Darkness Descends and the Light at the End of the Tunnel

Amidst all the horrible news streaming from Iraq and Israel, a small headline struck me on today’s front page of the New York Times:

“The Dimming of the Light: In the second half of the 20th century, the world has literally become a darker place.”

Defying expectation and easy explanation, hundreds of instruments around the world recorded a drop in sunshine reaching the surface of Earth, by as much as 10 percent.

How apropos.

With the latest tragic events taking place in the brutal, blood soiled Middle East—the beheading of Nicholas Berg, the tortures of Iraqis by American soldiers, more senseless deaths in Israel—it appears that the world is getting increasingly darker.

We seem to be getting progressively sucked in to the bottomless, absurd quagmire of the Middle East—forces that seem so profoundly complex, with no way out.

It brings to mind a story I recently heard (from my brother YY) about the Israeli photographer Levi Yitzchak Frieden. Each year during the Jewish High Holiday season of Tishrei he would make a pilgrimage to New York, and photograph the Crown Heights Chassidic community celebrating the holidays. Upon his return to Israel he would present a photo exhibition of the images he captured. People attending the exhibit had the option to remark on their experience in a journal that Frieden had prepared for that purpose.

At one of these exhibits a well-known secular, anti-religious Israeli writer asked Frieden if he could jot down a negative remark in the journal. Frieden told him that he welcomes all reactions, positive or negative. Afterward Frieden, with great curiosity, looked at the journal and he read the writer’s remarks (in Hebrew):

“These are beautiful images. But they remind me of the dark Middle Ages.”

The following year Frieden offered the Rebbe his journal for review. After reviewing it, the Rebbe told him that he would like Frieden to pass on a message to the writer who wrote the unflattering remark. The message consisted of four points:

1. Thank you for taking the time and sharing your thoughts.
2. Thank you for being honest. Whereas others may have written compliments perhaps just paying lip service, you shared your sincere feelings.
3. Please open up a current newspaper, and read some of the news. Then sincerely ask yourself: Is everything in the modern world bright and beautiful? [The Rebbe continued] Know that not everything in the Middle Ages was dark, and not everything today is light.
4. Being that you clearly are a non-conformist and have the courage go against the flow, may you use your independence and individuality to break the status quo of our times and help illuminate the darkness of our times with the things that were bright from the Middle Ages.

End of story.

We should never confuse modern life with personal growth and progress. One can have all the most advanced technologies and still be living in a dark age. Who was it that said:

“Make no mistake and say that in the modern age there exists a lower rate of illiteracy; That’s not the case. Rather, today illiterate people simply know how to read.”

And wasn’t it the same man that said:

“There are those that know the price of every thing but the value of nothing.”

What is most mind boggling is that all the focus is on the immediate crisis, on the latest developments. In this fast food age, we have become so seduced by the momentary, by the newest images streaming at us from TV, the Internet and all our other supersonic instantaneous technologies, that we have become blinded from seeing the big picture.

In the olden days, news came at a much slower pace. That allowed people to digest, to process and to step back and try to understand the forces at work. Today we have become inundated with information, flooding all our brain cells, to the point that we have no time or energy to reflect on unfolding events, as we have become addicted to a steady menu of streaming data and images overwhelming our senses.

True, the news that Americans tortured Iraqis is disturbing. Any torture is appalling, especially when it’s coming from Americans who were supposed to be using their power for the good. But, without in any way minimizing abusive behavior, this is war, and war is ugly. Perhaps it’s a tribute to American democracy and freedom that we indulge in self criticism, while other nations, whose atrocities far exceed American ones, simply don’t have the same conscience issues. They don’t have 24-hour pundits filling round the clock airwaves spouting wisdom and opining in every which way. But perhaps, this is also our undoing. We have so much free time and energy that we have the luxury to sit and watch TV and analyze every detail ad nauseum. Wars are fought on battlefields, in real life and death situations, not in stadiums, TV studios and living rooms, while munching on popcorn or sunflower seeds.

American freedom comes at a great cost. We are a complacent generation. With Reality TV, palm pilots, the web and all our other modern amenities, we have lost focus on purpose—on our purpose and calling in life. That apathy is the price of freedom from all pressure.

Americans cannot fathom the meaning of the battles in the Middle East, because we have no frame of reference. We know about Cowboys and Indians, we read about the battles in history, we view war movies, but we have never experienced a battle of civilizations and spiritual wars, let alone one that touches on the very purpose of our existence.

Allow me therefore, as a Jew, to offer some frame of reference. I say “as a Jew,” because as I have written extensively in this column since 9/11, Jews have a distinct role to play today being that they are an ancient people that has been a witness to history and have personally experienced similar challenges from the beginning of time. The Jewish people have been around. They are not young spoiled spring chicks, spoiled and naïve, who are suddenly shocked by terrible events.

What does history tell us?

That the battles today have been going on from the beginning of time. Close to 4000 years ago a struggle ensued in Abraham’s home between Isaac and Ishmael, the respective ancestors of the Jews and the Muslims. A generation later came the battle between Esau and Jacob, respective ancestors of the Western/Christian world and the Jewish people.

Cutting away all trimmings, bottom line the battle is between matter and spirit, to discover how balance the sacred and the secular—as discussed at length in previous articles. Our universe will not be at peace—both personally and globally—until we make our peace with G-d—peace and integration between body and soul, between our material life and its higher purpose.

Just as a machine cannot function properly unless it follows the design of its engineer, so too life will not work unless it is aligned with the design of its Cosmic Engineer.

And this battle—between Ishmael, Esau and Jacob—has replayed itself time and again throughout history. Sometimes with different names, but essentially this is the essence of all the battles between the West and East, between the Christians, Muslims and Jews. [Indeed, I just received an article explaining how the US Navy was founded in 1794 in response to the hijacking of US merchant shops and citizens by… Muslim militants!]. And the battle continues to be centered in the hotbed of the Middle East, just as it was in Biblical times.

The philosophical leaders of modern Islamic fundamentalism clearly write that their goal as Muslims is to repair the “hideous schizophrenia” between the physical and the spiritual, between religion and science, between the steely impersonality of modern power and technology and the nature of the human spirit.

What lies at the true heart of today’s conflicts, after stripping away all the immediate politics and short term issues, is an ideological and spiritual battle, that has continued to be fought for centuries on end, in one form or another.

We are not dealing with an isolated case in Iraq or Afghanistan, but a formidable global confrontation with an entire people (over 1 billion Muslims) being fought in a central region of the world.

Make no mistake about it. After all the smoke clears, the true war is being fought in the schools and homes of East and West—in the very value systems that we are teaching our children. It is a battle for the minds, hearts and souls of future generations. Because after all is said and done, whatever the immediate outcome of today’s battles will be, the fact remains that a major schism exists between how Muslim and Christian children are being educated. When it comes to personal, moral and religious standards East and West stand at almost complete odds, diametrically opposed in the their primary objectives, regarding happiness, freedom, spiritual integrity—both personally and professionally, both at home and at work.

This fundamental war is much less discussed if at all, because we either don’t have much understanding at this philosophical level, or we prefer not to go there due to its complexity and consequences. Above all, if this is truly a spiritual war, then it renders us responsible for our personal behavior, and that’s a big (perhaps the biggest) no-no in America—we cannot impose moral and spiritual demands on anyone, G-d forbid…

How many of us have truly asked—or answered—the question: What do the radicals really want, both in Israel and the entire Middle East? Why did they attack America on September 11, and continue to perpetrate attacks around the world? And even if it’s only radicals (true or not), why does the general Muslim population applaud their efforts? Why do they so hate the West and Israel?

After all the immediate answers (Muslim humiliation, hatred for Western secularism, oil, politics and so on) remember that these conflicts have been going on for hundreds, thousands of years.

As students of history, we can confidently say that the war is between matter and spirit, between the Divine and the universe—a war to make our peace with G-d and to discover unity between our natural lives and our Divine mission statement.

No doubt that this may be difficult to swallow. Why not just chalk it up to President Bush hating Saddam Hussein, or US interests in Middle Eastern oil, or other selfish and corrupt reasons.

Indeed, the American in me says: “Leave me alone! Allow me to return to my baseball season, to my stock portfolio, to all my entertainment, and yes, also to my home and family. Allow me to live in peace. The immediate war is bad enough. Why do you insist on turning this into a global and historical battle with such far reaching consequences?!”

The ancient Jew in me replies: “Hey, I know it’s more comfortable to remain ignorant than to face the complex realities of life. More knowledge more pain. Perhaps that can conveniently work when things seem calm on the surface, allowing us to maintain a superficial equilibrium. But, when we witness the world shaking at its core, the only true option to understand world events and to achieve a level of sanity and control (excluding the option of digging your head in the sand in denial) is to recognize the deeper forces at work beneath the surface and behind the scenes.”

What no one can disagree with, whether you were just born yesterday (in more ways than one) or generations ago, is that we find ourselves entrenched in a true quagmire. If events weren’t bad enough, the last week sure offers us a wake up call as to the enormity of the situation.

What a mess. How will we ever get out of the Middle Eastern quicksand?!

The world may be getting darker on one hand, but on the other therein also lies the salvation. The fact that these battles began years ago in Abraham’s home, with the conflicts between Isaac and Ishmael, does not merely reinforce the gravity of the battle. It also provides us with the answer. Our challenge today—Christian, Muslim, Jew and everyone else—is for us all to embrace the teachings of Abraham, “father of all nations.”

As events spiral out of control, we also have the opportunity to finally understand the true message that we are receiving: For years and years matter and spirit have been at war, waiting, waiting. Waiting for us today to finally accept that we and the world cannot be at peace until we make peace between our bodies and souls.

Yes, war is ugly. It’s not a movie or a video game. The only thing that counters war’s ugliness is knowing that we are fighting for something more beautiful than the hideousness of war, something important enough to make war worth the price.

