On Separating the Rational from the Irrational

Israel under the leadership of Joshua bin Nun, repels the
attack of the Amalekites

I’ve long wondered why the Torah counsels compassion towards the Egyptian on one hand, and “never forget” with regard to the Amalekites.  The former, of course, enslaved the people Israel, attempted genocide against them, and pursued them as they were fleeing.  The latter?  When the wandering Israelites crossed their land, they attacked them from the rear.  A one-time offense which, while cowardly, did not deter the people Israel from realizing their destiny.  And yet, we’re supposed to forgive the Egyptian people while holding a perpetual grudge against Amalek.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks offers an explanation in his d’var Torah this week.  The Egyptians’ fear of the Israelites, while unjustified, was rational.  It could therefore be argued against, and ultimately be proven as wrong-headed and…abandoned by the Egyptians.  The Amalekites’ fear of the Israelites, on the other hand, was completely irrational and therefore could not be reasoned with.  Many times throughout history, Rabbi Sacks argues, peoples have harbored rational – if mistaken – fears towards other groups, which (since they were ultimately rational) disappeared when proven wrong.  And therefore, the hate based upon that fear, disappeared as well.  But irrational fears don’t – again, according to Rabbi Sacks’ logic – disappear because, based on nothing real, they cannot be reasoned away.

Using this logic, Rabbi Sacks reasons that distrust of immigrant groups, at least sometimes, can be considered ‘rational’ – if unjustified – and will pass away as the immigrant group targeted, assimilates and becomes part of the national fabric.  But certain irrational forms of hate – Rabbi Sacks unsurprisingly uses antisemitism as his example – should be opposed in the strongest terms because, being irrational, will never pass away on their own, unopposed.

You can read Rabbi Sacks’ essay here: http://mailchi.mp/rabbisacks/ki-teitse-5777-243365?e=cd4185fd58

Although I mostly appreciate Rabbi Sacks’ eminent wisdom and am usually very happy to learn from him, this explanation of his leaves me feeling somewhat empty.  The reason is that it has become virtually impossible to discern which fears are rational and which, irrational.  Part of that is due to language.  The word ‘phobia,’ borrowed from Greek, originally meant ‘irrational fear.’ Thus, ‘agoraphobia’ denotes an irrational fear of crowded places – irrational, because there is not inherent danger in crowded places. (‘Agora’ in Greek, means ‘public marketplace,’ like the Turkish word ‘pazar/bazaar’ or the Arabic ‘souk.’)  Rabbi Sacks uses the term ‘phobia’ as meaning ‘fear,’ period; he refers to ‘rational phobias.’  This is not a complaint against evolution in language; I’m not the kind who believes language should be ossified for all time.  I don’t miss using the term ‘forsooth,’ for example! 

But perhaps the transition in the meaning of ‘phobia’ from ‘irrational fear’ to ‘fear,’ period, indicates that rationality, and therefore irrationality, has become subjective.  For example, in our time there are many rational reasons to avoid crowds.  Crowds invite real dangers – crime, terrorism – that cannot be written off as irrational.  I’m not suggesting that we should all walk away as soon as we find ourselves in a crowd.  But to dismiss concern about crowds as irrational, represents a denial of facts.

The term ‘islamophobia’ has become popular, and is often applied to any tendency to fear Muslims.  Is ‘islamophobia’ irrational?  The reality is that in Israel, in Europe…really, just about anyplace in the world, there are Islamists who will use violence and terror to attack and weaken the resolve of the West, their goal being the establishment of a worldwide caliphate.  If one reads their literature and listens to their broadcasts, one can see that this fear is far from irrational.  And yet, an indiscriminate lashing out towards Muslims in our midst, who very well may not be of that mindset but rather wanting the same things in life that you and I want, would be unjustified.  Just as Rabbi Sacks asserts that the ancient Egyptians may have had a rational fear of the Israelites, yet that fear resulted in unjustified actions.

So today, even when nobody is seriously suggesting a mass deportation of Muslims (or anything even approaching that) from our various Western lands, one gets labeled an ‘islamophobe’ for suggesting that a stronger process of vetting Muslims wanting to enter our countries from certain countries.  Countries where there is no functional, cooperating local government apparatus to assist immigration authorities at the other end that the person wanting to cross the border is safe, and without the associations and history that might indicate they wanted to enter the West in order to commit violence.  If ‘islamophobe’ simply means someone who fears some Muslims, than I don’t mind being called that.  But if it means someone who irrationally fears Muslims, then the term should disappear or become less common, because some fear of Muslims is clearly not irrational.

