david's harp

Lily, Tisha Ba'av and Songs of Loss

2009-07-31T16:32:00.011-04:00

It has been a few years since I've heard a reading of Eichah (Lamentations). I only attend shul when it involves my family and so I've skipped the last few Tisha Ba'av's.

I've always liked Eichah - one of the few bright spots of Tisha Ba'av - if you could call it that. In my opinion it is the most purely poetic of the Megilote, and perhaps the apex of poetry in all of the biblical writings. The magic is in how the canter and voicing of the words mesh together. The phrasing is repetitive but each verse contains a phonic variation which gives the reading a beautiful and powerful flow.

Poems like this are not meant to be read silently - they are to be sung slowly and hauntingly so that the majesty of the sounds can seep in.

This Tisha Ba'av found me a state of unshakable sadness. One week ago, Lily Burk, who I know only slightly as my stepdaughter's classmate and friend, was kidnapped and murdered in Los Angeles. It is the sort of sudden, shocking loss which aches through and through. There are so many dimensions about this which just boggle the mind and tear at your heart. Not only is the death of this gifted and beautiful seventeen year old girl an unspeakable tragedy, but the grim circumstances of her death are also incredibly painful. I won't recount the details - they have been well enough reported.

What struck me so powerfully as I listened to Eichah at this painful time was how soothing the sounds of the verses really were. Eichah represents a genre of literature which has been lost. And, with it, we may have lost one of our greatest means to deal with overwhelming loss and grief. The poem is comforting in how it voices our grief - it gives expression to those feelings for which ordinary words fail.

Scholars point out that Eichah follows the stylistic genre of the "City Lament", of which there are many examples in Sumerian and Mesopotamian literature. Here is an excerpt from "The Lament of Urim". Those who are familiar with Eichah will immediately see the similarities:

"O city, your name exists but you have been destroyed. O city, your wall rises high but your Land has perished. O my city, like an innocent ewe your lamb has been torn from you. O Urim, like an innocent goat your kid has perished. O city, your rites have been alienated from you, your powers have been changed into alien powers. How long will your bitter lament grieve your lord who weeps? How long will your bitter lament grieve Nanna who weeps? "

This poem predates Eichah by around 1,500 years, being composed around 2000 BC. The literary style is far less sophisticated, though I'm sure that it is better in the original language - and probably better still if one has a context for the imagery used. I sometimes can't help wondering if one of the reasons that the Torah has been so successful is that it's just plain written better.

I wonder about the disappearance of this genre of poetry. Perhaps it really only has the same power when it is recited out loud, and loses too much of the auditory flavor when it is read. It is interesting that while I like Eichah, I hate the Kinote. Part of that is because they are simply too torturously long - especially for a dyslexic like me. But part of if may be that, although many of them are beautiful poems, when you read them to yourself they come across as dry and repetitive.

But this year I let the words and sounds of Eichah flow over me and perhaps help mend the wound in my heart for Lily Burk and for all who feel her loss so deeply.

עַל-אֵלֶּה אֲנִי בוֹכִיָּה, עֵינִי עֵינִי יֹרְדָה מַּיִם--כִּי-רָחַק מִמֶּנִּי מְנַחֵם, מֵשִׁיב נַפְשִׁי

"Of this I weep,
my eyes...
my eyes flow with tears -
consolation is far from me,
restore my soul."

May we heal and remember her with joy.

What Would They Believe?

2008-04-17T22:27:00.003-04:00

Baal Habos asks:

If you dropped someone from a different environment who was never exposed to religion or philosophic thoughts. Exposing them to fair debate, don't you think they would all land on the secular side?

For all of you intellectual purists out there, I will point out that it is impossible to actually run this experiment in a satisfactory way. After all, there is no such thing as a person who has no prior experience with belief. Some people are raised towards a specific faith, some are raised as atheists, and some are raised in homes where belief is not considered at all. However, in each of these cases, by the time that person has reached an age of thinking, they have much invested in the outlook from which they have been raised. Even if their environment is completely areligous, that in itself is the norm to which they are accustomed, and they will have to overcome the inertia of that practice in order to change.

But, understanding that we cannot answer this question scientifically, it is still a fascinating question. I would say that most non-believers would side with Baal Habos and conclude that very few rational people without a strong prior background in religion would end up in the believers’ camp. And, conversely, I would say that the Orthodox community would argue that, given a full and informed education into the richness and sophistication of the Torah, and if they could be ‘objective’ (i.e. rise above their material and physical desires), that most would see the truth of Torah.

In fact, it seems logical that it is a fundamental requirement of any religion to believe that if anyone truly seeks the truth, without any bias or weakness, the path will lead them to that religion. After all, if that is not the case, why should anyone be rewarded for finding that faith, and why should anyone be punished for not having found it?

My opinion, for what it’s worth, is that they may both have it wrong. I do believe, as I wrote to Baal Habos, that, these people would reject all of the incongruous claims by all of the major organized religions. But, on the other hand, I don’t think that the majority of them would end up in the strong atheist camp.

Many people can’t believe in the complex mythology and arcane moralism of organized religion. But, at the same time, they still seek to find satisfying answers to the great questions which those systems address so neatly. Where did we come from, what are we doing here, how should I live my life? Many people are not bothered by these questions, or can find satisfying answers in the secular domain. But many people are willing and motivated to seek answers in the spiritual realm.

So, at least in this country, there has emerged a new type of religion. This is the force behind the massive success of books and dvds such as “The Secret”, or “A New Earth”. There is no sacred text, so people are very individualistic about how they shape these beliefs, and the range of how they interpret spirituality borrows from everyone from The Buddha to Obe Wan Kenobe.

I think that it is a good trend. It may be the best of all worlds – spirituality and humanism rolled into one. And, though I'm biased to my own team, there will also be room for a few of us agnostics thrown into the mix.

Out of the Looking Glass

2008-04-14T20:32:00.002-04:00

I’ve been exchanging comments on one of my old posts with Baal Habos, who has a two part post on the same topic (the question being why most people maintain their beliefs while others do not), and he posed the following question/comment.

What really is driving me nuts, is understanding the switch from belief to non-belief. Why do some [who] get exposed to science & history accept the truth [while] others resort to all sorts of apologetica.

And he postulates the following:

If you dropped someone from a different environment who was never exposed to religion or philosophic thoughts. Exposing them to fair debate, don't you think they would all land on the secular side?

(I’ll focus on this second comment in a future post.)

One interesting, if peripheral, aspect of these comments is that they reflect a phase that most of us skeptics seem to go though sooner or later. There is a very tangible change which happens some time after you have left religion and have had a chance to reacclimate to the world. At some point, you look back at the belief system which you left behind and feel a sense of shock at what you see.

This may really be the point of no return. Up until then, there is a sort of built in defensiveness in your thinking. You have all of your reasons – logical and moral, all worked out in your mind - as if you have to justify your choice to leave the Orthodox world. But at that moment, you suddenly grasp that the shoe belongs firmly on the other foot. You have the powerful feeling of seeing, for the first time, your old beliefs on equal footing with the claims of the other religious groups.

And, just as suddenly, your need to justify your ideas evaporates. “Am I really concerned about explaining why I don’t believe in this outrageous mythology?” “Am I really worried about proving that I’m still moral?” You feel, for the first time, that it would be just as absurd to have to justify why you are not a Mormon or Scientologies.

All of us skeptics are keenly aware of the Orthodox notion that we leave religion because of our personal weakness – our lusts, our laziness, our misguided thinking. But once we reach this point, that idea is simply laughable. Whatever the causes are for our lost faith, we haven’t been blinded – on the contrary, we’ve been given sight.

With this turning point comes the frustration that Baal Habos is voicing. Up until then, Orthodox thinking is such a strong part of your own perspective that you have an intuitive grasp of why the everyone believes. But once you cross this line, and the Orthodox haze retreats farther and farther into the past, it becomes more and more difficult to understand.

The Proof Delusion

2008-04-13T17:53:00.003-04:00

I just finished reading Bondage of the Mind by R.D. Gold. If nothing else, the book is a fantastic example of why books which try to disprove the claims of religion are a waste of good ink and paper (and, in this case, bad cover art).

The fundamental problem with these books, which seek to provide rational formulations to disprove religious claims, is that they are an argument in search of an audience. For those who don’t believe in orthodoxy, the beliefs which Gold challenges are obvious mythology, and they certainly don’t need a book to prove it – any more than Orthodox Jews need a book to ‘prove’ that Mormonism must be false. And for those who do believe, there is no book on earth which will challenge that belief.

I suppose that there may be a tiny group somewhere who really are scouring through mountains of archeological scholarship to figure out whether or not to sleep through the shabbos hagodol drasha (no offense to Baal Habos). And, to be sure, there is an entire industry devoted to churning out kiruv literature, much of which focuses on arguing the other side of the same issues raised by Gold. So perhaps, if nothing else, this book acts to counterbalance those hackneyed polemics.

But it amazes me that the author, who clearly has a strong grasp of the dynamics of Orthodox Judaism can be so completely clueless about the nature of belief. To listen to him argue, it seems that the premise is that the Orthodox are poor, uninformed deluded souls, and, if we just educate them about modern science, anthropology and literary analysis, they’ll all snap out of their haze and rejoin reality.

And what information is he imparting that is so compelling? That most archeologists, zoologists and bible critics don’t believe in the divinity of the Torah? Well that’s going to be quite a news flash to the Orthodox community. Anyway, let’s face it, if you dug up the authentic Ten Commandments and found that there were eleven, it wouldn’t change Orthodoxy the slightest bit.

The book has the chance to provoke some deeper thought in its discussion of Orthodox morality – an aspect of religion which one can certainly take issue with. If I would project myself back to my Orthodox days, I would lose more sleep about building a monument for Baruch Goldstein than about doublets in the Torah. Gold starts out competently enough in his treatment of the problems in the Orthodox system, and does a good job dispelling the often-heard ‘subjective morality’ argument. However, he ends up exhuming and recycling the familiar list of Orthodox scandals and abuses. This device (to me, at least) undermines the entire discussion. There is no weaker an argument against the moral nature of any society than to judge its worst element.

It is still easy for me to read this book from an Orthodox perspective and to gauge how I would have reacted in my religious days. At best, I would gain some insight into how the secular community is able to explain away the extraordinary phenomenon of the Torah – by creating alternative theories which they claim to be ‘scientific’ and which they attempt to support by imposing their own subjective interpretations on archeology and biblical writings. At worst, the insult to my intelligence and trivialization of my beliefs would be too offensive for me to garner anything useful from this book.

Back to Blogging

2008-04-10T14:53:00.002-04:00

It has now been just short of a full year since my last blog post, and I find myself being drawn back to the lively writing and obscure hypertext of the bloggesphere.

Of the numerous reasons for my absence from posting over the past year, the primary (though not only) problem which has plagued me has been the looming trap of repetition. Unlike some of the other ‘skeptical’ blogs, I have little to contribute to the great and interminable religious debates.

I am far more interested in the internal mechanisms and consequences of belief and non-belief.

Over the 16 months which spanned my (active) blogging career, I have written of the potent differences between the religious and the secular mindset. In many cases, the starkness of the difference in orientation is so powerful that few people within one group can appreciate how reasonable and compassionate people can hold the disparate views of the other group. Often, the two sides see only a vague and distorted caricature of the other, from which they seek to explain each others’ behavior and values.

It is a product, for better or worse, of the uniqueness of my experiences (and quirkiness of my personality) that I have a singular insight into these two very polarized views.

If there is any possible significant contribution of my blog, it is to help each group catch a small, fleeting glimpse of the world through the perspective of the other. If you are secular, perhaps you can gain a momentary insight into the depth, complexity and multi-leveled sophistication of the religious experience. If you are religious, perhaps you can appreciate for a brief moment how people who never worried for an instant how the universe came into being can feel so passionately and certainly about a moral world.

And, with that, I will set out to scribble onward - on this topic and perhaps on areas beyond….

The Fall of a Godol (Part 1)

2007-04-20T17:45:00.001-04:00

The big news in the sub-nanoscopic world of Orthodox Jewish blogging is that the Godol Hador, by far the widest read blogger in this tiny arena, has renounced his skepticism and, at least for now, returned to the fold. And, though I will probably find his blog to be somewhat less interesting than it was in the past, I certainly wish him well in his choice.

Much of the reasons which Godol has pointed to in his turn back to faith relate to his personal enjoyment and affinity to Orthodox Judaism. In that sense, I have no axe to grind whatsoever. He, as much as anyone, has the right to choose the path which brings happiness and fulfillment to his life.

But, as a rationalist, Godol also presents several key reasons for his choice:

1. That the Orthodox story, while not likely, is at least possible.
2. That without belief, there is no objective moral compass or meaning to life.
3. That Orthodox practice of rituals promotes moral behavior.

While I certainly respect Godol’s personal choice, and hope that it will work for him (and not hurt his hit rate too much), the arguments which he puts forward are worth discussing. These ideas, which GH states in his characteristically well written and entertaining style, lurk in the minds of many people who deal with religious doubts and uncertainties. They were certainly very present in my mind as I went through the difficult process of religious evaluation.

So here is the first installment of my own thoughts on these three points:

1. That the Orthodox story, while not likely, is at least possible.

Godol writes:

Could OJ be (mostly) true? Could be. Could it be false? Certainly. But I don't think it makes that much difference to me. I'll still be on the lookout just in case I find the killer proof (either way), but we all know that's not going to happen.

At first blush, this argument may seem trivial. It is, after all, only a ‘maybe, maybe not’ presentation, and it certainly falls short of the ‘with perfect faith’ standard with which we tend to associate religious dogma.

But, in fact, this is the thin but crucial dividing line which defines which skeptics land back in the orthodox fold and which do not. To be sure, this is only the end point – the process of getting there depends on endless issues which are specific to each individual who goes through this. But how one concludes on this issue is critical in defining how one goes forward.

If you feel that the orthodox story of divine revelation through the Torah and associated oral tradition is plausible, then you are, at least technically, safely within the acceptable orthodox sphere. Moreover, maintaining this idea preserves the integrity of practicing orthodoxy, after all, belief – which is inherently not based on factual proof – is always a continuum between certainty and doubt.

Crossing this line is remarkably difficult. It represents, more than anything else in the process of examining your beliefs, a point of no return. Not only does the world look completely different once you have crossed it, but the question itself looks completely different.

Before you have crossed, you are viewing the question from the perspective of belief. All of your family, friends and loved ones accept, believe and privilege the TMS (Torah from Sinai) story above everything else. It is the fundamental assumption upon which everything in your life is premised. Even in the questioning process, you tend to explore the answers from within the Torah system, looking for contradictions and proofs by exploring the texts and their commentaries.

Once you are across the line, and look back from a distance, the world looks very different. You are being swayed much less by the influence of groupthink, and you have begun to break the habit of accepting far-fetched notions as fundamental facts. You suddenly feel as if everyone has been trying to convince you that – in spite of what you are seeing – the sky is actually yellow. While you still may maintain a love of the concepts in the Torah, the story which underlies its divinity is equally far fetched as the claims of any other religion – Mormon, Scientology, Islam, Christianity, etc.. And it looks as clearly mythological as is any ancient pagan belief.

As many people point out, one can not prove or disprove the TMS story. I suppose that this is true, though this is partly because a miracle-performing God can always trump any form of challenge. Why is there scientific evidence that the universe is older than 6,000 years? Because God placed that evidence in the world. Also, religious dogma is actually more flexible than meets the eye – it is constantly (though slowly) being redefined in order to not be too contrary to existing science. How can the world be older than 6,000 years? Dogma no longer requires that we believe that the story of creation is to be taken by its plain meaning – each day could have lasted many millennia.

GH points out that some religious claims are more plausible that others, and he invokes the famous “Flying Spaghetti Monster” proof. While I understand what he is saying conceptually, I don’t really see how you begin to go about constructing this argument. Each religion seems, from the outside, to be ridiculous. That Jesus is the Son of God? That Mohammed was transported to heaven and taught the teachings of Islam? That John Smith received the Golden Tablets of Mormon?

Is this really that much better that believing that L. Ron Hubbard discovered the secrets of the warlord Xanu while traveling through the Galaxy? Or, for that matter, that Moses received the Torah directly from God’s dictation, along with a much more detailed set of oral laws which were only documented a thousand years later?

Every major religion has its own ‘killer proofs’ which are touted by their adherents as being compelling. Judaism may point to its remarkable longevity through greatly adverse conditions. Christianity may speak about its remarkable dominance of the western world – from amazingly humble beginnings. Buddhism and Hindu have both pre-dated Judaism by centuries and hold sway over enormous populations. Even the recent religions such as Mormon can point out how remarkably vibrant they have been, even after being expelled from State after State and being forced to settle in the inhospitable and unfarmable lands of Utah.

And everyone has their personal proofs – those things which we experience which seem to uncannily jibe with our religious beliefs. And, in case we are running low on our own experiences, there is a burgeoning market for ‘small miracle’ books.

For whatever reason – perhaps there really is a universal hidden spirituality, perhaps our minds have more psychic power than we realize, perhaps it is all just the power of wishful thinking – humans all have experiences which seem to go beyond the realm of coincidence. And, we all place them in our personal context. If we are Christians, it’s Jesus taking the wheel. If we’re frum, Hashem is exerting His hashgacha in the world.

But, even if you can’t ‘disprove’ a religious claim, you can apply the ‘can a person reasonably believe this’ test. While this is a completely subjective standard, and everyone will reach their own conclusions, shouldn’t we be able to use the same rational thought processes which we rely on to make all of the other decisions in our lives?

Is it really plausible that God spoke to humans? It certainly contradicts the vast experience of mankind. Is it possible that He dictated the epic stories of the Pentateuch, complete with its’ sacrificial laws, arcane histories and genealogies and repetitive, meandering storytelling? I certainly don’t think that would be the most rational conclusion. Is it possible that He inscribed two miraculous stone tablets with the Ten Commandments? Is it possible that He gave an incredibly detailed and intricate Oral Law to Moses – one which largely contradicts the written law? Is it possible that He kept an eternal flame burning in the Temple? Or that He stopped the sun from setting for Joshua? Or that He performed all of the other great miracles and sent all of the detailed prophesies in the Bible?

When you live within an insular community which takes these things for granted, it is true that they lose their absurdity. We have been brought up reciting these beliefs even before we went to school, and we have invested huge parts of our lives and our energies to studying the Torah and living its laws. And, if nothing else, we all know many outstanding people who are incredibly bright and thoughtful who are believers, so we certainly have enough role models to help us keep our faith. This is what we have been socialized to believe, and we have too much of vested interest in these ideas to see them with any level of objectivity.

But the reality is that, if you are on the outside of the community, and are able to look at these beliefs with the same impassiveness which we would apply to the claims of some foreign religion, Godol’s assertion of plausibility sounds starkly absurd. Just as it sounds absurd for us to hear a Mormon, Moslem or Christian talk about the rationality of their own beliefs.

So when GH writes that Orthodoxy is plausible, he is right, but only for a very select audience.

Ad d'Lo Yodah

2007-03-04T20:41:00.000-05:00

אמר רבא מיחייב איניש לבסומי בפוריא עד דלא ידע בין ארור המן לברוך מרדכי

Rabbah said: A person is obligated to celebrate on Purim until he can not distinguish between ‘cursed is Haman and blessed is Mordechai’.

Megillah 7b

A brief d’var torah from my pre-skeptical days:

The above statement from the Talmud, is usually taken to mean that one must become so intoxicated on Purim that he becomes confused between Haman - the evil villain in the story, and Mordechai - the hero.

There are many strange things about this law. There is no source quoted for this unprecedented requirement, which seems to defy the usual emphasis which chazal place on decorum and sobriety. And, the level of intoxication being described seems virtually impossible. If you searched out the drunkest Purim revelers you could find and put the question to them, they could probably still keep track of which character is good and which is bad.

A fascinating thing about the Purim story, is that although Haman is ranked among the most notorious villians in a long line of terrible oppressors, he, of all of them, probably has the best rational for his actions.

Think about it. Haman was a descendent from the last remaining member of the nation of Amalek – a people who were massacred down to the last man, woman and child by the Jews some 460 years earlier. But he had not only the vengeance of his people to motivate him. The Jews held that they were commanded by God to continue to hunt down and kill any living members of Amalek. So, one could reasonably argue that Haman had an understandable concern of self-defense.

