Closing the Door to Blame | Rabbi Shefa Gold

A Rigorous Spiritual Practice for Our Time

Years ago, I stood before the Torah and before my community in the holy space of Aliyah, and I made a vow to close the door to blame. That sacred moment changed my life in ways I could not have imagined at the time.

From that moment on, when the impulse to blame arises (and it does quite often) I remember that I have vowed not to go through that door. Always, another door opens. The other door that opens is the door of uncertainty, the door of curiosity, the door of compassion, the door of wide perspective and vision, or the door of creativity.

Lately, I have been challenged by the pressure to take sides, to blame one side or another by people that I love and respect. When someone says that the war is to be blamed on the policies of the Zionist Nation State, and then I’m tempted to say, But what about Hamas? Didn’t they start this war? Aren’t they also to blame? I can hear the tone of voice in my head, and I recognize that I have been lured into the argument, enticed by my own self-righteousness to step through the door of blame.

And then I remember… that door is closed.

So, I step back into the power of uncertainty, curiosity, compassion, vision and creativity. I lean into a vision of peaceful, loving possibilities. I align myself with those possibilities. I put my focus there. I bring attention to what I want, what I believe in, rather than what infuriates me. I remember how Martin Luther King’s forceful imagination of the possible captivated a nation, when he said, “I have a Dream!” And we were inspired and moved by his courage, to awaken our moral imagination and our nascent love for each other.

The question I ask is, “Where do I want to put my energy?”

I remember hearing the Dalai Lama being interviewed about the brutal Chinese oppression of Tibet. He wouldn’t waste one breath on condemnation or blame. I remember reading Etty Hillesum’s journals from Auschwitz. Instead of blaming and expressing righteous anger against the Nazis, she was exploring the depths of her soul, bringing back treasure for all of us.

Rabbi Diane Elliot says that blame arises from the shame that is so very hard to carry and know and feel. She offers the possibility of sitting with that shame and allowing it to transform. And with support and faith, it will. Otherwise, it will be projected outward as blame.

When we blame, we invite resistance rather than compassion. We further the argument, entering into the illusion of winning, of being right… and yet we lose connection; we damage relationships. As all of our energy goes into what we are against, we inadvertently alienate and further trigger our supposed enemies, and even some of our friends.

When I can pause my reactivity, and ask the question, “Where do I want to put my energy?” the answer that comes is that I want to do the work of Love: to feed the hungry, comfort all who are suffering and build a vision of peace. I want to align myself with the peacemakers, the visionaries, the artists of the holy. I want to enter the depth of my love and be inspired and encouraged by the dreamers and prophets whose imaginations expand my own limits that have been stunted by trauma.

When I close the door to blame of others, I also close the door of self-blame.

I know myself in process, growing always towards a more inclusive vision. Closing the door to blame allows me to deepen my humility and to step onto the path towards being at ease with not-knowing. That path of uncertainty gradually widens into joy, a sense of adventure and an embrace of mystery.

Closing the door of blame is a rigorous spiritual practice. Yet the effort provides immediate rewards, lifting us up out of the traps of endless reactivity, and freeing up endless creativity for the holy work of love.