I guess what I’m trying to say is that, even if some people today use the term ‘-phobe’ simply to mean ‘one who fears,’ and not ‘one who fears irrationally,’ it is commonly used in the latter meaning, as a way of negatively labeling, and discouraging the fear indicated.  We also use ‘phobia’ in cases that have nothing to do with fear, at all.  For example, if I publicly state that I’m against state sanction of same-sex marriage, I’m labeled a ‘homophobe,’ that is, one who has a(n irrational) fear of homosexual people.  Why?  After thousands of years of religious teaching that homosexuality is wrong and should receive no sanction, to oppose the modern state being used as an apparatus for ‘normalizing’ homosexuality, means that one harbors an (irrational) fear of homosexuals?

Irrational fear is not a good thing, and it should be challenged.  The problem is – in today’s hyper-charged environment – separating the irrational from the rational.  Instead of having an honest and respectful conversation to hash out what might be rational and what irrational, we have a tendency to shout at one another and throw out designations – such as homophobe or islamophobe – that are calculated to de-legitimize the one, with whom one disagrees.  Regrettably, our conversations today have become so irrational, that we are barely able to discern between the rational and the irrational.  And if so, then we cannot even begin to have a real conversation where we rationally make a case for whatever it is that we believe.  And that is extremely unfortunate.

On New Moons and Justice

It is said that the only folks who are constantly aware of the phases of the moon are farmers, sailors, and observant Jews.  The first two, because of the moon’s effect on weather patterns which effect their livelihood and, for the sailor, his very life.  The Jew, because the Jewish calendar is lunar-based and all the important days are dependent upon the appearance of the new moon.

Well, the New Moon of Elul appeared yesterday.  Every month on the Jewish calendar has its special days and days of obligation.  In Elul, it’s the month itself – the entire month – that is special.

For Elul is the month leading up to the High Holy Days:  Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.  Once Elul starts, we should be starting the soul-searching that will lead to repentance.  To the decisions that will lead to a better life in the next year.  Yeah, New Year’s Resolutions:  we Jews do that, except not at the same time of year that the rest of the world does them.

I’m in Greece for a few days right now, but I can guarantee that, once I’m back in Israel, I’ll hear the Shofar sounded every morning at the end of the Shacharit prayer.  It’s a custom, a sort of advanced wake-up call, a warning that the Days of Repentance are approaching, and it’s time to set accounts aright.

This week’s Torah reading is the portion known as Shoftim, judges, for it opens:  Appoint for yourself judges and officials for your tribes, in all the settlements that the Lord your G-d is giving you, and make sure that they administer honest judgement for the people.  It is not only important to appoint judges and officials, but also to hold them to the highest standards. 

Do not bend justice and do not give special consideration [to anyone].  Everybody gets the same consideration, not based on their rank or social position.

Do not take bribes, as bribery blinds the eyes of the wise and perverts the words of the righteous.  Of all the transgressions a public official, especially one occupied in the administration of justice, can commit, taking bribes is probably the worst.  This is one of the biggest temptations a public official faces.  Many will accept gifts, and insist that they’re not bribes, that they were received with no expectation of favor.  But most of the public know differently, and see an official who accepts gifts from someone who might be in the position of asking a special favor, as having accepted a bribe.  This has been many public officials’ undoing.

Justice, justice shall you pursue, so that you may live and occupy the land that the Lord your G-d is giving you.  The repeated word tsedek – justice – is said to indicate that one must pursue justice, justly.  The end does not necessarily justify the means.  Another opinion on the doubled word, is that it means pursue justice with all zeal.  Whatever Hashem may have meant in repeating the word, it catches one’s attention and focuses one’s thoughts on the idea of pursuing justice.

Of Curses and Thrills

Abuse of mind-altering drugs; probably the most extreme
example of seeking a novel, thrilling experience without
regard for the consequences.

This week’s Torah portion begins with a simple equation.  Look here!  I place before you today a blessing and a curse.  The look here – re’eh in Hebrew – is the classic attention-getter.  Likewise, the binary choice, which is then explained.  The blessing [will come] if you obey the commandments that I place before you today.  The curse [will come] if you do not follow the commandments of the Lord your G-d, and you go astray from the path that I am prescribing for you today.