Imagine if the story was told in reverse: Mordechai, the Jew, rises through the ranks to become the viceroy of the king. The evil Amalekites have moved to Persia and are growing in numbers and political strength. As they grow, their leaders begin to demonstrate outright distain for the Jews. In reaction to the growing threat to his people, and in concert with God’s explicit commandment, Mordechai engineers a plan to incite the king against the Amalekites, and have them murdered en mass. Haman, however, averts this plan through his nepotistic relationship with the queen (a secret Amalekite), through who’s influence, Mordechai is summarily executed (along with his family), and the Amalekites are given a free killing day to go seek revenge on whomever they see fit.

So was Haman evil? Was Mordechai a hero?

Sure. But it does depend a little on your point of view.

And, sometimes a little celebrating can help give us a glimpse at the other side of the story.

Purim Torah and the Hermeneutics of Mishnaic Legislative Morphology

2007-03-01T20:59:00.000-05:00

I’ll blame e-kvetcher for starting this. He has an interesting post on the nature of Mishnah, in which he uses an amusing example to demonstrate the point (originaly from here):

"What do we do upon reaching a red light? Stop entirely; this is the opinion of Joe. Jane says that a rolling stop is acceptable. In the opinion of Sue, the answer depends on whether there are other cars on the road. Once, Joe's sons were coming home from a party in the middle of the night, and they admitted to their father that they had neglected to stop at a stop sign...")

So, here in the spirit of Purim, is the associated Gemorah, originaly from here:

G’M: From where do we know this (that one must stop at a red light)? For it says “…and he (Joshua) spoke before the eyes of Israel, sun in Gibon, stand!” Read it not ‘dome’ (stand), but rather ‘adome’ (red).

The Rabbis taught: What do you do when you reach a red light? Sue taught: stop immediately, but if the pedestrians start walking early, you can freak them out a little, for it says “in all cases, a person may not stand in a place of danger”. Jane says: Whether there are pedestrians or not, one may roll to a stop, for it says “I shall go by clouds in the day and by fire in the night”.

Sue is contradicting Sue! Here, (in the beraisah) you are driving your own ride, There, (in the mishnah), you’re driving your Uncle Milton’s clunker– these are the words of Snoop-Lakish. Or you can say; Here, the light is red when you approach the intersection, There, it’s one of those really short yellows where before you know it, the light turns red – these are the words of Larry, son of Milton.

The Rabbis taught: Joe says: One must always drive with ones eyes on the road, for it says, “thou shall not stray after your hearts and after your eyes”; ‘hearts’ – this refers to adjusting ones makeup while driving, ‘eyes’ – this refers to dialing your cell phone. And Sue says, chauvinist! ‘hearts’ - this is looking through the CDs buried under your seat, ‘eyes’ this refers to checking us out when you should be watching the road.

The Rabbis taught: Fortunate is Israel, for they shall always be blessed with green lights, for it says “…you shall deliver the blessings on Mount Greezim…” do not read it ‘Greezim’, but rather ‘Green lights’.

Happy Purim!

A Meaningless Flash of Brilliance

2007-03-01T02:37:00.000-05:00

I know that he's borderline bipolar on religious issues and that he recycles material faster than a girl scout troop on a sugar high, but riffs like this are what make him The Godol.

"As for meaninglessness, I think it’s reasonably true that a hard core secularist/materialist ideology inevitably leads to the conclusion that mankind is here by chance, and even worse, we are probably just meat machines with an illusion of free will and consciousness. This could in theory lead to despair, nihilism and hedonism, though in practice it doesn’t seem to. This may be because the kind of people who get to this point intellectually are usually the kind of people who have the mental abilities to not descend into despair, and are also usually the kind of people for whom hedonism is probably not that attractive anyway. In fact, if you look around, the people who live hedonistic, nihilistic lifestyles are more often the simple, shallow types, who would probably claim to have a belief in God and the afterlife."

And, actually, this could be not only amusing, but true.

Respect - Beyond Platitudes

2007-02-25T15:31:00.000-05:00

In my writing here, I often find myself discussing the differences in perspective between believers and non-believers. As one who has seen both sides, I can attest to how stark the differences in outlook can be. Our religious convictions are perhaps our most strongly held beliefs, and these ideals hold great sway over how we interpret and relate to almost everything which we experience.

And, it is virtually impossible to divorce these strong feelings for our own beliefs from equally strong negative feelings about those who believe the opposite. The words which we use to describe religious disagreements are heavily charged with negative connotations – ‘heresy’, ‘apostasy’, ‘k’firah’, ‘apikorsus’. And non-believers also have a lexicon of pejoratives which describe religious believers.

Theists tend to think that non-believers (or those who believe differently) are failing to fulfill God’s will. And this failure not only damns them to suffer whatever personal consequences may befall them, but it also harms mankind by spreading morals and ideals which are contrary to God’s design. At best, they can claim ignorance – being a “tinoke shenishbah”, never having been taught the true path. At worst, they are immoral hedonists, too caught up in their selfish pleasures to acknowledge the word of God.

Atheists, for their part, feel that believers are naively clinging to their ancient mythology. At best, they are harming only themselves – suffering their privations and practicing their ancient bigotry only within their group. At worst, they are endangering the safety and security of the world, forcing their beliefs on others, and persecuting those who their arcane ideologies have identified as enemies.

Sometimes we use platitudes which disguise the extent of our feelings in these differences. We may say that we ‘respectfully disagree’, we may emphasize our recognition of each other’s right to their own opinions, and we may make statements endorsing religious tolerance. But it is difficult to fill these statements with any real meaning.

So what is tolerance? What is the process of truly respecting fundamental differences in belief?

And ‘respect’ is an interesting word. I have heard, in many contexts, people state that they respect the religious beliefs of others. This sometimes puzzles me.

Do the ideas themselves merit respect? Do we respect the belief of Scientologists, who believe that Xanu, the evil warlord, massacred 13 billion people on earth 75 million years ago? Do we respect the belief that God gave Joseph Smith the Golden Tablets which constitute the Book of Mormon?

Certainly, we may respect certain things which are practiced or taught within a particular religion. We can easily respect the priority which many religions place on charity and altruism. But what of the elements which we do not think are positive? Do we respect those beliefs? Do we respect the idea of Jihad? Do we respect the role to which many religions relegate women, or the manner in which they treat Gays? Do we respect the shunning of excomunicatees in the Mennonite Church? Or the Hindu concept of Pariah?

So, what do we do with this disagreement? Where do we place it in our worldview? How do we all get along if we hold such diametrically opposing ideas? How do we truly treat each others with tolerance and respect? Just paying lip service to our respect for others is not a solution – it does not address what is really going on within us.

We all live in a world where, regardless of what we believe, the majority of other humans disagree with us. Do we just go through our lives believing that these others are unworthy of our respect?

At least for me, respect is about having empathy and regard for people, not necessarily for the ideas in which they believe. There is no fundamental reason that an idea must demand respect, but people do merit respect – inherently – regardless of what they believe.

And what does that respect mean? What constitutes respect?

A good start, and a necessary element is the recognition of a right. Each individual has the right to choose which beliefs they wish to hold. And no one has the right to force them to change their beliefs. As with other human rights, there is a reciprocal logic in this recognition – we can not expect to have our own rights respected unless we are willing to respect the rights of others.

This level of respect is important, but it doesn’t really give us a handle on our negative feelings. We may acknowledge someone’s right to believe something which we think is absurd or harmful, but we still may not feel very highly of them.

We can achieve a much deeper level of respect if we can have a clearer view of the importance of belief, and can recognize that our beliefs are a fundamental aspect of our happiness.

Pursuit of happiness and avoidance of pain – long term or short term – is a primary motivator in our lives. We may be seeking the momentary happiness which comes from a pleasurable experience. We may be striving to achieve the happiness which comes with the accomplishment of a task, or the overcoming of a challenge. We may be looking for the feelings of love, connection and acceptance which come from the sharing of beliefs with our family, friends and community. We may be achieving the satisfaction of helping mankind. And, we may be avoiding the fear of death by earning an eternal afterlife. In the end, everyone seeks happiness – whether it is Tibetan Monk living in great privation and austerity or the secularist who enjoys all of the available comforts.

This world is not perfect, and all of us have our share of difficulty. We all have the right to seek a path which leads us to a happier time on this earth. And, beliefs play an enormous role in defining what this path is.

Feeling an empathy for each other’s right to pursue their own path for happiness, and to adopt the beliefs which can take them there is a powerful key to truly accepting and respecting each others differences. It is not difficult to look around at the other people of this world and wish for them to be happier. A happier humanity makes this planet a better place for all of us. And it is easy, when viewed through this lens, to feel positive about those who believe differently.

As with many things, our own right for happiness is not elevated above that of others. So it does not excuse or mitigate behaviors which are hurtful - even if these behaviors are considered important to a religious dogma. A practice or teaching may be good or may be bad, and I reserve the right to have respect for practices which are beneficial, and to not accept or respect those practices which are detrimental.

But I will limit my critical judgments for those actions which diminish mankind. And, I will preserve my respect and my empathy for the people of this earth – and I will wish for their happiness.

Pesel America'i

2007-01-18T01:11:00.000-05:00

I’ve been watching the tryouts for American Idol, care of Jetblue, and I’m inclined to agree with the Buddha – life is suffering.

Now, I really like this show, as I’ll explain, but I just don’t understand how they revel in torturing people who’s lack of singing talent is clearly the least of their problems. It feels like they’re having open tryouts for professional boxing, and can't get enough of it when some poor little weakling climbs into the ring and gets the snot knocked out of him.

Seriously, though, I do like this show. I began watching it because my son likes it, and it has grown on me as the seasons have gone by. Despite all of the weirdness, mediocrity and desperation, there is a genuine drama going on here. In a sense, the professional sports which I’ve watched all my life is also a form of reality TV, with all of the running drama and focus on the players. Or, to put it the other way around, reality television is just sports for a wider audience – and although the scenarios are contrived, it still seems to trigger of the joys of rooting for your team and the suspense of winning and losing.

And, let’s face it, 'Idol' is chock full of life lessons. The biggest lesson, of course, is that, while it’s great to have a dream, it’s also good to try to keep some grip on reality.

But this is not the only wisdom.

For parents, the show has given us the great axiom “Neither a Simon nor a Paula be.”

From Simon, though, we learn the value of being brutally honest. Of all the judges, Simon’s opinion is most valued because he never, ever gives false accolades. Personally, I’d rather work for a Simon than a Paula. You may not like what he’s saying, but a compliment is a compliment, and what he says is actually useful.

Randy, (who has more musical talent in his little finger than all the past winners combined), who has a nice, balanced, normal personality, reminds us how boring that can be. But it also reminds us that when you’ve got a bunch of extremist crazies around, (e.g. Paula and Simon) it’s good to have a real pro who knows what’s what.

And from Paula, who is just a complete sweetheart – I don’t care what anyone says – we learn what happens when you put too much Bourbon in your Coke.

Today Could Have Made a Difference

2007-01-15T17:30:00.000-05:00

Today is a national holiday in honor of the life and work of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.. Across the country, banks, universities, securities markets, and government offices remain closed in honor of this great man, and of the civil-rights awakening which he led.

And, across the country, all school-aged children remain home in observance of this day.

Well, almost all children.

All children except Orthodox Jewish children, at least in the vast majority of Yeshivos and day schools.

For them, school is open, with a regular class schedule in place, and the day passes with hardly a notice.

My youngest son, who attends a fairly liberal modern orthodox day school doesn’t even have an assembly to tell the students about the day. If it weren’t for the lack of school bus service, there wouldn’t even be a mention of it.

There are many things which bother me about this.

First, and of least importance, this is a national holiday, and we do, after all, live in America. Most of these same schools are closed on Thanksgiving, President’s Day and Memorial Day. And, if we are reticent to show respect to this country which has given us so many things, at least we can heed Hillel’s warning “Al tifrosh min hatzibure” (“Do not separate yourself from the community”) (perek 2:5).

Second, there is a simple principle of ‘Hakarat Hatov’ showing appreciation for a good deed. It requires a high degree of myopia to not realize how much the orthodox community has benefited from all of the legislative and cultural tolerance which has been the outcome of the Civil Rights revolution. Each time we can wear our kippot to work, or leave early for shabbos, or buy a home in a non-Jewish neighborhood or keep our jobs in spite of the numerous holidays of our own which we observe, we owe Dr. King and the movement which he led a debt of thanks.

I could just end my post here and let this go as simple lack of sensitivity within our community. Our community has enough detractors without adding my voice. But, if I did, I would be overlooking the most disturbing aspect of this problem.

Our children do not associate with black children. They do not go to school with them, they don’t play with them, they don’t do extra-curricular activities with them. And we - the adults - also have very minimal (or no) social contact with blacks.

We carefully insulate our community against those who are different from us. And, when there is no contact – no personal experiance of others – the ground is fertile for the breading of hatred, fear and prejudice.

In the years which have passed since I was in school, the orthodox community has learned to be far more careful and political correct. But I don’t think that it has become less prejudiced. Blacks are routinely referred to as ‘shvartzas’. Racial jokes still circulate in our schools – sometimes not only by students. And there is probably not a single orthodox school in New York who employs a black teacher or administrator.

I am sure that most of my readers would rush to argue with this, either in whole or in part. But actions speak louder than words.

What lesson are we teaching our children when we open our schools today? Are we teaching how reprehensible and immoral racial discrimination is? Are we teaching how fundamentally wrong it is to believe that someone’s skills or character is different based on the color of their skin? Are we teaching that eradication of prejudice and hatred is a moral priority for all of us?

Or, are we reinforcing all of the negative and prejudiced ideas that we overtly or covertly teach them the other 364 days of the year.

It is time for us to wake up and take a clear look at ourselves. It is time for us to stop being the ‘deep south’ of the 21st century.

Let us start to take some real and effective steps to change the message which we are sending to our children. Let us invite black teachers to our schools to teach our children. Let our schools participate in inter-racial programs so that our children can meet and get to know children of color in a positive manner. Let us teach civil rights not just as a history lesson, but as a moral imperative. Let us hear our Rabbis and teachers darshan on the importance of tolerance and brotherhood.

And let us properly honor this great man. Let us close the schools.

In the meantime, perhaps all of us who are parents could spend a few minutes talking to our children about the meaning of this day.

Can We Question?

2007-01-14T00:56:00.000-05:00

This post started out as a comment on a post by Chana which discusses her feelings about “Truth and Illusions”. But I realized pretty quickly that I was writing something which was too long and too general to post as a comment on her blog. In her post, she writes about some of the issues which – independent from belief - keep one from potentially exploring religious changes. And, she writes about the things which she feels compels and impedes her own process.

While Chana writes about her personal situation, some of the issues which she raises are universal in the thoughts and emotions of those who consider the questioning of their lifelong religious beliefs. From my own experiance, I can testify as to how crucial some of these issues can be. I am not at all advocating that people not believe in Judaism or orthodoxy. Rather, I am advocating the legitimacy of asking their own questions and seeking their own truths.

1. Parents:

I owe a debt, far more than I could ever repay, to my parents. My parents raised me. They gave me life, they gave me my upbringing, they gave me literature, they gave me love. Do I cause them anguish and worry simply because I have discovered what I believe to be my truth? How much do I owe? Do I owe them my life?

You have some very real obligation to your parents, but not disappointing them with your life choices isn’t one of them. We parents tend to play up (overtly or not) how devastated and sad we will be if our children do something 'wrong'. But the truth is that it's overplayed. We love our children and feel for them, (and most of us aren’t above feeling some embarrassment when they really foul up) but we still have our own lives to live. The children, on the other hand, are the ones who will actually live the choice - that is the entirety of their lives. So our second-hand upset does not begin to compete with the full-time, direct effects which the children experience by their choices. Most good parents understand this.

No one else on earth is accountable for your actions. You yourself will have to bear responsibility for your choices. Hand in hand with this ultimate accountability is ultimate self-responsibility and ultimate freedom of choice. So, though this may sound like trite new-age stuff, you have only one life, it belongs only to you, and it is yours to live as you see fit.

2. Torah Knowledge

In order to be honest about oneself and one’s religion, one ought to investigate claims against it. The problem is that I am not yet secure in the religion itself; I have not learned the texts I need to learn. How can one hope to understand opposition if one does not even understand all that one believes? There are innumerable pages of Gemara, various commenataries, scribes, ideas. I would have to study all this, and know it well, before I could ever hope to look through the ideas countering it. For if I do not understand my religion, how could I hope to understand attacks against it?

You state that you haven’t learned enough Torah to investigate the claims against it. This was a notion which kept me practicing religion for quite a long time. But how can this possibly make any moral or logical sense? You’ve certainly learned far more Torah than biblical criticism, or ancient history, or anthropology, or comparative religion, etc.. And, since Torah defines itself as having no end, you will be troubled by this argument ad-infinitum. Moreover, though, you are smart and learned enough to know that, while you will find many more expositions on Torah anomalies, you aren’t going to come across anything which will fundamentally change the game. My experience, anyway, is that it ultimately comes down in to whether you end up thinking that the story in its entirety passes the “can a rational person believe this” test. And that is based more on the global issues than the specific minutia.

This is part of the orthodox ‘truth’ paradox. You must seek the truth. But, you may only seek it within the confines of orthodoxy.

I used to tell myself that, while I couldn’t figure out how to believe, the fact that some of the most brilliant and admirable people that I knew believed so passionately must mean that there were compelling answers to these questions. It was only when I experienced equally brilliant and moral people who did not hold these beliefs – or who believed other things which were unfathomably irrational, that I began to realize that their belief was not based on brilliant answers which they had found. It was based on the same emotional and sociological forces which hold such strong sway on all of us.

3. Trusting your Motives and Ideas

I can do nothing before I have succeeded in acquiring a kind of humility, because only the humble can seek. Humble people want answers, they want to learn, they want the truth.Proud people want to be right. Or they want others to think they are right.

You claim that you lack humility, and that this pridefulness negates your ability to seek the truth. I beg to differ. I’m sure that you have a very healthy ego, and a high opinion of yourself. But pride is not the same as feeling your worth, just as humility is not equal to feeling your worthlessness. With all of the value which you place on honesty and integrity, do you really think that you are too proud to accept a truthful idea when it is presented to you? Or, rather, do you just have enough self-confidence to not accept a problematic idea which others think is truthful but which you may not?

This is just another subset of another thing which kept me in orthodoxy for so long – questioning and second guessing your motives. The though process goes like this; “I can’t understand how the Orthodox Story can be truthful, but am I saying that because of a ‘genuine’ exploration of the truth, or do I have some ulterior motive, or some character flaw which is leading me in the wrong direction. How can I be sure that I’m right? How can I really trust my thoughts?”

This is all crazy-making. I’m not saying that you shouldn’t look at the emotional context for what you’re thinking – of course you should. But to be taught – as we all were – that we can’t trust our thoughts and feelings is just not true. The truth is that, within the vast majority of us humans, the desire and drive towards good is overwhelming. Certainly, we have weaknesses, character flaws and temptations. But, far stronger than those things is our yearning to become better people.

4. Can we Question?

Virtually all skeptics who have been brought up in orthodox families approach their skepticism in the same way. They consider skepticism to be a radical theory which they can not buy into until they are 100,000% sure of its accuracy and until the prevalent theory of faith has been irrefutably proven to be false. In the meantime - while all of this evidence is gathered, while we endlessly question the purity of our motives, while we hesitate to explore the information which may help us determine our choice - we remain practicing our orthodoxy and carrying on with our lives.

One of the Rabbeim in Ner Yisroel once explained to me that the goal of the yeshiva was not to create great torah scholars per se. Rather, the goal was to keep boys in the yeshiva until they had started their families. After that, he said, the die was cast, and reducing their level of religiosity would be virtually impossible.

Changing beliefs is incredibly difficult and painful, but it is far more difficult once you have the obligations which come to you as you get older – spouses, children, careers, mortgages, community ties, etc.. Young adulthood is the age when one has the greatest possible freedom to explore, test, experiment and change.

But, rather than granting our young adults some encouragement – or even leeway - to try to apprehend a life path which resonates with them, which is true for them, which leads them to their own happiness and fulfillment, we do the opposite. We build as many roadblocks as possible to prevent them from doing the things which would be most helpful in finding and feeling secure in their choices – be it Orthodox Judaism or something else.

The orthodox system has a zero-tolerance policy for any deviation from the ‘derech’ – the one and only acceptable path. Perhaps, somewhere deep down, we subconsciously know how weak our story line really is. So, we endlessly lecture about how seductive the dark side is, how fallible our human judgment is, and how easy it is for our minds to be corrupted. And, we prevent – through legislation, social pressure, family influence and emotional manipulation – any attempts by our youth to really test and question their faith.

