Credo 4

Taken as a whole some religions are better than others and some lifestyles are better than others (more moral, more truthful, more consistent, more achievable)

Taken individually some beliefs are true and some are false; some actions are right and others can be wrong.

Facetious Insignificance

A large part of what I like about halacha and Judaism is that things matter and nothing is to be treated lightly.  Our actions and deeds, the world and all its objects have meaning for us.  This is not necessarily to say that there is meaning out there to be discovered, as maybe we construct much of it for ourselves.  It is, however, a statement that everything should evoke a rational, ethical and emotional response from human beings.  More than anything, it a moral imperative to be serious and engaged with the world in such a way that befits our human dignity.

Any serious response involves making distinctions, putting things into categories and deciding priorities.  In the Jewish setting, this is embodied in commandments and custom but the ethical dimension may well evoke a less formal response in other cultures.  It is no less true than in any academic discipline where information is sorted, categorised and interpreted.  

Yet, too many people leave their rationality at the laboratory door, at work or in the academy, and take a ‘live and let live’ attitude to their lives outside.   It is the scientific categories and distinctions, for example, that really matter and everything else is plain vanilla by comparison.  And just like its corresponding ice cream flavour- why make a fuss about it?  With a twinkle in the eye and a shrug of the shoulder, any life-affecting obligation can be shook off:

‘Who cares what lifestyle I choose so long as I don’t harm anyone?  Morality is culturally relative and people can live as they please.  Why distinguish or categorise people or actions as that just excludes!’ 

This is not to say that no argument exists for relativism, libertarianism or excluding regulation from certain areas of your life.  It’s the way some people say with a look that tells you that it doesn’t matter a darn bit how you answer them.  The people for whom rationality is pointless because any distinction just doesn’t matter- to them.  Care-free people for whom any action is equal and every distinction irrelevant if it simply doesn’t bother them! 

This attitude in extremis- a failure to draw distinctions or let them impinge on you in any way- is a denial of one’s humanity.  It reminds me of a case in Oliver Sack’s The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat about a patient who had a brain tumour and underwent a personality change, becoming complete superficial and uncaring:

Testing left-right discrimination was oddly difficult , because she said left or right indifferently…

‘Left/right. Right/left.  Why the fuss? What’s the difference?’

‘Is there a difference?’ I asked

‘Of course,’ she said, with a chemists precision.  ‘You could call the enanitiomorphs of each other.  But they mean nothing to me.  They’re no different for me.  Hands… Doctors… Sisters…’ she added, seeing my puzzlement.  ‘Don’t you understand?  They mean nothing – nothing to me.  Nothing means anything… at least to me.’

‘And this meaning nothing…’ I hesitated, afraid to go on.  ‘This meaningless… does this bother you?  Does this mean anything to you?’

‘Nothing at all,’ she said promptly, with a bright smile, in the tone of one who makes a joke, wins an argument, wins at poker…. Nothing any longer felt “real” (or “unreal”).  Everything was now “equivalent” or “equal”- the whole world reduced to a facetious insignificance

I’m not saying that those who don’t agree with examining the small things in life has a neurological disease but perhaps they are not fulfilling their true potentiality as a rational being.  Of course, what I like about Judaism may be what another hates.  This is what someone said was the best thing about leaving the religious-Jewish fold (http://daashedyot.blogspot.com/2010/08/better-know-kofer-sam.html):

The best thing... hmmm... maybe that you don't have to take everything so seriously. Every choice and action isn't considered such a major issue that you always need to be absolutely confident is the exact right thing to do

Now, whilst I certainly don’t believe in being confident that my actions are the exact right thing to do (in fact, I think halacha is about doing things even without that certainty), I certainly think my actions should be considered.  Whilst prohibitions or commands may be highly annoying, I’m not one for a care-free disposition and no-one can accuse me of treating things with a facetious insignificance.

My Religious Journey

Here is an essay that I had to write when applying to yeshiva.  Given the context, you can take some parts of it with a pinch of salt, and other parts are more restrained than they otherwise would be.  However, it is a reasonable account of my take on Judaism and how I got there.

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Understanding my background and the development of my Jewish views will help you to understand my inspirations and my reasons for applying to the Shappells Summer program. I come from a traditional, involved but largely non-observant Jewish family. Nevertheless, the fact that I was raised in a small, provincial community was a blessing that meant I was far more involved than my peers from larger communities. In a community like ours, everybody got involved with the synagogue and Cheder, sent their children to Jewish youth movements, and learnt basic skills such as leining and the ability to lead a service.

