by Amy Bardack
I was a half-mile away at Congregation Beth Shalom when I heard about the shooting at Tree of Life. As the director of Jewish life and learning at the Jewish Federation here in Pittsburgh, I was part of the immediate response to the crisis. Within the first 48 hours, that meant reaching out to every rabbi to verify who was up to doing funerals and who needed help with shivah minyanim; convening the clergy of Greater Pittsburgh to make joint decisions about immediate needs, verifying that the Hevra Kadisha had enough volunteers, connecting trauma experts with professionals who were planning programs, and ensuring that Jewish schools had a trauma-trained providers on hand for parents, faculty, or students.
What became immediately clear was that those of us on the front lines were also personally impacted by the tragedy. Jewish Pittsburgh, particularly Squirrel Hill, is very interconnected. Several senior professionals in the Jewish community were members of one of the three congregations that met at Tree of Life, had celebrated their wedding or child’s baby naming at Tree of Life. My daughter had gone to weekday minyan there with her day school and we were friends with Jonathan Perlman’s family of New Light Congregation, which met in that building. While we were all victims of communal trauma, we were also called to serve the community professionally.
More pointedly, it was our colleagues themselves who exhibited unique vulnerability. The Israel Trauma Coalition explained that rabbis felt that they themselves were being targeted. Unlike other instances of anti-Jewish violence, such as the day school shooting in Toulouse or the bombing of the kosher market in Paris, this shooting was in a synagogue. The two rabbis present in the building were survivors, but our other colleagues felt shaken to the core. And while our rabbis were feeling vulnerable, many Jewish Pittsburghers were seeking rabbinic counsel.
The first week was surreal. Every day, Jewish Pittsburghers were calling 911, reporting what they thought was a bomb or a gun. Teens were vomiting in class and having panic attacks in the hallways. Children were afraid to leave home, or they didn't want to be home at all. People were not sleeping or eating, or they were doing nothing but sleeping and eating. People were screaming at everyone around them, or they were utterly silent. They could speak of nothing else, or they were unable to discuss the shooting at all.
I kept getting calls at work about individuals in crisis. I would refer them to the crisis center at the JCC, where therapists were on hand on a 24-hour drop-in basis. But many of these people wanted to talk to a rabbi, not a therapist. I have since learned that people are five times more likely to seek out clergy in times of crisis than a mental health professional.
People were too busy and flooded with communication to pick up their phones or check email. The only effective way to determine what help was needed was to be face to face. So each morning I would station myself at Beth Shalom’s morning minyan, which became a place where victims’ families and members of the affected congregations converged, since we had three congregations without a home. During and after services, people would tell me what they and others needed, and I went to work from there.
“You need help,” our CEO told me. While many people were offering assistance -- caravans of rabbis and healers of all sorts arriving unannounced -- I knew I needed just the right colleagues with particular skills. I was looking ahead to the coming Shabbat, when I would be filling in for Seth Adelson for Friday night services, as well as leading a discussion for parents during a community wide solidarity gathering of teens. I told my husband I needed a Conservative rabbi who could be on hand with me at Beth Shalom, and someone who could help manage the crisis calls; someone who could help me plan for ongoing support, and someone who could check on seniors to make sure they were doing ok. “I think you need Sara,” Jared said, referring to our friend Sara Paasche-Orlow. She was the first RA colleague whom I called upon, but she would not be the last.
Before the weekend ended, Sara had assisted me at Beth Shalom, fielded crisis calls, provided direct pastoral care to seniors, assessed the supports in place for seniors, accompanied me to check on a Federation-funded young adult Shabbat dinner, led a parent discussion, and joined me in strategic planning of how to move forward to support the community. She also helped me host a Sheva Brachot dinner for Jeremy Markiz (who had gotten married the day after the shooting) that first Friday night. And, last but not least, she spent time with each of my kids, lending a calm listening ear for them to share their questions and feelings. I could not have gotten through that first weekend without Sara.
Next, it was Beth Naditch. Beth had particular expertise in trauma, and we scheduled her to come three weeks after the shooting to lead a session on trauma for Jewish professionals, support Jonathan Perlman at New Light Congregation, and be a chaplain-at-large for those who needed spiritual care. Beth led a session attended by several executives from our Jewish communal agencies about traumatic response and some basic interventions. She met with a list of individuals whom I had learned needed pastoral care. She helped conduct services at New Light and provided spontaneous “kiddush chaplaincy” (a new term we coined) with individuals on Shabbat.
Before Beth left, we hatched a plan to identify colleagues who could come each Shabbat to support Jonathan at New Light. Beth took it upon herself to contact the right rabbis for the job and to schedule them. She also initiated video calls to share her experience so that our colleagues could be oriented on how to be most helpful in their visit. Again, our friendship with Beth was of value, having lived in Newton, MA, with kids the same ages. Her brief chat with my husband was of great comfort to him.
Through early January, we were blessed with Shabbat visits by RA colleagues who came to support New Light Congregation and reach out in whatever way they could be helpful. Ron Muroff, Nina Beth Cardin, Avram Reisner, Francine Green Roston, Lilly Kaufman, Rob Scheinberg, and Ed Bernstein each took time out of their busy lives to come to Pittsburgh (even more were eager to come but could not be scheduled). It was reassuring to the community to know that we had shlichim from around the country, willing to travel and serve in whatever capacity was called for in the moment. Whenever possible, I arranged to have a meal with the visiting rabbi, and those conversations provided comfort and hizzuk to me personally. The RA was generous enough to support a good part of the cost of our colleagues’ travel expenses with a grant. Thank you to Julie Schonfeld, who responded so quickly to that request.
Other RA colleagues showed up to help support Jewish Pittsburgh in the early days after the shooting. Michael Werbow and Efrem Reis had connections to Pittsburgh and just the right qualities to bring calm to the storm: a quiet presence and a humble willingness to do whatever was needed. Danny Nevins and Julie Schonfeld came to represent JTS and the RA, respectively, and responded to my suggestions of individuals to reach out to here. Other colleagues supported me from afar, through late night phone calls and emails, words of Torah to guide me when words escaped me, cards and gift cards to show their support. All was deeply appreciated.
I would be remiss not to note the tremendous contribution of chaplains from outside the RA who came for extended visits to serve across the community. Seth Bernstein, Steve Kaye, Shira Stern, David Levin, Yonason Meadows, and Joseph Ozarowski provided spiritual care to the bereaved and the injured, and to educators, seniors, Holocaust survivors, teens, youth directors, professional staff, and lay leaders. In addition, they served as chaplains to our local rabbis. I feel tremendously grateful to have been supported by these experts. I also need to acknowledge Rabbis Without Borders, a pluralistic network of colleagues, who gave quick feedback to questions I posed online. I am also grateful to non-Jewish clergy in Pittsburgh who volunteered to provide pastoral care to the non-Jewish staff at our Jewish institutions, and who offered to help in ways large and small.
There are many lessons to derive from this story. The one I would like to emphasize here is not to underestimate the power of our RA network. I reached out to colleagues in a time of tremendous need, and they were there for me and for my community, without hesitation. I knew what particular skills and expertise we needed in the wake of the shooting, and it did not take long to think of colleagues who were just the right match for our needs. Sometimes we do not realize the currency of relationships; it is times like these, times of crisis, when our rabbinic networks are true lifelines.
May we be spared a recurrence of anti-Jewish mass violence. But when an acute need arises, may we find solace, comfort, and assistance from each other.