Sadly, Americans, Israelis and for that matter most of the Western world does not articulate passionate beliefs as do the Muslims. As misplaced and destructive their intentions, we must always know that passionate radicalism is more powerful than complacent sanity. A meshugener who believes in a cause is stronger than a normal person who does not.

Do we stand for such a cause? That is the big question.

A few short days before Passover I had my final conversation with a good friend and colleague, who tragically passed away a short while later.

When I called him he was being treated in the hospital for his terminal illness. He would be going home for the holiday, only to return for further treatment.

I was calling to say hello and wish my friend blessings for a redeeming holiday. Instead our conversation took an unexpected direction, which would end being perhaps nothing less than a premonition, and an insight into the unknown crevices of the human experience.

“As much as you are loved,” Jay told me, “pain and illness is such a lonely experience.” It shakes the very core of your existence and challenges your every belief. Am I truly alone?

“You question – with your heart, not merely your mind – the purpose of it all. Why am I here? Do I truly matter? Is it all worth it?

“Illness, especially one diagnosed as ‘terminal,’ is absolutely demoralizing. Your entire significance is suddenly in question.”

I listen as Jay speaks. He is in another place. He is doing all the speaking. In a weak but determined voice he describes the shadows. Thoughtful as always, introspective and articulate Jay defines his profound challenges.

“So what do you do,” I asked him, “to maintain hope and strength when you are feeling so down and alone?”

“I go off to my own world. I have my dreams that transport me to another place. Thank G-d for the mind, which can lift you to other places.”

Jay describes the place he is transported to: “I see myself covered in warm polar bear skins near a fire. The skins keep me so warm from the bitter cold surrounding me. Ahh, it’s so warm here. I hear the comforting words of my Rebbe telling me that all will be fine.

“I feel that my life is significant. I do make a difference, and I am needed. That’s ultimately our greatest source of strength: That life is worth it. Because our contribution is indispensable.”

I, of course, have to throw in a bit of skepticism. I don’t know what it is about me: I can’t let things be; I feel compelled to challenge. Or maybe I feel awkward with a gnawing need to say something. So I ask Jay (which means that I am really asking myself): “But how do we really know that life is truly meaningful and that our acts are significant?”

His answer still resonates, especially in retrospect, coming from his vulnerable moment of truth:

“I would rather live a life deceiving myself of its absolute significance than to live in a mediocre reality of no consequence. It’s the only thing that allows me to survive, the only power that allows me to fight.”

Before anyone of our friendly non-believers jumps on this statement, allow me to clarify. We may never be able to prove whether life is absolutely meaningful or not, which of course is connected to belief in G-d and a life of design and purpose, rather than one of randomness. Yet, the intelligent believer, even with all things being equal, would rather choose a life of purpose (even if it were an illusion) than an aimless life (even if it were real).

And perhaps that is the ultimate expression of free will: Which one will we choose when we may not be able to prove one way or the other?

Words that come from the heart enter the heart. Jay’s last words to me came from a place of truth. All his defenses were stripped; all he had was his vulnerable self, agenda less. Moments like these should never be ignored. The deepest truths emerge when the superficial surface of life is peeled away.

Now when I think about it, Jay was obviously seeing two worlds at once: The cold reality of his aching body, and the warmth of the inner life.

I learned many things from my good friend, both personally and professionally, some of which is expressed in the work that we do here at the MLC (Meaningful Life Center), and much more to come.

But perhaps the greatest things that I learned from him were the truths I heard from a man about to exit one dimension to enter another.

Twice in life the portal opens up between the spiritual and material worlds. At death, when the earth opens up to receive its own. And at birth, when the womb opens up to deliver a new life.

The Kabbalah teaches us that as a person gets closer to returning to the inner world they often have premonitions. Often illness and disease open up chambers of deeper awareness.

This is one of the great dilemmas of life: Why it is that we can only see the inner world when the outer one is weakened?

The great Chassidic master, Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev was a non-judgmental and lover of all people regardless of background [we can use more Rabbis like that today]. He was a powerful advocate of the people before G–d. Once, in defense of human failings, he turned to G-d and declared (in Yiddish): “A groiser kuntz hos Du bavizen.” You demonstrated a great scheme (or prank): You put the people in a material world with all its distortions and temptations, and You tell us in the holy books that there is a spiritual world. The material we experience, the spiritual we read about. Why don’t you turn things around for once: Allow us to live and experience the sublime, and write about physical temptations in a book… Then You will see how the people will behave.

Goodbye my friend Jay. Goodbye to one world and hello to another. We await for these two worlds to finally meet. Very soon.

Post-Passover Thoughts

Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, each took his fire pan, placed fire on it and then incense. They offered before G-d an alien fire, which He had not instructed them. Fire cam forth from G-d and it consumed them, and they died before G-d.

This week’s Torah portion, Leviticus 10:1-2

During Passover one central theme kept emerging in both serious and casual conversations: How to handle religious confrontation between parent and child, between husband and wife, between neighbors and friends.

In truth this carries over to any conflict, religious or not, friend or stranger, even to national and global battles.

What is one to do, for instance, when your family member, your child, your parent or your spouse, is not living up to your religious standards?

How are we to accept others who we feel are not following G-d’s law without compromising the integrity of our own beliefs?

This topic consumed the larger part of one of my talks in La Jolla during the last days of Passover. Allow me to share some of the ideas we discussed.

An anguished mother once approached me completely at loss what to do with her rebellious teenage son. She believed he was using drugs and partaking in other activities that she and her husband did not approve of. Things were getting worse. She and her husband were constantly fighting with their son, as they were trying to enforce rules and curfews. Tensions escalated to the point that their son was impacting negatively on his siblings, and the entire mood in the house was filling with yelling and screaming.

The mother was at wit’s end. She couldn’t allow things to continue as they were. Her son would simply not follow any rules. On the other hand, how could she throw her own child into the street?!

Frankly, I wasn’t sure what to tell the mother. Things seemed completely stuck. How do you begin to repair a relationship that has eroded to a point where parents cannot speak with their son except in argument?

But as we were speaking an instinct came to me. I suggested to the mother that she should hire a babysitter and take her son out that night to dinner at a good restaurant. “By no means,” I cautioned her, “should you address your conflicts, even after dessert. Your son will be expecting for you to pounce. Allow the evening to be only a pleasant one.”

The objective, I explained to her, was to introduce a new, and surprising dimension to their relationship. With all the building pressure it was critical to bring in some fresh air and shake things up for the better. Mother and son had no longer anything in common. “What you need to do,” I told her, “is to speak to your son for the first time as one does to a child growing into an adult. Share with him your life and aspirations, what you were like when you were seventeen years old and the struggles you faced. Create a dialogue with him.”

Needless to say, mother was resistant to the idea. She had no idea what to tell her son. She had never had a real conversation with him. Her only relationship with him was of a grown-up mother a young child. But he was no longer a child; he was growing into an adult. “Your son needs his mother, and you need your son. He also needs a friend,” I told her. “If you don’t open a dialogue now with your son, things will get worse to the point that you may never be able to reconcile in the future. You will grow further and further apart.”

The mother finally agreed. The evening went very well. Mother and child had a cordial conversation for the first time. The son was taken aback and quite surprised to be spoken to as an adult.

The boy is still struggling; parents and son have yet to be at peace with each other, but now there is a relationship. There is some mutual respect and acceptance – a foundation has been established than can be built upon. The parents recognize the need for their son to independently discover his path. The son acknowledges the need to respect his parents’ guidelines at home at least.

You see, what truly happened was this: Their relationship finally turned human. Instead of hiding behind religious issues, control issues and the like, mother and son allowed themselves to be people, vulnerable and natural.

What emerged was a fascinating insight on the other’s part. Some time later, she told me, in tears, that she had paid heavy prices to become religious. Her parents disowned her. After the initial “honeymoon” with her new religious environment, she realized that people are people everywhere and that she wasn’t necessarily accepted as an equal. But it was all worth it, because her children would have it easy – provided with a powerful belief system on a platter without the difficulties she had to face.

Now that her son was rejecting all that she fought for, it broke her to pieces. She just could not accept it, and was insisting on imposing her beliefs on her son. But once she allowed herself to open up and have normal conversation with her son, about her struggles, about her choices, she came to realize that her expectations, her disappointments were her feelings, not her son’s. Just as she had the right to make her choices back then, her son had the right to make his choices. As hard as it was for her to accept, her son had to find himself just as she had to find herself despite what her parents felt, despite the obvious pain her parents felt when she rejected their value system.

Religion can never invalidate a human being and his/her dignified journey in life. As absolute as religious law may be, it cannot become another extension of the human ego and need for control. Belief in G-d has to lift a person to a Divine level, rather than bring G-d down to our human frailties.

Which brings me to a second story.

A groom once came to see me. Initially he was happily engaged. Both he and his bride were on a similar journey toward their Jewish heritage. Though they both had grown up in secular homes, they wanted to begin their marriage by building a home following tradition, a kosher and Shabbat observant home, and one built on the principles of family purity.

But then “crisis struck,” as he put it. The groom was frantic. His bride suddenly was questioning some of the commitments they had agreed upon. “Who knows where she’ll go next,” the groom worried. “I don’t want to get married and then find out that my wife doesn’t want to build a Jewish home.”

He was ready to give her an ultimatum. “Either you stick to our commitments, or the engagement is over.” He desperately wanted my advice.

Since he invited me in, I reciprocated his candidness. “Tell me,” I asked him, “why do you want your future wife to run a kosher home; why do you want her to be religious?” “What do you mean why?” he incredulously replied, “The reason is obvious, because that’s what G-d wants of her.”

“So,” I continued, “do you think that she feels that you and G-d are on one side, both of you wanting her to be frum (religious in the vernacular), and she stands on the other side?!”