My road to observance was, and is, a slow and gradual one that has been going on throughout my life. For example, I first remember saying no to a pork sausage when on holiday at 11 years old. Continual development saw me refuse to eat both rump steak and ice cream in the same meal at 14 (!), first voluntarily wear tefillin on a Hanoar Hatzioni camp at about 15 and start to be Shomer Shabbat on the very day I started university. There have been numerous milestones since, but there is no rush to observance. Judaism isn’t a race to the finish line but one where one must “gird up strength like a lion... for the service of his Creator” every day.

The reasons for increased observance at such a young age were largely either non-cognitive or due to general intellectual virtue, rather than grand notions about the ‘truth’ of Judaism. For example, I was moved by the rabbi who taught me from barmitzvah who insisted I was ‘religious’ when I was adamant I wasn’t, and taught Judaism in such a sincere and candid way. Equally, I was upset at a hypocrisy that said I couldn’t go to a friend’s party because it was Shabbat but where we instead stayed in and watched television. An example of intellectual virtue was when thinking about the so-called ‘small things’ such as how we dress. Should I base my actions on the fad of the moment or the results of thousands of years of discussion?

My first experience of Jewish hashkafa- when I was old enough to appreciate it- was through various outreach organisations on campus. One thinker who stood out was Rav Dessler whose writings were both clear and resonant. His position on issues such as ‘free will’ influenced my thinking. Most impressive, however, was the effect that his work had on the people who read it. This internalisation of thought and translation into practice is perhaps the most impressive feature of Chareidi Judaism in general and mussar in particular.

Despite this, the first work that inspired me and gave me a Jewish world-view that I could call my own was Rambam’s Guide for the Perplexed. “Philosophy...” in the words of Wittgenstein “...is a battle against the bewitchment of our intelligence by means of language”. Through his analysis of homonymous, hybrid and metaphorical words, Rambam shows how misunderstanding our language results in “false notions and perverse methods”. Through untangling the knots of our thought, and understanding its limits, we assume the correct position before G-d. His work showed me the value and uniqueness of Judaism, firstly because the errors of thinking Judaism warn us against and the philosophical pretentions he identifies are much in evidence today. Secondly, the battle against this type of thinking is encoded in our entire way of life. This, for Rambam, is the essence of us having a ‘divine law’ as opposed to the ‘conventional law’ of other nations. All our actions are directed at destroying the idolatry of false thought from the world.

Since then, I have accepted some of the criticisms of Rambam’s philosophy by people such as Rav Hirsch, Shadal and Rav Soloveitchik; particularly with regard to areas such as ta’amei mitzvoth and biblical exegesis. Judaism has a constructive, as well as destructive, element. Rav Hirsch contends that Judaism’s world-view should “develop creatively from within [its received tradition]” and as “a science from itself” rather than be focused on external philosophy. For Rav Soloveitchik this specifically means a “philosophy of halacha”. Thus, two books of his that have inspired me are The Halakhic Mind which details how such a philosophy may be achieved and The Emergence of Ethical Man which is the best example I know of its application. Personally, I follow Rav Hirsch who has wider conception of the sources from which ‘the way’ or mission of Judaism is to be derived. Equally, he has a more practical focus indicating, through his conception of Torah Im Derech Eretz, the way Judaism, l’chatchila, should be enacted in the world.

As such, my philosophy is based on these ‘modern’ elements of Orthodoxy, although they are rooted in the tradition of the Kuzari. However, I’m also cognisant that the need to develop a philosophy at all is a symptom of galut. We still have the Fast of Tevet to mourn the loss of the First Temple where we could see the Urim v’Tumim and so, the tangible presence of G-d in the world. I think Chassidic interpretations of Tanach, such as those of the Izbicer Rebbe, can give a ‘taste’ or ‘feel’ of that world. We learn how through being ‘authentic’, we can realign G-d, ourselves and the world. In other words, they show us the redemptive qualities of our choices and actions.