What is the theory here? Is it that Abraham – through honest introspection and broad unfettered philosophical inquiry – abandoned the pagan faith of his fathers and set out on a new (then heretical) path. And, since that fateful day, some three thousand years ago, not one single Jew has had the right to engage in exactly the same inquiry? He found the one true and right answer, and now we are no longer even allowed to ask the question?

The choice of faith is very personal on many levels. Every person must choose his own path. This is not merely a right – it is a reality. Even not choosing is choosing. Try as we may, there is no way to abrogate this obligation.

And, the time of young adulthood is the time to explore the choice. Dispite what you may be told, despite what doubts and fears have been planted in your mind, you are, in fact, allowed to experiment – to try on different ideas and see how they resonate, to do different things and see how they make you feel, to make mistakes, to read and study and speak and ask and argue. And you are allowed to trust yourself, and to trust your own honesty and goodness and integrity.

You owe yourself more than to look back at life and know that you didn’t even consider making a self-directed choice at the time that you could have because you hadn’t learned enough Torah, or felt obliged to your parents, or couldn’t trust your motives.

And, no choices must be final. You are allowed to make mistakes, and learn from those mistakes. If you leave and return, you will be welcomed back with open arms, and before you know it, Feldheim and Artscroll will be bidding on your life story.

A Pack of Truth

2007-01-09T15:31:00.000-05:00

Knowing can be a curse on a person’s life. I’d traded in a pack of lies for a pack of truth, and I didn’t know which one was heavier. Which one took the most strength to carry around? It was a ridiculous question, though, because once you know the truth, you can’t ever go back and pick up your suitcase of lies. Heavier of not, the truth is yours now.

From The Secret Life of Bees

With The Mermaid Chair, Sue Monk Kidd has solidified her place as one of the great American Authors of the new century. Personally, what I love best about her writing – even beyond her great storytelling ability, unique characterizations and lovely writing - is her emotional acuity.

In the above quote, she writes about the experience of her main character finally learning the elusive truth about her mother – a truth which she has sought all of her life, while at the same time constructing a protective mythology around herself. The myths which she had fabricated protected her from knowing what was too painful to know, and filled in the blanks of a history which she had no way of deciphering.

All of us balance the urges to seek the truth while at the same time striving to dig our heads deeper into the sand. Learning that a comfortable assumption was wrong is always stressful, and there are some truths which we suspect that, as Jack Nicholson put it “we can’t handle.”

Truth-processing is a fascinating human mechanism. It is part of the human experience that we are all acculturated to certain beliefs which help enhance out lives. These beliefs are not necessarily ‘lies’. They are generally just assumptions which have far less factual basis than we attribute to them. Sometimes we do push through some of them, sometimes we don’t, and the degree to which we succeed is one of the central dramas in our lives.

In the skeptical blogging world, we often witness the painful drama of this struggle. And, even more poignantly, we view the struggle to do what Kidd’s heroin realizes that she cannot do – to set down the heavy suitcase of truth and grasp for the old suitcase of myths.

Male-Pattern Cluelessness

2007-01-06T15:08:00.000-05:00

XGH is writing a series of heartbreakingly clueless posts about morality. The question being asked is whether orthodox practice is moral - independant of it's claim of a divine ethic. Here is part of his riff on women.

"I don't see that the way Halachah treats women is immoral. Certainly, it does not treat men and women exactly the same, but then neither does the army, or many other aspects of life. If you want a religion which treats men and women identically, then OJ is not for you. But immoral? I don't think so, except in a vague indirect way, that since women don't have a public role, that could lead some men to think they (men) are superior. Extreme Chareidism, with the limitations it puts on womens education and other rights, may be immoral in this regard. "

Where does one begin? Not immoral to be banned from any positions of leadership or authority? Not immoral to be bound by law which you have no ability to contribute to? Not immoral to not be allowed to marry and divorce at will? Not immoral to be prevented from pursuing any proffessional or artistic endeavor which calls to you? Not immoral to be unable to testify in court, or to own property after marriage? Not immoral to be unable to even study the source of the laws by which you are restricted?

The most striking thing about this is that XGH, who is a pretty thoughtful and honest guy, is completely inoculated against any feeling that the consequences of these laws are harmful to the lives of women.

I doubt that this will help, but here is a 'moshul' (parable).

There was once a land which was the very apex of Ultimate Moral Standards. In this land, half of the citizens had blond hair and half had brown hair. Because the law of the land was just and fair, there was absolutely no discrimination between the Blonds and Browns, however, the wise law of the land did provide slightly different roles for the two groups.

Blonds were allowed and encouraged to seek education in all areas, and were particularly encouraged to gain expertise in areas of jurisprudence, leadership and ethics. They alone could assume positions of political, social and judicial leadership. To them fell the weighty task of ensuring that the society maintained the Highest Moral Standards. All positions with any decision making authority at all were filled with Blonds.

Browns were not permitted to study any area of law which involved the intricacies of legislation – especially on a theoretical level. They could not study law or hold any career position which involved legislation or jurisprudence. In fact, they could not even testify in court. They not hold any political offices or assume positions of civic leadership. They could not vote for political leaders or for propositions of law.

The Blond legislators instituted law which created an equitable division of labor. Under such law, the Blonds would spend as much time as they wished in the pursuit of the study of ethics and law. Browns were required to facilitate this study by contributing a special income tax of at least 50% of their income, and were required to spend 85% of their free time providing for the domestic needs of the Blonds.

There were some special privileges which were accorded to Browns. For example, they were encouraged to recite lengthy poems which described the exalted beauty of the Ethical Law. And there were special laws which defined how they should dress, wear their hair, and socialize. In addition, to ensure equality, the law carefully maintained that the Browns were subject to any legal restriction which also applied to Blonds.

Some Radical Browns occasionally misconstrued the judiciousness of this system and ignorantly claimed that it granted Blonds greater rights than Browns. These troublemakers were never motivated by any genuine ethical issue, but were rather motivated by selfishness and influenced by evil societies which did not live up to the Highest Moral Standards.

----------------

Intentionally or not, orthodoxy has created a subjugated underclass. It is widely recognized in this day and age that those who are subject to a system of law are entitled to participate in the development of that law. The development of Orthodox law is based on exponding and applying the concepts of the Talmud - a process which women are completely excluded from. And the resulting 'box' which women must fit themselves into in order to be acceptable within the orthodox system - the opportunities which they must deprive themselves of and the life-limiting roles which they must accept - is far more debilitating than that of men.

One can, of course, argue that women are quite willing participants in this system. They are happy - in fact, they are among the most zealous advocates of the system - so if they aren't complaining, how can you say that this causes harm?

But this is always the case of an oppressed people. Women were among the strongest advocates against the suffrage movements in the 19th and 20th centuries. (Women were not granted universal suffrage in the US until 1920.) Here is an excerpt from a debate in 1911 - penned by a woman:

"The mother’s influence is needed in the home. She can do little good by gadding the streets and neglecting her children. Let her teach her daughters that modesty, patience, and gentleness are the charms of a women. Let her teach her sons that an honest conscience is every man’s first political law; that no splendor can rob him nor no force justify the surrender of the simplest right of a free and independent citizen. The mothers of this country can shape the destinies of the nation by keeping in their places and attending to those duties that God Almighty intended for them. The kindly, gentle influence of the mother in the home and the dignified influence of the teacher in the school will far outweigh all the influence of all the mannish female politicians on earth. "

There were American Slaves who fought for the Confederacy. There were African Blacks who rallied for apartheid. And, there those amongst our forefathers in Egypt who rallied against leaving the land of their oppression. There are social and emotional forces which compel those enslaved and oppressed to cling to their chains and to defend their oppressors. It is the rare and unique revolutionary who can see beyond the agony of change and disruption to envision a better day.

But this does not make these things moral, and does not mitigate the evil which is being perpetuated.

Truth, Honesty, Belief!

2006-10-22T21:13:00.000-04:00

Today two bloggers who I respect very much published posts about ‘Truth’. Orthoprax discusses a midrash which describes God’s need to “throw truth to the ground” in order to create man. While he does not give a conclusive theory about the meaning of this midrash, he suggests a number of themes, the gist of which is that Truth is of lesser value than other attributes – kindness and justice.

GH discusses the uneasy relationship between Truth and belief, where the more one adheres to Truth, the less likely it is that they can maintain belief. He too does not present a conclusion, but asks whether the emphasis on Truth is worth risking the benefits of Orthodoxy.

To many people, truth – or honesty – are not absolute standards. Many situations present themselves where saying an untruth seems far better than being honest. There are an endless number of highly worthy reasons to lie. People often lie to shelter others from hurt. They sometimes lie for the greater good. They sometimes see lying as a legitimate tactic in an adversarial situation. And, of course, they lie because of the great expediency which it provides.

What is a lie? It is, in one way or another, the imposition of a false reality. Reality says X, but we will say Y. In doing so, we have placed that person in an un-real situation. We have distorted their world.

Chazal refer to deception as “g’naivat daat” theft of knowledge. But in my opinion, what is being robbed is not merely knowledge, but free will. Our right to self-determination provides each of us with the right to develop our own priorities, values and goals. And we can make decisions which are in keeping with those ideals. But when our reality is intentionally warped, we are now making our choices based on a false premise. Lying is, as such, the most devastating form of manipulation, and is at the very cornerstone of immorality.

Many people fear the truth. In his post, GH poses the argument of lying for the greater good.

"The masses can't be expected to be told the cold hard truth, and yet still be passionate about Torah & Mitzvos. Once people realize what's true and what's not, they will lose their faith, and descend into the nihilistic hedonism common in popular culture (quite possibly)."

But, as I think this quote demonstrates, lying is the most disrespectful of human behaviors. We are presuming that we know better than the other person. We claim the prerogative to offer an untruth because we are more competent at making a decision for the other. We are guiding their choices because we know best.

As GH and Orthoprax convey, within Orthodoxy truth is sometimes not the highest standard. We are sometimes willing to ignore or distort truth in order to conform to the dogmatic belief. We are sometimes willing to tell our children fantastic myths to steer their beliefs in the direction we desire. We are willing to omit the teaching of science if it may interfere with those beliefs. In short, we are willing to construct a carefully tailored reality within which our children may live.

In relationships, a similar dynamic is played out endlessly. We say “Yes, I do love you!” although we do not feel love. We are protecting the other person – or buying time to sort out where we stand. But we are also depriving the other of making a sound decision based on truthful information.

We could have said “I have loved you for a long time, but right now, with all of the friction between us, I do not feel that love. I hope that it will return.”

That statement would likely have caused pain, but what would you have preferred if you were asking the question? A cozy lie, or the uncomfortable truth? With truth, you would know what reality is, and you could base your choice on the real facts of the situation, rather than an idealized fantasy. Don’t your loved ones deserve that same respect?

And what is the effect on ourselves? If we feel that we should tailor the truthfulness of our statements to fit the situation, we have opened the door to an endless amount of stress and complication. Now, answering even the simplest questions become an exercise in advanced mathematics. What should we say? What will happen if we tell the truth? Is there a more optimal lie? If there is, how should we construct it? Etc..

Telling the truth does not cleanse a bad deed. If you hurt someone, just being honest about does not make it okay. And, just because we are telling the truth does not absolve us from being sensitive and empathic. But without honesty, there is no basis for a true relationship, there is just the myth of what is real.

The truth has no agenda. It does not feel. It does not favor. It can be good, it can be bad. The truth does not like you or dislike you, it simply is.

If there has been one overarching theme for the vast changes in my life over the past years, it has been this:

“Enough lies! Enough myths! Enough fairy tails! I am entitled to reality! I am entitled to honesty!

I will tell no lies to others, and I will accept lies from no one. Enough!”

Proof?

2006-10-17T08:08:00.000-04:00

Last month, Godol Hador asked his readers the following question:

Question
A rational, OBJECTIVE (as much as is humanly possible) assessment of ALL CURRENTLY AVAILABLE evidence will show that the Orthodox Jewish claim of Torah Min Hashamayim is:

1. Definitely true (as much as anything is ‘definite’)
2. Probably true
3. Possibly true
4. Could be true or false, the evidence is inconclusive
5. Possibly false
6. Probably false
7. Definitely false (as much as anything is ‘definite’)

As GH goes on to discuss, ‘proof’ can be subjective. But I wonder if he understands just exactly how subjective.

In one of my first posts, I discussed the impossibility of ‘disproving’ Judaism from within - the system of interpretation is simply to agile. Some skeptics prefer to point to the historical and scientific evidence which is contradictory to the Torah. But, while these ideas stem from outside of the Torah, they still end up – more or less - in the same category within the mind of believers.

Bible critics often refer to the explanations which are presented by believers as ‘apologies’ – defenses against the attacks of outside critics. Perhaps this term is appropriate in academic debate, but, in fact, it misses the point of the Orthodox experience. When we study Torah, we do not ask ourselves “How do we defend this idea as being God given?” Quite the contrary. We say “We know that God wrote this, now what can we learn from these difficulties?” And this is the same process which believers go through when they study science. They say, for example, “We know that God created the universe. Now, what can the science of evolution tell us about God’s design?”

So ‘proof’, such as it is, is a rather personal issue. In my early post, I tried to describe the sense of having thousands of square pegs forced into round holes – all of which would fit perfectly with just one small adjustment – that the Torah, spectacular as it may be, was written by men, not by God.

But it seemed that to elaborate was pointless. After all, I’m certainly not going to convince anyone. And, frankly, I don’t want to convince anyone. The world has enough preachers.

One thing which I wish that I could do was to open the door to a more respectful disagreement. It is difficult for life-long non-believers to appreciate the Orthodox perspective. While atheists imagine that there is an inability by believers to question assumptions and think critically, that is what Torah study is all about. While they imagine a lack of logical thought, Orthodox scholarship thrives in logical analysis.

And likewise, it is difficult for those who have been steeped in the Orthodox world to understand the rationality of not believing. Their experience is of the perfect, unchanging, beauty of the Torah. They see all of the discourses in logic and hashkafa as being part of a huge, harmonious tapestry of God’s design – bestowed to man and interwoven with our capacity to understand. And, they see the moral and ethical messages of the Torah as having a special power to elevate mankind. How can one who truly strives to understand not believe? There is a strong instinct to dismiss non-belief as resulting from passion, from laziness, from rebelliousness, or just from wrongheaded thinking.

They can not imagine what it is that we experience so powerfully; that we can not believe this because it is - for us - simply, completely, unconditionally, impossible to believe. They cannot grasp the experience of seeing the Torah as a work of mankind, and then appreciating how impossible it is to go back and look at it as divine. It is, in effect, finding out that there is no Santa and then being expected to continue to believe.

So here, in the hope that it may lead some believers to gain a more realistic understanding of us skeptics, is a more detailed elaboration of my personal ‘proofs’. In presenting this, I am taking for granted certain things which I believe most rational people would consider impossible; that God gave specific instruction to prophetic individuals, that supernatural occurrences happened as reported in the Torah, that there is a spiritual consequence to ritual practices, etc..

I am limiting (for this post, at least) my observations to the Pentateuch itself. And, I am asking myself one simple question; can I fully consider that this was written by men, and then rationally conclude that it was written by God? For brevity (though this will be long for a post) I am consolidating many of the individual issues into four broad categories of anomalies:

1. Extraneous Text
2. Influence of Contemporaneous Morality
3. Residue of Ancient Lore
4. The Sacraficial Religion

1. Extraneous Text:

By definition, the Torah may not contain one single extra letter. However, vast amounts of text are spent on items which seem to have no relevance to any future legal or moral lessons. As many of my teachers emphasized, the Torah is not a history book, but the author often seem to forget that fact.

Examples? They are truly endless: The numerous recitations of the names of the tribal leaders, the detailed census data for the tribes and Levite families, the multiple genealogies in Genesis, the order of breaking camp in the desert, the lists of long lost geographic locations, of the spoils of the war, of ancient kings, of lost peoples etc., etc., not to mention most of the first half of Deuteronomy.

Perhaps one of the most glaring examples is the space devoted to the dedication of the Tabernacle. The description of the Tabernacle and it’s vessels takes a stunning 304 sentences in Exodus, spanning eleven chapters (including two completely redundant descriptions of each fixture, and a detailed accounting of the materials donated and used). But the clincher is the dedication of the Tabernacle – a 156 verse narrative of the initiation of the alter, toped by an additional 88 verses in Numbers 7 in which recount the initial sacrifices offered by each tribe. The verses name each tribal leader, along with a detailed list of the sacrifices which they offered – all of which are identical.

Even within the vast literature of Midrash, Talmud and Agadatah which has been collected, the lessons learned from all of this verbosity is pretty thin. Did God, for some unfathomable reason, include all of these trivial and obsolete elements in the one written transmission of His Will on Earth? Even though they do not convey (virtually) anything which man – the target audience – could utilize?

On the other hand, these were exactly the things which were written down at that time by humans; censuses, tax information, mechanical drawings, genealogies, records of gifts, names of people and places, etc.. Just as today, an inordinate amount of data is preserved on those exact same things.

2. Influence of Contemporaneous Morality

As we all know, there are many laws in the Torah which are at odds with our modern sense of morality. This list is long; killing the seven nations, revenge on Midyan and Amalek, the treatment of an accidental killer, Slavery, capital punishment for spiritual crimes, the beautiful captive, the rebellious son, etc., etc..

I am not arguing, as some do, that the existence of these laws in the Torah proves that the Torah is an immoral book of brutal law. In fact, I believe that the Torah was a huge step forward in the advancement of morality – at the time that it was written. Theses great leaps forward are evident throughout the Torah – the emphasis on justice and honesty, on social responsibility, on equality before the law, on having the punishment fit the crime – all of this and more are spectacular advances in human moral development.

But can the flawed laws be elevated to be a reflection of God’s Ultimate Eternal Morality? Or are they, rather, a reflection of the state of society at the time that Torah was written.

The authors of the Declaration of Independence fell short of abolishing slavery – their society was simply not ready. In the same way, the Torah could not eliminate things which were embedded in society – but it did try to provide some basic protections. Thus, a person could own a slave, but that slave went free upon sustaining injuries. Rape of an unwed woman was not punished as a violent crime, but the rapist had to compensate the victim with the protection of marriage, etc.. And, the laws of war reflected the brutal, winner-take-all reality of those times.

3. The Residue of Ancient Lore

I am not an ancient text expert, and I won’t beat this to death. Let me just point out a few of the more startling points:

Nephilim: In perhaps the most bizarre set of passages in the Torah, the writer (Genesis 6:1-4) describes creatures called “Nephilim”, who were the product of the union of the “sons of God” and mortal women. “The Nephilim were on the earth in those days—and also afterward—when the sons of God went to the daughters of men and had children by them. They were the heroes of old, men of renown.” The Nephilim make another appearance in Numbers 13:33 when he spies report of seeing them in Canaan.

Quoting the source book: In Numbers 21:14-16 it says; “That is why the Book of the Wars of the LORD says: Waheb in Suphah and the ravines, the Arnon. And the slopes of the ravines that lead to the site of Ar and lie along the border of Moab.” Rashi changes the tense to future, but this seems to my untutored eye to be quoting a contemporary human source – not something that God would likely do.

The Song of Sichon: In Numbers 21:27-30 it continues; “That is why the poets say: Come to Heshbon and let it be rebuilt; let Sihon's city be restored. Fire went out from Heshbon, a blaze from the city of Sihon. It consumed Ar of Moab, the citizens of Arnon's heights. Woe to you, O Moab! You are destroyed, O people of Chemosh! He has given up his sons as fugitives and his daughters as captives to Sihon king of the Amorites. But we have overthrown them; Heshbon is destroyed all the way to Dibon. We have demolished them as far as Nophah, which extends to Medeba.” Again, in this poem, which is all but meaningless for later generations, the writer seems to be quoting a contemporary poem, rather than transmitting a divine message from God.

The Genealogy of Cain: In Genesis 4:19-22; “Lamech married two women, one named Adah and the other Zillah. Adah gave birth to Jabal; he was the father of those who live in tents and raise livestock. His brother's name was Jubal; he was the father of all who play the harp and flute. Zillah also had a son, Tubal-Cain, who forged all kinds of tools out of bronze and iron. Tubal-Cain's sister was Naamah.” In this unusual group of passages, the Torah deems it necessary to identify the pre-flood originators of these skills. The Rambam, writes that the verse ‘Tubal-Cain's sister was Naamah.’ Has no less importance that ‘I am your god.’ (I’m tempted to write “how true!”) He is identifying this as a troubling verse with no imaginable importance, but one which is strikingly similar to other ancient writings.

