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‘A Horror Movie that Never Ends’

Good and evil is now a daily dose of reality. Displacement and loss are beyond imagination, while care and donations feed those desperate for a touchstone of life.
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January 15, 2025
A Los Angeles police officer walks by a commercial building destroyed in the Palisades Fire on January 12, 2025 (Photo by Justin Sullivan/Getty Images)

As I sit on my balcony, shielded from the sun by my aubergine umbrella, listening to the water recycling from my fountain and the gentle movement of a neighbor’s pool, I focus on my breath, slow and deep, attempting to stay centered and grounded in the midst of flames and decimation to the west and the east and some parts north. South feels safe and the direction one races toward if they need to flee and evacuate. It’s surreal, and as one Palisades sufferer put it, “a horror movie that never ends.” Ruach Elohim, the wind that flows into our nostrils, nourishing and enlivening each one of us, has become the devastating enemy that both reignites danger and prevents containing this demon.

In our tradition, the flame, the wind, and water have such core meaning and a central ritual place. Or, Ruach, and Mayim are all evidence of Divine presence. In Torah they guide and nourish and yet throughout civilization they have come to represent destruction, now to apocalyptic proportions. Our relationship to each of these reflects the paradox that is so central to living. Good and evil is now a daily dose of reality. Displacement and loss are beyond imagination, while care and donations feed those desperate for a touchstone of life. 

The panorama of emotions floods us all. For some the dark reality of loss, displacement, grief, fear and anxiety is most present. For others the gratitude and guilt of survival and physical comfort looms large. Yet all in the City of Angels reverberate with confusion, unknowns and chaos as disaster persists, with horrific long-term PTSD to look forward to. Without relief, the long road forward seems overwhelming with glimmers of joy beyond grasp. Like a long-awaited wedding, the Olympics feels like that beacon we can’t wait to touch, imagining the celebratory moments, the rebuilding and successes we fantasize in the future, but which are illusionary at best right now.

We humans are remarkable for our resilience and fortitude. The crises and political realities, the repercussions of the pandemic everyone faced and rode through, the wars and conflicts filling the world, the souls still hidden underground, and the personal, financial and medical challenges so many face — minute to minute — test us continually. We need to show kindness and compassion to ourselves, to those we love, and any and all we engage with these coming days. We are remarkable in what we sustain and what we have the capacity to give.

This is the spiritual strength our tradition offers in tragic and painful moments. Reminders that G-d has faith in us, Emunatecha, as our prayer upon opening our eyes reminds us. Just as Jeremiah reminded the exiled community “build homes and live your lives in a foreign land, and you will return 30 years from now.” A hard pill to swallow in the midst of such tragedy, but recover and rebuild will happen, even if we can’t even imagine it in these tragic moments. Jewish hope, which we grasp and hold in our hearts, is a constant medicinal. 

As danger calls on “fight/flight” response and vigilance during this unending reality, things can turn on a dime, and for the first time I sat focusing and creating my list of what I need to have ready to take should it be necessary. Our congregation’s Torah we house, top of the list. 

But we must also take a dedicated and conscious moment, close our eyes, breathe the strength and sustenance we need to be present and responsive. Be in a moment of awareness, of calm, and touch the love so many are energetically sharing right now. Throughout the country and the world from friends, relatives, and even strangers, concern and empathy are being transmitted, whether in texts, emails and Facebook, but literally passed through the air we breathe and the invisible channels of the Universe. We’re not alone and we will hold each other up.


Eva Robbins is a rabbi, cantor, artist and the author of “Spiritual Surgery: A Journey of Healing Mind, Body and Spirit.”

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