This is a theme that permeates the Book of Devarim, or Deuteronomy; in seminary the professor called it ‘the Deuteronomistic theology’ because it first finds its full expression in this, the fifth book of the Torah.  Follow G-d’s law, and you will be blessed; don’t follow it, and you will be cursed.  The premise of the equation, is that because Israel has been chosen as G-d’s vessel for propagating His message and law to humanity, the good that happens to them is not accidental.  Rather, it is by G-d’s design.  BUT…if Israel falls away from G-d’s design, then curse will follow.  Bad consequences.  And exactly what does G-d have in mind as the symptom of ‘going astray’ that would trigger the threatened curse?  The third verse continues to spell it out precisely:  following other gods which you have not known.  One translation illuminatingly translates which you have not known – asher lo yedatem – as ‘in order to have a novel spiritual experience.’

Many of us spend our lives searching out novel experiences, in order to spice up our lives.  I know that I do.  Earlier this summer, I went for a week’s cruise aboard a sailing yacht as a way of searching out a new and pleasant experience.  People travel to places they’ve never been – the more ‘exotic’ the better.  Or they try new thrills, such as bungie-jumping or whitewater rafting. (Done the latter, not interested in the former…)  For some, their thrill-seeking of choice involves introducing mind-altering chemical substances into their bodies and brains.  All these experiences can be described, on some level, as ‘spiritual’; they induce a heightened sense of one’s self that makes the experience something greater, more transformative than one would expect.  But are these the kind of experiences that the Torah is warning us against?

Perhaps the last in the list:  the use of mind-altering drugs.  We tend to associate such practice with the decade of the 1960’s when the practice of taking illegal and dangerous drugs first became widespread enough as to characterize, in many people’s minds, a generation.  But in truth, the use of such drugs predates the 1960’s by a few thousand years.  They were part and parcel of the sacred practices of a number of pagan cults in antiquity, cults that the Torah with its prescriptions and proscriptions must be seen as a complaint against.

If I’m correct about this, G-d is not here telling us that we must live boring, predictable lives free of excitement.  Rather, He is saying that we must not enshrine the sensory overload associated with thrills, to the level of a spiritual purpose for living.  Specifically, it can be seen as a caution against the kind of sense-heightening that comes from mind-altering substances and experiences.  But why should such practice be singled out among all others?

In short, such thrills feed the soul’s desire for more and more, imprisoning the individual to continue seeking such thrills to the point of not tending to the ‘mundane’ details of life.  And if the Torah has a message for us, it is that we must remain grounded and always tend to exactly those sorts of things.  Both in the realm of the physical – taking care of ourselves, our families, and our neighbors.  And the spiritual – offering regular sacrifices (now, the ‘sacrifice’ of prayer) to G-d and studying the Torah in order to discern what our duties are.  

Descending into the mind-prison of drug abuse, is probably the ultimate antithesis of living the Torah.  And perhaps, the current explosion in use and abuse of mind-altering drugs, is a symptom of how far away from G-d's Law we have descended.  We have definitely brought on whatever bad consequences - 'curses' in the Torah's language - that beset us.

The Original Cause and Effect: a Thought for Parashat Ekev

Every weekly portion of the Torah offers us multiple lessons for living.  Sometimes, to see them requires that we look considerably beneath the surface.  But sometimes, the lesson is out there in the open, for all to see the second they glance at the page of the text.

This week’s Torah reading provides such a lesson, in the very opening words of the portion.  It is perhaps the Original statement of cause and effect, the epitome of the If, Then statement.  If you heed these rules and observe them carefully, then the Lord your G-d will faithfully keep the covenant He made on oath with your ancestors.

All our lives we are aware of the centrality of the if, then proposition.  The concept is so powerful, because it applies to just about everything in life.  Although we have a tendency to think of much of our lives as being out of our control, the truth is that we have an incredible power to determine our own destinies as we remember, and practice, the principle of cause and effect.  We understand that every action has its consequences, so we decide and act in such as way as to influence the consequences.

This is a powerful concept:  one that, at its heart, most of us would rather see go away.  Today, we have a tendency to attribute consequences to just about everything other than how we have acted.  It’s not my fault!  We blame things on others, and those things that we can’t blame on others, we blame on our sicknesses and conditions…which are not our fault!  In a sense, it is much easier to attribute some failing or shortcoming on external factors.  The child in us, is always in search of the unconditional.  But a big part of growing up, is accepting responsibility, and acting with the knowledge that we are, in fact, responsible for our fate.