“Of course she doesn’t feel that way,” he said. “If she felt that kosher was what G-d wanted, she would definitely comply.” “So what does she feel?” I asked him. He wasn’t sure. “Let me tell you what she may be feeling,” I explained. “She may feel that the religious stuff is not about G-d but about you. Just as you would want her to wear a blue dress when she may not want to, she feels that you are imposing your will on hers. She may even be testing you (consciously or unconsciously) to see if you love her for who she is or do you love the fact that she is Jewish and will give you Jewish children in a Jewish home.

“The first thing you need to do is show her that you love her. That you respect her journey and her choices. That you are not imposing on her your will, your ego, your control – even if dressed in religious garb.

“The way you do this is by following the first halacha (law) in marriage: ‘Honor your wife more than yourself.’ Also remember that G-d Himself says ‘Erase My sacred name in order to preserve shalom bayit (domestic tranquility).’

“When your bride will see and feel that your commitment is driven by bittul, selflessness, humility and modesty, I would submit that she will want what G-d wants. Because you – and your personality – will have gotten out of the way.”

“But what should I do when she doesn’t follow the laws,” the groom asked. “Discuss it with her, respect her pace, her journey, and it will work itself out,” I told him.

To his credit, the groom followed my suggestion. Suffice it to say that today they are happily married with several beautiful children and she is more religious than him…

Religion is not like other choices we make in life. It is not about joining an elite “country club” which separates “us from them.” It is a Divine system given to the entire human race to live up to its greatest potential.

Nachmanides explains that in religious life there is a possibility of a “naval b’reshut haTorah,” a sordid person [who behaves so] with “permission” of the Torah (Leviticus 19:1). This means someone who follows the letter of the law but in a disgusting way. We therefore have the specific commandment “sanctify yourselves for I, your G-d, am holy.” We need to limit and refine even that which is permissible according to the Torah. Strict adherence to the laws is not sufficient; it needs to be saturated with sanctity, with the feeling that these laws are Divine, and that we are submitting to G-d’s higher will as we perform them, not just to our own preference, habit or mechanical behavior.

Isaiah put it bluntly:

“Inasmuch as this people has drawn close, with its mouth and with its lips it has honored Me, yet it has distanced its heart from Me. The fear of Me is like rote learning of human commands.” (29:13)

Nadav and Avihu in this week’s Torah portion (and continuing in the portion two weeks from now) enter the Holy Temple and offered an “alien fire before G-d.” They were then consumed by fire and died. The question is asked: What exactly transpired here? Did they commit a sin? And if not, what were they consumed? On the contrary: Moses tells Aaron that his sons, Nadav and Avihu, are even greater than Moses and Aaron. For it is they who fulfilled G-d’s words:

“I will be sanctified by those close to Me, and I will thus be glorified.”

Commentaries explain that Nadav and Avihu entered the Temple in great ecstasy. They were so drawn to feed off the Divine energy that they entered in great love and yearning to the point that their souls expired in tremendous ecstasy.

However this is not the ultimate purpose of life. As great as was their Divine love, it ended up being “selfish.” The ultimate Divine experience is to ground the ecstasy, to bring it back and integrate it in the material life of body and soul. What is required is both “rotzo” and “shuv,” yearning and returning, tension and resolution.

The greatest religious experience is when we have the power to go beyond even our religious aspirations as they manifest in our own human “structures” and “frameworks.” The objective is to turn the human into the Divine, not the other way around.

It’s one thing to recognize that we must get beyond our narcissistic ego and reject its selfish behavior. It’s even greater – and harder – to transcend our “religious ego” and get beyond even the human “definitions” of good behavior, to go from good to better, from good to G-d.

Faith must always refine us as human beings. The greater the faith the greater the refinement. Sometimes we must step back from our own religious “shapes” to ensure that we are become G-dlier and not that faith is becoming another tool of our selfishness. As in the story of the Rebbe who rebuked his son for not hearing the cry of a child while being immersed deep in study.

The first question we must always ask ourselves is this: Is my position driven solely by my perspective and way of looking at things, or is it what is right and true? Is it what I want or is it what G-d wants?

The only true test to determine the answer is by seeing whether you are ready to “get out of the way” and forego your own convictions for the benefit of another person.

This may be the greatest argument for G-d as opposed to self-rule. If we determine what is right or wrong based on nothing more than our own wisdom and discretion, then the most we can hope for is some limited form of co-existence, and one that will always remain tenuous. But if we defer to G-d, that instead of asking what I want, we ask what G-d wants, there is the true possibility that we can discover a higher truth, which both transcends and allows for our diversity.

Of course this requires that the search for G-d not be yet another manifestation or extension of our own egos. Hence, the cardinal sin of idolatry. Does a secure G-d, a true G-d, really mind if we want to be foolish and worship false gods? Idolatry however is essentially self-worship: “I don’t want G-d on G-d’s terms, I want a god on my terms. A god I can relate to.” Instead of embracing ourselves as created in the Divine Image, we want to create a god in our own image. This distortion in effect blocks every hope of ever finding a higher truth, a higher reality than our one of our own making.

Our great challenge is, in the words of the Ethics:

“Make that His will should be your will, so that He should make your will to be as His will. Nullify your will before His will, so that He should nullify the will of others before your will.”

Religion is not a business and not a membership organization. It is not yet another card-carrying institution. Too often religion has become another human device. As long as religion remains human it is subject to all human distortions. Just as there are other addictions, there can be religious addiction. True religion is a Divine institution.

As serious as we take our commitments, we must take G-d and His cause more serious.

So there are religious people and G-dly people. Some take themselves seriously but don’t take the cause seriously. Others don’t take themselves that seriously but they take the cause seriously.

Think about it.

 La Jolla, California, Passover 2004

A taste of Jewish America on the Passover hotel scene.

So here I am again, celebrating Passover, for the second year in a row, not in the spiritual wholesomeness of home, but in the comfort of a hotel. Last year we were in the Doubletree in Scottsdale, Arizona. This time 400 of us have gathered in the luxury of the Torrey Pines Hilton in La Jolla, California, a suburb of San Diego.

Is this the way Passover is meant to be celebrated? Passover was always about reducing self-indulgence. It was about freeing ourselves of the slavery of material life and experience spiritual freedom. Here, we indulge in material comfort – our beds are made, food all prepared, dishes washed, 24 hour tea room – as we recreate the exodus from all constraints and limitations (Egypt, Mitzrayim in Hebrew, is rooted in the word meaning constraints). The biggest complaint people have is that the steak is too rare or that there are only two ping-pong tables.

Is this leaving Egypt or entering it?

I am yet again, scholar in residence. Perhaps my role is to be the conscience of the group – to make everyone feel a bit guilty, between meals that is, about our comfort zones…

The irony doesn’t escape me that this too is a luxury that I am able to enjoy the amenities of hotel vacation while writing about its vices.

But then again, is this hotel comfort that much different than the comforts of home? After all, we live in a free country, enjoying unprecedented prosperity. Kosher for Passover products – that would have made our grandmothers tremble with shame – fill the grocery shelves. Today they even have Kosher for Passover pizza, for heaven’s sake.

Why, one could even make the argument that now we finally have the opportunity to celebrate true “cheirut” (freedom), which is the essence of Passover. Do we need only discomfort and crisis to feel the bitter “Egypt” of our lives?

Yes, it’s true that physical deprivation may make it easier to feel the need for freedom, but Judaism never preached asceticism and self-denial.

The challenge of our times is to not allow our comforts to numb our senses into complacency. Our exodus today is to free ourselves of the slavery that material freedom can impose upon us, and initiate passion and vivacity even when we have all our physical needs met – with equal intensity to the energy generated when we have to overcome adversity.

Our ancestors were forced to fight for their beliefs as they faced enemies all around them. Today we have to willingly elicit the fight from within against perhaps the greatest adversary of all: Apathy.

As one fellow told me at the Passover barbeque the other night: Why do we need Moshiach when we have all these comforts? Reminded me of the baalibatisher fellow who asked a Chassid: Why is the Rebbe crying so much when he blows Shofar – he has such a beautiful wife and family?…

Indeed, one can even say that the Passover hotel scene amplifies both the comfort and the challenge of our times – to overcome the obscene self-contentment of the unchallenged life.

Ok, now that I have justified this hotel phenomenon, I am sure that some guilty Jews can come up with more reasons to torture ourselves…

Jewish guilt – another important subject to address. So common is the concept that it’s become a cliché. But would you believe that guilt is antithetical to Judaism? Purposeless guilt that just demoralizes you is un-G-dly. Feelings of guilt and for that matter, anything demoralizing that does not motivate you to become better, is rooted in the evil inclination that seeks to break a person down. But that discussion is for another time.

Meet many interesting people. The crowd this year is more educated and of higher caliber than last. They actually welcome the opportunity to challenge and be challenged.

At the Seder I meet a woman who has come solely as a result of reading this weekly e-mail column! I think about the power of technology, another luxury of our times that can reach people in unprecedented ways when utilized properly.

Thursday, April 9 – Sea World

Visit the famous San Diego Sea World.

Very mixed feelings.

Must be over 20,000 people here today, each paying approximately $45. As I watch the powerful Shamu (killer whales) splash the lower 14 rows of spectators, and the elegant dolphins and sea lions jump through man-made hoops as tiny sea otters scurry about, I can’t help but wonder two things at once.

On one hand people are drawn to the astonishing beauty of the water world, the incredible wisdom in each creature – nothing less than witnessing a divine sight. At the same time, it is a spectacle of animals in captivity, many of which were bred in this cage. What do the animals really think about their own performance? As they keep feeding the big fish, you get a sense of the manipulation we see around us all day. “Here, I’ll throw you a bone, just keep jumping through my hoops.”

It doesn’t help to find out that the place is owned by Anheuser-Busch – yes the beer maker. Now I understand why they’re selling caps for Bud Light…

Don’t get me wrong. I am hardly a party pooper, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself at Seaworld. It was fascinating to walk down the dark caverns and see the ominous sharks snake through the shadowy waters. Or to watch the sleek seals swim seamlessly through the water like a knife in warm butter. No doubt this can inspire us to appreciate the world which G-d blessed us with. Many personal lessons can be derived from all these miracles of nature.