Other inspirations include Chief Rabbi Jonathan Sacks and Rabbi Adin Steinsaltz. They have done so much to clearly and intelligently articulate the vision of Judaism to a wider audience, as well as having done so much within our faith. It makes me so proud to be a Jew, for example, when Rabbi Sacks preaches to the House of Lords or European Union. He helps to fulfil the Torah verse that the “nations, which will hear all these statutes, and say, ‘Surely this great nation is a wise and understanding people.’”

As you can see from this, most of my Jewish learning has centred around hashkafa, or learning other Jewish subjects from English-language books. The next part of my Jewish development is to progress my textual skills so that I can learn the Sifrei Kodesh in the original. I have tried to learn some Mishneh Torah with friends and could, with difficulty, learn it independently. Equally, I have spent a year learning gemara on WebYeshiva, giving myself an introduction in ‘how to learn’ and the style of argumentation employed. I try to learn from the Aramaic with a chevruta but need many aids to get anywhere. My lack of ability in these areas is a major motivation in deciding to attend yeshiva. It will provide the focused environment and the expert teachers I need and will hopefully serve as a springboard for future learning. The summer program at Shapell’s provides ‘intense skills-oriented Torah learning’ and its general focus on developing textual and analytical skills mean that it is the perfect yeshiva to further my goals.

Equally, you will have seen from my development that I have drawn inspiration from different strands of Judaism: Chareidi Judaism for its transformative effect and Avodat Hashem, Modern Orthodoxy for drawing its philosophy directly from the sources, Chassidut for giving an insight into the redemptive quality of the mitzvoth and Torah Im Derech Eretz for providing the communal organisation that is best suited to furthering the Jewish mission. As such, I feel I espouse Shapell’s derech that all the Torah’s ways are pleasant. The yeshiva will provide many role models that I can learn from and be inspired by. Whilst, textual learning is the main aim, you will provide a nurturing environment in which to do it.

Giving 'spirituality' a bad name

Summary of post: We should all be more spiritual

Post: When I talk about halacha (and thus, Judaism) being essentially 'this-worldly', the false dichotomy brigade come out in full force.  The view that Judaism addresses man as a physical creature in the world, is contrasted with the so-called 'spiritual' explanations.  I am thus accused of seeing the commandments as "this is what G-d says", as opposed to looking for the deeper reasons.

Now, what is so deep about doing gematria, talking about 'essences', discovering the 'auspicious', magical effects of the commandments or dreaming of far-off worlds, I'm not sure.  Gematria (etc) may aid us in finding the relevance of a commandment, but certainly does not constitute its relevance.  "Wow, this action effects 67.876 dimensions and may help your wife to get pregnant" doesn't cut it and isn't deep.

The equation of the "spiritual" with the "non-natural", gives spirituality a bad name.  Where beliefs are, to the proud pronouncements of its adherents, "non rational", why should we hold them?  When beliefs cut off from our experience of this world, what exactly are we believing in?  Ex Cathedra announcements about auspicious times may be beneficial for some mysterious "soul-stuff" but is not relevant for me.  They can lead to irrelevant nonsense but also to outright falsity or a perversion of values.  Potentially anything can be said which I wouldn't be allowed to challenge on the grounds that they are not rational.  For if I did, I would be denying the 'spiritual' knowledge which is not derived from rationality.

You shouldn't take the above as a defence of my position, but merely as a statement of it.  If spirituality requires knowing all about this 'deep' other-worldly stuff, then I want nothing to do with it!  However, does that mean I don't think one should be spiritual?  If spirituality means any of the points listed below, I am all for spirituality:

• Understanding what I say and do, rather than doing it by rote or by habit.
• Cultivating more lofty desires, and pursuing higher goals than merely feeding my every whim or desire.
• Seeing a meaning and purpose in my life.
• Having a theocratic motivation for my actions rather than simply being focused on what worldly benefits I can accrue from them.
• Utilising the whole of my spirit to the best of my ability- thought, feeling, physical skills, good sense and judgement, intuition, personality etc.  (Study the sources to find all the potentialities included in terms such as "ruach", "nefesh" and "neshama" and act on them.)
• Trying to maximise 'peak experiences' rather than merely surviving or getting by.
• Having a sense of G-d in my life.
• Trying to raise myself above the level of a member of the species homo sapien, and become an singular adam. 
• Transcend my status as an entirely natural creature created by circumstances external to myself, and choose to act in a way that makes me worthy of being b'tzelem Elokim. 

A window into my (past) soul: "Dear Rabbi Hodges..."

