SOOTHING THE TROUBLED SOUL

Excerpt"Sparks of Light: Counseling in the Hasidic tradition" by Edward Hoffman and Reb Zalman M. Schachter-Shalomi, pp. 151-155:

SOOTHING THE TROUBLED SOUL

Similar to their multi-tiered approach to physical illness, the Hasidic founders expressed varying views toward mental disorder: that is, cases in which people repeatedly and grossly violated religious and community norms. One master intriguingly argued that the normal human condition is insanity and that only by the grace of God are individuals sane. Another espoused that madness is a disease of the will. Rabbi Aaron of Karlin articulated the notion that "There is no mental illness without pride .... All mental illness is based on wanting to have one's own way,"

Yet other rebbes taught that emotional sickness, like its bodily counterpart, derives from the Evil Inclination [Yetzer Ha-Ra]: when people sin, they make themselves vulnerable to the "spirit of folly," which can then seize hold and turn them from moral behavior. From this perspective, mental illness represents a fall from consciousness or "right knowing" - a state of profound forgetfulness of one's higher nature.

Certainly, one of the most prevalent forms of emotional distress within shtetl life was depression. Even a casual perusal of early Hasidic sermons and tracts reveals that rebbes were very much concerned with identifying and treating this debilitating condition. From the unrelieved economic and political hardships of Jews in that milieu, it is hardly surprising that many people fell prey to feelings of hopelessness and despair; powerlessness and self-doubt easily become chronic and pathological.

Rather, what is difficult to explain is that such energetic, optimistic figures as the Hasidic leaders even existed - promulgating a message of joy when so little outwardly justified it. The Besht had repeatedly urged, "There is a great rule in the service of the Creator: guard yourself from sadness in every possible way."

It is important to note that the Hasidic founders focused specifically on the real, clinical signs of depression and not on normal reactions to the vicissitudes of life, such as grief and mourning. Anticipating modern psychology by centuries, rebbes like Nachman of Bratslav and Schneur Zalman of Liady pinpointed such behavioral signs as listlessness and lethargy, loss of appetite and sleeplessness, and the inability to shed tears as indicators of serious depression. Conversely, if the rebbe felt that the hasid was merely trying to avoid confronting his appropriate emotions of sadness, he would be made to face these.

Two basic methods existed by which rebbes treated depression; sometimes, these were used together. With the first, the rebbe sought to arouse the hasid's sense of excitement and anticipation of gratification, such as from spiritual sources. Occasionally, the hasid might also be permitted to regress to more physical pleasures, provided these were sanctioned within Jewish and Hasidic practice.

The second approach-known as the bitush or "shattering" was predicated upon the rebbe's belief that chronic depression can best be broken by heightening the condition to a piercingly acute state. Interpreting the story of Exodus on this level, they taught that the hasid must sacrifice the lamb - his "animal soul' - in order to liberate his imprisoned yearnings for renewed life.

How was this "death" to be accomplished? Sometimes, the hasid's discipline was intensified through fasting and enforced solitude. But above all, rebbes strove to induce the hasid to cry - not with fleeting tears, but with wracking, soul-wrenching sobs, weeping that welled up from one's entire being. Feelings of aching dullness had to give way to release.

The hasid's inner resignation was transformed first to the world-less scream, "Help me, Father!"; then to a long, long wail like a Shofar blast; then to a broken weeping; and finally, to a shattered wimpering. Only after utter despair could come laughter and joy, the Hasidic leaders stressed. The hopelessness that had characterized the inescapability of death had become the impetus for a flight to life.

Of course, not every person was strong enough to withstand such a crisis; but the rebbes regarded palliatives and easy assurances as serving ultimately only to prolong a serious depression. As long as one appeared able to withstand the bitush, no one could spare him the ordeal. It was deemed the surest and quickest way to mental recovery.

Another common type of emotional disturbance among shtetl folk was what we would term hysteria. In essence, hysteric manifestations result from inner conflict and take the form of dramatic impairment or paralysis of the muscular-sensory system. For instance, a woman may suddenly find that she cannot move her hand or leg; one morning, a man may awaken blind or mute. Such cases were far from rare among East European Jews of the time; in fact, they formed the initial basis for Sigmund Freud's private practice in Vienna about a century later.

