When will the Mic actually Drop for some people?

Disclaimer: I have watched one Mic Drop segment - from a cousin - and it inspired me to write an article about the nature of emunah and fallibility of humans.

Publicly sharing our innermost secrets and our darkest moments is all the rage these days. Of course it's 'best' if you've survived some adversity, but that's far from a prerequisite. Social media encourages us to put ourselves 'out there' and live a life of conspicuous consumption that borders on exhibitionism. Those who speak out are applauded as brave, and sometimes raised to hero status.

Is that the Jewish way? I'm not sure. The blessing of mah tovu oholecho Yaakov was that everyone's tents were arranged so that no-one could directly look into each other's tent. Nowadays, the walls of our tents have been ripped away.

Beyond the Call

You just can't buy the sort of publicity that the Call of the Shofar program has received in recent weeks within the Chabad community. Many people have come up to me and asked me about it, and I've found myself having to explain what COTS is, and what LGAT is to people who otherwise would not know (or need to know) about either. But while the article itself had some useful analysis and insights into ourselves and at other groups and programs through a lens of 'cult-like markers', that is not the key issue here.

It's not about what specific external programs are or aren't kosher or suitable for us, nor about whether our mashpi'im have been unduly influenced, nor about the knee-jerk reactions of Rabbonim and others, nor about the way this issue has polarised the community and how that may continue to play out.

We need to take a deep breath (no meditation required), step back for a bit, and consider the real issue: the challenge of how we as a community deals with our mental and emotional health.