Boredom. The Newest Crisis?

Boredom is the newest crisis facing our country today. I just read this in a book catalog promoting a new book on religion and boredom. At first I was inclined to dismiss the notion. Left to my own devices, I’m never bored. I find life infinitely fascinating. I read constantly, and write daily, and love to think about things and listen to smart people talk about things. I don’t get boredom. But on further consideration I have to admit that when it comes to organized religion, especially religious services, I am bored out of my mind.

Jewish liturgical yoga—the incessant standing up and sitting down during our services— bores me. We should do one or the other. I prefer sitting in a chair that offers true ergonomic support so that I can comfortably slip into a meditative state. Few churches or synagogues provide that. I wonder if we should build sanctuaries with Back Saver chairs in them. Probably not: it would make it too easy to fall asleep during the service. Maybe that is why we keep jumping up and down—it keeps us from falling asleep.

Most liturgies bore me. The language is flat and the reading is flat and the content is flat and it leaves me, well… flat. We never say anything that excites me. Either we are reading something so trite that I can’t affirm it with any enthusiasm, or something so inane that I can’t even be bothered to argue against it. Take the idea that God is the Lord of Hosts, for example. What is that? I imagine God presiding over a Toastmasters-like gathering of hosts and hostesses. Is the best we can do in a democratic country: reduce the King of Kings to the Maitre d' of maitre-ds?

The music in most synagogues and churches bores me as well. Christian praise music is fun for about three minutes, and then it becomes trite and tedious. The lyrics are insipid and reduce Jesus to a one-dimensional cartoon. Hasidic niggunim (wordless melodies) are more palatable to me, but these too become tame after a short time. And I am put off by liberal Jews forcing out a few di d’d’di niggunim as if a niggun could make up for a theology that pretends we haven’t read a science or philosophy book in 300 years. Why is it that I can listen to Leonard Cohen, Bob Dylan, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Woody Guthrie, and Pete Seeger over and over again without getting bored, but I can’t take synagogue music two weeks in a row?

Most sermons bore me. If it’s on the Gospel, Jesus turns out to be a prototype of Dr. Phil, and if it is on the Torah, the rabbi has to jump through hoops to make the text say what it clearly doesn’t say. I love Torah because it is upsetting, and all efforts to make it safe are robbing Judaism of any relevance.

So maybe boredom is our problem, at least when it comes to religion. I have no idea how the book that sparked this line of thinking deals with boredom, but I suspect no amount of esthetic or institutional change is going to fix this crisis. We can train our clergy to be more entertaining, but that won’t really help when the content is essentially irrelevant.

So religion is going to stay boring for a long time. Why? Because we are boring. Our services reflect ourselves. If there is a God we must bore the crap out of her.

So what can we do? First, stop being bored. Do something that ignites your passion. Then, once you remember what it’s like to be on fire that way, refuse to attend any worship service that douses that fire. Demand the same quality of thought, music, poetry, and speech in your place of worship that you would from a commercial venture. Refuse to be bored. Refuse to join a community that bores you. Refuse to support clergy that bore you. Refuse to sing boring songs, and read boring prose and poetry. Demand more.

You probably won’t get it, but at least you won’t be bored. That’s one crisis down, a few dozen to go. Health care, anyone?

Christ vs. Krishna: Smack Down in Delhi

I spend much of my time participating in interfaith gatherings where the vast majority of participants accept the premise presented in the Hindu Rig Veda: “Truth is one. Different people call it by different names.” Most of us understand that religions and the gods they cherish are human inventions seeking to articulate what is at heart ineffable.

As the Tao te Ching reminds us, “The Tao that can be named is not the eternal Tao.” Any god you can institutionalize, any god you can theologize about, any god you can sell to your neighbor, just isn’t God. The true God is found in silence, stillness, and compassion. This doesn’t mean that religions have nothing to offer. On the contrary, our lives would be much poorer without them. It only means that they should realize their own limitations and be humble.

Of course this never happens. No matter how much we learn about the nature of religion, religion never seems to grow up. Case in point: the new push by Catholics to bring the Good News of Christ to the Bad News Brahmins of India.

Fifteen hundred Catholics attended the Indian Mission Congress in Mumbai last week to fire themselves up about sharing the light of Christ in the dark land of Krishna. Archbishop Pedro Lopez Quintana, Apostolic Nuncio to India, said that Christians have an obligation to spread the Gospel in India as that nation falls ever more deeply into the depravity of illicit sexuality, drug abuse, poverty, and violence.

When I read this I thought, “Finally, someone is going to clean up the moral cesspool that is India! And who better to do it than Catholics?” I mean the Catholic Church is all about goodness, and ending poverty and violence. Just look at the lives of people in predominately Catholic countries such as Mexico (95% Catholic) and Columbia (91.90% Catholic). These good people under the guidance of the Catholic Church all live peaceful lives of financial sobriety and security, free from violence, drugs, and sexual perversion. And who could possibly suspect the Church and its priests of sexual immorality?

So I say, “Go get ‘em, Jesus!” This is exactly what India and the world needs, more religious strife.

Not that Catholicism doesn’t have much to offer the world; it does. But if the Church wants to share its light the best way to do it would be to create ideal societies in the countries that are already Catholic. Show us how it’s done, Papa. This is hard work, of course. It is much easier to go out and convert others to your faith than it is to actually live that faith yourselves.

Here is my best-case scenario for the Catholic Mission in India. First, they offer such a clear alternative to the caste system that Hindus worldwide finally free themselves of that oppressive idea. Second, they discover that Jesus was an incarnation of Vishnu, and realize that Hindus, too, are speaking the Truth, they are just doing so using their own names. I doubt either of these things will happen, of course. But I can dream, can’t I?

Don't think twice, Ma. I'm only believin'

It’s irrational to argue rationally. At least that’s the conclusion I draw from a recent study on the nature of belief and reason.

According to Lane Wallace in THE WEEK (October 9, 2009), recent studies show that people will defend their strongly held beliefs regardless of the facts, and will do so using what researchers call “motivated reasoning.”

Motivated reasoning is actually illogical thinking fueled by the desperate need to be right. People so identify with their opinions that to be wrong is to lose some sense of one’s very existence. In other words, facts, logic, and reason are irrelevant when dealing with passionately held beliefs.

So is discussion on deeply held issues useless? Probably. If other people are going to resort of illogic to defeat my logic,* I can’t win. And if I can’t win, why bother playing?

This is both refreshing and troubling. Refreshing because now I have scientific evidence that other people are crazy. Troubling because now the only way to win an argument is to kill the person with whom you are arguing. This isn’t news. The Bible and the Koran make it pretty clear that there is no point in arguing with infidels; kill them and be done with it. Kill their cows, too, while you’re at it; you can never be too careful.

