chai seeker

Many religious rituals are very literalistic.  During Passover, we cannot eat leavened bread because the Israelites feeling Egypt had no time to let their bread rise.  Other foods associated with the processing of wheat are also commonly avoided; Ashkenazis avoid most grains, beans, corn, and soy.  What does this literal interpretation afford?  Certainly a study of history.  To understand why one may eat quinoa but not barley during Passover, one must consult the Torah and midrash for the original commandment and interpretations, and learn that quinoa was a new world grain that would never have come into contact with the grain-processing machinery of the Israelites.  But does it impart a better understanding of the urgency with which the Jews fled Egypt?
If I were a rabbi designing a ritual commemoration of Passover I think I might declare that no food may be eaten that takes more than 5 minutes to prepare- and that includes processed foods!  In other words, a PBJ might make the cut, but a cooked pizza, soup, or snickers bar from the vending machine would not.  Food would have to be fast and simple- no time to prepare!  Of course, I do see the point of eating matzah, as this is our approximation of the food the feeling Jews did eat.  On the other hand, perhaps a modern day Exodus would in fact involve a lot of vending machine food and fast-food drive-throughs- we’ve got 30 minutes to leave the city; quick, pull in to McDonald’s!  Of course, this plan does not conceal the identity of the absconding group- so maybe leftovers would be more appropriate.  We’re leaving under the cover of night- dump everything in the fridge into a plastic bag!
I know that refugees do not typically enjoy hot meals of meats, cheeses, and vegetables, so I do find it interesting how well most modern Jews eat during Passover.  I guess in that sense the rabbis chose symbolism over simulation- after all, parsley reminds me of spring about as much as chopped apples and nuts resemble bricks and mortar.
I’m not really sure what conclusion I’ve reached here, if any, except that rituals this old often strike an interesting balance of the literal and the symbolic, and certainly demonstrate how much life changes over the ages and how much stays the same.  Our lives may be filled with luxury during Passover, but the absence of bread is still felt acutely by many who observe Passover.

I have not been very observant of Passover this year.  Rachel and I did hold a seder for my family, and that was a great experience.  We think kale chips will follow parsley in years to come!  Rachel’s powerpoint seder, projected onto our flatscreen TV, was also a success.  I did not follow the food restrictions most of the week because of eating out constantly with my family, but I did follow them this weekend, minus the one frozen girl scout cookie.  Matzah ball soup, matzah pizza, smoothies, and charoset galore.  Tonight I made a beautiful Passover-friendly dinner and then ruined it suddenly and thoroughly by mindlessly pouring nutritional yeast all over my food… how more directly could I possibly violate the no-yeast rule??  I plan to try a little harder tomorrow and Tuesday, and hopefully feel a little more deserving of the feast of chametz that awaits Tuesday night!

I have a lot of drafts of posts started and need to catch up, so I’m posted this short one, even though I’d like to think about it more.  My approach to religion usually branches into two categories: my own personal experience and reactions, and my thoughts about religion as a psychological phenomenon: its origins, its utility, its epistemology.  I have been thinking about psychological accounts of religion recently because the topic has come up at conferences and in my classes.

A week ago I was at the Society for Personality and Social Psychology conference in Las Vegas and attended several talks about religion and violence.  Religion is often thought of as a terror management strategy: that is, life is full of unpredictable terrors, and religion is our psychological invention to handle these terrors, classify them, and understand them in terms that give meaning and allow us to feel that we can ward them off.  In Judaism, I think this is reflected in prayer and ritual as forms of control, attributing military victories to G-d (particularly in early Judaism), and attaching (particular) spiritual purpose to the lives of Jewish people.  Terror management theory predicts that religion will assuage the anxiety and sometimes terror that life brings in so many forms, and there are data to support this.  Does this theory capture the purpose of religion, however, or just one effect of it?  Is religion simply a way to circumvent, explain away, or numb pain and terror?  I don’t believe so.  If religion, in this case Judaism, does these things, I believe it is through confrontation, not avoidance.  Judaism confronts the pain in life and wisely asks us to share it with others- to say kaddish together, to pray together, to work for a better world together.  I think modern Judaism rightly assigns moral value to our actions, asks us to take responsibility for our actions, and teaches us lessons about the consequences of our actions.  Judaism also tells us to bless what is good in our lives, and separate what is good from what is bad.  If these actions help us deal with the terror of living in this world, then Judaism has served one purpose- but I think this one purpose alone would never suffice to give us the richness of Judaism- the community, the celebration, the evolution of moral law, and so on.  Terror management may be one consequence of living Jewishly, but I don’t think it is the most important one.

