Lately, I’ve been attempting to limit my nightly doomscrolling and overconsumption of Israel news by replacing my phone with something far superior: the volumes of Jewish books that adorn the bookshelves of our home. Last week, I re-read Primo Levi’s Survival In Auschwitz, a book I first read in high school when I likely did not fully understand its depth and meaning.
Levi was a Jewish-Italian chemist who was arrested by Italian fascists in 1943 and deported to Auschwitz, where he survived ten months of systematic cruelty. While, of course, it is difficult to relive another painful chapter in our people’s history, Levi’s words frequently—and surprisingly —filled me with a remarkable sense of hope. He explains, in short, that while perfect happiness is unrealizable in a human life, perfect unhappiness is equally unattainable. A man who lived such a dehumanizing experience might be filled with hate and despair, but instead, Levi clung to the notion that no one could ever fully take his humanity, his thoughts, his soul, his memory, his hope.
In a moment when I am so often discouraged by media clips, one-liners, and a constant stream of fast-moving news, Primo Levi’s decades old work reminded me that we can better hold onto our sanity when we intentionally carve out space and time to think, to read, and to wonder outside of the abyss of our phones. Here at Wise, our weekly classes, Torah study sessions, Shabbat worship and sermons give us the same space in the midst of all the noise. I hope that you will make time in the coming weeks to read, reflect, and connect with our community, and I pray that any moments of pause and connection will comfort you—as they do me—during this unsettling time.
— Cantor Emma Lutz