Critical Thinking

Often, we are told to utilize our critical thinking skills. Or commentators and politicians report that schools fail to teach reasoning and problem solving; educational practices do not include the teaching of "thinking skills".
I will not address the educational aspects, since I do not have the facts. However, using our "noggins" can result in challenging circumstances. The probability is high that one's thought processes, about an issue, event, or interaction, will differ from the common viewpoint. Furthermore, strategies for solving problems may contrast with those of the majority. These are common results of reasoning, strategic thinking, and analyzing any given situation or conflict in our daily lives.
Negative reactions from colleagues, friends, and family are common. People demonstrate anxiety at novel viewpoints or solutions. "Thinking outside the box" is viewed as impossible or crazy; listeners initially dismiss new ideas or methods of behavior. We are all guilty of these reactions--some more than others. So the critical thinker confronts the downside of creative strategies or novel reasoning--accusations of being judgemental; ignoring; and outright rejection. A good reason why someone might be reluctant to voice their personal opinions.
Critical thinking leads me to Profiles in Courage, which I finished in my pandemic frenzy of reading. My first caveat is that John F. Kennedy certainly should have shared the Pulitzer Prize with Ted Sorensen who did all, most, or some--depending on the book review-- of the writing of the book.  I decided to read the book because it was mentioned as illustrative of the contrast between senators who rubber stamp their party's opinion vs. those who act with courage.
JFK and Sorensen selected well-known and lesser known United States Senators from 1803--1948 to demonstrate courageous thinkers, willing to risk life, profession, political office, and status, to express their opinions. These men (women did not run for the Senate until 1932) developed their viewpoints of various bills in the Senate independent of the majority position. They processed their thoughts logically, carefully, and independently, based on their knowledge, values, and life experiences, in other words critical thinking. All of these men suffered greatly--some died prematurely. The senators were chastised by vociferous politicians, journalists, and voters. Young Senator John F. Kennedy believed these men to be deserving of recognition as courageous.

Thoughts from Rabbi Elliot Kukla

Rabbi Kukla is a rabbi in the San Francisco Bay area. He suffers from a chronic disease. His recent article in The J rang true to me. (The Jewish Bulletin of the San Francisco Bay Area)
The Coronavirus is not a blessing; there is no silver lining. The virus is a curse, like cancer and other horrific diseases that affect human beings. Anyone who proposes these ideas probably has not suffered, as uncountable humans have over the millenia. Bad, awful diseases, wars, relationships, diseases occur. Having a child with a disability of any sort is not a blessing. It is bad, bad luck. Destruction of any kind--whether it be disease, accident, or human-caused--is not to be valorized. Horrendous events facilitate creation, expression, a sense of purpose--to develop an improved world. One can appreciate the cleaner air and less traffic during the Pandemic of 2020. However, saying that this is the purpose of the virus is to ignore the human suffering. Cleaning the earth is a long-standing goal for all human creatures, not a crusade we follow when we are struck down by an illness.
Viktor Frankel, Holocaust survivor, proposed that our reaction to negative situations presents an opportunity for humans to demonstrate choice, creativity, and compassion. However, I doubt Dr. Frankel rationalized the killing and imprisonment of millions as justified--No. One is genocide; the other is learning in the face of adversity.
To return to Rabbi Kukla, relating the current situation to that of the Jews wandering in the desert after their escape from Egypt---
"In the open space that this pandemic bring to us, we have a chance to pause and begin building a new more just world."
"Like the actual desert, what makes moments of transition so unnerving, and so filled with potential, are the wide, open spaces, the huge arching skiy and expansive sandy plains of the desert."

Coronavirus 2020

Another grey day

Of solitary walkers

Hidden in their thoughts

Coming down the path.

“Watch out! That’s not 6 feet.”

My world has shrunk to a 3 mile radius.

Is this the last Spring?

Should I play the Rites of Spring?

I move through the day as if I am to survive.

I might not.

We live in a ghetto.

Pretty yes, well-off yes.

Beautiful flowers.

But the enemy lurks.

Invisible, deadly

As the Nazis.

Just not seen or heard or felt.

Lurking, no guns necessary.

Just weird round things with

Coral-like protuberances.

Orange/blue; red/blue.

Today I opened a letter from April 2, 1941, from my treasure trove of letters. I inherited hundreds of letters, that were hidden in metal boxes, in my mother’s guest closet, when she died in July. This letter is exactly 79 years old. Written in German, I translated the message, that was from my grandmother’s Uncle Julius to my grandmother.

They were in constant communication by letter. Topics ranged from family gossip to serious matters, such as attempting to save Elise, Julius’ sister and my grandmother’s mother and help her escape from Frankfurt am Main. The war was in full-swing in Europe. Chances of a 69 year old woman leaving Germany clandestinely were nil. Nevertheless, the relatives persisted. Julius was not in a safe place, enduring the incessant bombing by the Germans in London. His communication outside of England was limited due to the war. My grandmother Trude was safe in an alien land, struggling to survive in post-Depression America.

This was a generation of our elders who were well acquainted with social isolation, deprivation, and fear. Uncle Julius endured and survived The Blitz. His extended family had been scattered literally to the four corners of the globe. He feared for the life of two brothers and his sister. (The worst outcome came to pass.) My grandmother understood coping with the scarcity of items—from Depression to World War II rationing. She worried senseless about her mother (and never breathed a word of it to me).

The memory of Elise, Julius and Trude is a blessing and a reminder to be strong. I am certain they were frightened, as we are. Ours is an invisible enemy; theirs’ was the Nazis. Londoners spent the nighttime underground to avoid bombs. My great grandmother hid from probable deportation to an unknown terror. First, she was spared—as the healthy of us have been—but then the fearsome foe arrived. We hide from our nemesis, round balls with weird protuberances popping out—a virus.

As a child, I waited for World War III, part of my survivor’s guilt transmitted by my parents. If they—and all the Jews—suffered, then surely would I. I think my “World War III” has arrived in the form of a deadly virus and an ill-equipped country that should have demonstrated more foresight. So I wait now, in my house, for what is to come.