But perhaps there is hope in these findings. Now that we know we will employ all kinds of irrationality to maintain the pretense that our beliefs are rational, we might hold our beliefs with a bit more humility.

How might that humility manifest? It might allow us to listen to one another a bit more carefully. If I know that I resort to irrationality to defend my beliefs, I might be more careful in my positions and defense of them. If I know that my beliefs may be bolstered by unreason, I might be more open to hearing the beliefs of others, and less inclined to attack those beliefs. And, if I don’t attack the beliefs of others, perhaps they will feel less inclined to resort to illogic themselves. And if all of us are wary of our own irrationality we might actually learn something from one another, and that would be refreshing.

But I suspect I am being Pollyannaish; it is just too inconvenient having different-believers around. All you have to do is watch the insanity that passes for discussion and debate in Congress or town hall meetings or cable news shows to know that people are addicted to irrationality.

So what will we conclude from this study? It’s simple: stop worrying about being rational and just up the volume.

*I would never resort to irrationality, illogic, or falsehood. Or, if I did, I would never admit, just as I am not admitting it here.

Going Brown: Valuing Butts Over Bark

I am not an environmentalist. I used to be, but not any more. I mean, I was one yesterday, but not today. What made me change my mind? Al Gore’s war on my ass.

I enjoy taking a good shit. I am happy when you have one, and happier still when I have one. Following the Jewish tradition, I offer a prayer of thanks every time I go to the toilet, expressing genuine gratitude for the wondrous workings of the body. When push comes to shove, constipation is not my friend.

One of the joys of moving one’s bowels is cleaning up afterward using a high quality 127-ply perfumed industrial strength absorbent roll of toilet paper. I like the feel of it—thick as an Amish quilt; the fragrance of it—as strong as Aqua Velva; and the way it gloves my hand with four or five inches of protective paper. What could be better?

Enter Al Gore. No, not Mr. Gore himself, I am using his name to represent all those inconvenient truth speakers who sap the fun out of ruining the planet. It seems that my precious toilet paper is made from old-growth trees, and that my desire for comfort is killing the planet one wipe at a time. Well, you know what? I don’t care. There are other planets. When I flush the last of this one down the toilet, I’ll just move to another one.

What is the point of having an old tree, anyway? It doesn’t do anything. At least if we turn one into toilet paper it gets the satisfaction of being useful to us, and that is what trees really want, isn’t it? To be of service to selfish boys like me? I’ve read Shel Silverstein’s scientific study of trees and I understand their need to be self-sacrificing. This is what they live for; this is what they die for.

And, now that I’m thinking about it, why should old trees take precedent over young trees? We expect old things to die. President Obama isn’t proposing death panels for young people (the unborn excepted), but for old people. Why should it be different for trees? After all if you have to make toilet paper out of people would you choose the elderly or the newborn? True, the newborn are softer, but with the proper processing the elderly would do quite nicely.

And have you tried the other brands of toilet paper? Well, I have. I’ve tried the ones that feel like sandpaper and leave your butt bloody and raw. I’ve tried the lesser ply brands that rip apart at the exact moment to allow for a quick check of your prostate while you wipe. And I’ve lived in Israel where they seem to mistake wax paper for toilet paper. So I’m no stranger to the hardships of not having the proper tool to deal with the blessed stool. I just want that tool, and don’t care how old the tree is that can give it to me.

So I’m going brown rather than green. Given the current climate of Democratic Socialist Fascism I fully expect Mr. Obama to create a Toilet Paper Czar who will strip our stores of old-growth toilet paper and imprison those of us who value butts over bark, so I am building an underground bunker in which to stockpile enough quality toilet paper to get me through the Mayan collapse of civilization and the election of Sarah Palin as POTUS. My suggestion: you ought to do the same.

Prophet or Clerk?

During my first year of rabbinical school I was told that a rabbi could be a prophet or a clerk, and that most of us would turn out to be clerks.

Rabbi Steven Wernick, the head of Conservative Judaism’s rabbinical association, chose to be a prophet when he claimed that his colleagues lacked missionary zeal, adding, “We want to get paid. We don’t believe.” The clerks revolted, and Rabbi Wernick was forced to recant and apologize.

Are rabbis really in it for the money? No. There isn’t enough money to be had. But we do have families, and mortgages, and college tuitions to pay, and that takes money, and money comes from people who like you and who think you are a good rabbi. And most people think rabbis are good because they say what the people want to hear. People like clerks. True, clerks don’t inspire us, but they don’t upset us either. Prophets ruffle feathers, and people with ruffled feathers rarely pay to support the ruffler. So if you want to survive in the congregational world you learn to be a clerk.

And it isn’t just in the congregations that money matters, denominational power is also determined by money. The most powerful rabbis in any movement are those who raise the most money for that movement. And to do that you need to build a large congregation willing to donate to that movement. And to do that you have to cultivate people with money. And to do that you have to be the rabbi they want you to be, you have to be a clerk.

In the process of building a wealthy congregation, of course, the rabbi too becomes wealthy, and the more rabbis earn the more they are expected to give to their seminary and their movement, and the more they give the more say they have in shaping the policies of that movement. Whether we are talking about Congress or congregations, it is always all about the money.

But what about Rabbi Wernick’s other claim, that liberal rabbis don’t believe? What he meant was that they don’t believe enough to live in near poverty as so many Chabad rabbis do who gladly set out to serve Jews in the remote outposts of world Jewry. We liberal American rabbis didn’t sign up to serve the Jews of Calcutta, especially if we have to live in Calcutta in order to do so. Chabad rabbis go where they are sent because they believe saving a single Jewish soul is worth any sacrifice. They believe they are doing God’s work. Do liberal rabbis believe this? I don’t know. But even if they do, they have a hard time imagining that God wants them to do God’s work in a place that lacks proper sanitation, air conditioning, and cable television.

Not that liberal rabbis don’t sacrifice. Anyone burdened with the task of clerking middle class American Jews with a strong sense of personal entitlement knows about sacrifice.

Anyway, I wish Rabbi Wernick well in his job, and I applaud his moment of prophetic zeal. I fear, though, that he has learned a sad lesson: if he wants to keep his job he has to abandon any pretence of being a prophet. The clerks have won again. They always do.

Simchat Torah 2009

Sunday is Simchat Torah (“Rejoicing with the Torah”), the day on which we Jews conclude the annual cycle of Torah reading, and begin the reading all over again. The synagogue service on Simchat Torah is marked with wild dancing and song, and the Torah is paraded around the shul. Lots of us have fond memories of the holy day as kids, and some of us continue to observe the holy day ourselves. But so what?