Yet, you can’t ignore the commercialization of it all. With all the watery beauty you get the seeping sense of other forces at work.

It may sound strange, but success can be harder to handle than failure. Comfort can be more difficult of a challenge than angst. Freedom and prosperity can be more enslaving than servitude.

Man, what a complex world we live in. Everything is intertwined – good with greed, altruism with acquisition, love and profit, sensitivity and coarseness, beauty and frivolity.

We have been blessed with freedoms that our ancestors would have considered Messianic. May we continue to be blessed with evermore comfort and prosperity.

But as the Alter Rebbe says: G-d blesses you with the material. You must transform matter into spirit.

This is the challenge of our times, the exodus from Mitzrayim in our generation: To free ourselves of the material comforts that bind us and see the material simply as a means to achieve the spiritual. To recognize that materialism can enslave us more than poverty can, you can be financially independent but live in the deepest psychological slavery.

Passover today is not to be deceived by superficial comforts and deceptive security. It is to discover that true freedom is only independence of the psyche, liberation of the spirit.

— Celebrating the Festival of Faith, Passover 2004/5746 —

After addressing atheists in last week’s article, allow me to vent about believers.

But first let me share some of the correspondence I received about the issues of atheism.

Some atheists took me to task as they felt that I was unfairly attacking their beliefs. [One such letter is posted below this article]. They wrote to me explaining that atheism is not the belief that G-d does not exist but rather the lack of belief that G-d exists. This therefore renders invalid my definition of an atheist as a person who is “absolutely sure and convinced that G-d does NOT exist.”

I was made to understand that there are “strong atheists” who claim to “know” there is no god, but most atheists are “weak atheists” meaning that they simply “lack belief in god.” Basic atheism is not a belief. It is merely the lack of belief.

The distinction is small but important. Denying something means that you have knowledge of what it is that you are being asked to affirm, but that you have rejected that particular concept. To be without a belief in G-d merely means that the term ‘G-d’ has no importance or possibly no meaning to you. Belief in G-d is not a factor in their lives. Surely this is quite different from denying the existence of G-d.

Many atheists, in other words, don’t deny or reject the existence of G-d. Rather, they don’t find that G-d is relevant to them. Not believing that something is true is not equivalent to believing that it is false; one may simply have no idea whether it is true or not.

Then there are atheists that are in between “strong” and “weak” and they believe that it is substantially more likely than not (though by no means a certainty) that G-d does not exist.

It’s gets more complicated. Because in addition to all these dimensions of atheism, comes a thing that Professor T.H. Huxley coined “agnostic,” referring to someone who disclaimed both atheism and theism, and who believed that the question of whether a higher power existed was unsolved and insoluble. Another way of putting it is that an agnostic is someone who believes that we do not know for sure whether G-d exists. The “undecided.” Some agnostics believe that we can never know.

What then, you may ask, is the difference between agnosticism and “weak” atheism, when both are unsure? I guess only G-d (sic) knows!

And you thought faith was complex!

Frankly, I was surprised to discover an extensive amount of literature explaining the meaning of atheism and all its variations. I assume that atheists too have a right to create their bible and set of laws.

But it does seem like quite a stretch that atheists need to create a philosophy out of something that is nothing more than a… lack of belief.

Let me make this clear: Everyone has a right to choose what and what not to believe. I respect that right, and in truth any person of faith has to believe that G-d endowed everyone with free will and the inalienable right to make their own choices. And atheists, just as believers, also have the right to doubt and question, and even to feel insecure at times, with the need to justify their attitudes.

However, it’s just a little difficult to understand how lack of belief should itself turn into a system and a philosophy. I understand why believers need a system – that is very much part of their belief, that G-d created a system by which humans must live. But if one had doubts, or is pretty sure that G-d does not exist, why the need to turn that into a philosophy? Is it in order to present a counter-argument to faith?

To sum up, we have an entire series of categories:

Strong atheists, firm non-believers.
Weak atheists.
Weak agnostics (or as some call them “empirical agnostics”).
Strong agnostics (or “strict agnostics”).
And of course, the many shades in between.

One thing is for sure: In one way or another people are wrestling with G-d. I don’t know what G-d is thinking, but he sure has us spinning our wheels.

Now to faith.

I wonder whether in faith there are also both “strong believers” and “weak believers.”

A prominent Jewish leader once wrote that mainstream Jews don’t accept the “radical immanence of G-d” as do Chassidim. It made me laugh. What does he exactly mean with the “radical immanence of G-d”? Does is mean that G-d actually exists…?

I gather that he was referring to the different opinions in the meaning of the Lurianic doctrine of Tzimzum (as mentioned in last week’s article). Some are of the opinion that the Tzimtzum was “literal,” G-d actually withdrew His presence from our existence, and G-d guides the universe from “above,” from the “outside”. (This too breaks down into two opinions: G-d literally withdrew His presence, or He literally withdrew His light, i.e. His conscious presence).

The other opinion, as elaborated by Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi in Tanya (section 2 chapter 7), is that the Tzimtzum is not “literal.” It is a withdrawal only from the perspective of human consciousness, we don’t feel G-d’s revealed presence, but from G-d’s perspective He fills all of existence.

This makes you wonder: Which is more “radical” – G-d’s immanence or G-d’s withdrawal? To say that G-d literally withdrew Himself is applying an inappropriate corporeality to G-d, as explained in Tanya. That is quite a radical position.

Perhaps a few stories can help illuminate these issues.

They tell the story that when Czarist Russia was seeking to arrest Rabbi Schneur Zalman of Liadi, the Rebbe consulted with some of his Chassidim whether he should allow himself to be arrested or go into hiding. One of the people he consulted was the great Chassid, Rabbi Shmuel Munkes. Rabbi Shmuel unequivocally stated his opinion that the Rebbe should not resist being arrested. “But how,” asked the Rebbe, “how can you suggest that I place myself in such danger?” Rabbi Shmuel answered: “Because either or. If you are a true Rebbe then no harm will befall you. If you are not, you deserve what’s coming to you for depriving so many Jews of material pleasure in this world!”

This story always moves me. This is what we call “radical immanence” of G-d. Yes, G-d actually exists within our lives, and yes, you either believe it completely or faith is rendered a farce.  Faith is qualitative; it cannot be dissected into parts. Faith does not exist only when it’s convenient. Either G-d is here with us completely, or He is completely not here. If G-d exists then you have to go all the way.

When the Torah states that “ayn oid melvado,” “nothing else exists but Him,” it means literally, not as a figure of poetry.

Which leads us to story #2: An excellent Talmud student once came to his Rosh Yeshiva (the head of the school), in deep frustration. “I have been studying here many years. I feel that I have grown immensely and I appreciate your dedication in teaching me to master the Talmud and all its commentaries. But something is missing in my soul. I feel the need to explore.”

“Where do you intend to go,” asked the Rosh Yeshiva. “I think I want to go to the Chassidim and study some Chassidic teachings,” replied the student. The Rosh Yeshiva was deeply disappointed, but he could do nothing to stop his student.

Years later the student returned to his old teacher, and shared with him his experiences and how he had indeed discovered amongst Chassidim what was missing in his soul. The teacher became very curious. “What did you learn there that you could not learn here?” The student couldn’t find the right words to explain, so he blurted out: “There I learned how to read minds.”

“How to read minds – give me break”! the teacher exclaimed. “What mishugas is that? I always told you that the Chassidim were weird.” Yet the student persisted. So his teacher played along. “Ok, if you can read minds, tell me what I am now thinking?” The student replied: “It’s not so simple. First concentrate on something important to you, and then I’ll read your mind.”

The teacher closed his eyes and concentrated. “You’re thinking about G-d,” the student said, “as it says ‘shoviti Hashem l’negdi tomid,’ I place G-d always before me.” The teacher triumphantly exclaimed, “You see, you can’t read my mind. No, that’s not what I am thinking about!”

Somberly the student said: “well, that’s why I left…”

Story #3: A philosopher was arguing with a respected rabbi about the existence of G-d.  The philosopher felt that, although there were some valid arguments for proving G-d’s existence, there were many equally valid ones disproving His existence. After a time, the philosopher grew exasperated. “You are a wise man,” he said to the rabbi. “Why is it that you are not moved by all the arguments disputing G-d’s existence?”

The rabbi smiled. “I envy you,” he said to the philosopher. “Because you are so involved in pondering the existence of G-d, you are always thinking about Him, while I spend most of my time thinking about myself.” With that, they parted ways.

The philosopher was flattered by the rabbi’s remarks, yet disturbed that his question was never answered. Later, as he was telling a friend about the encounter, the deeper meaning of the rabbi’s words dawned on him. “The rabbi actually insulted me,” he said to the friend. “The reason I spend all my time pondering G-d’s existence is that I am sure that I exist, so the only question is whether G-d also exists. For the rabbi, G-d’s existence is a given, so the eternal question is whether he exists, and if so, why?”

“Strong” faith means that G-d is actually present in our lives in a very real way. It is not just an abstract belief in some detached concept. If faith in G-d is true, then like the nature of truth itself, faith cannot be conditional or compartmentalized.

And that’s what makes faith so difficult and demanding. Faith in G-d is the absolute belief that there is Higher Reality that we must live up to, and that this calling must permeate every aspect of our lives.

Faith therefore requires constant nourishing and cultivation. It can never be taken for granted. Indeed, there are many religious atheists and non-religious believers. There are people who lack belief in G-d, yet they are the most G-d fearing people I know. Perhaps their integrity and sincerity allowed them the courage to reject the false gods that were presented to them. Perhaps if they discovered a new type of G-d, or better said, the “original” G-d before He was shaped and distorted by humans, they would be the firmest believers. I have no doubt about that.