"A ghost just walked over my grave" seems like a pithy remark to open a post and whatever its correct context, it feels the appropriate thing to say. 

I was just having a look over at random files that I retrieved from my old computer.  There was some cringe-worthy lyrics to songs I half-wrote, a rather surprising opinion I expressed on gender differences in a psychology essay, a cracking critique of Louis Jacob's doctrines, an entertaining musical I wrote for a Hanoar program and some interesting sources.  Oh yes... and that letter which (for better or worse) remains between me, the recipient and G-d.

I

However, there was another letter which was never finished off and never sent.  It was this letter that is the cause of the aforementioned (hopefully metaphorical) ghost and grave.  Apart from giving me an indication of my previous preference of font size, it gave me an eerie look at my past.  It is basically a letter I was writing to the then chaplain- Rabbi Hodges- to decide once and for all my thoughts regarding Jewish observance.  As I say in the letter I have set myself a modest task: "questions of the divinity of the whole Torah is the main purpose of this letter"!!!

Having articulated that the 'meaning of life' has been a top priority for years, I declare of Judaism: "Either it is right or wrong".  I want to know which and want the decisive reason that will tell me so.  Reasonable enough, no?  Well.  Today, I would see that as the wrong question to ask.  It is not a particularly Jewish question, is unfruitful and can lead to some fundamentalist conclusions.  However, the fact that I asked such questions should lead me to examine my sometimes unintentionally condescending attitude to people who insist on such a straight-out answer.

II

Apart from personal mussar, the letter helps to understand what prompts such questions and how this affects the type of answer given.  What's the purpose of such a "true-false" question?

From what I say, I think I must have written the letter in my second term of my first year at university.  By this point I had 'come out' to my parents.  Not in relation to my sexuality but as to my shabbat observance.  As challenging (and frankly boring) as Shabbat must have been in my first term, it was nothing to having to go through a readjustment with my parents.  Only after having spent time at home, could I realise just what a radical step in my life I had taken.  I now thought "It is getting to the point where increasing my religiosity any more could cause problems with the family".  Whilst up to then I could take on mitzvot on the probability that Judaism is true, now I needed to know that it was true.

The above was possibly my primary motivation but the letter - as far as it goes- is filled with other reasons.  The second reason I can empathise with as well.  I use the word 'empathise' as it is as if from another person- such a reason would be utterly strange from the philosophical perspective I currently inhabit.  Yet, I can understand the emotion behind it:

Without such an assurance I would see no point of even studying the oral law. I occasionally look at English versions of the Talmud and it strikes with irrelevance and of hair picking. For example, 7 pages of commentary/ gemarra on a single mishna which in itself goes into everyone who can have a valuation and who can make a vow. I have no motivation to study this. This is, of course, a fault on my behalf. However, without being sure that this was something that G-d says I can’t forsee making the effort to correct this fault. 

Of course, it is certainly a serious issue to ask the relevance of such 'nitpicking'.  

The third reason is frightening because of its desperation and because, in many ways, the way it is expressed is morally abhorrent:

As a third reason for needing to be assured of the torah’s divinity, is the need to be able to say “G-d said so”! Many things in the Torah seem unpalatable and are certainly against social norms. For example, stoning someone to death or even animal sacrifices. If I’m in the mindset that “G-d said so”, then this is not a problem. Under the authority of the supreme being then social norms are worthless and anything is justified. Without that mindset which I lack, reading passages like that of stoning can make me feel uncomfortable.

Now I certainly believe that G-d's word overrides social norms and that certain things aren't palatable because they are not the 'done thing' in modern society.  However, presumably, animal sacrifices and stoning people weren't bothering me because they were 'social norms' or 'unpalatable' .  They would have done so because of concerns they were morally wrong.  I felt like I couldn't justify certain religious values without a psychological certainty in their validity.  However, no 'mindset' could or should dictate moral standards.

All these reasons seem to demand a theoretical reason for Judaism's truth and do so in relation to real intellectual problems.  Under what circumstances does religious authority overcome familial authority? What is the cognitive or spiritual value of law and the text study of it?  What is the relationship between eternal values and a particular time?  However, the letter shows that the demand for these theoretical reasons were prompted by an emotional or psychological need. I need to be sure.

III

A third interesting thing about the letter is a purely theoretical one.  On what grounds did I think that one should be observant of Judaism?  What were my beliefs at the time through which I justified my observance?