What’s the point of reading and rereading a book that most of us don’t believe in? Few Jews believe that God dictated Torah to Moses on Mount Sinai. Most of us understand that the books of the Torah are compilations of different texts written at different times by people with different agendas. Most of us choose not to live our lives by the dictates of Torah, and few of us bother to read (let alone study) it. So why bother with Simchat Torah at all?

Let me be as concise as I can about this: Without Torah there is no Judaism and no Jews. God may be a figment of our imagination; Israel may be just one nation among others; Jews may be chosen only in our own eyes; but Torah is indispensible.

Identity depends on story. You are who you are as a person because of the memories you have, and the stories you tell about yourself and the lives of those with whom you identify. Story is everything to humans. That’s why memory loss is so devastating. Without our memories we lose our stories, and without our stories we lose ourselves.

Torah is our story. And like most stories, it is largely fiction. But that doesn’t matter. Truth is not the enemy of fiction. As any great novel demonstrates, fiction if often the best vehicle for telling the truth. Torah is that kind of fiction; the kind that tells truths, often discomforting truths.

People complain that Torah is filled with xenophobia, misogyny, and genocidal rage. Of course it is. Torah is our story, and mirrors our wickedness as well as our goodness. That’s what makes it worth reading over and over again. The more sophisticated we become regarding human nature, the more Torah helps us explore that nature. The more we are willing to open ourselves to the promise and perversity of humanity, the more Torah reveals these to us. We see what we are ready to see, and are beckoned by Torah to see a bit more as well.

This is why we read Torah differently throughout our lives. This is why we read it over and over, year after year, millennia after millennia. It evolves as we evolve; and it promotes that evolution my mirroring not just what we are at the moment, but we can become—both good and bad—in the next moment.

But what about the supernatural nonsense of the Torah: all the magic and miracles? Torah is myth, and often speaks through parable, puzzle, and paradox. That’s what makes it fun and challenging. To mistake myth as literal fact is to blind ourselves to the meaning of the text. When we read about the impossible we are challenged to test what is possible.

Simchat Torah celebrates the power of story to shape identity. The challenge is to read Torah with fresh eyes year after year; to see new possibilities in it that lift us Godward.

If we read Torah passively, our Jewishness becomes passive, and a passive identity creates stale people, stale lives, and limits the future to an imitation of the past. But when we dare to read Torah actively, when we challenge its madness and allow ourselves to be challenged by its genius, then we continually reinvent our story and ourselves. The future of Judaism and the Jewish people doesn’t depend on where we live, how we vote, or whom we marry. The future depends on whether or not we engage Torah passionately and creatively.

Whether or not you attend shul this Simchat Torah, I urge you to make Torah study a habit. Even if you have a copy of Torah in the house, buy yourself a new one. Check out the different versions and see which one speaks to you. Then read the parsha of the week and jot your thoughts down in the margins. Make the Torah your Torah. Then each week—or monthly as we in Murfreesboro do it— gather over Shabbos dinner with family and friends and wrestle with your different insights.

If there is one thing all Jews can do to insure not just the survival of our people but the thriving of our civilization, this is it.

Chag sameach.

Ain't Religion Grand?

Scripture doesn’t kill; people do.

That seems to be the motto of retired Naval Chaplain Gordon Klingenschmitt who, according to Mikey Weinstein, founder of the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, has been praying for Mikey’s death.

Mr. Weinstein’s organization fights Christian proselytizing in the armed forces of the United States. Since founding the organization, Mr. Weinstein has had a swastika painted on his home, and animal carcasses dumped on his doorstep. Despite the ambiguity of my grammar, these things were not done at the request of Mr. Weinstein. Nor is Mr. Weinstein blaming these things on Chaplain Klingenschmitt. Chaplain Klingenschmitt doesn’t want to bother Mr. Weinstein, but, at least according to Mr. Weinstein, he wants Jesus to kill him.

Mr. Weinstein claims that Chaplain Klingenschmitt regularly for Jesus to “plunder my fields … seize my assets, kill me and my family then wipe away our descendants for 10 generations."

In his defense Chaplain Klingenschmitt said, “I never prayed for anyone’s death. I never prayed for anyone’s violence (sic). All I did was quote the Scriptures.”

In the interest of Biblical literacy I tried to find the passages that Chaplain Klingenschmitt may have been citing, but I couldn’t find anything that resembled Mr. Weinstein’s charge. This doesn’t mean that Chaplain Klingenschmitt isn’t praying for bad things to happen to good Weinsteins, only that in doing so Chaplain Klingenschmitt isn’t really quoting scripture. But I could be wrong about this, so I invite you to search the Word yourself and share with us just what it might be that Chaplain Klingenschmitt is citing.

If in fact you do find the citations, please explain to me how Jesus can kill Mr. Weinstein and his family and then wipe away their descendants for 10 generations. If Jesus kills Mr. Weinstein and his family, how can there be any subsequent generations? And if it is possible why limit it to ten generations, or if you must limit it, how is Jesus going to restore the Weinsteins in the 11th generation?

Somehow I doubt Mr. Weinstein believes that Jesus can or would do any of this, but I would not be surprised if some follow of Jesus would take it upon himself to do them in Jesus’ name. Ain’t religion grand?

Religion on Parade or Parade on Religion

Sunday morning’s Parade Magazine (October 4, 2009) published the results of a Parade survey on American spirituality. While all such surveys have their limits, I enjoy reading the findings. Here are some brief comments on the more intriguing findings.

1. While 69% of Americans say they believe in God, 77% of Americans pray to him. That means more people pray to God than believe in God. To whom are these 8% of Americans praying?

2. Religious Americans comprise 45% of the population, while 50% rarely bother with religious services at all. A little over half of these people (27%) don’t practice any kind of religion, which leaves 24% of the respondents who call themselves “spiritual but not religious.” (Plus the 1% left over who didn’t really understand the question.) This SBNR thing is really taking off, but there are still millions of Americans who don’t fit this label. Maybe someone should start a support group for them: Religious but not spiritual.

3. While I am often told that the reason people belong to a religion is for community, it turns out that this is true of only 8% of Americans. I get this totally. The older I get the less inclined I am to join something or to seek out a community. Most of the I want to be left alone. But not all of the time. What we SBNR types need is a “once in a while” community where we gather maybe once or twice a year to share our spiritual lives and struggles.