Other research focused on the connection between religion and violence.  Across all religions studied, attendance at religious services- but NOT prayer- increased participants’ endorsement of violent solutions to conflicts.  This effect appeared to be caused by the in-group phenomenon- prioritizing your (religious) group at the expense of other groups or individuals.  Is this a good or bad effect of religion?  Are we fighting to preserve our people, our way of life, or both?  Is this more than tribalism?

Another psychological theory of religion is the idea that the rituals and beliefs involved in a religion are unusual or extraordinary precisely so that an tight-knit in-group can be formed.  A person is unlikely to go through all the measures of action and belief required by most religions unless truly committed to the religion, so adherence to practices that take up our valuable time and energy or require leaps of faith signify true commitment to the group.  Mimicry, a common element of ritual, is in fact shown to increase liking between two persons, so ritual may seal this bond between members of the group, ensuring their liking and loyalty, and the security of the group.

I discussed these ideas with several other students in my department (secular Jews, coincidentally) and we agreed again that these phenomena may very well apply to religion, but certainly they are more general phenomena that apply to all sorts of human groups- clubs, societies, sports teams, military, and so on.  Religious behavior is still human behavior, but again, these findings do not “explain away” religion- they explain elements of it.
Finally, a more positive line of thinking- I often think about the value of specific religious rituals and and the public valuation of these practices.  I could tell my boss that I believe people need to rest, appreciate beauty, and meditate on the purpose of life weekly, but I am much more likely to be excused early from work if I say that I observe Shabbat.  I do not know whether these practices are more than the sum of their parts, but I do think that Judaism (and perhaps religion in general) elevates/ validates/ structures many of the things that I most deeply value.  In the modern world our time is capitalized by many superficial demands and pressure to earn money, promote ideas and products, conform to trends, etc.  The things we truly value- family, life cycle, the environment, prayer, etc- are relegated to “personal” time, something we seem to have less and less of.  I believe these things are of great spiritual value, and if I cannot succeed in paying them proper attention in my personal life, then maybe religion provides the systematic validation and community support for valuing the things we ought to value.  In this way Judaism is indeed an opportunity, an asset, and a source of learning, leading us to further explore and honor those things we rightly value, and draw back from those we do not.

Blogging on Shabbat- tisk tisk.  Actually, this has been my most observant Shabbat in a long time: I attended services last night and this morning, as well as Torah study earlier this morning.  I topped that of with lox and cream cheese and an attempted nap!  (I’m a terrible napper, but rest is refreshing).  I am in San Diego this weekend and Rachel is in LA, in the middle of a hellish sleepless finals week .  We are so looking forward to our time together over the upcoming holidays!  I enjoyed both Shabbat services.  The Friday night service is my favorite- something about the arrival of Shabbat, the darkness, lighting the candles, and the words and tunes that are familiar to me now and bring back memories of sharing them at other gatherings with friends and loved ones.  Saturday service is longer and less familiar, but I enjoy it more each time as I become more familiar with the order and the meaning.  I also love when the original Hebrew is read slowly enough that I can follow it along instead of relying on the transliteration.  Recognizing a few familiar faces at each service makes me feel less like a complete outsider.  I talked a bit with another former student of Basic Judaism, and about comparing Judaism and UU.  What stood out for me today- and in our conversation- is the bond that Judaism creates throughout time, between generations.  The passing on of specific rituals and wisdom from one generation to the next, and how much that means to Jews.  This is not entirely absent from UU, but such a strong family history or sense of culture is not really found in UU.  Customs and beliefs are very individual in UU and often change as people grow and explore new philosophies and interests.  A connection to the past- a community passed on generation to generation- is something I would like to have for my family that is perhaps at its strongest in Judaism.