I just wrote a massively long piece (now deleted) to go into this section about how hard it is for someone like myself to answer that question.  That is, someone who started my journey of observance so young but whose development was so gradual.  There is no one reason that I can identify as the reason, as I have had to think about the authority of Judaism every step of the way.  Nor if I could point to a reason would I be able to express it in anything like the way I would have done at the time. 

How could I give authentic voice to my views at the time when anything I now say is so filtered through writers or works that I would never had a clue about at the time?  I sometimes need reminding that I never knew anything about Rambam (besides his existence) until the end of my second year, or even heard of Soloveitchik until half way through my third year.  Up until that point my entire Jewish diet was Kiruv Judaism.  Every lecture, every book, every rabbi; everything!  I had a look at my first year philosophy essays and it is Rabbi Dessler that I quote.  There is nothing wrong with this but it is an eye-opener.

The problem of giving an authentic voice to my beliefs is less about what they beliefs were, than how I would talk about them.  Having only been exposed to kiruv Judaism and secular philosophy, I could only frame my beliefs in terms of things such as 'evidence', 'objectivity' and the like.   Now, the very way I would talk about any beliefs- ones I agree or disagree with- is completely transformed. 

So there's a dilemma.  Either I manage to correctly adduce the content of my past beliefs, but in my new language.  However, this wouldn't resemble my thought processes at the time, or how I would have verbally reasoned them out.  Or I could try and mimic how I would have talked about Judaism at the time (i.e. about evidence).  This, however, is at the great risk of just caricaturing myself and play-acting.  What I now mean by 'evidence', would be different to what I was then trying to say using that word.

The piece I wrote argued that only through letters such as these could I get closest to what I actually believed.  Only there would there be the best fit between philosophical 'thought' (i.e. what I believed) and the psychological 'thought' (i.e. what went through my head).  If this doesn't make sense, don't worry.  I deleted the passage and explanation.  The reason being is that in the letter I don't really get to any coherent statement of belief.  I flail around using words like 'evidence' without being able to express my point of view with them.  I intuit that answers to my questions will bring me peace of mind without being able to formulate what kind of answers they would have to be. 

IV

Despite not giving me a positive statements of belief, the following are worth noting:

1.  It is clear that what is at issue for me is not some 'fact' or other.  Even when expressing myself in the way I did in my letter, I do not ask for confirmation of a historical event or some scientific proof.  With all the references to "G-d says so", what is at issue when asking about the divinity of the Torah is a reason for its authority.  What constitutes me accepting it as G-d's word?

2.  Despite my wishes at that moment for absolute assurance, neither my observance before or after was grounded on one.  Whilst always concerned about why I should accept it as divine, this didn't rely on first having all the answers.

3.  Dropping the letter didn't mean dropping the issues.  I had many subsequent discussions with R' Hodges trying to 'get at' what I was trying to say.  I remember from these discussions that my concern wasn't in showing that G-d literally spoke the whole oral Torah, for example.  In fact, the recourse to such an answer was precisely the wrong approach.  Why would the authority of a halacha depend on Moses being literally told that it could be derived thus?  Instead, I want to know what is it about halacha itself that means I should accept its particular outputs as divine?

I remember saying to him something like- and I really wish I could remember exactly what I meant by it- "If only you could tell me that particular halachot were a result of  what the Rabbis did, and not from G-d, I could accept that they were something I have to do".  He replied something like "I know what you are getting at but it is not something that I can say".

I don't think it was 'I know what you are saying, but I think you are bonkers and absolutely wrong'. No, instead he pointed me to a book : "Dynamics of Dispute: The Makings of Machlokess in Talmudic Times" by Zvi Lampel.  This shows that one need only accept that certain halachot were there 'potentially' in what Moses heard. The reason it was something R' Hodges "could not say" is because it would be the wrong formulation to say "the rabbis made it up"- I agree.  Maybe the Rabbi, who I have tagged on this note, will remember more than me about these conversations.

V

So, anyway, the letter doesn't clear up all the issues of why and what I believed but does give me some food for thought

The letter, however, has conclusively cleared up one piece of information.  I could never remember the number of my room in halls.  Whenever I tried to think what it was,  I would only ever come up with '613'.  I thought this must have been 'wish-fulfillment' but couldn't get that number out of my mind.  As it happens, the letter is addressed '609 Charles Morris Hall'.