4. The Sacraficial Religion

The Torah spends virtually no space at all on the details of such critical rituals as Tefillin, Shabbos and shechitah. On the other hand, every aspect of the now defunct sacrificial and Kohanic practices are written out in painstaking detail. The priestly garments take two full chapters in Exodus. The various sacrifices take (conservatively speaking) over 500 verses to detail. No nuance is too small for the Torah to describe – how the offering is to be spiced, how its parts are to be burned, how the blood is to be sprinkled, where and when should it be eaten, etc., etc.. And the sacrifices are only a small part of the Kohanic rituals. There are endless gifts, clothing, cities, initiation rights, family structures, etc.. There are the complementary laws of ritual purity and leprosy, and the laws of Soteh and Nazir.

This is, from a human perspective, very logical. After all, sacrificial worship – with all of its trappings – were a fundamental part of all religions of the ancient world. The economy was agricultural in nature, and rites focused on planting, harvesting and raising livestock. And the worship which resonated with that society – and the one which had long been practiced – centered around the gifting these products to God.

Judaism had a hard enough time vying with the other local pagan religions – just look at how much space is dedicated to admonitions about Molech – not really the biggest threat to Orthodoxy today. It would have been unthinkable to develop a religion without a strong ritual practice of sacrifice. But to believe that this is God’s mandate seems to me, personally, to be impossible.

I could go on and on. But the thing to understand is that, for us non-belivers, the process of rumaging through the Medrash Rabbah to find some far-fetched explinations does not change the overall experiance. Not any more than pointing out some contradictory text in the Torah changes the experiance for the believer. Our disbelief - our conviction that this is the work of men - is fundamental to our sense of rational reality. You may as well try to bring proofs for the existance of Santa - you can explain why you believe, but you can't expect us to deny our own reality.

So, tommorow, if you see some skeptic, perhaps you'll be able to find something other than their yetzer to explain their lack of faith.

Days of Awe

2006-09-28T14:18:00.000-04:00

The room is vast, but every inch of standing room is packed with people. All are clad in white robes or in dark suites. None have eaten or drunk for the past twenty four hours. Nearly all are standing, ignoring their aching feet and exhausted legs. Each seems lost in their own meditation, and there is only a loose coordination in the rhythmic swaying of the crowd.

Still, the sense of collective focus – of intense concentration – is palatable. Each syllable of the ancient poetry is packed with liturgical references. The gentle, stunning melodies carry the haunting, urgent beauty which fills every word. These words are not being chanted by lips. They are, quite literally, pouring from each heart. The very room seems to tremble with emotion.

And, within each and every heart, in each consciousness, is the passionate yearning to achieve our better self, to connect with our higher purpose, to go beyond what we have become and to mend the faults which have limited us.

I can write much about my issues with the Yom Kippur liturgy and themes. But how can one not be awed by such an experience? And how can one not feel overwhelmed by humanities’ irrepressible quest for greatness?

May each of us, in our own way, strive this year for a more perfect community.

The Harp Has But Six Strings

2006-09-11T22:50:00.000-04:00

Some people create doodles on paper - letting their hand pass along the page freely, letting the shapes and colors easily emerge. I doodle on my guitar. My best doodles are done when I'm deep in thought about something else, and I let my fingers glide along without any planning or conscious thought.

My doodles help me relax. Sometimes, they express things which are beyond my abilities with words. I've never recorded a doodle before now, but here, for my patient and indulgent readers is a short sample.

(This doodle is played with my guitar tuned down a half-step, so it is played in C, but voiced in B.)

The Unbroken (Ball and) Chain

2006-09-10T18:58:00.000-04:00

Above all else, Orthodox Jewish parents impute great value in transmitting their ideals to their children. That our children remain in the orthodox fold is the first indicator of successful parenting. (Followed close behind by the right shiduch, grandchildren, etc..) Everything in orthodoxy is based on the unbroken link to past belief, and, the mitzvah to teach Torah to succeeding generations is elevated over virtually any other practice.

And, even outside of religion, parents strive mightily to influence the choices which their children will make. There is virtually no parent on earth who doesn’t have some preconceived notion of what path is best for their child, and we try to control, overtly or subtly, their choices. We show our enthusiasm and approval for those things which we find of particular value, and we demonstrate disappointment and displeasure with that which we distain. Some parents are more accepting than others, but almost all have some bottom line criteria for what they wish for their children.

In orthodoxy, the extreme case is intermarriage. Even today, marrying a non-jew is an unforgivable crime – an act which allows for no level of acceptance whatsoever. These children are deemed to be dead to the family. In choosing their partner, they have rejected our faith, and they are due the ultimate rejection. I have heard parents speak of trying to continue some type of relationship as an effort to retrieve the lost child back into the fold, but I have never heard an orthodox parent speak of simply accepting the child’s choice.

Obviously this is the message in its most extreme form, but the philosophy of rejection as a demonstration of disapproval – and as a mechanism for control – pervades religious parenting.

This is, perhaps, the control of love. We aspire for our children those things which we feel will be vital to their happiness and success – physically, spiritually and emotionally. And our template for what those ingredients are is bound up in our own experience and belief.

I certainly believe that parents have much to impart, and should strive to teach their morals and ideals to their children. But, I am often dismayed at the exclusive nature of this teaching. We teach not only what we feel is right – we teach that we are the only ones who are right. We teach not only that our ideals are important, but that other ideals are unimportant.

The world progresses not from those who have unconditional adherence to the past, but from those who can strive for a better future. Three thousand years ago, there were parents who taught their children about the importance of human sacrifice. Two thousand years ago, there were parents who taught their children the value of killing Sabbath violators. Two hundred years ago, there were parents who taught the righteousness of slavery. Somewhere along the line, there were children (and parents) who rejected those beliefs.

There are plenty of things which my children may choose which would disappoint me. They may choose values which I feel negatively about – in fact, it is almost certain that I won’t share all of their values. And, they will almost certainly make some decisions which I will consider mistakes, and may lead them to pain and unhappiness. It is not that I want my children to make poor choices – certainly not – and, if asked, I would tell them my opinion. But, ultimately, their path belongs exclusively to them.

I know plenty of parents who view this perspective as being irresponsible – an abrogation of ones’ child raising responsibilities. They would view it as showing a lack of love for ones children. How does this help then - To set them adrift in the world to flounder to make their way without the benefit of your guidance?

But remember this. If your children do ever find themselves in difficulty, it is not your advice which will be of primary value to them, it is the love which you can offer to them. It is not your moral wisdom, but your empathy and appreciation of them. It is not your certain knowledge of what is right for them, but your acceptance of their choices and consequences.

Parents and children have an innate bond which has an almost frightening intensity. This bond – this love - needs to be respected. It needs to be cared for and cherished. And it should not be used as a ball and chain to keep our children locked in our own personal world.

Forging Blithely On

2006-09-05T10:44:00.000-04:00

I could just chalk up my prolonged absence from blogging to my summer travels. And, as summer travel goes, this was a magnificent year.

But there is another reason for the lack of posts over the past few months.

My blog is no longer anonymous.

And, not without consequence. Recently, forty two pages of my posts appeared in court papers, along with some carefully edited excerpts, in a case which has momentous importance to me.

On the whole, I’m pleased to say that I am proud of what I have written (though not every word is golden, of course), even when read with the microscopic scrutiny which these circumstances impose.

And, certainly, my identity was never a matter of deep cover. My family and friends (or ex-friends, as the case may be) know my story well, and I've provided ample clues as I've scribbled away here. I suppose that I knew that it was just a matter of time before someone would connect the dots.

But now, you see, the stakes are a bit higher. Each word that I post can, and probably will, be used against me in court. And these stakes are high. They relate to what is most near and dear to me in life.

As those who have read my blog will know, my objective is certainly not to offend people. If I do have any specific agenda at all, it is to shed light on the process of believing and not believing, and to explore the gulf in understanding between those who live with faith and those who do not.

Obviously, for most people, this would be the appropriate point to close up shop and/or invent some other, more obscure, blog. But frankly, this plays into the worst (or maybe best) thing about my personality.

I am stubborn.

I don’t want to be censored. I don’t want to be muzzled. I don’t want to run scared in the face of distortion and lies. I want the only standard for what I write here to be my own sense of appropriateness and truth.

This is who I am, this is what I have to say: Let my words stand on their own merit.

and the answer is...

2006-07-26T00:20:00.000-04:00

Sure there is. A really scared one paddling like crazy. (front right)

Time for Some Field Research...

2006-07-11T00:26:00.000-04:00

For the next week I'll be out testing one of the essential hypothesis of faith:

"There's no such thing as an agnostic on a class V rapids."

Cockeyed Optimist

2006-07-03T22:05:00.000-04:00

I’ve been hearing a lot of comments lately about the terrible state of The World Today. Every day, people are being murdered, children are going hungry, wars are smoldering, the environment is being ravaged. It looks like the human race is intent on going completely down the drain. The only question is what will kill us off first, war, famine, global warming or avian flue.

Those who read my blog know that I believe quite the opposite; that mankind is making huge (though painfully slow) improvements in equality, peaceful dispute resolution, and humanitarianism.

As humans, we are ever grouping ourselves into specific communities. These are concentric circles of interest. At the core is our own family unit. Beyond that is our friends, then perhaps our coreligionists, our fellow nationals, those who share our language and culture, etc.. To those closer to the center of our circle, we feel heightened empathy and trust and grant equality and respect. The farther out we go from our own group, there is a natural drop off in our level of interest and empathy, and an there is a corresponding increase in our level of mistrust, prejudice and hostility.

The story of our history is of the slow, back and forth plodding progress of ‘global inclusion’. In ancient days, groups seldom went beyond the close knit familial or tribal level. As time went on, these groups ultimately expanded to kingdoms and nations, and as religious ideas spread, they too played a role in defining our native groups.

To those who believe that we are regressing, or that we continue to be steeped in the same inhumane behavior of the ancient days, let’s take a good and honest look around. And let’s compare not with one or two thousand years ago, but with just two hundred years in our past. What did we have:

- Slavery throughout most of the world.
- Even in the few democratic nations, women did not vote.
- There was no such thing as a minimum wage or health insurance, etc.
- There was no Geneva Convention, League of Nations, or UN.

Moreover, it was completely mainstream to believe that men were superior to women, whites to blacks, Christians to Jews, etc.. Multitudes starved on the streets of all of the major cities of the world. The poor died without medical attention. No one sent aid to the less developed countries, the European world raided the third world as a matter of colonial right.

The fuel of hatred is isolation and ignorance. The antidote is information, communication and understanding. And our ability to even communicate with each other on a global scale is very, very young. We may have a long way to go, but look at how few years we have had the ability to meet, speak, read, and learn about each other.

- 400 years ago: No printing, no powered travel, no electronic communication
- 200 years ago: No powered ships or trains
- 150 years ago: No telephone or transcontinental telegraph
- 100 years ago: No radio
- 75 years ago: No television
- 50 years ago: No commercial transcontinental air travel
- 25 years ago: No internet
- 10 years ago: No blogs

We are very imperfect. But, in general, our misdeeds to our fellow man stem not out of sociopathic evil, or even from selfish callousness. It stems out of our ability to close our eyes to the needs of others – to the humanity of others. It stems from our preconceived notions about our differences, and from our lack of trust in each other. It stems from fear.

Humans, for whatever reason - spirituality, evolution, practicality - are inately good. They are empathic, they are altruistic, they care about each other. Many, many things interfere with our ablity to act on that native goodness.

We are far from perfect, but we are still young.

murder...hmmm, let me look that one up...

2006-06-27T23:35:00.000-04:00

subjective:
taking place within the mind and modified by individual bias; "a subjective judgment"

objective:
undistorted by emotion or personal bias; based on observable phenomena; "an objective appraisal"; "objective evidence"

I think that if I read one more blog post about how all of morality is subjective without a deistic super-truth, I'm going to just plain scream.

Aaahhhhhggg!

And these are the skeptical bloggers.

Okay, I know that I'm stepping out of my hyper-intellectualizing persona here. But tell me, how is it that in every kindergarten class in the world, kids know right from wrong, but give them advanced degrees in metaphysics, or send them to yeshiva, and it all becomes very blurry and complicated.

I'm trying.

I'm really trying to remain positive about religion.

But don't you get it. Us non-believers are NOT the ones with the morality hangups. We aren't the ones killing the infidels, discriminating against gays, or women, or against those who believe differently.

Godol recently pointed out that all of the major word religions have pretty much eliminated all of the realy objectionable practices, from their list of things which are 'okay'. Well, who do you think established the moral standards to MAKE these practices immoral in the first place. It wasn't the bible thumping fundamentalists, that's for darn sure.

I'm trying, really trying, so help me out here, ye faithful friends.

The South Park Problem

2006-06-20T23:58:00.000-04:00

Godol Hador, recently back from his sojourn, (we all breath a sigh of relief), has been busy posing about what I fondly call "The South Park Problem".

He writes:

Billions of people believe in contradicting religions of which only one (at most) can be correct. Therefore billions of people have the wrong religious beliefs, yet are convinced they are correct. Hitler was able to exterminate 6 million innocent people in the heart of the civilized world, and convince his nation that this was okay. How is all this possible? Will people believe anything, if taught the right way?

Well, for better or worse, yes.

The Train... Life-Purpose Part III

2006-06-20T15:31:00.000-04:00

There is a civilization in which there is a belief that the train schedules and rule book were written by a great, mysterious, spiritual genius . The believers hold that making the trains run properly and abiding by the rules have enormous spiritual significance. Some rules have obvious moral significance; no pushing on the platform, no fighting on the trains, no smoking. Some reasons can not be exactly determined (after all, it is beyond the grasp of the average person) but there are many rich and beautiful theories, full of moral lessons and metaphysical symbolism. It is held that those who facilitate the train schedule and live up to the moral ideas within the rules are influencing the advancement of spirituality in the universe.

Train Driver A grew up believing that the belief was a myth. He can’t prove that it isn’t true, but it seems far more reasonable that it was written by the old train company. His own family never gave it any credence.

Train Driver B grew up believing that it was true. Although he did not claim to be able to ‘prove’ it, much time was spent explaining arguments about why it was very likely to be true. His entire family took it very seriously, and being expert in all of the details were an important part of his education.

Driver A loves his job. Each day he takes in the beauty of the landscape, he chats with the passengers, listening to their stories, appreciating the nuances of how different each their lives are and enjoying the feeling of sharing the short journey with each. The job is difficult and is often fraught with problems. He is sometimes tired, or under the weather. Sometimes he must deal with difficult passengers. Sometimes everything seems to go wrong, and the day is a struggle to get through. He does not like the problems, but he accepts them as an inherent part of doing the job which he loves. He takes pleasure in getting his customers to their destination as well as he can, and, although not everyone appreciates it, it is far from easy.

Driver B feels lucky to have his job. He spends his long hours on the job focused on the nuances of the schedule and rule book, sometimes fantasizing about the benefits which he is bringing the world. He makes a point of being polite and friendly to the passengers (as the rules provide). He makes every effort to be on time, and he reports to work even when he is not feeling well or is exhausted. There are some things which he does enjoy. He sometimes meets passengers who he likes and enjoys talking to them. He sometimes notices something nice on the countryside which he likes looking at, though he tries not to let his mind wander off of the important train rules. When things go wrong, he perseveres through with the sustaining thought of the great deed which he is doing.

One day, a document surfaces which details the human origins of the schedule and rule book. Most of the believers come to the conclusion that the new document is a fake, some ridicule it, some believe that it was planted by evil non-believers. Some believe that it is a test of faith. Most simply ignore it.

But Driver B is shaken. He looks back on his life and experiences and realizes that the theory never really made any sense. He believed it simply because it was such a strong assumption which all of his role models believed in. The more he thinks about it from ‘outside’ of his old system of thought, the more apparent it is to him that this is simply a man-made book.

Driver B seeks out driver A and they have the following conversation:

B: “I used to think that there was a great purpose in driving this train, instead of just a meaningless job.”

A: “What are you talking about? We drive through some of the most spectacular scenery in the world. Don’t you enjoy that?”

B: “Sure, it’s nice and all that. But seeing nice scenery isn’t important.”

A: “Well don’t you enjoy the passengers, many of them are fantastic people, and sometimes you can really connect with them.”

B: “Yes, they’re okay. I like them, and I suppose that they feel good when I’m polite to them, but just making these guys feel good isn’t really that important.”

A: “Don’t you think that it’s important to get them where they are going on time? It’s quite a challenge sometimes and you do a great job of it.”

B: “I’m not saying that it isn’t important at all, but it isn’t going to make much of a difference in the overall scope of humanity.”

A: “How about enjoyment? Don’t you love your job?”

B: “I guess that I do like it most of the time, but we don’t work because it’s fun. What does enjoying your job have to do with making it important?”

Life Purpose, Part II

2006-06-18T22:35:00.000-04:00

In my last post about Life Purpose, I offered the thesis that believers who stop believing have a serious problem recapturing a satisfying life purpose. This feeling is echoed in a number of the comments which I received. Here is a comment from Orthoprax which captures the feeling very well....

DBS,

"Non-believers seek internal answers. They look within the individual for the aspects of life which hold meaning and purpose. That meaning is vastly different for each person. And it is the accomplishment of each individual’s life purpose which enables that person to truly give to others, and to benefit mankind as a whole."

Can you tell me then what would be wrong with a person choosing his meaning in life to be, say, watching television all day? Or one's purpose in life is to have sex with as many women as possible? In modern society that seems to be popular among the younger people - or at least that's as far as the media presents it.

You seem to define a "good purpose" as that which gives to others or benefits mankind. On what justification do you make that assertion?I suspect you are making the same type of extrinsic value judgements that you criticize theists (and post-theists) of doing.

See, I've been there on the other side of things. I've even given the arguments that life's meaning is self-discovered and self-contained, but I now find them unfulfilling. It's not that atheists can find meaning so much easier, it's just generally that they don't think on the same scales that people like I do.

They don't think about the question in the way I do.They may say that they live for X, but they aren't willing to see, or to recognize, that X is an artifical construct not really worthy of living for in itself. I am victim of it myself, but at least I'm trying to root it all to something more, well, meaningful.

Orthoprax,

You may be right, that I’ve let my own value judgments creep into the post. But, at least philosophically, I do not think that there is such a thing as an absolute ‘good’ life purpose. This is different from morality, where I do think that there are absolute standards for behavior which are detrimental to society and are immoral.

I do have one conviction which is very central to my own thought process; that each of us pursuing our own unique life purpose is what keeps the planet moving forward.

Perhaps that is due to spirituality, perhaps Dawkins, perhaps it is just my rose colored contact lenses. But, by my observation, it is our own diverse internal goals, priorities and motivators which have been the most powerful force in advancing both the scientific and humanistic progress of our civilization.

And, I believe that if something makes you feel happy and fulfilled, you will be a more positive force on earth. This isn’t a just a granola and bean-sprout argument, it’s a simple observation that people who are happy are just healthier humans. Being around someone who is happy with his life and satisfied with his endeavors is much more beneficial than being with someone who is unhappy and frustrated. And yes, they can give you more; as your spouse, your parent, your friend.

So I don’t think that there’s anything wrong with deciding that your life purpose is to watch tv all day, or to have consensual sex, or even spend all your time blogging. If you look at the world, you'll see that very few people are true hedonists, and can really find fulfilment in these pleasures. But I’d rather that you do that and be happy than expend your energy on something which is supposed to be more worthwhile, but makes you miserable.

Even if that ‘something’ is a very altruistic pursuit, if you find it frustrating and unsatisfying, you may do more harm than good. Haven’t we all had teachers who were burned-out and frustrated, or doctors who were cynical and bored? Wouldn’t we have been better off if they had run off and joined the circus? Then they could have added some joy to the lives of the people who are passionate teachers and healers.

And, for whatever reason, lots of people find that all sorts of altruistic pursuits, large and small, are satisfying and fulfilling. So you can worry about what would happen if everyone wanted to watch tv all day long, but the beauty of humanity is that there is inherent diversity. You may just as well worry about what would happen if everyone wanted to spend the entire day learning Talmud. Relax, they all won’t. Different strokes for each of us.

You mentione the problem of ‘scale’ in finding the non-theistic life purpose which is satisfying. These are the very same words used by other commentors, and it is, perhaps, the greatest challenge of former-theists.

For theists, certainly for Orthodox Jews, the life purpose we seek must to have a great, global, world redeeming, eternal significance. We set ourselves at the center of God’s attention, and we look at each of our minute thoughts and deeds as being eternal in His memory. That is the scale with which we are trained to search.