What non-believers can teach us all is that G-d’s existence is nothing like the way we humans perceive existence. In other words, when mortals say “G-d exists” they mean “exists” as we humans understand existence. In truth, however, G-d does “not exist” as we understand the term. G-d does not exist in our context of material, corporeal existence. Conversely, G-d’s type of existence is not an “existence” as we define existence. As some Jewish philosophers put it, G-d’s existence is a “non-existential existence,” an existence that we can never fathom or experience.

Then there are people who look like or claim to be believers, and their behavior is anything but. Indeed, the Talmud says that there is a thief who prays to G-d before he goes out to steal! How is it possible that a person should turn to G-d and beseech Him to help him succeed in defying G-d’s very command “thou shalt not steal”?!

The nature of faith is such that it can remain detached form the person professing faith. Yes, he may be a man or woman of true faith, but the faith is amorphous and abstract, it has not permeated the person’s behavior. All people believe in ideals that they don’t live up to. Our ideals always exceed our actions to reach those ideals.

So whether you are an atheist or a believer we are all in the same boat – do we truly believe in our convictions, and do we live up to them.

Perhaps we are all both believers and non-believers. After all, G-d did create a pretty powerful agnostic universe, and the tzimtzum engine after all is driven by Divine energy. So it’s inevitable that there are areas in each of our lives where the tzimtzum takes its toll and leaves us feeling often alone and disconnected from G-d.

Yet, it is not an airtight tzimtzum, and even non-believers have their doubts. I even know some self-proclaimed atheists that put on tefillin daily.

It is true that ultimately the virtue of our lives is dependent not merely on our claims for or against religion, but on our behavior, hence, the phenomenon of so called “non-believers” being more G-d fearing and ethical than so called “believers.” Yet I submit that a refined human being who also embraces G-d has the ability to reach much farther than he would with his natural virtue.

After all is said and done it feels more secure to live in a world driven by faith in G-d than in a godless world. Though religion can and has been abused, atheism or agnosticism is hardly the solution. True and healthy faith creates a platform for a life of meaning and purpose, a life in which our actions matter and our experiences are driven with direction. While a life of no belief may feel alright, it renders life as a random set of circumstances, with survival of the fittest being the cardinal rule.

Religion is no panacea. History is a witness to the immeasurable misery that has been perpetrated in the name of so-called religious beliefs. Many power hungry, corrupt individuals simply (ab)used religion as a good cloak to smokescreen their own depravity.

Yet, when religion does live up to its standards, it can produce the noblest results. Take this country: Belief in a Creator inspired the opening of the Declaration of Independence:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights.”

Faith in G-d dictates faith that all people are equal. Can atheism or agnosticism offer the same guarantee?

The key is not to throw out the “baby with the bath water” and reject the power of faith in G-d while we reject false prophets.

I speak for myself when I say that it is hardly comforting to wake up each morning and feel that my actions make no true difference. It is hard to live a life with no mission statement that has cosmic consequences. So, I say this to my atheist and agnostic friends: whether it is mathematically correct or not, I would rather delude myself into thinking that life has true meaning than live in a reality where life has no meaning.

Of course, it helps to know that this may be no delusion but the actual truth.

At the same time I sometimes envy those people that have pure faith with no doubts. Yes, there are some very normal people that carry such innocence. They too have the challenge of integrating their faith into their daily lives, but they never have doubts.

And finally, I can’t help but wonder what G-d is thinking about all us people contemplating whether He exists. If it weren’t so hurtful it probably would be quite amusing.

Happy Passover! May the pure “food of faith” in the Matzah enrich all our lives and bring deeper faith into all our lives.

Rabbi Simon:

I have heard you speak on at least two occasions… I’ve also read one of your books.  Based on those experiences, I have a high regard for your thoughtfulness and tolerance. I was therefore surprised by the intolerance and lack of rigor reflected in your piece on atheists. I am an atheist. You assume that to be an atheist a person must “be absolutely sure and convinced that G-d does NOT exist.” This is not true.  I believe a lot of things – including things relating to tax policy, the likely winner of elections, the likely outcome of sporting events, etc. As to none of these am I absolutely sure and convinced that I am right.

You are correct that no one can prove whether or not G-d exists. You are a theist because you believe, despite this uncertainty, that G-d exists. I am an atheist because I believe, despite this uncertainty, that G-d does not exist. I respect your conclusion which I readily admit is supported (but not conclusively) by many facts, in addition to faith. I would request that you respect my conclusion which is supported (but not conclusively) by many facts (such as overwhelming events like the Holocaust, and mundane events like my father’s Alzheimers).

Your implication that, without theism, the only alternative is moral relativism is also unfounded. Many systems of moral philosophy are not based on divine will and are not relativistic. Moreover, history is replete with examples of religions and religious people applying morality in a relativistic or worse way. Again, I respect your morality and I expect mine to be respected based on my actions, not on my theism or lack thereof.

Finally, it is disturbing to me that you fail to see the dangers to our society (and especially to Jews) that would arise from failing to maintain a strong fence between church and state (like the fence that our laws build around the Torah). Our founding fathers did (generally) believe in G-d, and they also believed in Jesus Christ as the messiah. They had the wisdom to know that government should not sponsor their religious views. We need to guard against a society that shows intolerance towards Jews and adherents to other religious (including atheist) belief systems. One way to guard against that is to avoid the intolerance towards atheists that you demonstrate and support in your article. I hope that this is not a path that you will continue to follow.

Sincerely,

X

——————–

Dear X,

Your points are well taken, and I appreciate them. I would even ask your permission to post your e-mail on our website as a reply to my article (with or without your name, as you see fit).

I also want to extend my empathy and best wishes that you have the strength to get through your father’s condition, and that he be as healthy and peaceful as is humanly and (as a believer) divinely possible.

To continue the discussion, may I say this: Firstly, I am sorry to hear that you took my words as an attack on and intolerance of atheism. That was not at all my intention. Indeed, I know many so-called atheists who are more G-dly and more ethical than so-called “theists.” I even know atheists that put on tefillin every day. My intention was to be rigorous with the topic, not any personal attack, and to help create a dialogue between us all. It’s funny, because right before I read your e-mail I received an e-mail from a believer criticizing me for attacking believers.

I think we are all mature enough to get beyond our personal beliefs and discuss the issues on their own merit. As such, even if atheism does not mean that one must “be absolutely sure and convinced that G-d does NOT exist,” the questions I posed in my article are still valid. If I may ask you, I would be interested to know, if you have an instinct, intuition or emotion that G-d does not exist? Or is it based on lack of proof, or because you have seen senseless pain? I understand what you write that your atheism is supported by many facts, such as the Holocaust and your father’s Alzheimer’s — but I am wondering what made you come to this conclusion in the final analysis of things?

Also, why atheist more than agnostic since it isn’t conclusive either way?

Regarding moral relativism – I don’t see how one can possible argue absolute morality if the laws of morality are not etched in stone by some higher authority. Indeed, if there is no G-d than all morality is simply a result of man-made laws that help us live efficiently, like red lights and green lights, which are completely relativistic. Which non-relativistic moral philosophical system are you referring to that is not based on divine will?

Thank you again for writing. I intend to continue this subject in next week’s article, and hopefully we will all grow through this dialogue.

Blessings and best wishes,

Simon Jacobson

——————–

Rabbi Simon:

Thank you for your response. I’m sure you did not intend to be intolerant or to attack atheists, but if you reread your piece as I have, I think you will see the tone I am referring to in a number of places, including: your reference to an “atheist’s irrational conviction”; your reference to “Mr. Atheist”; your question whether an atheist is “worshipping himself” with “irrational certainty”; your suggestion that Dr. Newdow’s desire that his daughter not have thrust upon her religious beliefs at school that are contrary to his own is just the result of an “injured ego” and  of his taking himself “too seriously”. All of these are essentially ad hominem in nature rather than reasoned argument.

You ask why I don’t refer to myself as an agnostic rather than an atheist. Since you acknowledge that there is no certainty either way, why don’t you refer to yourself as an agnostic? I think the answer for both of us is that an agnostic is someone who thinks there is approximately a 50/50 chance (give or take a few percentage points) of G-d’s existence. A theist, like you, believes it is substantially more likely than not (though by no means a certainty) that G-d exists. An atheist, like me, believes it is substantially more likely than not (though by no means a certainty) that G-d does not exist.

You ask about whether I have an intuition as to G-d’s non-existence and what is the ultimate source of my non-belief. I would say that I do have an intuition that G-d does not exist. There is no single source. I believe that the single most important source was my father’s worldview. He was brought up in Brooklyn by orthodox eastern European immigrants. I was raised in a conservative suburban Philadelphia synagogue (Beth Sholom – Frank Lloyd Wright). My parents attended Friday night services almost every week until my mother’s M.S. made it impractical.

My father’s ethnic identity was extremely important to him. However, even though he never talked about it directly and I picked it up only subliminally, his worldview did not admit of any divine intervention. I think this is what I absorbed. I would also add that the brand of conservative Judaism propounded at Beth Sholom in those years was so lacking in any sense of spirituality that it contributed to my intuition of atheism.

Beginning around when I turned 40 (I’m now 51), I engaged in a spiritual quest of sorts that involved study of Judaism (with both Chasidic and Reconstructionist teachers) as well as study of eastern philosophy and, to a lesser extent, Christian mysticism. This was very useful to me. Although I never changed my atheist beliefs, I became more sympathetic to theistic beliefs. However, watching Alzheimer’s strip my father’s humanity from him inch by inch (he died two and a half years ago) made me much more resentful of the notion that there is a divinity that chose to create diseases like that (I realize that there are worse evils in the world that Alzheimer’s, but I guess we tend to react most strongly to things that strike closest to home).

As to moral relativism, I understand that to refer to the notion that there is no principled basis on which to judge one moral system superior to another. Plato for example had a fairly elaborate moral system that was not relativistic. More modern systems were propounded by Mill and Kant. Of course, no one can say for sure which if any of these systems is right – just as no one can say which religion’s moral system is right. It is also significant to note that the Jewish moral system, even from an orthodox standpoint, is not static. We obviously would not permit slavery or polygamy today. More fundamentally, as my younger son the philosophy major points out, whether or not maintaining a moral system without a G-d is problematic implies nothing about whether G-d exists.