4. Here is a number that I found surprising: only 14% of Americans feel their religion makes them safe and secure. Does this mean that the other 36% of the religious but not spiritual crowd join a religion to feel more anxious and fearful? Or does it mean that religious is scaring the shit out of most of the people who profess to belong to one? If your religion is all about hell and damnation, or blowing yourself up to get a date in heaven (which probably doesn’t allow dating anyway), or about why God keeps kicking you when you are down, then I can see why you don’t find religion all that comforting. Personally, I think comforting religions are a scam. I want a religion that discomforts me; that challenges me to see through the egoic bullshit that passes for spirituality and theology in this country, and helps me to live justly, kindly, and humbly with the fact that I don’t know jack.

5. The survey wasn’t very kind to clergy. Only 12% of Americans believe their religion is the one true religion, while 59% believe that all religions are valid. Cleary we clergy are failing at our stated mission: getting people to join our brand and shun the competition. In the real world, Macy’s doesn’t send it shoppers to Gimble’s (which is why there is no longer any Gimble’s). We clergy aren’t supposed to help you find the religion that best suits you, we are supposed to sell you our suit no matter how unsuited you are to it. If 88% of Americans think that other religions are equally effective as their own they might consider shopping for salvation elsewhere. This does not bode well for our job security.

6. And it gets worse: only 17% of respondents say they consult clergy for help when dealing with a problem. As a writer of a spiritual Q&A column for Spirituality & Health magazine I am dependent upon those who ask me for advice, so this number has got to increase or I will be out of a job. Who do they consult? Friends and family! Can you imagine? What does your married friend know about marriage that your celibate priest hasn’t read in a book? To be honest, anything you need to know about male-female relationships you can find in the Bible. Which is why priests are celibate. Who wants to live the biblical family ideal? My favorite book on relationships is “Men are from Mars, Women are from Penis.” Or something like that.

So if people don’t turn to clergy for advice, and they don’t think that any clergyperson has the pick that will unlock the gates of heaven, why bother with clergy at all? Man, this is depressing.

Or maybe it isn’t. Maybe clergy, too, know the old ways are no longer speaking to most Americans. Maybe a growing number of clergy are admitting to themselves that they too are spiritual but not religious. Certainly that speaks to my situation.

So what should we SBNR clergy do? Given the way Americans are moving, there may be a real need for post-religious spiritual mentors to help people navigate the intricacies of SBNR. SBNR “clergy” would be trained in spiritual practices and post-modern theologies. They wouldn’t care about brand labels and denominations. They would care about you waking up to your innate divinity. They wouldn’t be limited to one way, but grounded in the full spectrum of the wisdom of the world’s religions, mythologies, transpersonal psychologies, etc., and capable of helping those who wish to deepen their spiritual nature without having to align themselves with one brand of faith or another.

Those SBNR clergy interested in exploring the evolution of classically trained clergy in a SBNR world should contact my friends Rev. Ian Lawton and Steve Frazee at www.sbnr.org. Let them know that you are interested in attending a gathering of SBNR clergy to explore our role in the emerging SBNR world. If enough of us are out there, I bet we can do a lot of good, and SBNR.org can help us do it.

If you aren’t part of the clergy and yet still find yourself in the SBNR camp, check out www.sbnr.org for yourself. There is a lot of exciting things happening there.

Sukkot 5770

This Friday evening is the start of the weeklong Sukkot celebration. On the surface this is Judaism’s version of Thanksgiving, but it is so much more. Here are some interesting insights into the holy day.

1. According to tradition, Sukkot will be the only holy day celebrated in the Messianic Age.

2. While we are told that the sukkah represents the tents in which our ancestors dwelt while wandering in the Sinai, this is clearly nonsense. We dwelt in tents, not booths, and if Sukkot were really a reminder of Sinai we would spend the week in tents. The sukkah is in fact reminiscent of the temporary shelters used during the autumn harvest in which both harvest and harvesters took shelter.

3. The sukkah must be flimsy, temporary, and open to the elements. Why? Because the sukkah teaches us that there is no shelter from the storms of life. There is nothing we can build that will protect us from life’s catastrophes. Coming as it does on the heels of Yom Kippur and the notion that we have been written into the Book of Life, Sukkot is a huge slap of awakening. Being inscribed into the Book of Life has nothing to do with avoiding danger, sorrow, suffering, or death. Rather it means that whatever this year brings, you cannot escape it, and you are challenged to spend your time l’chayyim: promoting life, enjoying life’s gifts, and giving thanks for them.

4. The book of Leviticus tells us: “On the first day you shall take the product of hadar trees, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before Adonai your God seven days” (Leviticus 23:40). This is the lulav that, together with the etrog (citron), we wave in all directions as an act of symbolic magic. The lulav represents the masculine energies of the universe. The etrog represents the feminine energies of the universe. We hold them together and symbolically seek to unify masculine and feminine within ourselves and among ourselves in a hieros gamos, a divine marriage of opposites. This is an affirmation of the unity of all opposites in, with, and as God, the source and substance of all reality.

5. The text we study during Sukkot is Ecclesiastes (Kohelet), one of the most challenging books of the Bible. Kohelet places doubt above faith, or rather it places doubt at the heart of true faith, and challenges us to live rightly without the crutch of imagining that we are thereby earning some reward. There is no reward. We do right because it is right. Kohelet teaches us how to live in a world of uncertainty. If Sukkot is the holy day of messianic times, Kohelet is the Torah of those times. The messianic age is not one in which all questioning stops and answers are provided, but the time when the deepest questioning begins and no answers are given. That is to say, when we live without knowing, we live with true faith, a faith that transcends mere belief.

6. Among the traditions of Sukkot is ushpizin inviting our ancestors into the Sukkah. Couple this with the practice of inviting friends to eat together in the sukkah and you begin to realize that the message of both Sukkot and Ecclesiastes is that friendship is the key to living well in a world of uncertainty. (See Ecclesiastes 4:12, the threefold cord of friendship).

Sukkot is a powerful holy day period. Don’t let the week go by without honoring it in some way. At the very least read Ecclesiastes. And, if you will pardon a moment of rank self-promotion, you might enjoy reading my version of the text called the Way of Solomon.

Hag Sameach Sukkot,
Rami

Four Questions Christians Ask About Judaism

I’ve been speaking at a lot of churches lately, and I noticed the same four questions being asked: “Are Jews a race?” “Are the Pharisees evil?” “Did the Jews kill Jesus?” “Why do the Jews reject Jesus as their Messiah?” Let me share my brief responses to each.

Are the Jews a race? No. We are a people, like the Cherokee or the Sioux. Jews come in all races and many nationalities. What ties us together is not genes but memes, a story that we delight in retelling and reinventing without end. Just as a person can marry into a Native American tribe or be adopted by one, so people can marry into the Jewish people and convert to our way of life.

