Our Pain Threshold

The thing about redheads is that we have a lower threshold for pain.

Growing up, though I was not as brightly redheaded as others, people remarked about my “strawberry blond” hair, especially compared to my darker-haired parents and sister. It was a trait I inherited through my mother’s mother’s line. As I got older, my beard came in at a deeper red than my hair, though it is turning to gray now.

But it did not go unnoticed. I recall being called “Gingie” on the streets of Israel, a common Hebrew nickname for redheads. When I first met my future mother-in-law, she not-so-subtly demonstrated her enthusiasm saying (not to me directly but aloud for all to hear) that she always wanted red-headed grandchildren.

This scientific fact about a lower pain threshold is something I learned only as an adult, and there are studies to prove it. I was reminded of this personally recently when I sat in a dentist chair to have a cavity filled. It took a few extra shots of Novocain before I only experienced discomfort and not pain. At one point, after perhaps my third request for additional numbing, my dentist made the observation about my hair color and the need for increased dosage.

And I was reminded of this again, as we received the horrible news of the murder of the Bibas boys, young red-headed Israeli boys ages 4 and 8 months at the time of their abduction by Hamas on October 7. The news of their return from Gaza was compounded by the fact that Israeli autopsies revealed the brutal nature of their deaths, as well as the fact that the body that was supposedly their mother’s was somebody else’s. Did Ariel and Kfir have a lower threshold for pain that made their captivity and deaths more painful?

This news this week hit many of us acutely. The ceasefire and hostage deal provided so much hope for peace and restoration, and the release of hostages was a cause for celebration–and this recent loss feels like a setback. More living hostages will be released this weekend, and yet the images of the Bibas children being returned looms large. We can only pray that the ceasefire holds, and we continue progressing towards liberation and the end of hostilities.

As Jews, our concern extends to all members of the Jewish people. And because we are constantly thinking of continuity, we put a lot of value on our youth and future generations. Since October 7, the images of the Bibas family were sustaining reminders of this longing for survival, and we perhaps saw ourselves in them, as fellow parents, spouses, Jews, or community members. (My heart is also with the father Yarden, held separately and released on February 1, who has now lost his entire family.)

The death of children is painful, their innate goodness and openness along with their dependence on adults makes their needless deaths especially hard. The death of any child is a tragedy, and particularly those who are betrayed by governments, the victims of policies that devalue human life and conflicts of which they are innocent victims.

So, yes, all of our emotional pain thresholds are low this week.

Coincidently, this Shabbat had been designated as “Repro Shabbat” by the National Council of Jewish Woman and other supporting organizations, a movement to use this Shabbat to highlight and celebrate Judaism’s support of reproductive freedom. While public discourse about religion and abortion usually highlights those whose faith oppose it, this is an opportunity to present a different spiritual perspective to thinking around abortion and choice.

This Shabbat is chosen because the Torah portion, Mishpatim, provides the Torah’s basis for Judaism’s approach to reproductive freedom:

When [two or more] parties fight, and one of them pushes a pregnant woman and a miscarriage results, but no other damage ensues, [the one responsible] shall be fined according as the woman’s husband may exact, the payment to be based on reckoning. But if other damage ensues, the penalty shall be life for life. (Exodus 21:22-23)

And while there are a host of issues going on here, Torah’s distinction between the financial penalty for causing a miscarriage and the capital penalty for causing a death leads our ancient sages to determine that a fetus is not to be treated the same as a person. A fetus is seen as part of the mother, and therefore its legal status is different. Indeed, there are explicit texts in Judaism that say that the health of the mother takes priority over the health of the fetus. And we can understand health in a very broad sense in making decisions about parenting.

The lesson here is Judaism teaches that affirming choice and affirming life are not mutually exclusive. Indeed, affirming choice is a means to affirming life.

In the wake of this difficult week, let us continue to choose to affirm life.

Let us feel our feelings of sadness and anger, and let us avoid feelings of hate and revenge.

Let us remember the love of parents for their children and children for their parents, and act accordingly.

Let us remember that seeking peace is the means to survival.

Let us do our own part to commit to and defend Jewish life and continuity.

Let us hope, and pray, and act with compassion.

And let us remember our shared humanity in the face of those who would deny it.

May the memory of Ariel and Kfir be for a blessing always. May all who suffer find comfort. And may we no longer know such pain.

One response to “Our Pain Threshold”

  1. Thank you for your thoughtful words.🙏

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