Again, all that I am asking is respect for my beliefs and that I not be referred to as irrational or egotistical or too self-serious or lacking in moral foundations on account of them. I would also ask that you be mindful of the dangers to Jews, theist and atheist alike, from permitting government to impose religious beliefs (however much you may agree with them) on our children. You can be confident that if governmental imposition of religious beliefs is allowed to continue, it won’t be long before some of those beliefs will be very noxious to you and by then it may be too late.

Feel free to use my initial response and/or this response, but please do not include my name. I trust you with it, but not necessarily all those you may send it to.

The god you don’t believe in, I too don’t believe in.

Rabbi Levi Yitzchak of Berditchev

A number of years ago self-proclaimed atheist Michael A. Newdow brought a case before the Supreme Court arguing to remove the words “under G-d” from the Pledge of Allegiance. A year earlier Dr. Newdow won a decision in the United States Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit in San Francisco, that the addition of “under G-d” turned the pledge into a “profession of religious belief” and made it constitutionally unsuitable for daily recitation in the public schools. Now that decision was being appealed in the Supreme Court.

This case glaringly reflects the clash between belief and atheism in our modern times, and brings to the fore the big question: Do we need faith?

Indeed, this is the theme that lies at the heart of the season we are now entering. As we approach the holiday of Purim and then prepare for Passover, we revisit the importance of faith and its role in our lives. Passover is known as the holiday of faith. The Matzah eaten on Passover is called “food of faith.” Indeed, the Bible tells us that the Jewish people are “believers children of believers,” and faith is emphasized time and again throughout the Biblical account of Exodus.
So here we have the modern day confrontation between an atheist and the American public’s declaration of “one nation under G-d.” Dr. Newdow is arguing that the daily recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance in his daughter’s public school classroom violates the Constitution as long as the pledge contains the words “under G-d.”

I have a few questions to self-proclaimed atheists. Perhaps one day I can do a radio show and interview a few atheists, agnostics and believers…

Frankly, I never understood atheists. Agnosticism is one thing. I can see how someone has doubts and is unsure whether G-d exists. But atheism? How can one be absolutely sure and convinced that G-d does NOT exist? An atheist’s irrational conviction can sound awfully like blind faith.

I understand that a person may emotionally choose to not believe in G-d, but that should be confused with an absolute rationale that G-d does not exist. No one can prove that G-d does not exist as no can absolutely prove that G-d exists (see below). Arguments can be made either way, but the final conclusion is not driven by logic. For believers it is driven by faith. But what drives an atheists absolute belief that G-d does not exist?

Some have argued that the atheist’s belief is driven by his unwillingness to accept G-d’s authority over his life. In other words, the atheist does not have empirical proof that G-d does not exist; he personally rejects G-d. Similar to a person of faith who may not have empirical proof for G-d’s existence, yet he personally chooses to believe, or he instinctively, intuitively or emotionally just knows that G-d exists.

Do you, Mr. Atheist, have the same type of instinct, intuition or emotion that G-d does not exist?

Is an atheist worshiping himself and his views with the same irrational certainty of which he accuses believers?

Another ironic observation: The Declaration of Independence opens up with these words:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.”

This declaration, based on the belief in the Creator, guarantees the right of every person, including an atheist, to choose not to believe in G-d.

So here’s the big question: Would an atheistic declaration allow believers to choose faith in G-d? In other words: If atheism is true, and there is no Creator that endowed us all with equal unalienable rights, who says that we are all equal? Maybe some of us are more equal than others, as the monarchs believed. Indeed, as Solicitor General Theodore B. Olson argued before the court, “under G-d” was one of various “civic and ceremonial acknowledgments of the indisputable historical fact that caused the framers of our Constitution and the signers of the Declaration of Independence to say that they had the right to revolt and start a new country.” The framers believed:

“That G-d gave them the right to declare their independence when the king has not been living up to the unalienable principles given to them by G-d.”

Thus the great irony: The king, had he so chosen, would never have given a Dr. Newdow the time of day to argue the case for atheism, let alone to practice it. Only believers in G-d gave you that right.

True, throughout history we have witnessed the horrible consequences of “authorities” imposing their dogmatic “religious” views on others, to the point of terrible persecution, killings and total intolerance. But I submit that they are neither models of faith nor of what it means to be a G-d fearing person. Just because someone dons religious garb and the mantel of the clergy doesn’t mean that he is truly G-dly. Cruelty, power, control and demagoguery can take on many shapes and mantels.

This definitely does more than justify the fear many of us have of state controlled religion and governments imposing their beliefs on their citizens. Hence, the separation of church and state in this country.

But the same founders that separated church and state – and no one had to remind them of religious abuse – are the same people who wrote:

“We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights.”

For them there was no contradiction, because these words clearly state the idea of a universal Creator, not a Christian, Muslim or Jewish G-d, but One Who created us all, and endowed us with unalienable rights.

These rights include the right to choose no religion and even to not believe. Yet, the very foundation of all choices is based on belief in G-d. If there is no Creator Who created us as equals, perhaps we are really not equals? Eliminate that axiom and there is no guarantee that we each have the power to choose.

The Founding Fathers and the framers of the Constitution clearly meant that freedom of religion is precisely that: freedom of religion, not from religion.

This brings us to some thoughts on faith. What exactly is faith? As stated above, no one can empirically prove with absolute certainty that G-d exists. As we see daily, that people can choose to question G-d’s existence. Indeed, that is exactly how G-d created the universe. He created an agnostic world, in which he concealed His presence to the extent that we must struggle to discover Him.

The mystics explain this phenomenon with the Lurianic doctrine of Tzimtzum. In some mysterious way G-d turned reality “inside out.” He concealed His Divine light, His conscious presence so as to allow “room” for an independent entity to perceive its own independence, to the extent that we humans feel that we are “where it’s at” and G-d is “out there,” when in fact G-d is “reality” “where’s it’s at” and we are the newcomers.

Hence, faith. True faith is not some blind childish acceptance of irrational beliefs. Faith is a sophisticated tool that works hand in hand with logic and reason. It is the recognition that intellectual inquiry leads one to the conclusion that reality is more than just the mere sum total of the human mind. Reason leads us to a “door” that the “bigger picture” encompasses much more than reason and beyond reason. Faith is the way we enter that door.

With the exodus from Egypt human history had its first collective dosage of faith. An entire nation was enslaved by another. They were brutally oppressed and dehumanized. They were then freed. This freedom was a demonstration that there is a force in life that is more powerful than human injustice, and when that force prevails, justice is served. If humans were the only controlling force in existence justice would have no guarantee of being served. After all, humans can be the cruelest to one another.

As one Holocaust survivor stated, when asked by an atheist how he can believe in G-d after experiencing G-d’s silence, the survivor replied: If anything, the Holocaust taught us how we no longer can believe in man, and our only hope is to rely on G-d.

Thus, the opening of the Ten Commandments:

“I am your G-d that took you out of Egypt.”

All the morality in the following Commandments, which is the basis of all civilization, is built upon the first statement that G-d personally intervenes and can free us from the “Egypt” in our lives. Murder, theft and all forms of immorality have no foundation to stand on if there is no absolute authority that dictates these laws. Take away G-d from the picture and we are left with moral relativism.

The Declaration of Independence actually mirrors the Ten Commandments in the sense that it too opens up with a an axiomatic statement, “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights,” upon which is built all the rights and freedoms that follow.

This is all part of faith – the faith that was born in the exodus of Egypt and is revisited and nourished each year in the holiday of Passover.

And it is precisely this faith that so absolutely recognizes the dignity of human beings and his or her sacred right to free will, that it allows a person to choose to be an atheist, as irrational as it may be!

Dr. Newdow told the justices:

“I am saying I as her father have a right to know that when she goes into the public schools she’s not going to be told every morning to stand up, put her hand over her heart, and say your father is wrong, which is what she’s told every morning. Government is doing this to my child. They’re putting her in a milieu where she says, ‘Hey, the government is saying that there is a G-d and my dad says no,’ and that’s an injury to me.”

Dear doctor, is it at all possible that you may be wrong and G-d does actually exist? And if so, is your injured ego more important than your daughter’s pursuit of truth? Are you perhaps taking yourself too seriously, just as you accuse believers of?

I will concede one thing to atheists. People representing “religion” have given you many good reasons to reject G-d. Even how some dogmatic individuals present the Pledge of Allegiance gives good cause to reject its reference to G-d.

But don’t allow other people’s distortions to get in your way of finding the truth.

This perhaps is the cruelest thing that we humans can do to each other: Distort our attitudes and disfigure our impressions toward G-d, truth and reality.

But after all is said and done, our journey goes on. All of us – believers, agnostics and atheists – share the most sacred journey of all: our search for G-d.

Hold on to the search. Never give up. That is the ultimate dignity.

Unplugged Thoughts

I was always intrigued with the conversations that we carry on with ourselves. Words that no one ever hears. What would it be like if we could hear these spontaneous and informal thoughts, before they have been censored and edited by our more sober faculties?

No, my friends, I am not going to expose my own innermost voices. They are simply too insane or embarrassing to share. But here is a small glimpse into some of my fleeting thoughts sitting last weekend at a Shabbat table. An exercise, shall we say, in planned spontaneity – a sort of premeditated unplugging of the mind.

Brooklyn Heights, February 2004 — Last weekend I had the honor of being hosted at a Shabbaton in Brooklyn Heights. [For the uninitiated a Shabbaton is weekend Shabbat community event which usually features a meal or two with a guest lecturer.]Brooklyn Heights – an elegant neighborhood nestled in the northwest corner of Brooklyn, on the south side of the Hudson River, right off the Brooklyn Bridge. The promenade offers a stunning view of the Lower Manhattan skyline and what was once the World Trade Center.