Someone sets you to search for a very valuable thing called a ‘diamond’, and explains that it is shiny, translucent and beautiful. But all of your life experience tells you that things which are valuable must, by definition, be very large. You will not be able to recognize the diamonds when you see them. You are looking for something gigantic - ten stories high - when all around you are tiny precious jewels which are fare more significant than the gigantic object which you envision.

But there is something much more insidious. Not only have we placed great importance on the idea of Divine Purpose, but we have diminished and discounted our own human value. We are taught to look at ourselves as being insignificant without God. As it says in the Netaneh Tokef prayer on Rosh Hashanah “Man is...a broken shard, withering grass, a fading flower, a passing shadow, a dissipating cloud, a blowing wind, flying dust and a fleeting dream.” It is only God that gives our lives significance.

And we are not just devaluing ourselves, we are dismissing the value of all of humanity. No wonder it is so difficult to privilege a more personal life purpose. We can’t value our own life purpose because – absent of God – we can’t sufficiently value our own selves.

In order to regain a meaningful and satisfying purpose we must be able to regain the importance which we place on our own life, values, goals and happiness. And, we must realize that our community is important, the earth is important, mankind is important. They have value not because of God, but in their own right - because of their own existance.

A core teaching in Orthodoxy is that one can not have faith in ones own self. “Hillel said…’trust not in thyself until the day of thy death…’” (Perek II:5). But to value our own path, we must have faith in that path. We must re-learn that our own selves – our hopes, our fears, our thoughts, our values, our feelings, our experiences – these are not simply chafe to be ignored in light of the Almighty Will. These internal forces are and feelings comprise the roadmap itself. And, we must regain our faith in ourselves to live up to our own ideals, to conquer our failings and to achieve our goals.

Is it diminishing to seek not the great purpose for all of creation, but to seek the special purpose for our own selves – for one individual of the six and a half billion souls on earth. Are we sacrificing our quest for greatness? Are we settling for a smaller life? No, we are not reducing our own worth in the least, quite the contrary.

We are elevating all of mankind.

Life, the Universe and, (uy) Everything. Part 1

2006-06-14T02:31:00.000-04:00

What is the meaning of life? Why are we here? What is our purpose?

These issues, particularly for those with religious backgrounds, are hardly a casual esoteric college campus discussion. Our answers to these fundamental questions gives us the basic clarity to make decisions in our lives.

What career should we pursue? Should we build a family? What are our criteria for success in life? How do we guide our priorities and make the myriad of choices which define our lives?

No one would want to go to sleep at night with a secure understanding of why they are here on earth and what their goals are, and wake up in the morning with no idea at all. But that is the problem facing those who can no longer believe in the theism of their past.

Two of the popular bloggers in the ‘skeptical’ Jewish blog world are currently struggling with this very conundrum. Both of these writers have significant doubts about the dogmatic structure of Orthodox Judaism. Both remain observant. And, both struggle to formulate a grand meaning in their religious practice, belief and lives.

I admire both of these persons. They are honest, intelligent and filled with integrity. They deal fairly with the issues about which they write, and they speak and explore from their own hearts.

Orthoprax, who has constructed an elegant re-statement of the entire observant Jewish proposition, writes the following (excerpted from a recent comment):

“People need purpose in their lives. Modern society is full of people who invest all their energies into their jobs or other short-sighted ambitions, but is that all not pointless toil? So many artificial constructs are made in human society to shield people from the truth that they don't know what this, meaning human existence, is all for - if it is, in fact, for anything.The point of life then is to search for the point of life. That is the search for God. What else can you possibly compare to that imperative? “

The compelling but elusive Godol Hador, (the Harry Houdini of OJ blogging) with all of his skepticism of Jewish theological dogma, has (at least for the moment) rested his case on ‘meaning’:

“If one could sum up the fundamental message of Judaism, I think ‘meaning’ would be a good choice. We see meaning in the Universe, meaning in History, meaning in our lives and meaning in every ritual and piece of text that we have in our tradition. The outside world suffers from a serious lack of meaning. Of course there are religious folks who simply go through the motions, and of course there are strong atheists who spend their lives performing charity. But these are the exceptions to the rule, not the rule.”

[I will note that the use of ‘meaning’ as compelling justification for observance of Jewish law is coupled, at least for these two bloggers, with the presumption of the morality of that law. But that is the subject of a different post.]

Orthoprax and Godol Hador have both gotten stuck in the ‘meaning of life’ vortex. These writers have many differences, particularly regarding their level of theistic certainty, but to both of them, religious belief and practice is equated with meaning, while non-belief and non-practice is equated with the absence of meaning.

Why are these two highly intelligent people bottlenecked at the same question? Why is it so hard to recover your ‘meaning’, your ‘purpose’, after shifting from the theistic model of life?

Believers do not have a corner on the market for seeking and understanding life purpose. Our drive to understand our reality is one of the great universal characteristics of mankind. But theists and atheists come at this question from such opposite experience points that it is often impossible for each of them to value the answers which the other postulate.

And former believers face a special problem: They are phrasing the question in theistic terms, yet looking for answers in humanistic ones. They have (unknowingly) disqualified all of the answers available to them even as they look for those answers. In religious systems, life purpose is linked inextricably with God and the divine goals of creation. In these systems, the broad answer is often not at issue – it is to serve God’s purpose – the only question which remains is how to best discern His purpose and how we can best serve it.

Believers seek answers which are inherently extrinsic. They must originate from a source outside of our individual selves. Either they must be God given or, at least, they must hold universal truths which have validity for humanity.

A recurring theme in the believing world is that the absence of purpose is equated with hedonism and nihilism. They are imbuing their own inability to find meaning in the world without the crutch of a deity upon others. I can hardly blame them, it took years of religious training to reinforce these ideas. But those ‘others’ do not need God to reach a meaningful life.

Non-believers seek internal answers. They look within the individual for the aspects of life which hold meaning and purpose. That meaning is vastly different for each person. And it is the accomplishment of each individual’s life purpose which enables that person to truly give to others, and to benefit mankind as a whole.

To be continued.

June Again

2006-06-09T23:50:00.000-04:00

I suppose that each of us have a certain date in the calendar which elicits sadness.

For those of us who had the good fortune to know Zack Baumel before he vanished in eastern Lebanon on June 11, 1982, this time of year is fraught with unresolved agony. I last saw Zack while he was boarding a bus, on his way to the Lebanon front on June 6, 1982. We were both just about done with our time in Yeshiva. Zack was applying to business school for the rapidly approaching school term, finally able to turn to college after five years in study and military service. I had weaseled my way back to Gush Etzion for a brief month after having returned to America the year before to attend college.

The evening before he left, Zack and most of the other senior class at Gush had received "tzav shmonah", an emergency order to proceed directly to a muster point in the north. I had been tremping (hitchhiking) through central Israel that day, visiting some relatives before my planned trip back to the US, and had been stuck for a few hours along the main north-south coastal highway. Hour after hour, a solid line of eighteen wheel tank carriers barreled up the road, moving Israeli armor from the southern front to the north. My two years of study in the "Hezder" yeshiva system, in which students divided their time between Talmudic study and service in the "Shiryone" (Armored Corps), allowed me to identify some of the weaponry. Israeli made Merkava Tanks were in abundance, surprising since these tanks were in short supply compared to the older US made Pattons.

I knew that my friends preferred the innovative active armor of the Israel tanks over the sheer tonnage of the Pattons, and I tried to gauge the probability that they would be able to land an assignment in one. Just three weeks earlier, the graduating "Machzor" (class) had been discharged from active duty in the Israel Defense Forces. All of the boys who had reached the rank of tank commander, (an enlisted rank, since the yeshiva boys typically did not apply for officer training), were assigned to reserves in a "super corps" of tank crews in which each member of the four man tank team was an accomplished soldier in their own right. I don't think that anyone realized it at the time, but this provided the IDF with an armored shock force which could be rapidly deployed to the most tricky and dangerous assignments.

Israel had already pushed into Lebanon twice in the past few years. In each action, they had moved the PLO forces back a safe distance so that their rockets could not threaten northern Israel. Then, they had withdrawn. But the situation was deteriorating. Just a year before, Zack, me, and two other friends had backpacked through the Golan and experienced the weird mix of breath catching scenic beauty, poorly marked minefields, hospitality of the local Arabs and Druze and blasts of sudden air raid sirens. Even then, before the arrival of Russian T-72 tanks (much admired for their low profile and automated shell loading systems) in southern Lebanon and escalating attacks and incursions, the area seemed to be teetering between thriving human progress and devastating conflict.

Two weeks later, after the fateful battle, I was on an El Al flight back to New York. My trip, and precious air ticket, were obtained by arranging to accompany my ailing grandparents back to the US. My last three days in Israel were spent calling hospitals throughout the north and waiting in lines to speak to rude and impatient army information officers.

We didn't know very much of what had transpired. It was just "scuttlebutt". The only thing which was consistent about the news was that it was all contradictory and of questionable veracity. It's ironic, I suppose, that now, 24 years later, the information which we have about Zack's fate can be characterized in approximately the same terms. The endless comedy of intelligence and military errors, the disgusting hubris of politicians and military staff on all sides of the conflict, the tantalizing, problematic and contradictory evidence about Zack's fate, all of these have made it all but impossible to navigate with any certainty through the puzzle of the events of June 10/11, 1982.

Zack's mom, Miriam, (vivacious, creative, irreverently funny, and direct to the point of discomfort), once wrote a letter which came closest to my own haunting feelings about Zack. She writes (I'm paraphrasing from memory):

"Is he cold? Is he hurt? Is he hungry? "

"How does he cope? Does he have anything to occupy him through the long years? Does he have even a sidur, or an old newspaper?"

"Does he know that we are searching for him? That we love him? That we haven't forgotten him?"

I'm not a "Zack is Alive" fanatic, (a fact that I feel some guilt about). I don't know where he is or what fate befell him. I've read all of the things which are in the public domain, and I just don't know. It isn't that there is no information ,there is plenty, and all of it problematic. Many have told me that he died long ago, in the orange grove at Sultan Yaacob or in the frantic, brutal aftermath.

But in all of the long years since we hugged goodbye, through all of the many, many, days, there has not been a day in which I have not thought of him.

Faithful friend. Brave companion. Conscience and comic relief for his friends.

Once, staggering back to town from a harrowing series of misadventures - ragged, starving and completely broke - Zack pulled a 100 Shekel note from his shoe (a fortune, back then) and said, "this was in case we got into any real trouble". (We'd have beat the crap out of him, if we could only catch him.)

I've observed a certain universal fellowship among those who have sustained first hand loss from war. Mankind seems at times to be sleepwalking. War has become an accepted facet of civilization, and we abhore it with the passive indiference with which we great bad weather. But when tragity strikes, and the fog can lift, the full absurdity and immorality of the situation hits with full force.

And, in the throws of that clarity, we feel like taking the human race by the shoulders and shaking them hard until they wake up. We feel like shouting these words - again and again - until someone begins to listen:

"Conflict is human. War to resolve conflict is a moral travesty. Politicians who send our children to death and disfigurement to resolve their conflicts are criminals. Just as a civilization can not tolerate aggressive murder, so humanity can not tolerate aggressive war. "

One day perhaps not in our lifetimes - there will be a real and enforceable doctrine of International Law. A legal system in which national aggression will be dealt with in the same manner as criminal murder, in which national conflicts will be resolved in the same manner as individual conflicts - by courts of justice and by global peacekeepers. In which no nation will be able to attack, harass or persecute its neighbor without the certainty of consequences. In which all humans will be granted the basic protections of security, freedom and human rights. In which no nation will be allowed to pursue vigilante justice to resolve their grievances.

I miss my friend.

Midrashic Musings

2006-06-09T01:36:00.000-04:00

One of my favorite bloggers, e-kvetcher, (of “Search for Emes”) just wrote a post on the ‘slippery slope’ question of how to relate to midrash.

This is hardly a ‘new’ issue here in this micro-universe of jewish bloggers. In fact, it seems like midrash has been in the forefront of many erudite minds:

Judaic studies scholar (and bottle head blues master) Fred McDowell published a very telling post in which he ‘fisks’ an article about whether midrash should be taught as fact or fiction. Dov Bear, who has ranted on this in the past, suggests a ‘ranking system’ which would indicate the level of historical likelihood of each midrash. (Dov Bear’s system has the benefit of being color coded so that even the residents of New Square can use it.) The great Godol Hador (perhaps soon to be zt’l), contented himself with a passing shot at Dov within this post, and some well aimed strafing at Fred.

As an agnostic who does not believe in Torah Misinai, I don’t feel like I’m in much of a position to critique the credibility of midrash. I leave that for the believers to argue. As e-kvetcher points out, the issue is disturbing because it is, in fact, a slippery slope. Or, to use Godol’s point, why is one supernatural story more believable than another?

I would like, however, to point out some more subtle things which are both positive and negative outcomes of our affinity to midrash.

First, it is important to recognize the astonishing storytelling power of allegory. Parables can create an emotional connection to a moral message or insight into the human condition much more forcefully than expository writing. From “The Trial” to “Life of Pi”, allegories give the author freedom to create an entire setting – divorced from our experience of day to day life – which brings the subject into powerful focus.

Often, politicians, pundits and public speakers use small personal stories to convey a global point. In some ways, this is the same mechanism at work. We don’t ask for ‘proof’ of these stories – and many of them are apocryphal. But they are there to connect us with a theme. We are evaluating the point itself, not the story.

My second point is what I call “miracle inflation”. It’s never enough for us jews. Revelation at Sinai wasn’t enough. God had to suspend the mountain over our heads. 600,000 (or 2.5 million, all in) jews was not enough. All of the future souls had to be assembled as there well. God couldn’t just speak, he spoke both versions of the 10 commandments simultaneously. Etc., etc, etc. What’s wrong with us? Are we worried that the basic miracle isn’t impressive enough?

Last, and this is just something which adults should know, children are taught midrash as fact. If you think that midrash should be taken literally, then fine. But, if you don’t, you may want to check in with your kids. You many be a bit surprised by what you find out. My kids attend fairly liberal modern orthodox schools. Here is a question from my eleven year old son:

“If each body of water split at the same time as the Yam Suf, and the Yam Suf split into twelve paths (one for each shevet), then did each river and lake split into twelve parts?”

Of course, this is only one aspect of the abuse of mythic storytelling in our education system. The principle of my son’s school recently told his class the ‘chicken’ story. In a nutshell, it is this:

“A devote butcher is rushing to close his store before shabbos, when an old begger woman knocks on his door and asks him to butcher a chicken for her. In his impatience, he sends her away. Later that evening, as he is making kiddush, he suddenly tells his family that they must take the entire meal to the home of this poor woman. His family is perplexed, but he is adamant and so the go along with him. Afterwards, he explains that in his previous life, he failed to do the exact same mitzvah in the exact same situation. God had given him a second chance, which he nearly missed taking advantage of.”

Okay. So what gives? Do we (litvaks that we are) believe in reincarnation? I know that chessed is very important, but is it impossible to make that point without reverting to such extreme fiction? And, in case you’re dismissing this as just a way to get through to small children, guess what, a few years ago the Rabbi of my (RW MO) shul told the exact same story. Did we all laugh? Did we shuffle uncomfortably in our seats? No, we listened, we nodded. The conditioning worked; Hear enough incredible stories your whole life, and pretty soon, you can believe anything.

In the end, many fine and noble ideas are conveyed through midrashic allegory, and there are many, many midrashim who’s beauty touch me to the core of my soul. But in the orthodox fog of fact and fiction, I would gladly shed the magnificent allegory for a fidelity to truth and a moral priority to tell it the way it is.

Why Ruth is My Favorite Megillah

2006-06-04T00:23:00.000-04:00

This is obviously a run-off between Esther and Ruth.

Eichah (Lamentations) is beautifully lyrical but is not a great pick-me-up. Song of Songs is either great oriental poetry or really dense and unfocused allegory (take your pick). Kohelet (Ecclesiastes) is great reading if you’re looking for inspiration in composing a good suicide note. (Was Solomon manic depressive, and who DID write that last line.)

So, although it lacks the edge of your seat, white knuckled suspense, and home-run hitting wind-up of Esther, here are my top ten reasons that I love the Book of Ruth:

1. The only slice of life ‘real’ story from the era of the Judges, or really any pre-Rabbinic period.
2. Naomi’s bitter sarcasm.
3. Boaz and Ruth, love at first sight.
4. The great medrash about “Liny po halaylah”, starring R’ Meir and Elisha ben Avuya.
5. Boaz and the birth of the world’s most convenient diyuk.
6. A much better melody than Esther.
7. They really took Leket, Shichichah and Peyah seriously.
8. Those boys in the tribe of Judah just can’t help themselves.
9. The absence of anything supernatural.
10. No graggers.

The Blogger's New Clothes

2006-05-28T20:57:00.000-04:00

I'd like to recommend another new blog in the 'skeptic' category. "The Emperor is Naked" is not exactly 'new' to the blogging world. In his introduction, he writes the following:

I'm a frum skeptic ex-yeshiva guy. I've been active in the jblog world for a while, so if you've been following the ongoing dialogue on skepticism in Orthodoxy, you probably know me under my other identity.

Well, I'm not clever enough to figure out who this person is, but I very much enjoyed his first few posts (this one and this one).

So, welcome, whoever you are!

Tuesdays with Mortality

2006-05-23T10:13:00.000-04:00

I guess we all assume that we are immortal (until something happens to disabuse us). But as well as this naive assumption, I also grew up believing that death was not the end - that I would live forever, cared for by God. I believed that everything which happened to me was part of His plan, and that however bad it was it would be alright in the end. I believed that I was protected. ... It's pretty mindblowing to really accept that I, my self, am simply the product of a lot of chemical and biological interactions. I'm not sure I've got it yet, and I'm not sure I'm happy with it either (accepting this stuff means accepting that I will die when my body does).

This is part of a longer post which appeared on an agnostic/atheist discussion group.

Truth be told, whether we are believers or not, how we each deal with our own death fills a wide spectrum of emotions. It is often said that “there is no such thing as a drowning atheist”. It may be equally true that there is no such thing as a drowning theist who accepts their own sudden demise with complete confidence in their continued existence. Or, to be more fair about it, there are very few people in either category who have total faith in their own conclusions about their own mortality.

Many reasons are put forward for why people go on believing things which they cognitively understand to be irrational. (In fact, the Great and Powerful Godol Hador of Oz is just discovering this issue in a series of fascinating posts.) Certainly, the mortality issue runs very deeply through our conscious and subconscious motives.

We’re not usually aware of it, but there is a certain part of our mind in which we envision ourselves dangling over the abyss, clinging to a rope. The all powerful voice is saying “Okay, here’s the deal; accept me and I’ll be happy to keep holding the rope. Reject me and, well, there’s no one else here to do the holding.”

So what happens when you do finally give up your idea of afterlife (or reincarnation, or continued consciousness, etc.). It is quite a shock. As the quote from the Atheist forum says, getting there is a process. It’s a little bit like finding out that you have a terminal illness called ‘life’, and you have to go through the stages of grief for yourself. Of course, the well touted ‘Five Stages of Grief’ (Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance) don’t apply here. For one thing we’re starting after denial has ended (though perhaps one could substitute 'avoidance') and for another thing, there’s no one there to bargain with.

So what is the grief process? It’s different, I’m sure, for everyone. For me, it is tightly wrapped up in the much larger issue of reconstructing a post-theism life purpose (which is the subject of a future post).

I can, however, say a few basic certainties:

- It’s sad. Living forever, in my opinion, would be great. Death sucks.

- Life is far more precious to me as a realist then it ever was for me as a theist. Life is NOT the anteroom, it’s the main event.

- Your thoughts are NOT going to be here after you, so if you want to do something with lasting importance, take action.

And perhaps the simplist truth on the subject:
“Mortality is the price we pay for Life.”

Unequal Souls

2006-05-21T19:14:00.000-04:00

When I was 15, and attending high school in Baltimore, I was once drawn into one of those long, late night bull sessions in the bais medrash. The debate started with an offhand comment that a friend of mine had made as we were walking out after maariv. A small discussion began with a me and a few other kids, but as the debate went on and on and grew louder and more passionate, other students, including some of the older yeshiva boys wandered over and joined in, until the group had grown to about 30 boys.

The topic was whether non-Jews have souls or not. I took the position that they did, although I was certainly no expert on the subject.

Every other boy in the room took the position that they did not.

I was badly outgunned. By the end of the discussion, which finally broke up in the early hours of the morning, I was exhausted, frustrated and angry – still clinging to my apparently unfounded notion that goyim have souls.

People can argue about the ultimate source of morality, but one thing which I can identify for certain is the ultimate source of immorality. It is the creation of a super-race and/or of a sub-race of a segment of mankind. Once this is done, the path has been paved for some of the most heinous crimes of our history.

