I felt it, and I imagine many others did – chamolypi, a Greek word that denotes sorrow and joy at the same time; joy that arises from sorrow, or the converse, sorrow that rises in the joy.
There is no real translation for it in English or Hebrew. The nearest translation in English could be “bittersweet,” but it doesn’t quite reach the feeling that chamolypi has. It is hard to explain, yet when we examine our feelings over the past weeks, which encompassed Holocaust Remembrance Day, Remembrance Day for the Fallen of Israel’s Wars, and Independence Day, we may not be able to transmit this emotion in words, but we can identify that we definitely experienced it.
Every year, and particularly this year, in this heavy period of memorial days, we hold so many emotions at the same time, each person in his or her own way. There is the shock over the traumas, both personal and national, that we have been through this year. Deep sorrow for the losses that we have endured; pride in our army, our people and country; and possibly disappointment and frustration in our leadership.
We oscillate between the huge tragedy of the price we pay for our freedom to the feeling of gratitude that we have a country where we can exercise those freedoms.
How can it be that we are feeling deep sadness, anger, hope, pride, gratitude, and even some joy, at the same time? Despite experiencing conflicting emotions, we can find it hard to deal with them.
Our psychological development means that in early maturity, we see the world as black and white; you are a good child or a bad child. You are happy or sad. As a parent who has heard the words “I hate you, you are terrible” from her child (not an isolated incident!), it makes sense that when upset or angry with you, a child will see you as a bad person.
As we develop, our system becomes more complex. We understand that if someone upsets us, he or she is not totally wrong or bad. In dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT), a method of therapy created in the 1970s by Marsha M. Lineham, the concept of “and, not or” is promoted – meaning that we can hold conflicting emotions and ideas at the same time.
When I think about “and, not or,” I think about making aliyah from Manchester, in northwest England, a notoriously rainy region. When I first came to Israel, people would be happy when it rained, saying it was good for the country, but I just saw dampness and inconvenience. I learned that it was both. I could be happy that it was good for the Kinneret and the country and also be miserable – because I like the sunshine.
“And, not or” also reminds me of a social worker telling me what it is like for her to go into a home and take a child from the parents who were neglecting their child past the point of abuse. She said, “I know we can’t leave him there, but I also know that this will be a trauma that stays with him for life, and his life in the care system will probably be a worse one than he has right now.”
This social worker understood that she was protecting the child and possibly damaging the welfare of the child. Instead of the or, where she can only see one part of the job, she must struggle to see that she is doing both.
IN ISRAEL today, we are constantly balancing our conflicting emotions. How do we celebrate and mourn at the same time? How can we dance at a wedding when we know there are families living with loss? How do we celebrate our miraculous state and mourn the price we paid, and continue to pay, for it?
There are no easy answers, and each person manages the best he or she can, depending on where he or she is at during that time. One important thought is to try not to ignore or exile the conflicting emotion. We can celebrate and hold the sadness at the same time, we can mourn and still have joy, chamolypi. If we manage this, we have a better chance of finding a way through.
F. Scott Fitzgerald famously wrote: “The test of a first-rate intelligence is the ability to hold two opposing ideas in mind at the same time and still retain the ability to function.” In Israel, this can mean being full of despair at the situation we are in and also having hope for the future. Every year, we struggle with the transition from Remembrance Day to Independence Day, this year more than ever.
Since the war began, we have experienced this challenge of conflicting emotions, not just on these memorial days but every day. The times when we find ourselves enjoying an event, celebrating a family occasion or gathering, or even a moment of joy from a small act, we may struggle with the mixed feelings we are experiencing. In these moments, we can try to view these emotions not as conflicting but as parallel emotions.
By holding the dialectical, we may find acceptance of our feelings, which can move us toward holding hope and the wish for a better future, while not ignoring the tragedy and pain.
Chamolypi.
The writer holds a Masters in Social Work (MSW) and is a licensed social worker and psychotherapist specializing in couples therapy in her practice in Jerusalem. www.hadassahfidler.com