The Torah portion this morning was the rape of Dinah, and we learned about the various possible interpretations of this story- whether she was viewed as partially responsible in any way, what was meant by the murder of the family of Hamor, and so on.  We read the laws of rape- including the guilt of the victim who does not cry for help and the law that the rapist of a virgin marry her.  We discussed the obvious misogyny and the likely attempt to provide security for the woman through marriage who would not be a desirable wife to any other.  The question in my mind remained the punishment of the man- what should deter him from raping any young virgin he wished to have if marriage was the only “punishment?”  And if a woman was so easily  ”bought” into marriage, what was the motivation for rape other than utter vileness and lack of self-control?  Judaism seems often to propose solutions that bring resolution and peace to a situation without focusing on the individual and emotional justice.  Of course, our concept of justice has evolved enormously since the time of the Torah, and according to Judaism, that is the point.  Torah is the starting point, and our interpretation reflects out growing body of experience and wisdom.  I still wonder, though: we can look back at these stories and marvel at the overall progress of humanity- but do these texts still serve to point us forward?  They seem on the surface to pull us several steps backward, while yet urging us to step forward.  At the very least these stories do prompt discussion about laws and moral boundaries- what is rape?  What should the punishment be, and how should the victim be treated?  These are important discussion to have, and the stories can remind us what human nature is and what consequences our actions can have when we do not carefully examine them.

All this learning about Torah and rabbinic interpretation, though, leaves me wondering about the religious status of modern thinking and writing.  If our most learned and forward-thinking religious leaders got together to assemble a religious text of our times, what would the readings be?  What political, social, moral struggles would encompass our current religious struggle?  Why do we focus on interpretation of the ancient rather than formulation of the modern?  Is God not with us as much today as in centuries past?  Jews have a religious allegiance to the Torah as it is the only text to my knowledge believed to originate from God.  This creates a permanent anchor for all Jewish discourse that follows.  How it affects religious development to have a single text is beyond my knowledge.  At least it creates the sense that a truth exists- that there are moral prescriptions we must analyze and perfect.  If we had no knowledge at all of their form, we might be lost in even beginning to agree on anything.  I guess that’s the importance of Torah- a place to start that sends us on a quest.  It reminds me of sayings to the effect that teaching a man to fish is priceless compared to feeding him a fish.  We are given some very rudimentary tools- and told to go and fish.  Those tools, however, remind us that there are fish- spiritual truth, or righteousness- and that it is our job to find them.

Shabbat Shalom.

Back from Thanksgiving in Seattle.  Blog: fail! -but I like to amuse myself here and there.  I am well into my Basic Judaism class now and enjoying it.  Unfortunately a lot of the content so far has been familiar.  Also quite unfortunate is my lack of participation at the synagogue beyond the class: grad school and a fiancee in LA stretch my time- especially weekend time- quite thin.  I really regret not being able to invest more in my Jewish learning.  But as the Talmud, I think, says, one should not put off Torah study for lack of time, for one may never have that desired time.  So true!

So far in class we have covered the High Holy Days, ethics, Jewish education, Shabbat, and Hannukah.  Here are a few interesting things I have learned or noted:

-from a Reform perspective, indifference is the greatest sin.  I would have said the Jewish perspective would have pinpointed inaction, but I think here indifference is meant as an umbrella for not caring and not acting.  Thankfully, this is one sin I steer pretty clear of.  If I am not caring or acting, I am worrying about my inaction or indifference and its effect on the world, and if that isn’t an act of caring, I don’t know what is.  My connection to the world around me has always been strikingly apparent to me- so apparent that I am often panicked by the repercussions of my actions and inactions.  This awareness does not always lead to action, but often it does.  It was also noted in class than even futile-feeling actions are meaningful and worthwhile because they are done in partnership with God.  This is a powerful idea and certainly I have felt the sense of righteousness and spiritual community that accompanies good action even when it fails on the surface of things.