Up Remsen Street, a few blocks from the promenade, is Congregation Bnai Avraham, which hosted me. The spiritual leader of the congregation, Rabbi Aaron Raskin, is a warm and dedicated man in his 30’s. He is an energized and dynamic individual, in the spirit of his grandfather, the late Rabbi JJ Hecht. Rabbi Raskin just published his first book, Letters of Light, exploring the spiritual energy of the Hebrew Alphabet.

Though I would love to give you a report of the weekend, I actually am writing this as an introduction to an unexpected event that happened at Friday night dinner. I was seated near a gentleman named Shimon Romach. He actually didn’t plan on coming to the Shabbaton. Indeed, this is the very first time he ever witnessed a group gathering together in this manner. He happened to be in the area on official business, and one of the synagogue members invited him for Shabbat dinner so that he could make a presentation and solicit support for his activities.

Shimon Romach was born in Baghdad, raised in Israel. After serving with honors in the Israeli army, he was recruited by the Shin Bet, Israel’s secret service, where he reached a high-ranking position. Today he heads the Israeli Fire department. Official title: Fire and Rescue Commissioner and Chief Fire Inspector of Israel.

I was fascinated by some of the unknown activities that the Israeli Fire Department are involved in.

Presently there are 1700 active firefighters, deployed in 93 Fire Stations throughout Israel.

They all formerly served in the Tzahal, IDF (Israeli Defense Forces) – chosen from the best soldiers of the army.

These firefighters have learned to respond to an emergency call within 30 seconds and they are the first to arrive at the scene of every terrorist attack, to stabilize the immediate area, defuse any potential explosives, extinguish fires, and secure the location.

In addition to their expertise in extinguishing fires they specialize in rescuing victims trapped under rubble or in car and bus wreckages following bombings. They have also learned skills in dealing with “secondary devices” that are aimed at killing rescue workers. They also give vital information to the IDF Home Front Command and other rescue organizations, enabling them to come prepared with the necessary equipment.

Most forest fires in Israel are acts of arson by Arab terrorists. Forests serve a vital role in Israel, being that much of the land is arid desert. Forests are thus regular attacked – as a convenient and easy target for terrorists.

The fire department is now actively training to handle biological and chemical attacks, which they foresee as the next stage of terrorist activity, G-d forbid. If there should be an attack on civilians with non-conventional weapons they will go in at point-blank range to contain toxic agents and prevent their dissemination.

Mr. Romach is here in the United States, among other reasons, to raise funds for an under equipped force.

As I listened attentively, I was struck by the entire infrastructure that has been created to counter and contain terrorist activity. In addition to all conventional fire and rescue missions, the Israeli fire department has to deal with a whole new array of terrorist attacks.

Unsung heroes they truly are. Yet another army of noble individuals risking their lives to save others. As cynical as one may be, your heart cannot help but be deeply moved by this valiant force.

And then my psychological voice began to speak within:

What percentage of our lives is occupied with putting out fires? How much time and energy is invested in damage control – dealing with crisis, cleaning up the … that our parents endowed us with? Tired and exhausted – how much time and energy do we have left for building, for growth, for creating something greater than we began with?

And finally, the great question to G-d is this: Is this what You, Almighty One, want? Is this the way You had it planned that so much energy should be spent in extinguishing fires?

Why don’t You give us some peace so that we can concentrate on building something new, and not just smothering the old?!

I look around the room. Perhaps 60 men and women and some playful children are celebrating a Shabbat dinner together. Everyone is taken by this Jewish Fire Commissioner from Baghdad bluntly sharing the struggles of life and death in a country 5700 miles away.

A woman comes over to me with tears in her eyes. She has suffered greatly in her life. “I need strength just to get up and move around,” she tells me. “I have been fighting for so long, how much more can a person take?!”

I think of all the people around me. Are they happy? Are they thinking about their lives, or are they going through the motions? How many happy people have I really met? Many people have convinced themselves that they are happy. Many sincere people don’t think about it too much. Many others are just resigned to a life of “quiet desperation.” No doubt there are some truly happy people – but is it just their temperament, their good fortune or just their ability to avoid the issue head on? Is happiness circumstantial?

We are all such vulnerable human beings. The cruel winds of life can always smack us when we least expect it,

My mind wanders back to the firefighters in Israel.

What would the world be like if all the fires were doused and we had all the free time to pursue positive growth? What would be like if we had no enemy to fight?

I suddenly recall reading an article about opulent Palm Beach and its sun-worshipping young adults. Children of the wealthiest and the mightiest frolic on the golden green beaches framed against turquoise-blue skies, gleaming teeth on perfect bodies on sleek water skis, with nary a worry in the world. They have no fires to put out. Physical fires that is. But what flaming demons lurk within their psyches? Will they be happy people, or will their blessed lives spoil them beyond repair?

So here we have a taste of messianic utopia: Affluence that needs not fight an enemy. With all the freedom it offers us does prosperity actually bring people to great heights? Or is passion possible only when facing crisis, exclusively relegated to the domain of the firefighters battling flames?

You have to wonder: Is life a no-win inferno? Fires rage all around us. If it isn’t a physical fire, then it’s a psychological one. If it’s neither of the two then it’s a spiritual fire. If you aren’t facing a crisis around us, we often face a crisis within. Is there any other option? Dante’s Inferno and other desperate writings give us a taste of a burning world, with little hope in sight.

Then I remember the paradoxical words of our sages:

“One hour of return and good deeds in this world is better than all the life of the World to Come. One hour of bliss in the World to Come is better than all the life of this world.”

Which one is it? The mystics explain: From G-d’s perspective, our hard work and battles in this world elicit the deepest pleasure as they fulfill the ultimate purpose of existence, infinitely more than all the beauty of the World to Come. From mans’ perspective, bliss in the World to Come is far greater than all the pleasures in this world.

But shall the twain ever meet? Does this mean that we can never have both worlds together – either we struggle and G-d has deep pleasure, or we live in bliss but never reach the ultimate? Says the Rebbe, that in the final days both pleasures become integrated. First, we begin with a life of struggle. Adversary motivates us. Battling fires around us access the deepest resources both within us and within G-d. Give man animal bliss and he would not be motivated to grow, to transcend. Eliminate the impediments, and passion would not be born. Creativity is the child of frustration, as necessity is the mother of invention. Without tension there would be no intensity. Without contraction there would be no expansion, without inhaling we would not exhale.

But then – and here is the punch line: After years of hard work, we break through to the other side and then we come to a point where “we can have our cake and eat it too.” A world in which we can have true bliss without complacency. A life in which peace of mind and peace of heart does not compromise our restlessness, but actually feeds it. Our motivation is then driven by the need to transcend beyond our accomplishments of yesterday. We are at peace with our restlessness. But instead of good battling evil, and going from bad to good, we will be going from good to better – in an infinite journey toward G-d.

To reach that state of being we need to first go through the inferno and fight the fires around us. Then we can reach a place where we have the same passion to “go from strength to strength.”

As I look at the firefighters around me and see the exuberant faces of innocent children yet to taste disappointment and the brilliance of these teachings begins to resonate.

Yes, we are all firefighters. Whether they be physical, psychological or spiritual we are all charged with the mission to quench fires. They may be fires of ignorance or anger. Many things are burning around us, many causing harm to others. Our role is to extinguish the fires we come in contact with. Dante may be right: The world may be a fiery inferno. But as firefighters we are even more powerful.

Moreover, firefighting is not our destiny. The battles of today are mere preludes to a far greater battle tomorrow: The war against apathy – the apathy born out of comfort. The battle to not allow peace to stop us from fervently aspiring to a greater good.

I once heard a fascinating explanation of a cryptic Zohar. The Bible tells us that the Egyptians “enslaved the Jewish people and embittered their lives with mortar and bricks.” Says the Zohar, that the Hebrew words “mortar” and “bricks” (“chomer” and “leveinim”) means “kal v’chomer” (the fortiori argument) and “libun hilchosa” (legal clarification). What connection is there between these two extremes — “mortar and bricks” of bitter slavery and the cognitive process?! Nothing seems more antithetical than hard labor and intellectual exercises!

We all must face battles in this lifetime. We all must exert ourselves. It is your choice which battles they will be: A struggle with darkness, or an effort to reach a deeper dimension of light. Restlessness is the natural state of the soul, the sign of life, like the ceaseless flicker of the flame. You have the choice whether it will be a healthy restlessness or unhealthy anxiety: Will it be the agitation of hard labor in an enslaved life of physical “mortar and bricks,” or the intense work to discover the truth.

No, we do not always need an enemy to discover passion. We have had enough enemies. The time has come to demonstrate – for ourselves, the world and G-d – that we do not need fires to fuel our passions. They can be fueled by the inner longing of the soul for the infinite and… beyond.

3316 years ago an event took place that changed the world forever and offers us a crucial lesson in our time. That event defined a vision for life – the very thing that we are sorely missing today.

With all the gifts we were blessed with, our freedoms, our prosperity, our high standard of living, we lack the most important ingredient of all: a vision for the future.

The paradox is this: Generations past, when tyrants ruled and oppression was the norm, the difficulties of life helped crystallize our beliefs. Our adversaries force us to hold on to some vision, to some dream for a better future, or else our spirit would have been annihilated. In truth, this may have not been a real vision for the future as much as a yearning that helped people get through their hardships. Indeed, back then they did not have the luxury to spend time defining a vision for the future. When you’re running for your life you can’t be waxing eloquent with visionary aspirations.

But today, with all our success and opportunities, the biggest question, both individually and collectively, lingers: Where are we headed?

Can you, can anyone answer this question today?

This is what true leadership is all about: the ability to present a visionary approach to life, one that offers us hope, direction and focus. Do we have any such leader today?