Generally, rebbes seemed to have treated hysteric episodes as though they were real, physical illnesses. In a sense, rebbes assisted the sufferer by accepting his symptoms as legitimate, but yet banishing these without shaming him by suggesting that he had been feigning true sickness. In this way, the hasid had little motive to adopt new symptoms, as he had gained special, community status as "one who had been healed." His desire for attention having been satisfied, he no longer felt it necessary to cling to his disorder. He could return to normal life.

Thus, rebbes were often called upon to help women in difficult labor to have normal deliveries. Under intense anxiety and fear, they were tightening their own muscles and thereby increasing their agony. A gentle, soothing word from the rebbe, or an amulet with the "Name" [Tetragrammaton] on it, frequently succeeded in calming the woman in labor and effecting a smooth delivery.

So it was with the blind, the lame, and the mute. In one dramatic instance, the rebbe restored a man's sight, then withdrew it. The rebbe wanted to show that he had the power to heal the man, but he did not deserve it. We are told that a rebbe once said in a deaf-mute's presence, "Drown him, shock him, wake his nerves!" and this alone was sufficient to heal him. In another tale, the rebbe first restored a man's hearing and then helped his speech.

Sometimes, the rebbe demanded a certain sacrifice on the part of the hasid's family before agreeing to effect the cure; perhaps, the Hasidic masters were more knowledgeable about subtle, family dynamics and "sick roles" than we think. For example, the father of a deaf-mute son was asked to promise no longer to shave. Because of the intense social sanction involved, this oath represented a real sacrifice on the father's part. Only after he himself had completely accepted the rebbe's condition did the boy's cure take place.

From our present-day vantage point, obsessive-compulsive behavior was also common in the shtetl. Some hasidim were afflicted with a sense of perpetual anxiety and guilt concerning the fulfillment of religious obligations. They felt in need of guidance, to learn how to conduct themselves more meticulously. Some, no doubt, anticipated approval for their zealousness. Such persons were usually in for a rude awakening when they went for their yechidut (lit. "one-ing" - a hasid's private encounter-session with his rebbe).

Rebbes generally regarded over-scrupulosity as a symptom of emotional imbalance. They expected their hasidim to observe the Jewish Law with selfless delight, not with grim determination or boastful self-congratulation. On this subject, the Shtefaneshter poetically remarked, "Scrupulosity is a cloak made of pride, lined with anger, and sewn with melancholia."

In a modern Hasidic story, a rebbe once rebuked his prideful colleagues at a rabbinical convention. As they preened themselves on their zealous religious observances, he suddenly announced his own scrupulous refusal henceforth to eat yellow cucumbers. When his colleagues pressed him for an explanation, he sardonically replied, "Why? Because they taste bitter to me."

By denying the hasid the satisfaction of obsessive-compulsive conduct, the rebbe was often able to shock him into a more modest and ultimately more harmonious lifestyle. Certain Hasidic groups, though, viewed such an aberration less seriously than did others.

Certainly, no examination of shtetl mental illness and its treatment would be complete without a look at the dybbuk phenomenon. Of course, from the Hasidic perspective, possession of one's being by an invading psychic entity was a grave spiritual disorder, not primarily a sign of emotional imbalance. Such an invasion was seen to have been the result of a vulnerability due to some inner, moral lapse on the individual's part. They believed that such a person had become "weakened" by his unholy thoughts or deeds, thus opening himself to the dybbuk's power.

There were several behavioral signs that suggested to rebbes that the individual was possessed. These included a marked loss of appetite and the will to live, severe introversion, and occasionally, convulsions. When urged to eat or behave normally, the person might turn abusive and hostile, sometimes shaming family members in public. He might hurl lurid insults at others, or show contempt for holy rituals or objects. At times, he might unexpectedly regain his ordinary personality for brief periods and complain of being controlled by another being. Eventually, the family would take the sufferer to the rebbe.

Hasidic exorcisms were typically community affairs. Before assembled hasidim who served as witnesses, the rebbe would speak directly to the offending spirit, rather than to the sufferer's normal self. The rebbe would ask questions as to its identity and origins: invariably, the dybbuk would reveal itself as a discarnate soul who had committed some horrible sin in earthly existence. As divine retribution, it had been condemned to wander in the void.

Finally, the rebbe would order the dybbuk to depart; if it initially refused, the rebbe issued dire threats of eternal wandering or offers for later healing and uplifting. At times, the rebbe might even ask a dybbuk how it might be helped. Thereupon, the entity was perceived to leave - and the person restored to health. Once again, the rebbe's transcendent knowledge and power had triumphed over the forces of darkness.