities. And I think often of spending summers at a Jewish camp in the Poconos (the same one, incidentally, that Doug Emhoff attended a decade or so later). Sleeping under the stars, barbequing in front of a massive fire, swimming across the lake, playing sports around the clock. What a time! Until my sister (who was at the neighboring girls’ camp) reminds me of how miserable I was – begging my parents to take me home during their annual visitors’ day pilgrimage.
Memory plays tricks on us all. Even on Moses.
Deuteronomy recounts many of the events from the preceding four books of the Torah. But the text doesn’t always get it right. The recitation of the Ten Commandments, for example, differs from the version presented in Exodus. And as for Moses, when he recalls the tale of how he sent out scouts to explore the promised land, he praises the Israelite people for coming up with the idea: “Then all of you came to me and said, ‘Let us send emissaries ahead to reconnoiter the land’ …” (Deuteronomy 1:22). Very gracious of him to give credit, even though that wasn’t the original story. According to Numbers 13:1, “G-d spoke to Moses, saying ‘Send emissaries to scout the land of Canaan’ …” I will leave it to the rabbinical authorities to sort this one out, but it might simply be the case that Moses, at the ripe old age of 120, didn’t recollect exactly what had transpired.
So, as improbable as it seems, perhaps a year from now we will focus on what is positive about today. We may remember the pride that Jews worldwide felt in celebrating their faith in the face of seemingly insurmountable obstacles, or how some of our non-Jewish friends supported us when we needed it most. And we may consider with lasting gratitude that some politicians were vocal in condemning anti-Jewish hatred.
Like Moses, we might not recall things perfectly, but that’s OK. One of my favorite songs, “I Remember it Well,” from Lerner and Loewe’s musical, “Gigi,” makes that point beautifully. An elderly couple recounts how they met. Him: “That carriage ride.” Her: “You walked me home.” Him: “You lost a glove.” Her:“I lost a comb.” The song goes on and on, making it clear that the specific ”memories” are pretty much irrelevant. What matters is that it worked out in the end.
When we reflect back on our memories of today, may we be eager to remember the good. And may we make new memories, especially ones that allow us to rejoice in the collective strength and resiliency of the Jewish people.
When we reflect back on our memories of today, may we be eager to remember the good. And even more importantly, may we make new memories, especially ones that allow us to rejoice in the collective strength and resiliency of the Jewish people and of our ancient homeland.
Morton Schapiro is the former president of Williams College and Northwestern University. His most recent book (with Gary Saul Morson) is “Minds Wide Shut: How the New Fundamentalisms Divide Us.”
