Rosh Hashanah Sermon

As much mental illness as I have seen in this holy community over the years, this issue is also very personal for me. You see, two years ago, my stepfather Dallas committed suicide. He had suffered from relentless depression and addiction for decades. Despite his pain, he shared only joy and humor and love with our sons and with all of his adoring grandchildren. But we knew how much he struggled and the burden he felt, and ultimately, his depression was so bad that it overtook him. We miss him terribly and think about him every day.  The day after Robin Williams died, my mother posted the following words to her Facebook page. It was the first  time in the two years since Dallas’ death that she acknowledged his suicide publicly. “My husband committed suicide two years ago,” she said. “We all grieve when someone dies.”

Suicide is different because it is unexpected, nd totally devastating to family and loved ones. I say this now because of the very sad death or Robin Williams. For those who are depressed and unable to cope with your lives, who are unable to think of yourselves as part of this world any longer…please seek help. Write to me if you like. Today the world mourns Robin Williams.

Judaism has always understood that physical and mental illness are equally deserving of healing, and we are all a key to that healing. We need to make it safer for more people to come out  from behind the shadows  and find the support and care they need to continue to go on with their lives, both those living with mental illness and their family and friends who care for them.  We need to start talking more openly about the “secret” illness that nobody wants to talk about. It wasn’t so long ago that people only spoke in whispers about cancer. And while today we can speak about cancer and other diseases of the body freely, mental illness still carries with it a stigma and prejudice that prevents so many from seeking the help we need. But Judaism understands that emotional and spiritual pain are as real and serious as that of the body. Just look at the Mi Shebeirach prayer, the prayer for healing we recite every Shabbat and holiday­ refuat he-nefesh uh-refuat ha goof, we pray for healing of spirit, the soul,and healing of the body. And so many of us are in need of healing for both.If Robin Williams’ tragic death taught us anything, it is that mental illness can affect anybody; it does not discriminate. And Iknow as I look around this holy sanctuary tonight, that it touches so many of us and our loved ones. Look around at the people sitting by our sides. One in four adults experiences mental illness in a given year, approximately 61.5 million Americans. And about 20 percent of youth aged 13 to 18 experience severe mental disorders in a given year. Because cf them; because of the people sitting by our sides, we cannot keep silent. So pervasive is mental illness that it is the leading cause of disability in America, costing an estimated $193.2 billion in lost earnings each year. In fact, by 2030,depression will outpace cancer, stroke, war and accidents as the world’s leading cause of disability and death. And tragically, too many people take their own lives as a result of severe depression. On August 11th alone, the very day Robin Williams committed suicide, 108 other people did as well. They too left behind children,parents, and families who mourn their death and suffer in their absence.

Because of them, we cannot keep silent.  Every year, more people die from suicide than automobile accidents, and twice as many than from homicide. Because of the millions and millions who suffer from mental illness, we simply cannot keep silent anymore. And, while experts tell us that 90% of those who take their own lives suffer from mental illness, most people, a full 70-90 percent who do receive the correct treatment find significant relief from their symptoms and pain. For them, for all of those who heal and go on to live rich and meaningful lives, we cannot remain silent.

Yet despite all of this, people who live with mental illness continue to feel ostracized, marginalized, and certainly, misunderstood. Recently, a woman wrote about her friend who suffers from depression; “she is patronized, ignored and ridiculed…but rarely appreciated or respected. Why is it,” she asks, “that we can laud cancer survivors for how hard they’ve fought, but we don’t think about mental illness the same way?” Another man living with bipolar disorder admitted, “I told my friend about my mental illness and Inever heard from her again.” But, as Robin Williams said in “Good Will Hunting,” “I used to think that the worst thing in life was to end up alone. It’s not! The worst thing in life is to end up with people who make you feel alone.” And despite the medical advances in treating mental illness, so many misperceptions still exist. We all need to be clear, mental illness is not a moral failing, it is not a weakness or a character flaw. Infact, a national mental health organization reinforced this fact when they affixed a very large sign to an Upper West Side building in Manhattan that read, “Depression is a failure of chemistry, not character.” They could have written a long list of mental illnesses, but due to lack of space, couldn’t include them all! A local psychologist would direct her patients to read the sign every time they left her office.