The corollary question to “Are Jews a race” is “Is Judaism a religion?” The answer is yes and no. There are a variety of religions called Judaism: biblical Judaism, Priestly Judaism, Rabbinic Judaism, which itself comes in many forms—Hasidic, Orthodox, Conservative, Reconstructionist, Reform, and Humanistic, and Secular Judaism. But most Jews are not religious, choosing to affirm their identity as Jews through Judaism as a culture. While religion permeates the culture, providing us with distinctive celebrations, feasts, fasts, and foods, the culture is larger than the religion leading ultimately to a way of thinking about reality that is rooted in fierce questioning, doubt, argument, and a love of paradox. One is not born with these traits, but learns them to the extent that one is actively engaged in Jewish culture.

Are the Pharisees evil? No. Many Christians use the term Pharisee to represent all that is self-righteous, hateful, narrow minded, course, and cruel. This has to do with the anti-Jewish polemic of the New Testament and the Jew hatred of later Christian leaders. The Pharisees were in fact the liberals of their day (536 BCE -70 CE) who sought to transform biblical Judaism into something more open and dynamic. Hillel was among the greatest of the Pharisees, and it was he who taught that the whole of Torah is summed up in the teaching, “What is hateful to you, do not do unto others.” Christians who continue to use the word “Pharisee” to represent those forces and frames of mind antithetical to the supposedly love-filled way of Jesus and his contemporary followers are perpetuating Jew-hatred and should stop doing so immediately.

Did the Jews Kills Jesus? No. The Romans killed Jesus. Did some Jews collaborate with Rome in this matter? Yes. The office of the High Priest was bought and sold by the Romans which meant the High Priest was owned by Rome. Anything or anyone that might upset the status quo had to be stopped. So it isn’t difficult to imagine that some Jews saw Jesus as a threat to them and perhaps to the Jewish people as a whole. But the actions of a few should not be blamed on the many. Jesus was Jewish, his followers were Jewish, the crowds that gathered to listen to him preach and that welcomed him into Jerusalem on what is today called Palm Sunday were Jewish. The fact that John’s Gospel blames the Jews as a people for the death of Jesus speaks to the need of the early Church to placate Rome, and has little historical validity vis a vis the Jews.

Why do Jews reject Jesus as the Messiah? The messianic ideal in Judaism is political: the messiah is a human being anointed by God (mashiach in Hebrew means anointed one) to free Israel from occupation, lead all Jews back to their homeland, and establish a just and compassionate state with the Temple at its heart. Jesus did not do of these things, and therefore isn’t the messiah as Jews define the term.

Christianity redefined the meaning of messiah in spiritual terms and placed Jesus’ kingdom outside this world, something that makes Jesus irrelevant to Jews. As the Son of God Jesus comes to redeem us from Original Sin, something Judaism knows nothing about. While it makes perfect sense for those who believe they have Original Sin to want to get rid of it, it is very hard to convince people who do not believe it to seek the cure to a disease they do not have.

Thoughts on Yom Kippur 5770

Yom Kippur, the Day of At-one-ment, is framed in an interesting metaphor. You are standing before the Gates of Righteousness. You are being judged. All your foibles are laid bare for you to see. You are humbled, perhaps ashamed, and you don’t know what to do. The Gates are open. Nothing stops you from entering. Yet you don’t move. You are frozen by your own sense of unworthiness. Then the Gates begin to close. Slowly and steadily until, as our liturgical day closes at sunset, we are reminded, “The Gates are closing. The Gates are closing. Enter! Enter now!”

Tradition tells us that we are to consider ourselves forgiven by God by the close of Yom Kippur, and that we can and have entered the Gates. But it isn’t that easy.

Yom Kippur is a fast day. We fast not to mortify the flesh (skipping breakfast and lunch is hardly a mortification), but to avoid the distractions of dining with others. This is a day for acute introspection not schmoozing with family and friends over a meal.

Our liturgical day begins at sundown with Kol Nidre, All Vows. This is the most famous prayer of Yom Kippur, and originated during the period of forced conversions to Catholicism. More an affirmation than a prayer, Kol Nidre says that any vow we took under duress (i.e. the vow to be a good Catholic and abandon Judaism) is null and void. Over time the origin of the prayer was largely forgotten, and Kol Nidre is now understood to absolve us of all hasty or thoughtless and unkept vows we may have made to ourselves and to God. The idea is to eliminate the need to focus on superfluous failures, and free ourselves to deal with the real errors we have committed.

The second most famous prayer of Yom Kippur is the Viddui, the confession. As a community we confess to twenty-two sins, listed alphabetically one for each letter of the Hebrew alphabet. We confess as a community for the community. While you may be guilty of none of these things, as a member of the community you bear responsibility for all of them.

And now the Gates are closing. If you have truly looked at the quality of your life and how you live it; if you have taken seriously the thirty days of selichot (forgiveness) preceding the High Holy Days and sought forgiveness from family, friends, neighbors, and others, the final moments of Yom Kippur are humbling” “Given all I have done wrong, how can I enter the Gates of Righteousness and be at one with God?”

Yet it is only this subtle narcissism that stands in your way. Only your sense that you are such a great sinner that even God cannot welcome you, keeps you from passing through the Gates. There is no guard. There is nothing stopping you but you. It is never humility that keeps you from entering, only hubris. Yom Kippur is designed to break your heart over the suffering you have caused others. If your heart is broken you have compassion for both self and others, and that is the key to entering the Gates. To be broken before God is to be embraced by God.

May your fast be meaningful this Yom Kippur. And may you be blessed with a broken heart.

God Knows

I’m on a flight from Nashville to Charlotte, NC. Two guys in the seats across from me are discussing matters of life and death.

“You die when Jesus say you die, man. Life ‘n death is up ta the Lord. When he calls you, you gots to answer.”

“And when is that?”

“Can’t say; don’t know; don’t care. All I do know is that it ain’t in my hands, so I don’ worry ‘bout it.”

“But you do take precautions, like wearing a seatbelt.”

“Never have, never will. The only time I click one o’them suckers is when the cops are close. Look, it don’t matter what you do—seatbelts or no seatbelts—when God wants you dead, you dead.”

Their conversation ended abruptly as the flight attendant ordered the man to buckle his seatbelt for take–off.

I love listening to talk like this. While I certainly have my own positions on matters like these, I really enjoy hearing what other people believe. Most of the time I just listen. This time I butted in.

“So you must be some risk taker, then,” I said.

“What?”

“Sorry, guys, I couldn’t help but overhear what you were saying about death. If your death is determined by God’s plan rather than your actions, it just stands to reason that you could do some wild stuff and not worry about it.”

