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18 December 2005 |
In 1971, I was enrolled in a two-year junior college after graduation from high school. My major was Police Science with a minor in English. The plan was to complete the two-year college with an Associate of Arts degree, transfer to a four-year college to pick up a Bachelor of Science degree in Criminal Justice, and by then be 21 years old and eligible to apply to the Los Angeles Police Department where I had hoped to make a career of keeping safe the streets of this city and putting bad guys in jail. There was only one problem. LAPD at that time had a height requirement of five feet, eight inches. My growth spurt came to an abrupt halt one inch short of that vertical length. No amount of time spent on a medieval torture chamber rack would correct this deficiency, a physician assured me (though I was willing to try it if there was even the slightest hope). That was 35 years ago. I moved on to pursue "alternate education". Judaism teaches that everything happens for a purpose. Would I have spiritually survived interacting with the least desirable members of the population without becoming an embittered, cynical, burned out shell of my younger, idealistic self? Would my future, as yet unplanned, marriage survive the strain to which a patrol officer is subjected on a nearly daily basis? Would I have found solace with a good book or with a bottle of Scotch whiskey (or far worse) after getting off shift? Would I have abused the authority of my office out of pent up frustrations, needlessly hurting or possibly killing a human being? For me, at least, these questions are today wholly academic. For those currently working to protect and serve the members of their communities, though, these questions are anything but academic. Many law enforcement officers suffer deep psychological pain as a result of what they've seen in the course of their work. The majority continue to perform their duties in a professional manner and according to the book. The public is only aware of a problem officer when he makes the news. By then it is too late. The officer needed assistance in overcoming a negative attitude brought on by the death of his spirituality and forgetting why he became a law enforcement officer in the first place, but he either kept his own counsel and didn't seek help from the department chaplain or didn't have the tools to administer regular do-it-yourself tune ups. Rabbi Cary A. Friedman of Linden, New Jersey, has put forth a huge effort to give the law enforcement officer those tools. I belief his efforts will not merely bear fruits. They will save souls and careers. In his newest book, Spiritual Survival for Law Enforcement, Rabbi Friedman has packed into eighty-seven pages a blueprint that any officer, regardless of his religious beliefs or total lack thereof, can review regularly to rid his mind of negative, destructive thoughts and renew those ideals that originally drew him to a career in law enforcement. Rabbi Friedman's credentials to address this topic are far more than adequate. They are, in a word, impressive. Aside from his work as an Orthodox Jewish congregational leader, Rabbi Friedman was Chaplain at the Federal Corrections Institute in Butner, North Carolina. He is currently a consultant to the Behavioral Science Unit of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. Rabbi Friedman's insights into law enforcement work are profound. He correctly and forcefully argues that religion and spirituality is not synonymous: A law enforcement professional can adhere to spiritual principles without professing a belief in any faith. He writes, "Law enforcement officers are the priests of the secular religion ("law") even as clergy are the priests of the ecclesiastical religion ("Law"). One group is in law enforcement; the other, in Law enforcement. And the two concepts, law and Law, are -- historically and philosophically - inextricably wrapped up in each other." This principle is the premise of Spiritual Survival for Law Enforcement: The police officer is actually engaged in spiritual work, whether or not he realizes it, and acting as the agent of the Almighty to impose order, even through the use of force when necessary, in the midst of potential chaos lurking wherever human beings live in groups. Scripture recognized by Jews and Christians alike bears this out. Deuteronomy 16:18 states, "You will appoint judges and officers in the cities that the Lord, your G-d, will give you according to your tribes, and they will judge the people righteously." Rashi (Rabbi Shlomo Yitzchaki -- 1040-1105 C.E.), the renowned commentator on the Bible and most of the Babylonian Talmud, explains that judges hear disputes and decide how the law is to be applied; officers are enforcers of the courts' judgments -- even given the latitude to enforce judicial judgments using force if the situation requires it. It is a sad but inescapable fact that force is the only language a few people understand. Through all this, however, the officer must retain and maintain his own humanity. He is entrusted by the public at all times to be mindful, even when grappling on the pavement with a violent lawbreaker, that this is spiritual work. So how many clergymen do you suppose would stay in the field if a few times a month one of the church or synagogue services erupted in a brawl and the congregation's spiritual leader was expected to take a punch in the face? Yet, this is exactly what we ask of our law enforcement officers: "Get punched and kicked, don't lose your temper, use the least amount of force necessary to arrest the belligerent, bring him in for fingerprinting and booking, lick your wounds, and go home and have a lovely evening (or morning)! Oh, one other thing. Replace that torn uniform with money from your thin paycheck before showing up at roll call tomorrow, would you please?" In retrospect, I truly believe G-d Almighty spared me a set of teeth ground down to the gums by frustration and aggravation when He stopped my growth at five feet, seven inches. For those outstanding men and women with patience and a sense of professional detachment greater than mine who have chosen a career of law enforcement, Rabbi Cary Friedman's Spiritual Survival for Law Enforcement can be a lifeline to a buoy of sanity. Concise yet extraordinarily thorough without one unnecessary sentence, this book should not be in the home of a law enforcement professional. It should be in his or her briefcase, duty gear carry bag, or wherever it can be instantly available for those times when the officer is second guessing his or her momentous decision to risk life and limb in order to protect and to serve. Spiritual Survival for Law Enforcement is available from Compass Books, found online at http://www.spiritualsurvivalbook.com , or by mailing a check for $19.95 + $5.00 shipping and handling to Compass Books, Dept. SSLE, P.O. Box 3091, Linden, NJ 07036. Email for Rabbi Friedman can be addressed to SSLE@spiritualsurvivalbook.com. The thought occurs to me that while Rabbi Friedman's intended audience is made up of police officers, anyone in any profession will also benefit from reading it for one good reason: Behind the badge and the sometime stern demeanor is a human being with feelings just trying to make a difference. The people that the officer has sworn to serve often need to be reminded of this truism. Rabbi R. Mermelstein |
