“I keep waking up at night with scary images. What do you advise?”
“My spouse is not handling the war well. What do you advise?”
“My son has gotten very aggressive since the war began. What do you advise?”
A significant percentage of the crisis calls coming in present a dilemma and ask for advice. Whether a professional, a first responder, a friend, or a relative, be careful before giving advice. Many years ago, an article appeared in an archaeological journal that described the discovery of the first intact specimen of ancient cuneiform writing in Egypt. The scientists were able to decipher it, and determined that it was a note sent by a man to his enemy. The translation read: “Why do you hate me? I never gave you advice.”
When someone opens up to us, describing their plight or feelings, a compassionate side of us wants to make it better, help the person feel relief, and make their problem go away. Our practical side activates, and we advise them to do exactly what we think we would do if we were in the same situation. The problem here is that most of the problems that people share with us do not respond to our logic. There is generally an emotional component to their distress or confusion, for which practical solutions may not suffice. For that matter, our best advice might be way off target, and instead of our family member or friend feeling supported and understood, they are likely to feel dismissed, or even deprecated, because our well-intended suggestion trivialized their dilemma. Few people enjoy the suggestion that if they were more logical, their problems would be solved. Thus, the anonymous ancient Egyptian writer was puzzled as to why his enemy hated him: he had never offered him any advice!
When people unload their burden, what are they really seeking? For many, it is a wish to be heard, accepted, and to feel your support and caring. They are not asking for you to resolve their issue. Most people are not seeking a solution to their problem. When I end up talking to them about myself, that is a huge failure in empathy. An empathic friend takes himself out of the conversation and focuses solely on validating their feelings of anxiety, sadness, or confusion, and acknowledging that their situation is generating these feelings. For example, if a person says, “I keep waking up with scary images,” responding with a suggestion that they take melatonin, or stop looking at those images, or that they start saying Kriyas Shema a hundred times, will not feel empathic. On the other hand, responding with, “That is rough. Scary images definitely disturb your sleep,” may seem like an echoing of what they just said, but you have demonstrated to them that you took time to listen and you “get it.” You signify that their reaction is a normal one and quite valid under the circumstances.
In responding further, you might prompt the person to share what they have tried up until now to cope. You may discover that the advice you were about to give them has already been tried and was not effective. Once most people (and we can include children as well as adults here) feel that you have heard them and care about them, and are available for further discussion, they will be more receptive to collaboratively problem-solving with you. On the other hand, you will also discover that there are those who only need to open up to you, the supportive listener, and that is the only response they need from you.
The Torah enjoins that one must not cause others to stumble, and the Talmud derives an adage from this that we only offer recommendations that befit the specific person, eitzah hogenes lo. Your empathy, your warmth, and your respect for each person are the tools for connecting with them during their plight. Hold off on the advice-giving until you know what they really seek, and until they are primed for that eitzah hogenes.
Rabbi Dr. Dovid Fox is the director of Chai Lifeline Crisis and Trauma Services. For Israel crisis resources and support, visit chailifeline.org/israel or call 855-3-CRISIS.