“Like what?”

“Like jumping off a cliff or out of a airplane without a parachute. Or drinking poison. Or playing Russian Roulette. You’d live through all of this unless God wanted you dead at that moment, in which case even if you were sitting at home watching TV you would suddenly drop dead of a heart attack or something.”

“That’s stupid. Drinking poison’ll kill you.”

“Not if it isn’t your time to die. That’s what you said, isn’t it? You won’t die until God wants you to die. That’s why you don’t where a seatbelt. If you get in a crash you won’t die unless it’s your time to die, and then, seatbelt or no, you would die. So you could do all kinds of reckless things knowing it doesn’t matter.”

“Listen, Bud, we weren’t talkin’ to you, an’ now you jus’ talkin’ stupid.”

I’m not quite sure that is what the man said to me because I was on a roll and wasn’t listening to him. I just took a breath and kept on talking.

“Of course not dying isn’t the worse thing that could happen to you. I mean, it might not be your time to die, but you could go through your windshield in a crash and live out the remainder of your life as a vegetable. But that’s your choice, not God’s, right? Or does God call us to be vegetables also? Maybe he does. Maybe he determines everything that happens to you, so wearing or not wearing your seatbelt isn’t your choice at all, but God’s.”

“Listin, man, God loves you, that’s all I know. An’ if God makes you a vegetable then that’s how he loves you. It ain’t for you ta tell God how to love, is it? All I’m sayin’ is that its all in God’s hands, and not for us ta worry ‘bout. So why don’ you just sit back and buckle your little safety belt an’ let God git on wit it.”

This was my cue to shut up. Too bad I didn’t catch it.

“But what if its God’s will for me to get you to change your way of thinking and start wearing your seatbelt? What if I’m like the Prophet Elijah sent by God to talk to you and here you are telling me to shut up. Would tell the Prophet Elijah to shut up?”

“Are you the Prophet Elijah?”

“No, I don’t think so,” I admitted.

“Then shut the f@ck up!”

He had a point. Next time someone asks me if I’m the Prophet Elijah I’ve got to remember to just say “yes.”

The Nones Among Us

A major report on American Nones—those people who do not identify with any specific religion—was released today. Sponsored by Trinity College of Hartford, CT, the report reveals that Nones have blossomed over the past years. 15% of Americans identify themselves as Nones, and the number rises to 22% when we look specifically at 18 to 29 year olds. If this holds and the trend continues, Nones may well be 25% of the American population in two more decades.

What makes a None a None? For one thing 61% of Nones believe in evolution while only 38% of Americans in general do. 51% of Nones believe in God or a Higher Power, and slightly more than half of these believers understand God in a nonpersonal way, like the Force or the Tao. Less than 10% of Nones are atheists, but most tend to believe that whatever God is, God doesn’t fit into the neat packages of religion.

Politically Nones are interesting as well. 21% of Independents are Nones, as are 16% of Democrats and 8% of Republicans. This isn’t surprising. Especially when you consider than many Republicans are None Others—hoping to replace all religions with none other than their own.

Another finding that stands out in the report is that unlike every other religious group, there are more male Nones than female Nones. 19% of American men are Nones, while only 14% of American women are Nones. And within the None community there are 60 men Nones to every 40 women Nones.

In essence, Nones are the 21st Century version of the 18th Century Deist and Enlightenment traditions that founded this country. Like Ben Franklin, Tom Jefferson, and Tom Paine Nones are committed to science and reason, and do not see these as opposed to faith.

So what are we to make of this report? I am encouraged by it. Nones are freethinkers, and God knows America needs more of these. Nones are curious and open–minded without being empty-headed. Nones are in favor of religious freedom, and because they are not limited to any one faith, will keep the country free from being controlled by any one faith. If they do become a quarter of the American population they may spark a whole new direction for American spirituality, drawing on the wisdom of all faiths while freeing themselves from the limitations of any one faith.

Is this good for Judaism? Probably not. Judaism survives as long as Jews find it worthy of surviving; that is as long as it continues to provide Jews with a compelling sense of meaning and purpose. However, since Jews make up a large segment of Nones, claiming Jewish cultural heritage without aligning with Judaism the religion, the future of Judaism as a religion may be in trouble. But then it is always in trouble.

How to respond? Rather than write off Jewish Nones, I’d create a Jewish Nonery, a school for Jewish Nones that focuses on culture, language, progressive/prophetic politics, and the genius of the biblical wisdom tradition that embraces doubt, argument, and ambiguity. Will anyone do this? I doubt it. Jewish funders are still looking to revive the past and haven’t a clue how to invent the future.

Thank God for Global Warming!

Thank God for global warming! Seriously. Just yesterday I was a complete supporter of all things anti-greenhouse gases, but today I am a changed man. It turns out that if not for today’s greenhouse gases trapping heat and warming the earth, we would be about to enter another ice age.

Cute cartoon movies aside, a new Ice Age isn’t exactly a walk in Jurassic Park.

According to The New York Times (September 4, 2009) the journal Science is reporting that the earth was heading onto an “inevitable” Ice Age over the next few dozen millennia, but that global warming has put a stop to it. Holy crap!

Just think if we listened to Al Gore and actually stopped burning dead dinosaur goo in our cars and homes—the whole earth would be encased in ice in, what, 20 to 30 thousand years! Talk about caring for our children and our children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s, well you get the idea and I’ve lost count.

So I’m doing my part, and trading in my fuel¬–efficient car for one of the newly placed on the marked clunkers the Ice–loving Obama administration stole form our garages. And I’m cranking up my air–conditioner and putting on a sweater. And I’m driving my car from the top of my driveway to the bottom to pick up the newspaper. And I’m even thinking of burning some old tires in the backyard and having a few friends over for a rubber chicken barbeque. I mean, I’m a patriot, and I love my children and my children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s children’s…. and I will do whatever I can to keep the ice at bay. And you should, too!

What I don’t get is why the Times is still urging people to fight global warming. Even the scientists who discovered the push back of the Ice Age are urging us to fight global warming! What gives? Are they so in love with hockey that they want the whole planet to be one giant hockey rink? Or are they so heavily invested in skiwear that they would rather see Miami freeze than drown?

Dr. Overpeck (his real name, by the way), the author of the study, even calls the Ice Age an “opportunity.” And opportunity for what? To freeze to death? To let polar bears actually drink Coke at the company’s headquarters in Atlanta? What kind of opportunity is it he sees in the end of all life as we know it?

