When Is Kvetching Legitimate?

On Yom Kippur, my rabbi suggested to the congregation that we should consider taking measures to complain less. I think he's right in many respects: one should take care not to complain so much that one forgets to be thankful for the gifts of life, and one should not complain so much as to be blind to others' legitimate complaints. He suggested the use of a Complaint Free World bracelet. The purple band can be worn around your wrist, and whenever you catch yourself complaining, you switch wrists to physically remind yourself of how often you do it. I suppose it's a bit OCD, but I can see the value in it and I plan to give it a try. I am quite aware that I spend too much time whining!

At the same time, however, I found myself thinking about the value of complaining. Perhaps I see it this way because I'm a lawyer, since after all, when one wants to begin a civil lawsuit, one begins by drafting a "complaint." If we didn't complain about bad treatment, if we didn't protest unfairness verbally, we would often be unable to change our circumstances.

The trick, then, is to figure out the difference between whining and making a bid for change. I suppose my rabbi was referring in his speech to the kind of complaining that happens when one is uncomfortable or unhappy but does not or cannot seek to make a change. This might be most common when making a change is impossible, and as an expression of emotion, it is tolerable in small doses. The challenge is to try to find the things one can change and to do one's best to accept and deal with one's lot in life when things cannot be changed.

Complaining is an important part of creating social change. If women and minorities never complained about their treatment, the white male establishment might never have understood their dissatisfaction and would certainly have not done their part to make changes to society and the law. Similarly, aggrieved workers must protest -- in essence, complain -- if they want recognition of a union contract or if they hope to set a boycott in motion.

Certainly, political protest is not what my rabbi was referring to in his speech. However, I would suggest that the fine line between complaining and protesting is not always clear to everyone. In an effort to be "less trouble" to one's superiors or even oppressors, in an effort to do the politically or even religiously "correct" thing and not be seen as a "whiner," sometimes we fail to protest when protest is most needed. So while I definitely agree that constant kvetching is a bad habit many of us (including me!) need to break, I also believe that it is my right and duty to complain when values such as justice, fairness, and equality are on the line.

Feeling Bad During the High Holidays

Well, here it is, almost Rosh Hashanah, and I am just not feeling the joy.

My bad feelings about the high holidays actually began last year on Yom Kippur. The president of my congregation gave a hard-nosed speech on that day about how many people in the congregation were not pulling their weight financially. I probably would have felt it was an unwarranted speech, designed to make the fast harder for everyone, even if I had been in good financial shape. But since I was extremely under-employed at the time, with expenses far outweighing income and lots of debt, I was particularly disturbed by the speech. I had been giving what I could towards dues at my shul -- $10 at a time when I had it to spare -- and only the day before I had slipped all the cash I had into the administration office mailbox just before the holiday had begun. So I will tell you, the last thing in the world I wanted was to spend a half hour in a crowded synagogue, hungry, and hearing about the congregational money woes about which I was doing everything I could despite feeling my admittedly lame efforts were largely unappreciated. I felt so sick to my stomach and angry after the speech that I was in bed most of the day and did not return for afternoon services until it was time to meet my family/friends to break the fast in the evening with cookies. It was a miserable day, all in all.

This year I am no better off. In fact, things are worse. I owe more people more money, and I have been getting meager unemployment checks (based on the temp job pay I had been receiving last fall) ever since February. I'm living on the charity of friends and family to a large extent, and while I've been making every effort to get an appropriate job, I've had no luck so far. I dread another Yom Kippur debacle... please tell me I'm not going to hear more about what an awful congregant I am for slacking off on dues. I just can't take it right now, and I don't think I deserve it, either. I'm really wondering if I can handle going to services this season, though I will go anyway; the high holidays have brought me a sense of renewal in the past, so I have to have faith it will happen again.

I have so much to be grateful for: Family and friends who love me and support me, a roof over my head, a best-buddy dog who suffered a larger dog's bite and survived a few weeks ago, opportunities to dance and hike and do other joyous things, and of course the gift of life itself. I'm not sick, and I don't live in a country where bad luck and debt lead to prison -- or worse. I have a good education and a good mind, so I know my bad luck won't last forever (right?). Intellectually, I know I should be overjoyed to have reached a new year. So why do I feel so bad? Why am I unable to get past my financial woes? Aren't there people who have it much worse, and why do I spend so much time dwelling on the negative?

Hopefully I'll be able to post again after Yom Kippur that I'm feeling better. Until then, may you be inscribed in the book of life -- l'shana tova.