One can nitpick about whether some of the ancient commandments of the Torah are morally acceptable; Amalek, women’s rights, etc., and the apologists can rummage through their bag of tricks and come up with their rationalizations. We can congratulate ourselves about how moral and socially responsible we are as a people. But, in the end, if the life of a Jew is more important than the life of a non-Jew, then what we have here is racism in the purist form.

I am aware of how inflammatory this issue is. The statements in the Talmud and Rishonim which differentiate between Jewish and Gentile life and property are widely cited in anti-Semitic propaganda pieces, alongside abject forgeries and misquotes. The Modern Orthodox community, at least, has become highly sensitive of what a lightning rod the issue is. About two years ago there was a micro-scandal involving a brief piece published in YU’s Beit Yitzchak Journal, which only mentioned in passing some of the less politically correct opinions.

I am also very aware of how many orthodox Jews are highly moral and fair minded people. So, for those with enough empathy and intellect, religious beliefs do not have to be the determining factor in moral behavior. As with everything else in Torah, one can argue both ways on this issue, and certainly the Talmud is filled with contradictory messages about the laws which govern non-Jews. So those within the orthodox community who are uncomfortable with the Jewish Spiritual Supremacy theories have room to find a way to believe in equality.

But, still, thirty years after my high school debate, non-Jews are still though to be very much ‘less than Jews’ in the yeshiva world. The examples of areas where goyim have reduced legal status are many. I won’t recite them because I do not want to feed the polemic.

If your frum, you may be insulted by all this, and I do not mean this as a general attack on Orthodoxy. But before you click away and forget this, perhaps make a note to talk to your kids about it.

After all, one of my ex yeshiva friends may be their rebbe.

Did you hear the one about the Karaite and the...

2006-05-10T17:05:00.000-04:00

The ever fascinating and erudite Mississippi Fred McDowell, (master of delta slide), of On the Main Line, posted a ‘folk tale’ about a run-in between the Jews and Karaites during the Ottoman Empire. While the subject matter is extremely interesting, the story smacks of the same condescending satire which is used in ridiculing whichever group is currently being subject to derision.

I (apparently) can’t even spell Karaite, but, not to be left out, I posted a folk tale of my own as a comment. I am transcribing it here for your reading enjoyment (or as a point of invaluable advice if you are ever in a similar situation).

About twenty years ago, a rich, powerful Karite in New York wanted to marry the beautiful daughter of a rabbi. After stalling for as long as he could, the rabbi finally agreed to the marriage, but set one condition. Before the wedding, the Karite must go to Israel and see the Kotel. Although the Karite had never flown, he eagerly agreed to the condition. The rabbi took him to the airport, bought him a ticket, and made sure that he was safely on the plane. When he got home, his wife asked him “how could you agree to such a terrible thing?” The rabbi replied, “Don’t worry. Everyone else understood that they should actually get IN the plane. But our Karite friend took things a bit too literally. He fell off the wing at about 5,000 feet.” (Apologies to George Carlin.)

Welcome, and welcome back...

2006-05-08T21:48:00.000-04:00

First of all, I am pleased and relieved to see that Ger Tzadik has returned from the black hole from whence he vanished. His excuses for not blogging are rather lame, (my own theory being that he gave up Judaism for Lent, or was hanging out with the really cute Hindu girl down in marketing). But at least he graced us with a Monte Python line upon his return.

On a (way too) serious note, I'd like to welcome a two interesting new writers to the "Posters from the Edge" list.

First is the excellent and interesting (and, yes, somewhat obscure) Knowledge Problems, by Big S skeptic. While I think that you will enjoy the writing and ideas, I must warn you that he has (and I've researched this extensively) the worst titles ever used for blog posts - making the GH's puns and 70's song take offs look like pure poetry by comparison. That said, he is a very smart guy with a lot to say. If any of you have sons in yeshiva, I recommend that you (overlook the title and) read this post (especially the part about the Kitzur, which was, believe it or not, used as a sex ed book in Baltimore, when I was in high school).

If you are Frum and are looking for a skeptic who is really intent on picking a fight with you, or if you're just interested in another perspective, and some interesting reading, I can recommend Just Me's blog Recoveing Ortho Skeptic. Before you get turned off by some of the content and graphics, I suggest reading this post. Beneath all that skeptical scorn beats the heart of a poet.

Gods and Imaginary Friends

2006-05-02T00:55:00.000-04:00

The following is an excerpt from an extremely eloquent post by Chana. In it, she captures, with great power and honesty, the close, loving, trusting empathetic relationship which one forges with God.

The most intimate relationship we can form is when we expose this vulnerable part of ourselves to another, remove all masks or pretences, forget to consider what the other will think but simply continue as you truly are. It is the most frightening thing we ever do. We allow another to see us, to observe our nakedness, not of physical bodies but of our minds, hearts, souls. We do not need to speak to make ourselves heard. It this action that is so eloquent, and it is because it is so rare that it is always suspect, for people will give themselves over to base, vulgar ideas to avoid understanding.

How many people have we met that know us in this true sense? We are lucky if there is even one. One to see us as both our better self and the worst demon, the human being in his entirety. One to view us without shame. And one to whom we can be revealed.

And beyond people, who is it but God?

When you leave a lifetime of religious practice, many of the disruptions which you experience are easy to predict and obvious to observe. Certainly the ‘extrinsic’ challenges are tangible; leaving religion can disrupt virtually all of ones key interpersonal relationships, and can fundamentally alter how one identifies with the world at large.

But, as difficult as the extrinsic adjustments are, one of the most disorienting experiences of leaving faith, at least for myself, is the loss of the Personal God. The Personal God takes shape in our minds as we pass through life, listening to each thought, bearing witness to each deed. We converse endlessly with our God. Sometimes we plead. Sometimes we discuss our quandaries. Sometimes we celebrate our triumphs.

This God understands us as only a lifelong friend and confidant may. He empathizes with our difficulties. He cheers our moral victories and our personal achievements – even the secret ones of which no one else knows. He gently scolds our failings –understanding us nonetheless.

Each thought we have is not lost. It gains immortality in the eternal consciousness of God. Each minute deed that we do, or even intend to do, is credited and preserved everlasting. Our Personal God is omniscient – all knowing and all understanding of everything that is ourselves.

And, when you no longer believe? What a terrible loss. Your best friend and benfactor, the witness to all of your life struggles and achievements must now leave you. You are growing up, and the imaginary friends of childhood have no place in your adult world.

And yet, he remains.

“Go.” you say. “You don’t exist! You are not God! Go away!”

But he lingers. “Be reasonable, I am still the one who knows you best.”

“Who are you then? Why should I keep you with me?”

And, very slowly, through the reflection of years and the many turns of life, an answer begins to emerge.

“I am the consciousness which you created. I teach you not the mysteries of the ages, but that which you already know. I hold not a morality which comes from On High, but that which you have forged for yourself. As you advance, I thrive. As you choose, I guide. I am not the voice of ultimate good, but I am the reflection of what is best in your own self.”

And You Shall Tell Your Children On That Day...

2006-04-12T00:41:00.000-04:00

My son once asked me how children could possibly believe in Santa Clause. How, after all, could anyone believe that he delivered gifts to children all over the world in a single night, especially since there was a much more logical explanation – that the gifts were from their parents.

This is what I told him:

“Jewish children believe that Eliyahu Hanavi comes to each seder and takes a drink of wine. We all pour him a glass of wine, open the door, and stand up when he is supposed to be there, invisible. Children believe in Eliyahu because their parents tell then that it is true, and act as if it is happening. This is the same reason that non-Jewish children believe in Santa.”

Objective Morality without God

2006-04-09T00:19:00.000-04:00

It is a common belief that, without a divinely inspired morality, our moral systems are inherently relative. Man, with his limited intellect, earthly temptations, and subjective judgment, could not hope to arrive at any true definition of right and wrong. At best, a system of relative morality could be adopted, which could be imposed on a specific population for a limited time. But such a system would necessarily reflect the flawed reasoning, and limited understanding of mankind.

I grew up with the notion that such relative systems, could be extremely dangerous. Take, as an extreme, but not isolated case, at Nazi Germany. Once the assumption that Aryans were racially superior, and that Jews were a threat, was accepted, then persecution and genocide were not immoral. On the contrary, the Holocaust was a highly moral action - within the specific assumptions and relative thinking of the Nazis.

Objective Human Morality does exist, and is a beautifully elegant and eternal code. It is based on the simple and undeniable truth that the human race shares a single planet. Man does not live alone, but in community. While the principle sounds very simplistic, it has vast, sweeping consequences:

- Objective Morality is the law which governs how man can live together.

- Behaviors which will make it impossible for people to live together successfully are prohibited.

Or, as Hillel said, “What is hateful to yourself, do not do to your fellow man”.

What are some of the consequences of this?

You may not murder someone else, regardless of what prejudices you hold.
You can not steal.
You can not enslave.
You can not cause physical harm.
You can not oppress.

You can do anything in the whole wide world which does not harm your fellow man.

Note that this is very different from the concept in the Bible of “Love thy neighbor as you yourself.” This concept works only in the abstract. If it were to be objectified in the same way as Hillel’s concept, everything would go haywire. You do not give your neighbor your food, your car, your tuition, your PIN number. Essentially, you don’t love your many neighbors as you love yourself. (If you are somewhat rational.) So, one can say that this is a metaphor for altruistic behavior, which is highly laudable. But is not a concrete moral concept.

One of the fallacies about objective morality is that it is a system of defining what the ‘ultimate good’ consists of. While that may be a nice thing to think about when you’re waiting in line at the supermarket, it is completely different from and irrelevant to morality. Ultimate good, or ultimate purpose is a concept which is very individual, and just as people have different personalities and skills, and therefore have different jobs which they enjoy and excel at, they also have different paths to their own self-actualization. ("Life-Purpose without God" will have to wait for a future post.)

How do we know that the "Hillel" system of morality is, in fact objectively moral? Are we accepting the precepts of the Declaration of Independence "That all men are created equal"? No, although I certainly hope that such an idea stands on it's own merit. All that we are assuming is that for a person to have the expectation that he will maintain his basic rights, he must respect the rights of others. You can not lay claim to your own right to live if you kill others. You can not expect that your ownership of property will be protected unless you respect the right of your fellow man to own property. This has been called 'Reciprocal Morality', and perhaps that name fits, but whatever the name, the idea is based on the single basic fact of community.

Unfortunately, the existence of a moral system does not ensure moral conduct. The history of our world is filled with the story of the struggle of morality to emerge. People violate moral law, sometimes out of economic desperation, sometimes out of selfish aggression, often because of a notion which places their own humanity above that of others.

The story of the human race, from the beginnings of history up to the preset, is the story of the slow, imperfect, non-monotonic adoption of morality. To a great degree, the process mirrors the globalization of mankind. At the dawn of civilization, man could define their community of 'fellow men' only in very local terms. As transportation and communications gradually grew, that community grew to include regions, nations, countries, and, ultimately, the world.

But it is a story not only of geographic inclusion but of intellectual inclusion. Immoral behavior has been caused and justified by theories of exclusion. Ideas take hold which teach that a certain person or group is excluded from the 'fellow man' group, or even from the human race. They can be based on a theory of prejudice, they can be taught as 'God given' concepts, they can be motivated by selfish expedience, or by hatred. As our planet has evolved, many prejudices and fears have slowly been overcome. Tragically, many have not.

Objective human morality offers challenges. It does not obviate the need for examination of social ethics. Can you kill in self-defense, and how far can you take that concept? Can you impose restrictions which limit freedom in order to preserve security? (These same questions must be asked within the ‘divine’ moral systems which have been proposed.) Also, while the principle is absolute and unchanging, it recognizes the fact of social context. If a society has the custom of greeting someone by pinching their cheek, then that is not a ‘hateful’ behavior for that specific society, though it may be for others.

But, unlike divine morality, human morality offers no excuses. You can not kill idol worshipers. You can not oppress those who believe differently. You can not persecute people for their race or sexual orientation.

Not in the past, not now, not in the future.

mizmor l'dovid

2006-04-06T12:13:00.000-04:00

מזמור לדוד, קינה לדוד מיבעי ליה? אמר ר' שמעון בן אבישלום, משל למה הדבר דומה. לאדם שיצא עליו שטר חוב. קודם שפרעו היה עצב, לאחר שפרעו שמח. אף כן דוד

A song of David? It should say 'A lamentation of David'. Rav Shimon son of Avishalom said, "To what does this compare. To a person who owes a debt; before he has repaid, he is miserable. Once he has repaid, he is joyful. So it is with David."

Berachos 7b

Again

Throw me a rope, I think I am falling

My legs are spent, I can’t walk on anymore

I can’t see ahead because my eyes are burning

I’m lost just like a child in a storm

---------------------------------------------------

Stand with me, I haven’t got the courage

Keep me from the fire and the scorn

Hold me so I’ll feel my strength returning

My soul is empty, and my mind is numb

---------------------------------------------------

But you said, I can’t climb this mountain for you

I can’t lead you down a path that’s not your own

I can’t ease the pain that you feel deep inside you

But I love who you are, I hold you in my heart,
and I know that you’ll find your way again

----------------------------------------------------

Once I thought I had a star to guide me

A compass which would see me through my years

I had a voice to talk to in confusion

And a place to go to calm my doubts and fears

----------------------------------------------------

But now the stars hold only questions

The paths which seemed so wide just lead nowhere

The voices sing a song without a reason

And walls of shelter disappear

----------------------------------------------------

And you say, son, the stars don’t hold your answers

Just dreaming dreams will never heal your pain

Look at yourself, that path is right inside you

You know who you are, so come and make a start,
and I know that you’ll find your place again

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

If you think this is bad, you should hear the melody.

Agnostic Fundamentalism?

2006-04-04T12:59:00.000-04:00

"I find that I cannot conceive of a Universe that just sprang into existence by itself. I find that all the intricate and specific laws on which our Universe operates leads to an ordered existence that I cannot believe was a cosmic accident. I find that when I study the extremely intricate and complex biochemical pathways through which our cells produce energy or through which it stores genetic information or through anything that makes life as we know it possible I am struck with a sense of awe and I cannot make sense of it unless I suppose some kind of design."

This was posted by "Orthoprax" in a very interesting and honest self-assessment of his belief system. The writer is a ‘skeptical’ Orthodox Jew, who writes on topics related both to the practice of orthodoxy and its philosophical implications. (And, since it is a departure from Orthoprax’s usual skeptical outlook, Godol Hador dedicated a post to quoting and discussing his ideas.)

For all of my own agnosticism, I have a lot of empathy for this argument. This is a sort of composite of what I consider to be the two most compelling intuitive arguments for belief in a spiritual universe (or God, or creator, etc.).

1. The ‘First Fact’ problem: It seems that no matter how big the bang was, something must have pre-dated it. Time is, or at least appears to be, an infinite continuum, and either matter or energy had to exist for the bang to take place.

2. The ‘System Complexity’ problem: Evolution, as currently understood, seems to fall short in explaining how biological systems of such mind-boggling complexity such as DNA and the Optic Nerve could have developed, even with billions of years in which to evolve.

There are scientific theories which deal with these issues. For example, String Theory and General Relativity can produce a perpetual universe in which Time (as we experience it) is a variable which has relevance only to certain conditions.

Still, these are just theories, not answers, and I can well understand the choice which Orthoprax makes that believing in an intelligent creator is just more compelling. One cannot prove or disprove the existence of God, but don't these questions offer obvious hints?

So why don’t I choose to believe? How can I be so committed to agnosticism? And is it worth giving up faith in order to choose…nothing…uncertainty? What is the point of that?

Let me try to explain two postulates:

1. Where Science Ends, Mythology Begins:

Thousands of years ago, Man could not explain the rising and setting of the sun, the stars, nor the change of seasons. Perhaps some people had outlandish theories about planets and planetary motion, but these theories were far less compelling than the complex mythology which emerged and took hold. As the ability of science to explain the natural universe has expanded, the line of where mythology is used to fill in the gaps of understanding has receded (though not without a fight).

We find ourselves in the same position today, though we speak of more sophisticated issues. Currently, the frontier of scientifically proven understanding stands at the great questions of the origins and nature of the cosmos, and the mechanisms of the development of intelligent life. But we must still make the same decision as Mankind did at the dawn of history; do we assume that what we do not understand can not be explained rationally and create myths, or do we assume that our lack of understanding does not compel a supernatural answer.

It is very difficult to accept a world in which such obvious questions remain unanswered. We have the same primordial drive to understand our universe as our ancestors did. That desire - to understand our world - is what motivated ancient man to create pagan mythology, and it is the same urge which compels us to postulate a creator.

This does not negate, and certainly does not disprove, the theory of God, but to me it frames the problem differently. The unexplained phenomena which seems so compelling to us today are no more compelling than the onset of a rainstorm was to early man.

This leads to the second principle:

2. The Un-provability of God is, in Itself, Determinative:

If we can not prove or disprove God, what does that tell us about our life purpose? I understand the argument that, for the universe to offer freedom of choice, God can fundamentally not be provable. However, I do not agree with the corollary; that therefore belief in God is a righteous choice of faith.

No.

To me, the opposite is true, if there is a God, He does not want us to suspend rational thought, He does not want us to use emotional arguments as proof of His existence(1), He does not want us to make a ‘best guess’ at His being, and He certainly does not want us to adopt belief as an expedient to avoid punishment or achieve reward.

Wouldn’t God want us to seek morality based upon what He actually gave us, not a myth of revelation, but a capacity to learn, to feel and to reason? Wouldn’t He want us to choose a life purpose which was meaningful and satisfying whether or not our existence ended with death or not – whether He exists or not?

And, certainly, if our religious beliefs hindered us by teaching us to subvert our reason, to doubt our own rational process, and to accept beliefs which were prejudiced and immoral, would it not be our higher calling to question these beliefs?

(1) Those emotions being our drive to understand our universe, to lend purpose to our lives, to avoid death, etc..

New Branch of Judaism Formed

2006-04-03T00:23:00.000-04:00

Tachanun to be Omitted on Godol Hador’s Birthday:
Halacha to remain otherwise unchanged.

What do people do when they no longer believe in the classic orthodox Jewish dogma that the Torah was revealed on Mount Sinai to Moses, and that all of the laws and practices which are adhered to today are reflections of that revelation?

Over the past few months, during my still nascent blogging career, I have been observing with fascination the evolving metamorphosis of super-blogger Godol Hador, the Eddie Van Halen of skeptical orthodox riff making. In his blog, which ranks among the most well written and humorous of those which I read, GH discusses and debunks many of the issues which lie at the uncomfortable border between acceptable orthodox belief and apostasy. He explores the origins of the bible, the place of myths and miracles, the principles of free will and afterlife, the role of science, the requirements of faith, and many similar topics. At the same time, he fires, in approximately equal helpings, his sharp, amusing and well crafted diatribes at orthodox fundamentalists and skeptical non-believers (and basically at anyone who doesn’t agree with him, i.e. everyone).

While GH rarely stated his own views outright, it was becoming more and more obvious over the past few months that his belief in the historical accuracy of the Torah was, well, a thing of the past. He was beginning to focus less on what threads to hold on to and wrote more about where he could find his ‘soft landing’.

Here’s onememorable riff(Mormons being the topic at hand):

“It’s amazing how people can believe such obvious nonsense. Boruch Hashem I’m not a Mormon, but instead an Orthodox Jew. Err, better make that a Modern Orthodox Jew. Errr, make that a Rational Modern Orthodox Jew. OK, a Maskilishe Rational Modern Orthodox Jew. Oh just forget I mentioned it. OK? I said forget it.”

One of the most interesting things about this was that, for all of his skepticism, GH was not for a minute considering leaving orthodox practice. The reasons he presented for this, while not among his most logical discourses, were heartfelt. He argued that, while the exact basis of Judaism could be questioned, the spiritual benefits of observing halacha were self-evident.

So what was going on with GH? To understand the picture, here is a summary of Godol’s take on life:

1. Without God, all morality is ‘relative’. There is no moral basis for declaring any right and wrong.
2. Non-believers are an unhappy group who drift through life without meaning or purpose.
3. Non-religious society lacks the strong social and communal strength of religious society.

Actually, GH finds himself in a place where many orthodox jews come to, at least for a time. The principlas of belief are gone, but all of the other pulls towards religion - the moral certainty, the purposefulness of each life decision, the comfort and acceptance of community – all are still in tact.

Some people ultimately leave, as I did, and endure the mess and difficulties of dealing with the people in ones life who are affected by this. Some do nothing; the ideological issue is simply not important enough to cause a change. Some people find a new story to value their religious practices without believing in the underling dogma.