We’ve had 17 ice ages so far. Do you remember any of them? Did anyone alive then write a great novel about them? No. Why? Because they were too cold to hold a pen or tap a keyboard, that’s why! And then they were dead. Frozen to death before they could publish what would surely have been called, the Ice Mountain Cometh.

We’ve only got 30,000 years to prevent this catastrophe, so get with the program, people, and heat this planet up before it’s too late.

Going to Shul?

Rabbi Sid Schwartz concludes his essay on synagogue innovation (Forward, September 18, 2009) this way, “For too many Jews coming to shul on the holidays, the fare will be predictable and will not result in a return visit for another 12 months.” I know Rabbi Schwartz and hold him in high esteem, so I felt more than a twinge of guilt about my not even going to shul for the holy days.

Not that guilt is enough to change my mind. The thought of sitting through a painfully long liturgy reflecting a worldview I rejected decades ago, just keeps me frozen to my seat. Rabbi Schwartz says that we need to make the synagogue experience more compelling. Fair enough. But what would get me out of my house and into a synagogue?

I know what I am supposed to say: a short, well–crafted naturalist liturgy that draws on tradition while honoring science and avoiding supernaturalism; a service punctuated with minutes (rather than moments) of true silence inviting me to realize God rather than talk about God; an honest engagement with Torah that blends cutting edge Bible study (literary, historical, philosophical, etc.) with the mytho-poetic spirituality of scholars and mystics like Joseph Campbell; a sermon that sets out some challenging proposal, and which morphs into an open–ended and passionate discussion among the congregants; and music that is more than just entertaining and professional, but that uses chazanut (cantorial singing), Hebrew chanting, and Hasidic niggunim (melodies) to create opportunities for spiritual awakening and transformation.

That’s what I should say. And I wouldn’t be lying if I said it. But I might be thinking wishfully. The truth is, even if all this were offered, I still might stay home. I wonder if the reason Jews don’t go to shul is that they don’t want to; and that even if it was tailor–made for them, they still might not go.

I may have simply grown too selfish for shul; too fond of solitude to tolerate community; too comfortable with silence to tolerate words; too taken with my own ideas and those of the scholars I read and study to entertain the ideas of others. In short, I may be too full of myself to make room for others. I actually prefer davvenen (praying) alone.

I will get up at dawn tomorrow (Rosh haShanah morning) and walk for miles along the banks of Stones River. I will talk with God, and sing to Her. I will review and give thanks for the year just past, and free myself as best I can to welcome the year about to unfold. I will, Shabbos aside, do tashlich and symbolically toss all I needlessly cling to into the water, inviting freshness into my life. And then I will go home, shower, and study Torah the rest of the day. My minyan (prayer quorum) will be the trees of the forest, and among my rabbis will be Martin Buber and Baruch Spinoza. I will be alone with my books, my thoughts, and my life.

This isn’t very Jewish, I know. And some will think it very sad. But I will be quietly happy. True, if a few people, a minyan even, wanted to join me, I would enjoy that as well. But all the Jews I know will be in shul. Somebody must be doing something right.

L'shanah Tovah

This Friday evening is Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish “New Year” (Rosh/head, ha-shanah/the year). Despite its name, Rosh Hashanah actually falls on the first day of Tishrei, the seventh month of the Hebrew calendar, as ordained in the Torah (Leviticus 23:24). Talk about Jewish Standard Time!

Rabbinic tradition honors Rosh haShanah as the birthday of creation, and as such it is also the birthday of mortality. Not surprisingly then Rosh haShanah’s most distinctive piece of liturgy, Unetanah Tokef (“We proclaim”) focuses on the question “Who shall live and who shall die?” and proceeds with a litany of the ways people can and will die over the coming twelve months: fire, water, famine, etc.

Unetanah Tokef ends with these words: “But repentance, prayer, and charity, can stem the stern decree.” Most people praying the Unetanah Tokef imagine that on Rosh haShanah God writes your name into either the Book of Life or the Book of Death, and to get your name in the former you must apologize to God, beg God’s forgiveness, and offer God cash bribes. Ah, the horrors of folk religion.

The prayer itself is a list of ways people die. It purpose isn’t to scare you, but to get your attention: “Hey! This could be your last year on earth. How do you want to live it? Enslaved to old habits? Obsessed with trivialities? Self¬–absorbed and clinging? Or is this a time to turn, reflect, and let go?”

You are going to die. If not this year, maybe next year, or the year after that. So death isn’t your problem. Your problem is how to live until you die. Unetanah Tokef challenges us to live with teshuvah, tefillah, and tzedakah. Teshuvah, weakly translated as “repentance” literally means “turning,” and is the act of turning from evil and doing good, turning from self to others, turning from fear to love, turning from self to God. Tefillah is prayer, and in Hebrew the act of praying (hitpallel) is reflexive: true prayer is seeing who you really are as the image and likeness of God and then acting accordingly. Acting accordingly means practicing tzedakah. Tzedakah, from tzedek, justice, is the act of uplifting the poor and enfranchising the disenfranchised. The highest form of tzedakah is seeing that people are gainfully employed and self–supporting. Tzedakah means earning your money honestly in a manner than does no harm, and using your money wisely in a manner that does great good.

So on this birthday of humanity, take a moment and remember your mortality, examine your life, and where necessary turn toward a deeper act of generosity.

Religious Freedom—Gotta Love It

The Tennessee legislature just passed a law, the Religious Freedom Restoration Act that prohibits the state from “substantially burdening a person’s free exercise of religion.” I had no idea the State of Tennessee was placing burdens on my free exercise of religion. In fact, given the First Amendment to the US Constitution, I didn’t think the state could restrict my freedom of religion. But I am sure my legislators know best.

This certainly seems to have been the case in the great state of Texas, which passed a similarly worded bill and now has to repeal city ordinances that prohibit animal sacrifice within city limits. And the Washington D.C. fire department, adhering to a similar law effecting them, was forced to allow firefighters to grow beards if their religions demanded it despite the fact that facial hair erupts in a giant ball of fire when a bearded firefighter gets too close to open flames.

But then Tennessee isn’t Texas or D.C. We’ve also just passed a law that allows us to carry guns almost anywhere we want. For some of us guns and God go together, so I can see why the legislature went for both bills. Lots of us down here believe that God obligates us to kill the infidel and nonbeliever, so you can see where this is going to lead: “I asked him to convert before I shot him, Judge. It ain’t my fault he refused. I’m just practicing my religion.”

Of course the mainstream religions will probably be satisfied with sacrificing animals in public and having the faces of a few firefighters burned off. But there are other believers who should take advantage of this law. Sun worshippers, for example, should demand that nude dining at outdoor cafes be allowed during sunny daylight hours. And pastafarian followers of the Giant Spaghetti Monster should demand the outlawing of pasta eating as an affront to their faith. And Hindus might do the same for meat eating. They might even let their cows free in town, making it a violation of their religious freedom to have them rounded up.