Our Torah reading is telling us about cause and effect in a specific instance, that of what it will require if we are to not abrogate the covenant that G-d made with the people Israel in ancient times.  But in reality, it is a lesson that can be applied to just about anything and everything.  Shabbat shalom.   

On Ancient Walls and Lamentations

Jews affiliated with Masorti Judaism gather at the temporary
prayer platform in Robinson's Arch archaeological park, for a
service that will start after sunset. 

Last night, Clara and I joined a small group from our congregation, which in turn joined with Jews affiliated with Masorti (Conservative) congregations from around Israel, for a gathering at the Western Wall in Jerusalem.

As you may remember from my writing about it a few weeks back, or from other sources, there has been a controversy surrounding a compromise hammered out between the Netanyahu government, the Rabbinate, the non-Orthodox movements, the Jewish Agency and representatives of diaspora Jewry, to build a permanent prayer pavilion at the southeast corner of the Western Wall, in the archaeological park known as Robinson's Arch, for prayer services that don't meet the Orthodox rabbinate's parameters:  mixed male-female groups, or women wanting to wear tefillin (phylacteries) and read Torah.  All three practices are proscribed in Orthodox Judaism.  Non-Orthodox have been defying the rabbinate in holding non-conforming services at the main Western Wall plaza for years, on the basis that the Wall belongs to all Jewry - not just the Orthodox.  These service usually take place on Rosh Hodesh, and result in violence and arrests.  The compromise was to designate an area in the vicinity of Robinson's Arch for the non-conforming prayer, and to build a permanent prayer pavilion, or platform.  A temporary platform has been built and is in use, but it is not suitable because it is not handicapped-accessible.

As night falls, a crowd of 300-400 has gathered for the non-
Orthodox service including the chanting of the Book of
Lamentations.

The non-Orthodox movements, and a number of allies such as Natan Scharanskiy (currently head of the Jewish Agency) and members of the government, were up in arms, and there were a number of demonstrations against the government.  I did not participate, because I'm not one for demonstrations.  And this is just not a hot-button issue for me, although I don't appreciate the government changing its mind and going back on its word, apparently because the Hareidi parties had threatened to bolt the coalition which would force new elections.

But this felt right to me, to 'demonstrate' by asserting our rights by being at the wall on this most somber of occasions.  So Clara and I joined the group, and we're glad we did.

There's something beyond apprehension about the stones of Jerusalem, something mystical that one cannot quite quantify.  So so sit on the stones that the Romans tossed down from the Temple Mount so many centuries ago, to chant the Book of Lamentations, just felt more emotional, more moving than doing it in the synagogue.

Our group numbered several hundred, but it was clear that there were thousands of Jews in the Western Wall Plaza just north of where we were.  When we finished and began to disperse, there was an incredible traffic jam getting away from the Old City.

Interestingly, as our service ended a number of Orthodox Jews (so surmised from their dress) entered our part of the wall.  This was not to interfere with what we were doing, but to gain free entry to the archaeological site, where one normally has to pay an admission fee.  As few noticed that there was an 'alternative' reading of Lamentations and dirges just ending, and several seemed to ask respectfully why what we were doing was different.  Of course, the answer was that it wasn't particularly different, except for the mingling of men and women during the service, and the inclusion of women's voices among the readers.

Surely, just as there was a 'political' dimension to our presence at Robinson's Arch, there was also a political overtone to the large Jewish presence at the Wall last night.  This was after all the tensions over the past two weeks over who controls security on the Temple Mount.  Interesting that there were a number of Muslims in the crowd at the Western Wall.  I wonder why it was not intrusive that they had to pass through metal detectors - as did everybody else - to get in?

It was interesting that, just as the chanting of Lamentations was underway and strong, it was time for the final evening Muslim prayer; the sound of the Muezzin's call to prayer blended with the voice of the reader leading the chanting.  And for some reason, it didn't sound like a clash!  Rather, the voices and their minor-key wails seemed to blend nicely.  Too bad it wasn't Sunday; we might have heard the bells of the Christian basilica join in the chorus.  At such moments, when you're not watching the nightly TV news, it is possible to envision a future when the various religions can share the Holy City.  That that has not yet happened, much less the sense that all Jews can equally share their own portion of it, is reason enough for lamentation.