But for GH, the answer was rather different - he created a new religion, or, to be more accurate, a recasting of the definition of the existing ‘Modern Orthodox’ (MO) religion.

According the Godol, ‘Real’ MO adherents do not, in fact, believe in the literal story of the bible, nor do they believe in the classic story of revelation. These are all allegorical tales. They do, however, believe in the importance of keeping every single detail of Jewish law, as currently practiced by the fundamentalist Orthodox community. In his last three posts (1, 2, 3) (which represents only a few hours of Godol’s publishing career), GH constructed an elaborate theology for the ‘Real MO’ religion, complete with dogmatic coda and FAQ.

So why are there (virtually) no adhearants to this great new faith, even as Orthodoxy continues to thrive? As many commentors pointed out, this is just a re-casting of ‘Conservadox’ or ‘Orthoprax’ ideology, two slivers of Judaism too insignificant to fill the 10:30 shachris room in the Sphardisha Shule.

Fundamentalism is sustainable, with all of its clear ideals and isolationism. Non-belief is sustainable for its rational causation. Many other systems of spiritual thought are sustainable (to a greater or lesser degree) if they are at least somewhat self-consistent. But the combination of an all-encompassing and controlling system of halacha with a flexible view on the origins of law, that doesn’t have much staying power. It is simply too contradictory to make sense for the long run. You are, on the one hand training yourself (and your children) to not take bible stories literaly or to atribute what is taught directly to God. And, othe the other hand, you are maintaining that doing each mithzvah perfectly is a fulfilment of God's will. Sorry, I understand the rationals, but they just crumble.

But, at least for today, the GH is the actual Godol Hador (or L. Ron Hubbard) of a great newborn faith – ‘Real Modern Orthodoxy’.

I wonder if they’ll get the hagadah out in time.

The Mine

2006-03-27T12:33:00.000-05:00

Thousands of people are working in an enormous mine facility, many miles underground. The mine is stocked with food, water, energy and oxygen to last them one year. There is a huge explosion which completely destroys the tunnel which is the sole link between the mine and the surface. The tunnel is a remarkable engineering effort which took over 20 years to dig.

One of the minors, let’s call him ‘Moses’, proclaims that he has found a hidden map which describes a secret escape tunnel. With a massive digging effort, they can reach the escape tunnel in less than a year. The followers of Moses argue that he must be correct. After all, the mining company would never put them into this mine without some means of escaping.

Others claim that there is no such tunnel, that the map is an obvious forgery. They point out that there are rational reasons why the escape tunnel must not exist. It would be virtually impossible for a second tunnel to be dug without it being known. Also, if the tunnel is there, why did the company not simply tell everyone. They point out various suspicious aspects of the map which indicate that it was drawn up far more recently than Moses claims, and that it looks far more like a map made by a single person that by the company. They argue that a system of rational law should be put into place and that, so long as no one violates those laws, they should spend their remaining time as they see fit.

The followers of Moses argue back that there are many reasons why the map may have been secret. It is possible that the Company did not want the escape tunnel used unless it was a last resort. After all, the tunnel does not have the same level of safety as the main tunnel, and is not designed for constant use. It is even possible that the Company kept the existence of the tunnel secret so that the minors would not lose confidence in the security of the main tunnel, which they had always believed to be impervious to mishaps. They point out to the non-believers that, when the escape tunnel is reached, those who dug would be rewarded by the Company, and those who did not would be harshly judged.

Some argue that, while they really don’t believe Moses, it is far better for them to go along with the charade. After all, this belief would give the group purpose and meaning for the year of life which they had left. By performing the ritual of digging for the escape tunnel, the people would maintain their hope, and would live a more fulfilled and happy year. In addition, they are afraid that if all conclude that there is no escape, that the group would deteriorate to immorality and chaos. They also point out that, while there are undeniable problems with the authenticity of the map, no one can offer an absolute proof that the map is forged.

Yet others argue that, while there is certainly no tunnel, there is always some hope that, through some process unknown to them, a rescue is remotely possible. Perhaps there is some new digging technology which they are unaware of. Even if they can not fathom a rational rescue, they can not rule it out completely. They advocate that, while the group should not waste their time and effort in meaningless digging, the group should accept that they do not really know what their future holds.

So what would you believe?

Time for a Name Change

2006-03-25T15:11:00.000-05:00

I'm changing my clever but obscure 'the daas and the diybur' to the simpler, more lyrical, (less anonymous) 'david's harp'. I'm not changing my URL, so hopefully Blogger will be able to handle this without too much trouble.

Selecting a name for this blog is difficult. I hope to continue to post about my ideas on the formation and adoption of beliefs, the interplay of emotions and cognition, and the gulf of understanding between believers and non-believers. I also hope to continue relating some of my personal experiences about the process and consequences of changing your beliefs.

But, as I go forward, I'll try to lighten up and have a bit more fun with the blog. After all, there's more to the meaning of life than, well, the meaning of life. Who knows, I may even post a bit of my music. We'll see.

Migillah Meme

2006-03-19T00:51:00.000-05:00

Chana has tagged me with the megillah meme.

I'm not sure what the rules of the game are, so I guess I'll just follow my flow of consciousness and see how it goes.

This Purim, I thought about:

My oldest daughter, who is studying in Israel, and the fact that she will be celebrating Shushan Purim. Which got me thinking about...

...how complicated the discussion in the Talmud is about which cities read the Megillah on which days. Which got me thinking about a weird thing in the discussion where...

... in trying to figure out if Tiberius was walled during the time of Joshua, the Talmud says: "ומי פשיטא ליה דטבריא מוקפת חומה מימות יהושע בן נון והא חזקיה קרי בטבריא בארביסר ובחמיסר", that Hezekia read the Megillah there on both days, proving that it was in doubt. (Megillah 5b). Which is very strange, since Hezekiah lived at least 200 years before Purim. (Has anyone seen any discussions on this?) Which got me thinking about...

...how strange it is that there is such a long discussion of Purim, but only about half a page on Channukah in Shabbos. Which got me thinking about...

...Whether Chazal (the Rabbis of the Talmud) really had it in for the Hashmonaem, who were very likely Sadduceas, or at least had the ambition of a Priestly monarchy. (Which Chazal would not approve of, since they are not from the tribe of Juda.) Which would help explain why 'Esther' was accepted into the Canon, while 'Macabeas' didn't make the cut. Which got me thinking about...

... how it always seems to me that Judaism during the Second Temple period was splitting into two religion's; one based on the Temple, sacrifices and priests and one based on study and prayer. And that ultimately, with the loss of the Temple, that former branch of the religion was wiped out, which ended up being a good thing for Judaism, since a pagan-like religion could not have been sustained. Which got me thinking about about...

...how it even seems to me that the Torah itself contains two very different religions; one centering on animal sacrifices, Priestly rituals, ritual purity and kohanic gifts, and the other based on the formula of the Ten commandments and the establishment of Civil law and moral codes of conduct. And thought about how it makes sense to me...

...that the story line really is that Moses envisioned a much less pagan-like religion, and tried to do away with all of the pagan rituals which had been adopted in Egypt and Canaan. And that, perhaps, when the incident of the Golden Calf occurred, he realized that he would not be able to pull it off. So, he appointed his own family priests and selectively adopted pagan rituals. (A little Parshas Parah drasha.) And that, actually....

...this isn't completely different from some of the ideas in Chazal that the Tabernacle/red heifer, etc.. Are 'atonement' for the sin of the Golden Calf. And that...

...Orthodox Jews pray so feverntly for the restoration of the temple and the sacrifices, but that they have no idea how bizzare those practices would be in modern times. One thing that Chazal got right was prohibiting the re-building of the Temple by human means. They, at least, understood that the world had moved past paganism. And, that made me think again how...

...to me, this is just one more case of fitting a bunch of square pegs in round holes, and how a relatively small change in thinking can make such a vast difference in outlook Which got me thinking about...

...ow huge the gulf in mind-set is between believers and non-believers. Which of course, got me thinking about...

...My daughter, and how much I love her and miss her and my other children.

May these days be transformed "מִיָּגוֹן לְשִׂמְחָה, וּמֵאֵבֶל לְיוֹם טוֹב ", "from grief to joy, from mourning to celebration" for all of us.

Happy Purim

Did you ever wonder....

2006-03-13T21:29:00.000-05:00

Why do very, very smart people believe very, very silly things?

Now don’t get all defensive, I’m not necessarily talking about Orthodox Judaism, though to most people, the beliefs upon which orthodoxy is based are quite far fetched. Maybe I was talking about Mormon, or Scientology. Or maybe I was talking about some of the fundamentalist beliefs in some of the Christian sects. Or perhaps I was talking about Native American Religions, which holds that man was formed from mud (hmm, actually that sounds familiar). Regardless of what your own perspective is, you must admit that there are other belief systems which have many adherents, and which are based on some pretty far out notions.

Each of these faiths have the normal spectrum of intelligent people. All have brilliant, gifted thinkers who are educated, inquisitive and truth-seeking. There is a tendency to deny that people who believe these things are intelligent and open. But, regardless of the religion, those people are there. And, certainly, OJ has many frighteningly brilliant minds.

So how do all of these people live their lives holding on to beliefs which seem starkly irrational. Part of the answer has to do with the reasoning tools which we use to deal with these beliefs. All believers have a system of thought which helps them reconcile their ideas with science, history, etc.. The smarter a person is, the more sophisticated their reasoning processes. This may reduce the level of incongruity of the beliefs to a more manageable level, and may even provide some logical arguments to substantiate religious claims.

But, obviously, there is more going on here than cognitive reasoning. To understand what is happening, we must look past the sphere of conscious reason and look at what is going on in our subconscious minds.

Our subconscious brain is, among other things, a full time self-defense system. It is the invisible fence which gives us visceral jolts each time we come close to a danger zone, or each time a threat is perceived. The subconscious is not the absolute ruler of our selves, but to not be controlled by it, we must be aware of what is going on. If you have a fear of heights, your psyche has identified high places as containing immediate danger, and will let your emotions know loud and clear that you are in peril. You can still climb the ladder, (and it will become easier if you can be aware that you’re subconscious reaction is not always in line with the objective level of danger), but it won’t be easy.

Changing our long held religious beliefs is enormously dangerous to our emotional wellbeing. Consider this; all you need to do is conclude that the Torah does not reflect the word of God, and, instantly, you are in a very bad place. You’ve just lost your road map for what is and is not a priority in life, for how you evaluate moral and life choices. You don’t know what God or the universe wants from you, or what your life will ultimately mean. You are disappointing and betraying your role models, your parents, your teachers, your friends, and your children. This can add up to complete self-annihilation, ‘Psychic suicide’, the very thing which you subconscious is working overtime to avoid.

Regardless of how clear and objective a thinker you are, your mind will go to whatever extremes it must to prevent you from putting all of this together. You can circle around the perimeter of disbelief all you want, but something in your subconscious mind will simply NOT let you really go all the way there. You will always get caught somewhere in the process and side tracked to an alternate route. Your mind may shift to contemplation of all of the reasons why you do believe what you do. It may wander to your emotional and spiritual feelings. It may re-route you to thinking about what you find flawed in non-belief. But you will have a very hard time keeping yourself focused on the basic, objective evaluation of your beliefs.

If you are an OJ, try the following little experiment: Say to yourself, (and try to imagine believing) “There is no covenant between God and the Jews. The Torah is a work of fictional mythology. God, if he exists at all, could not care less about any of our religious practices.” Notice that as you say it, your brain is coming up with reasons why these statements are wrong – even absurd, or why they don’t work for you. Notice how uncomfortable this feels.

Your subconscious is interfering with your conscious thought process. And it will not let you give up these ideas without a fight.

Unless….

Unless you’re life has taken a turn in which these self-annihilation elements no longer apply as much or, unless there are very strong emotional incentives to change. This can be caused by many, many things, both internal and external. Perhaps the beliefs that you have are causing more psychic anguish than not believing. Perhaps you have created a strong enough foundation of alternate moral and ethical principles, so that you will not be without a compass. Perhaps you have established a new support system of friends, role models, communities who will help you deal with the losses and alienation from your old world, or perhaps you have developed enough confidence in key people in your old support group that they will not abandon you if you change your beliefs.

Whatever the cause, when these offsetting forces come into play and gain enough strength to counter your self defense system, then, and only then, will your subconscious mind allow your conscious mind to begin to fully explore those beliefs upon which your life choices are based. Only then will you be able to change the ideas which you have held for your life. The process can be slow or fast, it can lead you away from faith or towards faith. Perhaps religious ideas always seemed untenable to you, but as you gain an emotional attachment to those ideas and to the people who practice them, they gradually seem less outlandish.

Understanding all of this doesn’t lessen the legitimacy of belief. On the contrary, knowing this is the crux of truly respecting the belief system of another, even if these beliefs are beyond what you consider rationally possible. The process of believing is a very personal thing, and has criteria which differ from one person to another. In this respect, believing and not believing are pure equals.

Only you can know which way is best for your path in life, and only you have the right to choose.

Your Karma is in my Hashkacha

2006-03-07T16:11:00.000-05:00

This past Friday, the ever-quotable Godol Hador wrote about the issue of divine providence, “haskacha pratis’, that God is actively intervening in our lives. While the post briefly discussed some of the concepts in the Rambam’s (Maimonides) system of thought, it focused on GH’s own experience with his internal beliefs and instincts. He writes:

Anytime something bad happened, my parents would say ‘See! That’s because you didn’t clean up your room, or because you were rude to your mother, or whatever’.

… this attitude has become ingrained in me, or as DovBear might say, ‘hardwired into my brain and there’s nothing I can do about it’. Except that, being a mature, intelligent, adult, there is something I can do about it. I can stop thinking that way. But do I really want to?First of all, Chazal say that when troubles befall a man, he should examine his ways. Every time something bad happens to me, I can usually come up with something wrong that I did recently, and oftentimes my inventive mind can figure out quite a good middah cneged middah which wraps the whole thing up quite neatly.

If you can show me some hard evidence that God is not directing my misfortunes, (or even that He doesn’t exist) then maybe we have something to talk about. But until then, I think I will stick with my beliefs. They have served me well so far, and I see no good reason to change them.

Since the Rambam’s view on this issue contains some paradoxical (or schizophrenic) statements, and since I didn’t read the posting until at least five minutes after it appeared, by the time I looked, there were about a hundred comments. There was the usual rapid fire repartee about what the Rambam really thinks, whether it is or isn’t contradictory, and whether this is yet another indication that GH is a closet (or outright) irrational apikores.

But the one comment which I thought really was on point was by Ger T’zadik.

You're talking more about psychology, not the relative merits of theodicy versus rationalism. You may THINK you can stop from thinking that way, but the truth of the matter is that it will always be your first thought in those situations. You can learn to tune them out, but not off. You can also choose not to pass that trait along to your children by keeping such thoughts to yourself. Unless you have decided that it's such a worthwhile trait that it's good for them to have it. I suspect that is not the case though, and you will be a generally rational actor with your kids...so they won't share that one aspect of your personality. They'll be better rationalists than you.

I don’t know if the Rambam ends up promoting or debunking the idea of specific causality in everyday life. But, despite claims by some the commentors, this instinctive thinking that our fortunes or misfortunes are the result of something which we did, or some greater divine plan, is deeply engrained in almost all of us. There are endless lessons in the Torah which reinforce this idea and I’ve heard thousands of speeches, shmuses and drashas where this was the main theme. I’m not arguing that this is a required dogmatic concept of faith, but, rather, that it is the de facto ideology which dominates Jewish education and thought.

I used to think that such broad self-blame was a unique aspect of Jewish thinking – one which went a long way to explain the “Jewish Guilt” phenomenon. I’m no expert on comparative religion, but I’ve come to believe that the idea is quite global. Not only is it an integral part of Western religious doctrine, but the same principles are a key part of Hindu and Buddhist theology. While the Western religions attribute causation to God’s omniscient providence, the Eastern religions attribute Karma to the natural course of spiritual force. In the end, though, they both believe that seemingly random events are consequences of our actions.

Even outside of the realm of religious thought, this idea is popular. One example is the Lynn Grabhorn book “Excuse Me, Your Life is Waiting”, which argues that everything which happens to us, good and bad, is a direct consequence of what energy we are manifesting. Sure, this is pop spirituality (okay, I’m a self help book junkie), but it’s sold a few hundred thousand copies, and there are many similar ideas.

My question about all of this, though, is keyed off of GH’s statement at the end of his post.

…I think I will stick with my beliefs. They have served me well so far, and I see no good reason to change them.

Does this really serve us well? Suppose that there was no theological reason to attribute personal events to our actions, as many argue that the Rambam believes. Suppose that it is, after all, just an emotional instinct which we’ve developed. And let’s even assume that we can choose to turn this instinct off. We could just flip a switch and suddenly feel that our good and bad fortunes were random. (And, for believers, all consequences are left for a world to come.) Would that ‘serve us better’ or not?

Would we be overwhelmed, feeling that we were spinning out of control in a random universe? Would we live each day dreading all of the unexpected and undeserved disasters which could occur at any moment? For myself, it certainly feels good to think that I can effect my own luck by mending my ways, producing better karma or manifesting more positive thoughts.

Or, if we had the courage, would we get someplace better. Perhaps we would be more accepting of our troubles, and not make them worse by creating stories of self-blame. Perhaps we would roll up our sleeves and focus our energy on solving – and preventing - our problems with real life actions, rather than waste our efforts on thoughts and rituals which have no bearing on our situation. And, perhaps, we could even learn to accept the good fortune which we enjoy with a bit more humility.

Perhaps we would live closer to the ‘Serenity Prayer’.

"Grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,The courage to change the things I can,And the wisdom to know the difference."

GH responded to Ger T’zadik’s comment about not passing the self-blame reflex to his children:

On the contrary, I think I will drill this into them. Being super rational and potentially ending up as nihilistic atheists won't help them much in life.

Okay, GH, I know how you come down on this one. How about the rest of you?

tears

2006-03-05T15:42:00.000-05:00

Perhaps I should spend less time online and more time reading the news.

Today, the NY Times printed a long article about the kidnap, torture and death of this young man, Ilan Halimi, in suburb of Paris. His tormentors were a ragtag gang, led by a Moslem from the Ivory Coast. Among the shocking and horrible aspects of this incident, is the fact that many neighbors and residents in the building in which Ilan was held and tortured for three weeks knew, or at least partly knew, what was taking place.

Since the police insisted on treating this case as a typical kidnap/ransom situation, and did not take into account the anti-Semitic factors, they did not allow for the possibility that Ilan may be facing unspeakable torture and death. This act was carried out by sociopathic criminals, but it was allowed to proceed by racists who could not be bothered to intervene in a crime being committed against a Jew.

France may well be the world (and certainly the Western) leader in anti-semitism. The bland official reaction to recent anti-Jewish violence, the strenthening of racist political groups, the great reluctance to prosecute those culpable for deportation during WWII, (And, of course, PM Raymond Barre's memorable eulogy for victims of the 1980 Paris Synagogue bombing killing "both Jews and innocent Frenchmen"), all of these are consistent with sentiments both in French officialdom and in the street.

I am an optimist about humanity and the future path of the world. My feelings are not based on how great the current state of affairs are, but of how far we have come over the long, twisting passage of history. I am not rushing to paint broad conclusions about rampaging evil from this tragic incident.

But I find no comfort for this terrible death. All I can hear are Ilan's cries in agony. His last desperate, determined crawl, his eyes and mouth taped, his body cut and burned, his throat slashed. He crawled from the woods, where he was dumped, to a nearby train station. There he died.

Mi yiten roshi mayim, v'aini m'kom dima

all in all, disconnected

2006-03-01T23:47:00.000-05:00

My oldest daughter is a great writer. Not only has she been bestowed with an eloquent and lyrical style, but, more importantly, she has a much rarer gift. At eighteen, she has the ironic, unflinching eye of the writer. She can look at herself in an everyday situation and describe with humor, freshness and unforgiving accuracy, the human drama which is unfolding within and around her.

Here is an excerpt from a post on her blog, (which I will not link to our of respect for her privacy), which she wrote about a year ago.

A subway car is a capsule, a cross section of humanity momentarily crystallized in as inoffensive a setting as stainless-steel and plastic can conjure. Every crevice of society can be seen on the subway at one time or another, the respectable, the questionable, the inconceivable, and all possible contortions of "the other half."