For centuries, Judaism has understood depression to be a part of life. From Moses, who cried out to God, “Ican no longer bear the burden of this people alone…it is too heavy for me…Please kill me, let me no longer see my wretchedness,” to King Saul who was overcome by a ruach ra­ ah, an “bad spirit” or what we may see as bipolar illness today, our biblical ancestors faced horrific darkness. Rabbi Elliot Kukla of the Bay Area Jewish Healing Center explains that, “What the biblical stories teach us is that mental distress is a natural part of human life and a part of every society. Surviving our own moments of emotional suffering and finding the strength to walk with others through incredible pain are ancient and sacred obligations.” And while sometimes mental illness is chronic, other times it is situational;postpartum depression or midlife depression affect many of us, as does depression triggered by mourning or grief. And it is vital to seek help and support for these as well.

Even the Talmud, written 1,500 years ago, discusses depression and how best to offer support. In Berakhot, we read the story of Rabbi Eleazar who is ill,suffering from deep despair. When his friend, Rabbi Yochanan, visits him, he finds Eleazar alone in a darkened room, facing the wall.

He cannot bear to see the light; even the light from Yochanan’s arm is too bright for his eyes and his soul.  When Yochanan sees that his friend crying he asks, “Why are you crying?”  Then Eleazar finally answers, “I weep because all light fades into darkness, because all beauty eventually rots.” Yochanan, sitting beside his friend replies,”Yes, ultimately everything does die.  So perhaps you have reason to weep.” Then Yochanan sat down with his friend and wept alongside him. After a while Yochanan asked, “Does darkness comfort you? Do you want these sufferings?” “No,” Yochanan says. “Then give me your hand,” replies Yochanan,and he lifts Rabbi Eleazar up from his bed and out of his darkened room. Sometimes, the Talmud teaches us, the best way to help people who suffer is to just be present with them and accompany them in their darkness and into the light of day. Sometimes, the Talmud teaches us, the best way to help people how suffer is not to talk them out of their pain or tell them they will get better soon; it is to just be present with them and accompany them in their darkness.

But that is often so hard to do. In our society, we are so accustomed to avoiding darkness, with nightlights for our children to ward away monsters and televisions blaring at night to fill the silence, that we forget that darkness is not only inevitable, but that it can be a powerful and holy place as well.8 It is where Jacob meets the angel and where Moses comes face to face with God. And while there may be monsters of one form or another in the darkness, it is only through confronting them that we can truly dispel their power. A woman from our community who suffered from severe depression described her experience; “Staying with the palr. is really a universal requirement for healing. And through my whole experience, Ijust wanted it to end, but this type of journey cannot be rushed.” Patience and belief in self were instrumental to her healing. “It was vitally important,” she said, “that every single day Ipushed myself to get out of bed, get dressed, and do something. Even if it was just to buy milk. I needed to keep moving in order to travel the path of the healed, the warrior, the survivor.” This brave woman walked through the valley of the shadow of death every day for five years and it was there, with tremendous support from her family and friends, along with exceptional medical care, that she found healing and self-compassion and real acceptance for the first time in her life.

This woman was admittedly very fortunate; she had a supportive and devoted family and friends who stood by her side, and she had access to medical care, both of which enabled her to heal and emerge stronger. But many who live with mental illness lack these vital supports, and so often,health insurance coverage is limited for mental health care. This is where we all come in; there is so much that we can do to advocate, to strengthen the safety net, and to be truly supportive for those living with mental illness. Iinvite you tojoin me for a Mental Health Think Tank on October 23rd, where we willcontinue the conversation about mental illness in our community and beyond. Any of you who suffer from mental illness or love someone who does, those of you who are mental health professionals,and anyone who believes as Ido that we can do a better job as a community of caring for those who live with mental illness, let’s join together. Iwant for Congregation Rodef Sholom to truly be a safe place for all people to be themseives and reveal themselves, and to find the support they need. We simply cannot allow  the conversation to end here.

Yet tonight, on this holy night of introspection, the conversation actually begins inside of each of us. As we search our souls, we also examine our own views and prejudices about mental illness.  What words do we use?  How might we perpetuate harmful stigmas when we loosely use words like “wacko” or say that someone is acting “crazy?”  And what might it sound like when we casually say, “That was so bad Iwanted to shoot myself,” or “I wanted to jump off the bridge?”  What must it feel like to people for whom the bridge has become a nightmare?I want to speak directly for a moment to those of you who wrote the cards Iread earlier and to those of you who struggle with mental illness of one form or another every day. Iwant you to know that I,that we, can never fully understand the depths of your pain or the complexities of your life, but that you are not alone. We, your clergy and your community, are here for you.