-according to the Talmud, the first question you are asked when you get to heaven is whether you conducted your business affairs honestly- interpreted in our class to refer to how we treat strangers.  Caring about people we do not know can be difficult and certainly it is much easier to ignore the needs of people we do not know than those that we do.  I always notice when strangers address me in a way that makes me feel that they recognize and respect my uniqueness and the full person that I am.  It is hard to put into words, but there is a certain way we often treat people- as a means to an end, plus a dash of politeness and respect- that passes as “friendly” but misses the mark of seeing that person’s soul.  It is the difference between seeing someone as the sum of their actions and seeing them as a yet unrevealed spiritual partner.  There are people- often rabbis, ministers, psychologists, and the like- who regularly seem to try their best to treat each and every stranger as a human being as complex and worthy and any they know intimately.  UU World this winter quoted Rev Kemler: “At a ministers’ retreat someone read a passage about why ministers make people feel uncomfortable.  Is it because we dress in earth-colored clothes, and when we shake hands with people, we hodl their hands a second too long and gaze into their faces and say earnestly, ‘How ARE you?’  All the ministers in the room howled with laughter at the accuracy of this picture.”  Yes, this treatment can become routine and cliche, but there’s something real and important about it as well.  When we treat strangers as spiritual brothers and sisters, we can no longer make decisions that harm or ignore their well-being.

-our discussion of Shabbat touched on the essence of Shabbat as a taste of the world to come- a world perfected and whole.  This reminded me of the much more somber simulation of the world to come- Yom Kippur- when bodily needs are set aside and souls are examined.  Shabbat of course is supposed to be more celebratory in nature- enjoying the world that already is and experiencing its holiness, not trying to alter anything in the world.  This elevation of purpose gives us a better perspective on what already is wonderful in the world, and how our busy pursuits occlude our appreciation of what is holy in the world.  I think of this separation a bit like taking time on a long walk to turn around and appreciate the long distance we have travelled, the path that has afforded us our travel, the world that allows us to have this experience.  We are released from our immediate goals to have a broader perspective on our world.  Stepping aside from our normal routine- or simulating our next role in life- can have an enormous impact on our perspective.  I remember graduating from high school and lining up for Escapade, our all-night school-sponsored graduation party.  The day of graduation spawned an enormous upheaval in the social order of our student body.  A cheerleader who had never talked to me came up and congratulated me on my academic achievement and admitted that she admired my pursuit of academics.  I spoke to a grade school friend who had sat in drab goth garb in the hallway for four years, ignored by almost everyone.  We expressed surprise and regret that we had not connected earlier.  All over it seemed that suddenly hierarchies were vanishing, and people were beginning to see each other differently.  We were exiting the high school order and entering the “real world,” and our disguises melted away.  Senior week at Wellesley- a week of celebration before graduation- took on a similar feel.  So it seems that there are pivotal moments of change in life when one way of being suddenly ends and a new level of understanding and insight is reached.  Shabbat, as I see it, is somewhat of an exercise in these moments- stepping aside from the roles and duties we have during the week and experiencing the elevation of our souls in their absence, the perspective we gain from stopping and looking around and laughing at our narrow worldly perspective.

To end, a picture from Disneyland- we went on Wednesday to celebrate Rachel’s birthday.  Here we are driving through Autopia- not our favorite ride, but a pace friendly for photography:

And in front of Tomorrowland:

Trying to keep even here… this will be short today, but I hope to post more over the weekend.  I am ENGAGED now!  And so the question of conversion becomes as timely as ever.  I am also registered for the Basic Judaism course at my local reform synagogue.  Finally, we may visit Israel next summer as our Israeli friends will be getting married!  So many changes nudging me towards Judaism, at least on the surface.  My spiritual progress this summer has not been amazing.  I have not been a good Jew-in-training.  Rachel and I did attend Rosh Hashana services on campus last Friday, and a Tashlich service at La Jolla Shores beach on Saturday.  The beach was littered with soggy bread!  I liked casting off my sins- and after all my worry about what sins I had to cast off, there turned out to be a perfect list in the service.

-to be finished later-