Close but no cigar!

The confessions of a "Neo-Chassid": Part 1

I

As some of you may know, I have an ambivalence about all things mystical. Maybe, however, this will surprise you as I tend to get a bit type-cast. When I told my old housemate (only half jokingly)that if I were to label myself it would have to be “neo-chassid” he would laugh and basically accuse me to telling fibs.

He: “You know you are not, you don't have a Chassidic bone in your body, you are always making objections”

I: “I only object when they are led to talk nonsense”

He: “But they can’t help but talk nonsense”

I: “Often, perhaps. But necessarily? Maybe. I don’t know but I hope not”

He, as an exceedingly “Modern Orthodox” Jew, can’t necessarily assign any value to such pursuits as mussar, Chassidut or the simple spirituality and faith. Modern Orthodoxy tends to be quite elitist focusing, as it does, on Talmud Torah, the pursuit of philosophy and other rational endeavours. For some, it is very emotionally and intellectually satisfying.  However, Modern Orthodoxy doesn’t fare well amongst the masses which, on the whole, leads to one of two outcomes. One is that they will start pursuing a meaningless Orthopraxy simply on the basis “this is how things are done”. The other is that they will find more spiritually satisfying options in the form of Chareidi Judaism, Zen Buddhism or non-Orthodox forms of Judaism. 

Whilst I may sociologically be a Modern Orthodox Jew, I cannot on principle share this rationalist vision of Judaism. I couldn't live the ascetic life of a philosopher, such as a Rambam, or a Brisker such as the Solovei(t)chiks (both Chareidi and non-Chareidi versions).  I am not the 'disembodied head' that so many ancient and new rabbis call upon you to be.  I should live Judaism in the real world, in every act, with all my faculties. Why should I see G-d as completely (and only) transcendent, or see the only form of Devekut as being in text-study, or live wholly inside the a-historical world of the bet midrash?  Instead, I should see G-d as intimately involved in my life, become close to Him through performance of the mitzvot and see G-d's redemptive action through history.

II

The following is a wonderful description, from 'The Wind in the Willows' of the mystical experience, the having of which is the pre-requisite for religion making sense:

“Then suddenly the Mole felt a great Awe fall upon him, an awe that turned his muscles to water, bowed his head, and rooted his feet to the ground. It was no panic terror- indeed he felt wonderfully at peace and happy- but it was an awe that smote him and held him and, without seeing, he knew it could only mean that some August presence was very, very near. With difficulty he turned to look for his friend [Ratty], and saw him at his side cowed, stricken, and trembling violently. And still there was utter silence in the populous bird-haunted branches around them; and still the light grew and grew."

In those moments of inspiration we feel G-d's nearness and meaning pervading creation.  We are both at peace and simultaneously trembling.  We feel both love of G-d and fear of G-d.  We feel like the pinnacle of creation and like a speck of dust in an infinite universe.

We all get these moments of inspiration.  I do when I look up at the stars on a summers night.  When I do so, I am looking directly into the past and at the creation of the world.  I'm seeing the star as it was millions upon millions of years ago, as it has taken the light that long to get here.  It may have gone supernova by now and not even exist any more!  This fills me with awe and wonder for the universe and makes me want to shout:  

"The heavens recount the glory of G-d and the firmament declares the work of His hands... There need be no speech, nor words; their voice is heard without it... where the world of man ends, their words speak, 'He has sent a tent in them for the orb of the sun'"

As I say, everyone has these experiences.  Richard Dawkins is right that an atheist can still experience wonder at the universe.  It is not, in itself, a cognitive endeavour an so is open to all.  However, the key point is how we respond to such an experience.  How is that experience translated?  What are its consequences?  Whilst the above experience of creation is the start of a religion it is not the end.  We must bear in mind that:

"He who is walking by the way and studies and breaks off his study and exclaims: 'How beautiful is this tree! 'How fine is that field!' is regarded as he had sinned against his own soul"

I will expound upon that quote in a later post in this series.  However, at present it means we must examine the link between the experience of creation and the outcome of revelation. Having experience this awe, are we led to accept that "the ordinances of G-d are truth, they are eternally just" or do we thereafter build a Golden Calf?  Will we adequately express it in our prayer, or will we simply interpret the experience how we want?  Can we accurately represent it in our philosophy or will we simply talk nonsense? 

