The pain we can’t see
By Israel Kasnett, courtesy of JNS
In the wake of tragedy in Israel, we are forced to confront how suddenly life can fracture, how little we sometimes know about the inner worlds of those around us, and how irreversible the consequences of unseen pain can be. While circumstances differ, the underlying reality is often the same: suffering went unnoticed, and words went unspoken.
This specific inconceivable loss stands as a stark reminder that hidden struggle is not abstract or distant, but present among us, demanding greater attentiveness and courage to reach one another before silence becomes final.
We often assume that suffering declares itself, that pain naturally reveals who is hurting and requires warmth. We wait for visible signs to alert us that something is wrong.
But some of the deepest pain in life is inaudible and invisible. It does not interrupt conversations or announce itself in dramatic ways. Instead, it lives quietly inside those who continue to show up, care for others, work and meet expectations. They smile, laugh and reassure others that everything is fine. From the outside, nothing appears amiss.
Inside, however, they carry profound loneliness, relentless exhaustion or deep despair. Life can feel unbearably heavy, leaving them with a sense of hopelessness and helplessness. This intense inner suffering often remains invisible, carefully hidden beneath a composed exterior. It is easy to miss because it is cautiously carried and concealed.
But life’s difficulties accumulate: Personal and professional failures, strained relationships, financial worries, debt, health issues, depression, anxiety, struggles with identity or purpose all add layers. Sometimes, it is one reason; sometimes, it is many combined. When these layers are not shared or expressed openly, they press heavily and deeply inward.
And over time, the effort of holding everything together becomes exhausting, and a person sinks into despair, feeling isolated even in the presence of family and friends. They do not hide because they wish to deceive, but because they believe their struggle is something they must work through alone. They worry about burdening or disappointing others, being judged or misunderstood.
One of the most profoundly painful and difficult truths we encounter through loss is the realization that love and closeness do not always reveal suffering. People can be deeply connected and still not fully know what another is carrying. With the sudden, devastating death of a loved one, we are often faced with deep shock and immense grief, as well as many unanswered questions.
Yet such unfathomable loss also offers something else: a call to live with greater awareness, softness and intention. It is a catalyst to engage in deeper listening, greater attentiveness to the silent struggles of those around us and renewed commitment to interact with those we love. It urges us to look beyond outward appearances and to strengthen the bonds of family, friendship and community while we still can.
Consider the words of Psalm 34:18–19: “The [righteous] cry, and the Lord hears, and delivers them out of all their troubles. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves the crushed in spirit.”
These verses speak to a profound hope, yet lived experience often reminds us that such deliverance does not always come. Pain persists; people remain hidden in their suffering. The promise of Divine rescue, while inspiring, cannot replace human effort. It falls to us—friends, family, neighbors—to step into the spaces where help is needed. In the absence of guaranteed divine intervention, it is our presence and our actions that can truly make a difference.
For those carrying such pain, you don’t need to have the right words or a clear explanation before you reach out. It is enough to say that you are overwhelmed or that you need company. To allow yourself to be seen, even in fragments, is not weakness but courage. Being human was never meant to be endured in solitude; we are, at times, each other’s deliverance.
If you know or suspect that someone close to you is struggling, reach out. Sit with them. Listen deeply without judgment. Offer your presence more than advice, your attention more than solutions. The greatest comfort can come simply from knowing that someone is willing to stay and listen.
At the same time, absence of evidence is not evidence of absence. Many people are simply hiding their pain. Let this awareness guide us to more intentional closeness: to make time, to pause our distractions, to speak with warmth, to hold the space for honesty and vulnerability. Let us choose to check in often, even when nothing seems wrong, and to weave care into the everyday patterns of our relationships.
Life is fleeting in ways we rarely appreciate until we are forced to—or until it’s too late. What remains is knowing that we made the effort toward a strong and meaningful connection. What matters is whether we listened, whether we chose closeness over distraction. Reaching out may seem like a small gesture, but it is how hidden pain is softened, how isolation loosens its grip, how hopelessness dissipates, how people are reminded that they matter, and that problems can often be solved.
We cannot always see one another’s struggles. But we can choose to live as if every person we love is carrying something fragile. As it says in “The Ethics of Our Fathers” (Pirkei Avot 1:6): “Judge every person favorably.” This should guide us on how we listen, how we speak and how we judge. These gestures are not trivial; they are the fabric of connection and crucial to our wellbeing and that of others.
Perhaps the truest measure of a life is not its achievements, but the moments when someone felt less alone because we were there. We may never know the weight another person is carrying or the moment our presence mattered most. But every call made, every text sent, every conversation held and every shared moment has the power to build a bridge back toward life. Let us build those bridges more often, leaving fewer people standing at the edge of their pain.
And perhaps, just perhaps, even one moment of presence or a single caring gesture will help guide a loved one back from the abyss of despair before it is too late.
THOUGHTS FOR REFLECTION OR DISCUSSION:
- What more can you do to open new conversations on sensitive subjects?
- How can we discuss the pain we share without judgmentalism, competition of suffering, or corrective listening that ignores the other person's personal perspective?
- There are many issues that divide UltraOrthodox Jews from other groups, namely the lack of military defense service or contribution to the financial struggles or betterment of the general Israeli society. Does resentment over these issues allow us to disregard our empathetic feeling of Jewish unity?
- While the emphasis on social acceptance is often emphasized for the sake of the LGBTQ communities, what other groups suffer from these types of preconcieved negative bias that are more deserving of attention?
- How can secular Jews become more respectful of the religious Jewish world of practice, community and family?
- What would you do differently if you could change an experience you had where critical judgment was stronger than human compassion?
- What could you do to foster this dynamic in your home or among your friends, students or colleagues?
Declare your pride as a Virtual Citizen of Israel
Follow Israel Forever on Insta and Facebook and share to spread activism through inspiration
- Sign up for our mailing list for insight and resources each week
- Shop Israel Forever for gifts and original merch
RECOMMENDED RESOURCES:
ASK THE IMPORTANT QUESTIONS