These people fascinate me. A sliver of my mind is always itching with the sizzle of unanswered questions. Who are the people I see on the subway? Why are they there, and where are they going? How did they come to look as they do, as tired or preppy or mentally unbalanced as they do? What does their clothing mean- is it choice, statement or necessity? Where do they live, and what are their livelihoods? When they look at me... what do they see?

I have no regular contact with these masses. Television is about as near as I come, and I am not so naive to imagine that life imitates art as exactly as it likes to pretend. I stare, glassy-eyed at these foreign lives with a swelling concoction of anxiety and fascination, a mist of unfamiliarity tinting and amplifying my curiosity.

Reading this brought me back hard to my own feelings of looking at the world – incomprehensible – through the lens of my childhood. I don’t know if my experiences are similar to my Orthodox readers. But, to me, I couldn’t help to constantly play this very game. Who are these people? How, without laws of modesty or religious norms, did they come to decide what to wear that day? What is important to them, what are their values, what motivates them? Are they happy and purposeful? Are they miserable and lost? What are they thinking about? How do I appear to them?

Sure, I had lots of clues, as my daughter writes about her experience with media. But, even after I had graduated from a secular college, had worked, and had may friends and acquaintances who were secular, the image of their lives remained blurry. Their choices often seemed contradictory to me. Was it really true that they were uninhibited about so many things which I found to be problematic, or were they just blithely clueless? If so, where did their passion for their own causes come from?

By background had instilled within me an innate sense that my moral compass was always pointed true north. But what about them? Did they even have a moral system? Did they even care?

Even now, after my own moral realignment and much more life experience, understanding the “other half” still sometimes requires some calculus. But, at this point, there are many things which I do know about these other passengers with whom we share our world. I have far too much respect for orthodoxy and, certainly, for my children, to wish for them to change their beliefs. But I do wish that the world made more sense to my daughter, and that her being with these people could be more than just a spectator sport.

(This isn’t my daughter’s strongest piece, but I quote it because it does a good job of relating this experience.)

Radical Empathy

2006-02-20T14:42:00.000-05:00

I’ve had a number of heated discussions recently about the Dutch cartoons and the violent responses which have arisen. For the record, I find the rioting, destruction and hateful rhetoric, which has certainly been exacerbated by politicians and clerics, to be morally reprehensible. Period.

There are two things which bother me, however, about the reactions which I am hearing and reading. First, and of lesser importance, there is a strong tendency to deny or overlook the idea that Moslems are truly, genuinely, deeply offended by the depictions. There seems to be an almost global view in the west that the reactions are almost entirely orchestrated. While there is certainly truth to this, why is it so difficult to understand that these images are belittling to deeply held religious beliefs. The average American would be completely shocked to understand how meaningful these sketches are. In this respect, the Iranian papers were not so far off base in comparisons to the holocaust. Ask yourself – do you think that Moslems are as upset by these images as we would be of holocaust cartoons? If your answer is ‘no’, then you don’t get it.

Second, and far more importantly, while there are all kinds of expressions from the west denouncing these depictions as being hateful, who among us really thinks that they are off base? Do we not think that the Moslem world is steeped in violence and aggression? Do we not view the average adherent to Islam as being less progressive, more inclined to radicalism, more likely to advocate war over peace? Don’t the cartoons simply emblemize ideas which are widely held in the west – you are the enemy, we don’t trust you, we fear you, we hate you.

Most of the Moslems in the world, the vast majority, are not rioting. They are upset by the loss of life and embarrassed by images in the media of embassy burnings. It is true that their voices are drowned out by angry radicalism, but who would they talk to anyway? Where do they expect to find an audience?

So, while we’re busy congratulating ourselves for being so far superior in the way that we have suffered the hatred which has been directed at us for so long, perhaps we can at least examine whether we have just a slightly more human feeling towards our Moslem cousins. Don’t stop condemning violence, but as we denounce all of this terrible hatred, perhaps we can try to address some of our own.

Epiphany! Oh, never mind...

2006-02-16T17:02:00.000-05:00

It’s late at night and you’re driving home, listening to some old Eagles song, letting your mind wander over some troubling, unsolvable problem which you’ve been thinking about for a long time. Seemingly from out of nowhere, an answer so elegant, so powerful, so obvious, so perfect comes suddenly into full focus. You’re so excited that you almost miss your exit. You can’t wait to think it through, write it down, tell your friends, take out an ad in the times, change your life… You think it over and over, rounding it out, looking for flaws, but they aren’t there, it’s really the answer.

You’ve just had an epiphany.

As soon as you get it all straight in your mind, you call your best friend to let them share in this great discovery. Ignoring the sounds of him fumbling to see what time it is on the other end of the phone, you erupt into your speech, which by now has been honed into a powerfully worded thesis, complete with footnotes, ironic anecdotes and dramatic florishs. Finally you finish and pause for air.

Your friend says, “Yeah, I guess I hear what you’re saying. Yawn. Hey, it’s late, what else is going on?”

On Sunday, Godol Hador, the Time Warner of the tiny sliver of humanity who blogs on Orthodox Jewish theology, wrote a post which received an unprecedented (in my limited experience) number of comments, over 600. In the post, GH puts forward a non-theological argument for why the Jewish religion is spiritually valid. While the piece was interesting, well written and peppered with GH’s characteristic side riffs on the orthodox landscape, one has to wonder why this particular post generated so much activity.

This post was unique in that it was presented not just as a theory, an argument, a proof, but as a master epiphany:

“Listen carefully Rabbosai, because this revelation is the answer. This revelation ties everything together. This revelation answers all our questions. This is it!”

GH had been hit by Newton’s apple. This answer harmonized all of GH’s problems with orthodox dogma and practice. The passion, the conviction - the deafening sigh of relief – they were what made this post so compelling.

GH’s skeptical readers reacted skeptically (and perhaps with a little disappointment), his believing readers reacted with great enthusiasm, overlooking, for now, some of GH’s more adogmatic assertions. Some felt that his conclusions were wrong, some felt that they were trivial, some that they were home runs. But few shared the blinding light which shone, at least momentarily, on the writer.

So what is an epiphany, I wondered. Why does it feel so good and so right? Why does it have special meaning to the person who experienced it, but not to those who share the idea? Why is it so exciting to have one?

And then, suddenly, it struck me. An epiphany is not just a thought which intellectually makes sense. It is an idea which resonates with our emotions. It lights up a new solution which works for us.

GH writes:

“Nothing was going right. Nothing was adding up. I was getting deeper and deeper into doubt. By Friday night I was sliding towards the bottom of the slippery slope.”

Godol Hador was saved. He did not have to stop believing, to give up all of the ideals and comforts of his orthodoxy, to abandon his growing blogging empire.

That is why the experience is so personal. It may have intellectual meaning to others, but it only delivers the powerful emotional message to ourselves. To the one who experiences it, the epiphany is instant relief from some strong emotional upset. It resolves a conflict, rationalizes a troubled choice, lights the way for a new path.

That must be it. It's perfect.

Change, Children and Hard Choices

2006-02-12T00:17:00.000-05:00

I’m not quite ready to post about the saga of my relationship with my children. I have four children, ages eleven through eighteen, and have been divorced for about two and a half years. For one thing, the story still has no ending. For another, I’m not sure that I can convey all of the essential nuances of the story without exceeding the patience of my nascent readers. Probably sooner, rather than later though, you’ll find a first installment of this epic, which plays such a central role in my life.

But as I’ve been reading and writing here, I’m increasingly aware that others also share the dilemma of how and when, if ever, to tell children of our religious doubts or disbelief. For me, as I’m sure I’ll get around to writing, the choice was made by my ex wife, rather than by me. So I claim no privilege of being a shining example of proactive honesty and consistency.

As I can personally attest, parents changing their beliefs can be extremely traumatic to children. In addition, there are some very real consequences which children must deal with when this happens, and all of us have strong responsibilities and instincts to protect our children. Also, each situation, indeed each child, is very different and has its own nuances and specifics, so I am certainly not presuming to have advice which is relevant or appropriate for all.

Having said all of that, I would like to point out a few issues which may be less obvious to those who have not ‘gone public’ with their families.

First, if you have the goal of a long term relationship with your children that is based on mutual love, respect and understanding, you must at least give them the tools to respect and understand you. The religious community tends to view those who become non-religious as having made an immoral choice. The common view is that people leave because they are drawn by the earthly pleasures of the world, because they do not want the hassle of being observant, or because they have some other ulterior motive. Sure, they may tell themselves that their choice is based on rational thought or on a search for truth, but this is merely a rational, they have been seduced by their evil inclination. At the very least, they are considered to be morally inferior. After all, they were not drawn by some lofty moral ideal, they simply rejected a religion which, at the very least, is highly moral.

It is very possible that you will be the only voice in the lives of your children who will offer a different picture. It is only you who will be able to tell them that your choices are legitimate, moral and honest. Whatever your motivations are, you are the only one who can convey their legitimacy. You don’t have to debate beliefs with you children, but you will have to be willing to be comfortable telling them, when appropriate, what your beliefs are. The longer that you avoid this, the longer that you pretend to believe what you do not, the more you reinforce to your children that not being religious is a shameful, immoral position. You are one of the strongest forces in your children’s lives and they have a very strong motivation to connect with you. In the end, they will still love you, but it will be much harder to respect your actions and understand you if you do not give them some context with which to do so.

Second, be aware of the role which age plays in the ability of children to accept and integrate drastic changes. As a rule, the younger your children are when you let them know, the easier it will be for them. Younger children accept the new situation simply as the reality of their life. Religion does not have all of the same meanings to them as it does to you. This does not mean that they will be immune from any confusion or pain, and as they grow up and mature, they will have to re-experience and re-integrate, but it will still be far easier. The older children are, the deeper is the sense of betrayal. They have more of a sense that you, and they, have been living a lie. The full implications, both practically and religiously, of your position will be more meaningful and more traumatic.

Lastly, consider the legacy which you are passing to your children. If they know that you are not religious, or that you are skeptical, despite how difficult that may be now, it inherently gives them a choice and empowers them. One of my motivators in how I ultimately dealt with my situation was to decide which message I wanted to pass to my children. That they had to adhere to orthodox practices at all costs, even if they did not believe, and that they had to stay in a marriage at all costs, even if the relationship had failed beyond repair. Or, that they had the choice, the authority, and the responsibility to believe what they believe, to act in a manner consistent with those beliefs, and to ultimately stay or not stay in a relationship.

Ask yourself this question. If you were the child, what would you prefer that your parent did, pretend to believe in something that they did not, or be honest with you and consistent with themselves?

...just a little bit

2006-02-03T01:28:00.000-05:00

Question:

Is it disrespectful to not be observant when in the company of our religious family and friends?

I do not refer to when we are in shul or during some religious practice. I am speaking of when we are visiting, having dinner, or getting together somewhere. Do we wear our yalmukas, wash, bench, go to minchah?

Is this “respect”?

I’ve certainly heard that it is - not just in my own case, but applied broadly to other members of the family who are not frum. “Isn’t it nice how they came to davening.” " Can you believe that they drove off before the end of shabbos?" My parents, (who have generally been very understanding) deeply believe that this is an issue of respect.

I bought into this idea as well. For quite a while, long after I was no longer observant – and long after my family knew this – I behaved religiously when I was with them. Not all of my motivation related to respect. There are other, more complex reasons – I have four orthodox children who I love very much – and the emotional consequences to them of my actions is far more important than to anyone else.

But if the reason to keep up the observance is as a show of respect, then I think that it is misplaced. This isn’t to say that my family would not be hurt by seeing me violating some lav – they would, and I understand the choice not to subject them to that pain. But this is not respect.

Respect, in my opinion, is a genuine appreciation that someone else has a valid right to choose their beliefs and to act according to those beliefs. It is not an expectation that someone else will mimic your observances so as not to upset you. Acting religiously may make my family more comfortable, and it may allow them to hold out hope that I may ultimately become frum, but it does not show respect.

Hearts and Minds

2006-01-26T00:22:00.000-05:00

It is a well traveled saying that people do not give up orthodoxy because of religious doubts, rather, they develop doubts to rationalize their desire to give up orthodoxy. I have a strong instinctive urge to refute this idea. It seems inherently dismissive and not respectful of the legitimacy of the ideas and motivations of those of us who ‘leave’. For someone like myself, who is inherently cognitively driven, and who has spent so much time reinforcing this intellectualism in the bais medrash, it is particularly annoying.

After all, there are more than enough difficult points of belief within Judaism to have rational reasons to disbelieve. If anything, believing – which requires the acceptance of almost endless supernatural events and divine prophesies - is far less rational.

But as much as I would like to get on my soapbox and argue that this is fundamentally untrue – that we stay or leave because of our theological reasons, the fact is that I believe that it touches on one of the most basic facets of humanity and faith. I’ve seen much discussion on what ‘belief’ – a principle requirement of orthodoxy – really means. But what is often overlooked is that belief is inherently an emotional process. It is the adherence to an idea which, by definition, has no rational verification. In modern psychological literature it is “an emotion which gains long term purpose”. Beliefs are ideas which have become deep seated sentiments.

As anyone who has engaged in theological debate knows, you can’t talk someone out of their beliefs. This concept is very well understood by those who are in the business of changing the ideology of others – missionaries, kiruv workers, cult recruiters. They know that in order to change a belief, the emotional groundwork must be established.

Of course, we are rational beings as well, and we struggle to maintain a coherent intellectual ‘story’ which works with our beliefs. Perhaps the more far fetched and irrational our beliefs are, the stronger our emotional attachment must be to maintain it. The emotional attachment which we develop with orthodoxy – from our earliest childhood experiences - are incredibly strong. Those who change a fundamental belief require a strong emotional incentive to do so. Perhaps that incentive is unhappiness in their life, perhaps it is something about the way that frum society works which doesn’t work for them, perhaps it is an emotional pull from outside of the frum world. It’s possible that some of us are so strongly intellectual that the very irrationality of the frum system adds to their unhappiness. But for all of us, you must understand the emotional context in order to understand why we remained orthodox or did not.

Frankly, this mechanism is one of the things that I wish were different about our species. If our rationality is fundamentally at the mercy our emotions, how do we go forward with our intellectual exploration. How do we trust our own reasoning. How do we be believe our own thoughts. For someone who grew up with the ideals of intellectual honesty and being true to ideals and beliefs, it is unnerving to think that our cognitive process is so polluted by our emotions. I was raised with the belief that, while our intellect represents our higher calling, and should guide our actions, emotions are the voice of the baser part of our beings. Emotions are there only as a test of our ability to use our intellects to overcome them.

I think that it is only by embracing the interplay between feelings and ideas can we regain our intellectual honesty. Navigating through our reasoning with honesty and moral clarity requires an heightened respect for and awareness of our emotions. If you’ve been raised in a religious environment, it becomes almost second nature to dismiss feelings. Many of the things which we feel are not helpful to our lives – the easiest thing to do is to shut those emotions out. Some feelings don’t jibe with our moral outlook. We automatically label these emotions as being ‘wrong’, and often don’t even let our conscious mind acknowledge that they exist.

But it is only in being highly aware of our emotions – be they comfortable or uncomfortable – that we can be fully aware of our intellectual process. Doing this is what gives us choice. We don’t have to act on our emotions – life is about making those choices. But if we do not listen to what our hearts are saying to us, we will never really understand our own minds.

The Curious Jew

2006-01-24T13:22:00.000-05:00

I'm a neophyte to the blogging world and am enjoying a universe of fascinating and diverse discussions. One blog which I would recommend is The Curious Jew by Chana, an orthodox seventeen year old student. I think that you'll find her topics to be interesting and though provoking and her work to be well written and researched. Most of all, you'll be inspired by the intensity and power which she brings both to defending her beliefs and to asking her questions.

Pegs

2006-01-20T01:55:00.000-05:00

I’ve been asked many times by my orthodox friends and family why I don’t believe in Torah M’shamayim (the divine origin of the bible). Sometimes the question is a challenge, sometimes it is negative and judgmental, and sometimes it is a sincere attempt to try to understand my decisions. I always feel that I would love to have some concise ‘zinger’ to offer – the ultimate ‘taiku’ - a problem so fundamental that it would convey with absolute certainty that my rejection of orthodoxy is firmly based on irrefutable logical and textual analysis.

As anyone who has studied Talmud will know, there can never be such an answer – or such a problem. We have created a mesorah that is so rich with explanations and analysis that every problem has at least one possible solution – and probably many more than one. Pointing out any one of the many issues which I have will immediately bring a rush or possible answers.

Instead, I usually explain to them that my problems with the Torah are the same as everyone else’s problems and questions. The only difference is that, to me, the world makes much more sense if you replace the many, many complicated answers with a single, simple thesis – that the Torah has problems because it was written by men, not by God.

Here is (yet) another excerpt from something that I wrote recently:

“There are many hundreds of problems and incongruities within the Torah. When you are thinking within the Orthodox system, all of these problems become points of departure for a deeper understanding of the Torah. All of them have solutions – some more elegant and some more forced. Many answers are quite difficult to reconcile – they are all square pegs in round holes - but each in itself can be rationalized.

It is only when you are ready to peak at the questions from a different perspective that you realize that with just a simple change in the fundamental assumptions, all of those pegs become round. All of a sudden, everything makes a lot more sense.

I can’t prove that men, not God, wrote the Torah. I am skeptical about the quality of the historical evidence which existed before the common era. And, I think that alternate arguments can be offered which reconcile these problems. But these are just more and more square pegs.”

The Akeidah and Me

2006-01-16T17:41:00.000-05:00

1 And it came to pass after these things, that God did prove Abraham, and said unto him: 'Abraham'; and he said: 'Here am I.' 2 And He said: 'Take now thy son, thine only son, whom thou lovest, even Isaac, and get thee into the land of Moriah; and offer him there for a burnt-offering upon one of the mountains which I will tell thee of.' (Genesis 22)

The story of the Akeidah – Abraham’s task to sacrifice Isaac – occupies a central place in orthodox thought and emblemizes the power and supremacy of faith. This is Abraham’s final test of faith, it is this act of supreme belief and devotion which solidifies God’s pledge to Abraham and the Jewish People:

15 And the angel of the LORD called unto Abraham a second time out of heaven, 16 and said: 'By Myself have I sworn, saith the LORD, because thou hast done this thing, and hast not withheld thy son, thine only son, 17 that in blessing I will bless thee, and in multiplying I will multiply thy seed as the stars of the heaven, and as the sand which is upon the seashore; and thy seed shall possess the gate of his enemies; 18 and in thy seed shall all the nations of the earth be blessed; because thou hast hearkened to My voice.' (Ibid)

I had always found this story inspiring – and it all made perfect sense to me, both the story itself and all of the many midrashic explorations. Abraham, had not only longed for many years for a son who would succeed him, but had devoted his entire life to renouncing the local pagan worship, especially it’s most odious form – human sacrifice. His triumph is the struggle to overcome his native emotional instincts to fulfill God’s will.

As we say on Rosh Hashanah: "Master of the Universe! Just as Abraham our father suppressed his compassion for his only son to do Your will with a whole heart, so may Your compassion suppress Your wrath against us, and may Your mercy prevail over Your attributes of strict justice."

It is difficult, from the orthodox starting point, to gain some independent spiritual perspective on this. This is excerpted from something that I recently wrote:

“One of the facets of being religious (at least ‘frum’) is the idea that the moral code is completely proscribed by God. “The only free person is he who is immersed in Torah.” (Perek, 6:1). Our job is to free ourselves of the need to make independent moral choices. There is no stronger message than the Akadah. If God commands Avraham to sacrifice his son, his challenge is to suppress his innate sense of morality in favor of the divine decree. If you can do this, you are truly religious. You may be able to achieve happiness and serenity, and a sense of meaning and purpose in your life. The only problem, however, is that you’ve slain your son in the process.

To put it in less macabre terms (although, it wasn’t me who wrote Bereishis), you have given up your prerogative (and perhaps, ability) to develop your own sense of right and wrong. If the world is fortunate, the dogma to which you subscribe is magnanimous and humanistic. If less fortunate (as history has unfortunately demonstrated) it is prejudiced and brutal. Probably – if the Torah is any indication – it is a mixture of both

Whether or not there is a God, the one thing that I believe is that we are born with an innate sense of justice and morality. That sense is compromised throughout our lives by the dogma and socialization to which we are born. Our supreme moral challenge is to re-connect with that sense within us all - that inner voice which has been drowned out by dogma, by social stigma and by prejudice. What we arrive at may not be perfect, but it paves the way for those who will come to take the next steps. That is my definition of “Tikun Olam”, and that is what we sacrifice when we choose to remain believers.”

Count in...

2006-01-16T15:27:00.000-05:00

The victors write the history books. The runner-ups write the blogs.