The most efficient operation of all, more than any corporation, is war. Why? Because in war we have a tangible, clearly defined enemy. That clarity creates powerful focus and goals, more than any business plan could ever proffer. War also creates a compelling sense of urgency: The stakes are stark and high – life and death. A war with no cause – Vietnam is an excellent contemporary case in point – can never be won.

Peacetime does not offer us the same clarity. When you have no defined enemy that you are fighting against, what do you stand for? What drives you? What challenge do you need to overcome?

The Jewish people are a perfect example of this phenomenon. Embedded in the psyche of many Jews today is a profound paranoia. Centuries of persecution have defined the driving engine of this people. We always had an enemy that defined our identity. But what identity emerges when we have no enemy? We know what we must do when we are under attack. But what guides us when we are free?

This problem lies at the heart of the present crisis in Israel. Glaringly lacking is a vision and sense of direction. The leadership in Israel has been rendered into firefighters, extinguishing blaze after blaze. But beyond immediate damage control, what vision and direction does Israeli leadership offer? No country can afford not to have vision and direction, especially one under attack.

As sad as it is, Muslims often sound more persuasive about their right over Jerusalem than do our Israeli brothers and sisters. They have passion, cause, direction. They are ready to die or it. As misguided as it may be, it is compelling. What compelling vision do we offer in return?

Zionism, as many isms before it, offered a powerful cause: After years of persecution, after the Holocaust, come join us as we rebuild our homeland. Let us plant vineyards, let us plow the land – let us turn the desert into a metropolis, and Jewish home. This calling spoke to the hearts of thousands. It elicited the pioneering spirit of the early settlers of the land.

Many causes before it did the same. All revolutions – the American, the French, the Russian – were driven by a common enemy, by a common challenge, which when mobilized turned into a force for powerful change. The definition of revolution is a strong or radical change to an existing system, the overthrow of a previous regime or paradigm. But is revolution possible when there is no defined adversary?

We know what to do in times of crisis. We have the “Anti Defamation League” and other “anti” entities; but what do we stand for when we have no enemy or crisis?

This is the presenting challenge of our times. Amplified especially in Israel, where there is an enemy, yet no vision.

After years and years of putting out fires, we have become masters of defense. And indeed, we may even have lost our vision of the future, due to years of neglecting – or not needing – to focus on a vision. Modern prosperity has contributed to creating a reverie of complacency, which paralyzes us when we are rudely awakened.

Our current condition has resulted in three type of Jews:

1/ Religious Jews driven by observance. If you ask them about the secular world, many would answer: we don’t care about the world. Our job is to build strong, religious families and communities. They have a vision, but in most cases their vision is localized, even provincial.

2/ Jews driven by cultural, humanitarian causes, civil rights, social activism and other noble ventures. Some of these causes may be global ones.

3/ The majority that are driven by neither, and don’t have an idea what it means to be Jewish, except as defined by anti-Semitism or in times of crisis when Jews are under attack.

In a recent interview, financier Michael Steinhardt, who has poured tens of millions of dollars into efforts to preserve Judaism for the next generations, stated his disappointment. He feels that the $40 million he has so far given for Jewish survival has not accomplished its goals. Makor, Birthright and other programs he helped finance have all achieved good things – but they have not seriously impacted the secular young Jews as he intended. They have not changed anything in a fundamental way.

Many Jewish philanthropists are plagued by this problem. They want to have a serious plan to address Jewish continuity, or as some call it today, Jewish renaissance (which implies positive growth, and not just the opposite of possible extinction implied in the word “continuity”). They are terrified of the “religious” solution – either because of its narrow agenda, fed by the limited attitudes of many orthodox Jews, or basic distrust of religion (for many good reasons), or simply their own ambivalence regarding G-d and faith.

Instead they opt for a secular solution, which suffers from an equally compelling problem: It is diluted at its core. It may have good intentions and even produce positive results. But for all its universal qualities it lacks power. Indeed, its universal scope seems to be dependent on diluting spiritual passion and absolute drive toward a clearly defined destination.

So what we have is one of two options: Either narrow religiosity, which may have passion and commitment, but lacks universal appeal and global objectives. Or we have a universal, non-denominational, non-sectarian approach, embracing people of all backgrounds, but lacking in return a passionate and driven focus.

What they are looking for, in truth, is: Vision – a spiritual vision for the future.

And this, I humbly submit, is a third option – which is the true nature of Torah and Judaism as given to us at Sinai 3316 years ago (the theme of this week’s Torah portion).

Torah and Judaism is not “religious” in the conventional, stereotypical sense of the word. It is not just for a certain group of Jews and it is not merely a technical system of do’s and don’ts. More than anything else, it offers the entire universe a vision – a vision of how life can and should be lived to its fullest.

At Sinai G-d gave the universe a Torah, which is not just a book for religious Jews. The Torah is a universal owner’s manual for all aspects of life. Indeed, the Midrash calls Torah an architect’s blueprint, which the Cosmic Architect used to create the universe. He then gave it to us as companion as how best to live our lives.

G-d, who is neither Jewish nor non-Jewish gave all His Divine creatures His Divine mandate and blueprint how to live the most meaningful life possible. The Torah’s universal vision is for all people, of all backgrounds, Jews and non-Jews, believer or not.

And what is this vision?

Briefly, the Torah tells us:

Your quintessential personality is Divine. You were created in the Divine Image and your mission is to allow your soul to express itself through your body, and spiritualize your material corner of the universe.

Each of us is charged with certain “mitzvot,” obligations and connections, that allow us to refine and spiritualize our lives and our surroundings. You are charged with a Divine mission to use all you skills, your personality, your opportunities to take the material world and use it for higher, spiritual ends.

And you have this choice every moment of your day: In every one of your encounters, interactions and experiences you have two choices: You will either use this moment only for personal, selfish gain or you will use it also for a higher cause that benefits others, the world and G-d.

Ok, but this a vision for all times, when we face enemies or not. What unique vision does the Torah offer us TODAY, for the future that lays ahead?

Well, let’s go back to last week’s article, where I cited some authors who explain the great contribution of the Jewish people to the world. The Jews, they write, gave us a new vision of men and women with unique destinies. The Torah teaches us a vision that life has purpose and progresses forward toward a destination. History has a beginning and is guided by Divine Providence for a purpose. Everything in creation is suffused with reason. This vision, as they write, would thousands of years later inspire the Declaration of Independence and our hopeful belief in progress and the sense that tomorrow can be better than today.

In the words of John Adams:

“I will insist that the Hebrews have done more to civilize men than any other nation…. They are the most glorious Nation that ever inhabited the earth… They have given religion to three-quarters of the Globe and have influenced the affairs of Mankind more, and more happily than any other Nation, ancient or modern… [even if I were an atheist] I should believe that chance had ordered the Jews to preserve and propagate to all mankind the doctrine of a supreme, intelligent, wise, almighty sovereign of the universe, which I believe to be the great essential principle of all morality, and consequently of all civilization.”

So what would Adams say today? – It’s sad that we need to turn to him for an answer, but hey, we get it wherever we can. His answer would be: Look into your own Torah and you’ll have your answer.

Freedom and prosperity create a stage where the Divine vision of life can finally be realized. The Torah tells us that the vision of the future is a world that will be filled with Divine knowledge as the waters cover the sea. A world where material activities will simply be a means to spiritual gains. Today we invest our time, energy and resources to primarily achieve personal gain and profit. Days are coming when that same investment will be driven by spiritual goals that unite the planet and all its inhabitants.

So, in generations past the Torah vision of life created civilization. Yet, due to oppression the vision was not fully implemented. Today, as freedom reigns, we can finally bring revolution to the world. The vision for today is that because the world is a freer place we can now search out and embrace the true vision for life.

Days are coming, we are told, when every person on this earth will recognize that he or she is unique and indispensable in the Divine plan. Each of us a necessary musical note in the large cosmic composition. We need each other to play the music together.

Christain, Muslim, Jew, Buddhist, Hindu, whatever name or title you give a person – every one of us, regardless of background, has this mission, and we must live up to it and help each other reach that place.

The unprecedented prosperity of our times – the freedoms and opportunities – have in some ways eliminated the common enemy. But they have also set the stage for a world where we can use these gifts as tools to achieve spiritual transformation.

Days are coming when we see our present prosperity and accelerating technology as a Divine gift to change the world in which we live.

And if you need it, we DO have a common enemy today as well. The enemy’s name is complacency. It is not an adversary from without, but one from within.

Years of oppression, followed by modern affluence have allowed us to wander away from our greatest need aspiration of all – a life in pursuit of purpose and vision.

3316 years ago at Sinai this vision was established loud and clear. One powerful thing of the Sinai vision is that despite the fact that the Jewish people had just left 210 years of Egyptian oppression, they did not define themselves by their oppressors. They received a vision of life that was independent of their circumstances. Therein lies the power of a vision: It is self-standing and independent, originating and connected to a higher place – not defined by conditions around us.

People who held onto the Sinai vision were never fundamentally shaken or affected by even the most difficult challenges. No adversary, no enemy, no persecution could shake someone who had a vision for the future – a vision of a time when there would be no more war and hatred, a time of peace and unity, a time when we could access the deepest recesses of our soul.

Yet, one could argue that their oppression fed their faith. Had they not had a clearly defined enemy, they would not have that crystallized focus. Today, our challenge is to access the vision without the enemy attacking from without.

So, where will this vision come from? Will new leaders arise? Or will it perhaps emerge in a grass roots awakening?

One thing is for sure: If you recognize the vacuum you are well on your way to discovering the vision. We cannot afford to wait for someone else to inspire us; we need to be visionaries in our own right.

Life today can often appear aimless. What is even worse is that many of us don’t seem very perturbed by that fact. We have many ways to keep ourselves distracted.

But can an honest person really live a life with no deeper direction or destination in sight? What are the consequences of life with no vision for the future?

People have always responded when presented with a vision, with a dream, with hope.

3316 years ago G-d gave us a vision for life. Are we ready to embrace it?

Can we afford not to?