Thursday, August 23, 2012


The Holiday that wasn’t
                In a couple of weeks, we will not be celebrating a major holiday.  A few days later, six to be exact, we will celebrate a major holiday.  It is strange.  On the non-holiday, the most magical of substances was created. It is a substance that fills our life without intrusion.  It dances off walls and slides through cracks.  It allows the mind to investigate and it initiates peace. It helps us complete both the most mundane and the most complex tasks imaginable.  Such a substance deserves a day of recognition.  Where is ‘light day’ on the Jewish calendar?  Or, if we don’t want to put light in the spotlight, how about an earth day to commemorate the creation of the world? Instead, there is nothing.  On the 25th of Ellul-the day the world was created- there is not a single Jewish ritual to appreciate that day of infinite creation.  However, six days later we have Rosh Hashanah.  That is the day man was created and it is one of the holiest days of the year.  Why the stark contrast?  Aren’t rainforests, waterfalls, mountains, deserts worth an honorable mention, or maybe even a greater mention than man?

                Despite all the wonders of the world, they pale in comparison to something latent in man.  Free will is one way to describe the unique difference between man and everything else, but that term does not do it justice. The magical implications of free will needs to ‘wow’ us more than all phenomena science has to offer, but instead, we relegate it to the realm of nice philosophical ideas .  So let’s revive the term in a way that will change the way we look at it and ourselves.

                Free will does not describe that tense moment when a scoop of vanilla ice cream is put in front of us along with a scoop of chocolate ice cream and we are told to choose one.  That situation may appear like we make a choice, but really, we introspect as to what we desire more.  It is not a choice but an investigation into our given desires.  A choice means that two options are put before us- one difficult and one easy.  The easy one is the wrong choice and the difficult one is the right choice.  The magic is that we are able to override the natural inclination towards the easy one and do the difficult but the right one.  Now that is pretty fancy override software, unique in the animal kingdom, but still, is that better than light?

                The answer is yes, not only because we have the override software, but because what it entails.  The only independent actor in the world is G-d.  By definition it is what makes Him G-d.  He is reality and there is nothing that causes Him.  Everything else in the world is dependent on G-d.   Even light has no independent existent.  It exists because G-d wants it to.  The only semi exception to this rule is the human being.  Granted, we are extremely dependent in terms of the life force that keeps our heart beating, but there is an important caveat.  We are given a tool with which we are able to earn our existence through correct use of free will. If we do so, we no longer exist because of G-d, but we exist because we’ve earned it independenty.  It is the closest thing to an independent existence or, in other words, it is the closest thing in the universe to G-d and that beats light any day.  
               
               
                  

Friday, August 17, 2012

psychological stability


There are reasons that psychologically the religious should be better off- they have to be.  A religious person is not allowed to be overly morose; ever.   Real belief in spirituality entails an overarching goodness to the world that applies in all situations, even the real tough ones.  But let’s be more specific because platitudes are not enough especially when we have trouble seeing that the platitude is true, namely that the world is good.

The Torah introduces this week (Deuteronomy, 14:1) that a person is not allowed to cut himself when a person he cares about dies.  Why? The verse prefaces, because we are G-d’s children.   The logical question is, so what? How does being G-d’s children alleviate the present tragedy we are in?  The answer is that a child shares characteristics with his parents.  And one of the characteristics we share with G-d is that we have an eternal aspect.  Therefore, the view of death from our perspective is very different than the reality. The person may have disappeared from the present place but he did not disappear altogether.  It is like the case of a father who sends his son to do business in a certain place. After a period of time, it is time to come home.  The place where he was temporarily may miss him but for the son himself, reunification with his father is a joyous occasion.

However, there is a problem.  If death really ain’t so bad, why mourn at all?  Like the Greek Stoics, we should remain calm and exude joy for the truth of the heavenly reunion.  That approach is not entirely true because it dismisses the fact that while we are G-d’s children and contain an aspect of the eternal, there is also an aspect within us that is finite.  That part cannot understand the tragedy from any other perspective other than the current absence of the person.  For the human side of us it is appropriate to mourn, and if we don’t we are considered cruel.  That is the balance a spiritual person strives for- a mitigated mourning that reflects both the reality of this world and the next.