We lost our heat this week. Just like that, the HVAC system that had been toiling faithfully and invisibly since we moved in had reached the end of its rope. It gave up the ghost. It was no more.
Out came the space heaters, sweatshirts and phones, the first two in a valiant effort to keep us warm, and the latter to aid in the search for a good HVAC company. Thankfully, we found one. Even more thankfully, just a few days later we had a new system installed, boruch Hashem. But this episode is still tickling my brain with its chilly fingers. It has left me musing about… you guessed it. The cold.
In one of the marvels of human biology, Hashem programmed our bodies to do specific things in the face of specific threats. For instance, when we get hurt, adrenaline rushes in to mask the pain, thus affording us the time and strength that we need to get help. When we exert ourselves, perspiration is produced on the skin to cool us off and keep us from overheating.
When the opposite happens and we find ourselves in a situation where we’re exposed to uncomfortably cold temperatures, our bodies also know what to do.
In the face of extreme cold, such as being forced to spend a long time in freezing water or air, a kind of triage takes place in our bodies reminiscent of a hospital emergency room. The body figures out which parts of us are expendable and which are crucial for life, and it diverts all its resources toward keeping the most vital organs warm.
That’s why you’ll find that your fingers and toes are the first to feel cold in the winter. That’s because fingers and toes are not as high up on the list of non-expendables as some other parts of us. When hypothermia sets in and body temperature plummets, blood is directed away from the extremities in favor of keeping our internal organs warm.
But if the body temperature continues to fall, this won’t be enough. Organs such as the liver and kidneys begin to shut down, too. All in the name of dedicating all possible resources to the vital goal of keeping the heart and brain alive.
We may not be so aware of it, but in life we engage in triage all the time. Faced with a set of problems to be solved or actions to be taken, we mentally assess each one, put them on a ladder of priorities, and then act accordingly. The calculation can be lightning swift. If you have three small children all shrieking at once, two because they’re cranky and tired but one because he’s got his finger stuck in the door, you’ll instantaneously decide to direct your energies toward child number three.
Not only is the chronology of our response decided, but the response itself as well. Walking down a dark street in a sketchy neighborhood, our eyes dart back and forth and over our shoulders, continually assessing risk. If we detect such a risk, we reassess to figure out how best to respond. On a more abstract level, when entering a room where our status is uncertain, we’ll automatically scan the scene, tabulating what we see and hear in an effort to stay on top of things. To find our place. To stay socially safe.
Fear, or the desire to keep ourselves and our loved ones safe, is a potent motivator. When fire, crime, or disease threatens, parents will triage the situation and take steps to ensure that their children are protected. When our property is threatened, we take steps to save what we can. What we save will reveal what we hold important.
For instance, if a fire is raging at a neighbor’s house, r”l, and seems intent on continuing on to yours, what, beyond your loved ones, will you hasten to save? The head of the family may start hauling out as many of his seforim as possible. The children will grab a favorite toy or doll, or beloved pair of fuzzy slippers. The wife may fill her pockets with pieces of jewelry her husband has given her over the years, and then run for the passports and the old, pre-digital-era photo albums.
In other words, everyone undergoes a quick internal triage process to decide on their order of priorities. When not everything can be saved, we’ll hurry to retrieve those at the top of our lists.
Protective Measures
The cold is an example of a threat to our physical well-being which can easily be translated into emotional terms. Anything that poses a threat to our happiness, our emotional safety or our good reputation is like the frigid air or icy water that galvanizes the body into rushing to the aid of the vital organs.
If we feel in danger of losing something that’s precious to us, we tend to marshal all our resources to fight off the threat. Sometimes at the expense of our good sense, and our good middos.
See how a toddler behaves when Mommy brings home a new baby brother or sister. Even in the most optimal case, where the parents do everything right to introduce the newcomer in a positive way, the toddler may feel threatened. She may worry, in the dim, unthought-out way of small children, that she stands to lose something important to her. Her position has been assailed, and her fears have been kindled. Is it any wonder that she’ll sometimes “act out” on those fears?
As grown-ups, we’re often guilty of the same misdemeanor, though with considerably less justification than that hapless toddler. Anyone or anything that threatens our emotional well-being or seems poised to steal away something we feel we need, becomes the enemy. And then, just as the body does when it’s exposed to extreme temperatures, we drop into self-defense mode. All our mental and emotional energies fly to the rescue to preserve what we hold dear, including our pride and our sense of belonging… Sometimes, in the process, resorting to tactics that are beneath us.
When one acts out of fear, something primal happens. When you feel as if you’re fighting for your life, self-preservation leaps to the top of your list of priorities at the expense of your other, more commendable values. Instead of putting Yiras Shomayim at the head of the list, we place our fearful, ambitious, insecure egos. And that’s never a good thing.
An ER nurse needs to be clear-thinking if she wants to properly triage each incoming patient. It doesn’t do to place a scratched finger ahead of an internal hemorrhage. No matter how loudly the scratched victim howls, the need to halt blood loss to the vital organs takes precedence.
In such a case, the priorities are clear. Not so in all of our everyday interactions. Our emotions cloud our judgement.
The goal is clear: Even if our hearts are howling in pain from a perceived slight or an actual rejection, we must try to correctly assess not only the threat, but also, and foremost, our reaction to it. Stooping to harsh language or slander may feel like the right move if we’re seeing the problem through self-protective lenses. When viewing it through spiritual eyes, matters may look very different. And so must our response be.
May we all manage to stay physically warm and perched safely on the moral high ground this winter