One response I believe is correct is the one emphasised by chassidut.   When we have that experience we feel 'close' to G-d and ultimately, we should experience this 'heavenly fire' the whole time.    However, this 'heavenly fire only resides on an altar made from the ground' (so Matisyahu sings).   As such, we should elevate both ourselves and the physical world through all our actions.  We should see the G-dliness in all things.  The whole world should be utilised in G-d's service.  This way the experience described above is not just a transitory inspiration but is perpetuated through everything that we do. 

III

The chassidic movement started in protest to the elitism of Judaism at the time.  The 'few' were learning 24/7  whilst the 'many' were completely disconnected from Judaism.  The mitnagdim were incredibly ascetic- such as fasting Monday and Thursdays- which left them out of touch with the lives of ordinary people.  The lay folk were liable to be swept along with false messiahs such as Shebbati Zvi and the rabbinic scholars were unable to give political leadership when this dream fell apart.

Against this background, the Chassidim provided a religion that was much more relevant, more meaningful and more accessible through people's everyday lives.   One could be ecstatic in prayer and sing, dance and cartwheel.  One could find meaning in your work and other 'mundane' activities.  One could experience G-d through the world.  As the Ba'al Shem Tov said, it is perfectly acceptable to admire the beauty of a woman so long as that 'leads you back to the source'.  Amen to that!  The popularisation of Judaism was naturally going to import popular superstitions into a pristine Judaism.  However, one should easily assent to their overall vision of Judaism.

These days it is almost impossible to tell between the chassidic and chareidi worlds.  The chareidi world has imported certain superstitious beliefs of the chassidim, and the chassidim have adopted the ascetic lifestyle of the chareidim.  Absolutely, the Vilna Gaon was right to insist that the they should fully keep with halacha and not be 'lax with their prayer times'.  I am trebly perplexed as anyone by the concept of an 'aveira lishma'.  However, this shouldn't have meant that it is forced to adopt a lifestyle only appropriate for the 'few' than for the 'many'.  G-d should be experienced through every aspect of a person's life as was the original intention of chassidut.

IV

The above has partly explained why I view 'Chassidut' as a hashkafa one should hold, as opposed to rationalist Judaism.  This may beg the question for some of you as to where I stand vis-a-vis rationalist philosophers such as Rambam and Soloveitchik.  As far as you were aware, these were major influences on me and I always quote them.  This is absolutely true.  You probably inferred from this that I was a rationalist, which may leave you confused now. 

The full answer will be forthcoming in future posts.  Suffice it to say here that just because I'm not a rationalist, doesn't give any license whatsoever to be irrational.  Where one has to philosophise or intellectualise Judaism, one should do so like Rambam and Soloveitchik.  Such intellectualisation has to be done in somewhat foreign terms and should at least use people who know how to use these terms!  However, intellectualisation isn't the goal of Judaism.  We shouldn't become 'disembodied heads' but instead, the end point requires consummation in the world.

V

Come back to see future posts  where I discuss:

• How one can talk about a 'mystical experience'
• Why certain chassidic or kabbalistic beliefs taught today result in nonsense
• The appropriate context for such beliefs.
• The difference between rabbinic and pre-rabbinic Judaism (as evidence by the Fast of Tevet) and how this relates to a Chassidic Hashkafa
• How the views of Rambam, Soloveitchik and Hirsh relate this hashkafa
• Why, in galut, I don't think I could ever accept the haskafa that I strive to accept.

One of the greatest Jewish philosophers of the last century, Franz Rosensweig, used a very simple device in his book "Star of Redemption".  On three on the points he laid out three key elements: G-d, man and the world.  On the intervening prongs he laid out the relations between them.  The relation between G-d and the world is creation; the relation between G-d and man is revelation; and the relation between man and the world is redemption. 

I think this is a correct characterisation: redemption is a matter of you and the world being correctly aligned and in harmony.  It is one where you have the 'correct vision' with regard to the world and act accordingly; and also where the world is such that this is possible.  This relationship is the chassidic-like one I am discussing.  Unfortunately, we will see that in a pre-redeemed world, we cannot artificially manufacture this relationship without making errors regarding creation or revelation.  Thus, while in a pre-redeemed world I could not be chassidic, it gives the most sublime notion of what redemption itself consists in.