But the real fun is going to come when someone realizes they can invent a new religion to take advantage of the law. Any thoughts on how we could exploit this marvelous piece of legislation?

The Origin of Religion

A former student of mine sent me an interesting article from The Sunday Times of London (http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/faith/article6823229.ece).

The premise of the piece is that people are hardwired for religion, and that no matter how rational we get we will always create religions for ourselves.

Two reasons are given for this. One, religion offers evolutionary benefits: People with similar beliefs banded together more cohesively, and that added to their survivability. Skeptics were eaten by saber¬–toothed tigers.

The second reason for religion is that it stems from the magical thinking of early childhood. God is just an infinitely large and all–powerful Imaginary Friend, and Satan is just the monster under the bed. No matter how much we mature, this type of thinking remains with us. One interesting study cited in the article noted how “ardent atheists balked at the idea of accepting an organ transplant from a murderer because of a superstitious belief that an individual’s personality could be stored in their organs.”

Does this settle the matter, then? Is religion just a carry-over from our primitive past or a remnant of magical thinking common to little children? Jesus did say we were to be as little children, so maybe he was thinking along the lines of the second proposition, but I’m not so sure.

I think (which is another way of saying that I don’t really know) that the religious impulse arises from something a bit more sophisticated. At the heart of the religious impulse is a drive to answer key existential questions such as Who am I? Where did I come from? Where am I going? Why am I here?

The answers to these questions differ over time, among cultures, and between individuals. While I understand that I have the capacity for imaginary friends (in fact most of my friends seem imaginary to me, especially when I ask to borrow money), as I grow older these childhood friends no longer convincingly answer my questions.

In fact, the older I get, the less interested in answers I become. It is the questions that matter most. The answers we invent give rise to religions, and religions do their best to put an end to questions, but in the end religions change and die while the questions persist and compel us to think again.

We may never outgrow the need for community and imaginary friends, but both might become more sophisticated, ultimately pointing beyond themselves to the great “?” at the heart of human genius. The inevitable mistake religions make is to focus on selling us the answers they own, rather than inviting us more deeply into questions that own us.

Why Are Jews Liberals

Norman Podhoretz new book Why Are Jews Liberals? tries to explain why American Jews continue to vote liberal Democratic when it is the Republican Party that best serves our economic interests and is most in line with our concerns for the safety and survival of Israel. This month’s issue of Commentary Magazine invites a number of writers to comment on the book in an attempt to broaden the conversation. Both the book and the commentaries are worth reading, and what follows is my reaction to both.

Here is the gist of Mr. Podhoretz’ argument: Since the loss of our political independence thousands of years ago Jews have lived at the mercy of others, taking refuge in our religion and those political leaders and states that allowed us to live with a minimal amount of abuse. We did best in those societies moving toward universal values and personal freedom. Consequently we have sided with liberalism as that philosophy that best defended us from tyranny. Today, the argument goes, Judaism as a religion is mostly abandoned by Jews, and conservatives are far more likely than liberals to have the best interests of Jews in mind, especially when it comes to our economic standing and the survival of the State of Israel, yet most Jews continue to vote liberal Democratic. In short, we Jews are the only American interest group that votes against its own self–interest. Why?

Rabbi David Wolpe, one of the writers in Commentary, answers this question succinctly: Jews vote their self–conception rather than their self–interest. In other words, we still identify with the poor, the powerless, and the disenfranchised despite the fact that we are by and large wealthy, powerful, and claim a nuclear–armed homeland.

As Rabbi Wolpe says, “I suspect that until conservatism convinces most Jews that they have sympathy and a practical program for those who are real or putative outsiders, it will remain, among Jews at least, distinctly the minority movement.”

Michael Medved adds another element to the discussion I found valuable. According to Mr. Medved the reason why Jews don’t vote Republican is that at the core of American Jewish identity is a rejection of Christianity, especially the type of Christianity most readily associated with today’s Republican Party.

According to Medved, 75% of American Jews have never visited Israel, and most shun synagogue affiliation, let alone attendance. The only thing Jews have in common is that they aren’t Christian. And this is reflected in our voting patterns: We don’t vote for pro–Israel candidates, we vote against pro–Christian ones.

This is certainly understandable. While it is true that conservative Christian positions on abortion, homosexuality, and same–sex marriage are far closer to Torah-values than those positions held by liberals, it is also true that many of these same conservative Christians look forward to the day when all but 144,000 Jews are slaughtered in preparation for the return of the Prince of Peace. And even these few remaining Jews become Christians. So if we Jews have to choose between two evils, we choose the one that seems to most leave us and our Jewish identity alone.

Conservative columnist William Kristol comes to the following conclusion in his essay, “I’m going to stop worrying about American Jews. They’re not worth the headache. Either they’ll come to their sense or they won’t, and there’s not much I (or anyone else, I suspect) can do about it. So instead of focusing on the mishegas [craziness] of the American Jewish community, why not focus on the glories of Judaism?”

Mr. Kristol urges us to focus on Jewish education, Hebrew literacy, religious practice, examples of Jewish greatness, and the centrality of Israel.

Amen to that Reb William! But how is that different from what local synagogues and national Jewish organizations have been pushing for decades to no effect? Most American Jews don’t care about their history, their heroes, their religion, their homeland, or Hebrew. Yes we like to talk about our genius, but when we do we are more apt to speak about Woody Allen and Jon Stewart than Micah, Maimonides, or Martin Buber. So if we are going to give up on Jewish politics, we might as well give up on the rest of the agenda as well.

So where does this leave us? Honestly, I have no idea. There are lots of experiments in Jewish renewal going on in this country, and maybe some of them will catch on. And the fact that Jews aren’t lining up with what appears to me to be an ever more rightist and Christian Apocalyptic brand of Republicanism is not a sign of concern for me. But is there hope for something more creative than a change of sides? Your guess is as good as mine.

What I got from reading Podhoretz and Company is this: most American Jews are self-professed outsiders whose religion is justice as understood by the most liberal elements of western society, and we are willing to risk anti-Semitism and anti-Zionism if it means we can help bring true justice to the world. There may be something self-defeating in all of this, but also something heroic as well.

Bottom line for me is this: It seems that the conservatives Jews focus on the first half of Hillel’s famous teaching, “If I am not for myself, who will be for me?” While liberal Jews focus on the second half, “But if I am only for myself, what am I?”

What we need is a political stance that unites both sides of Hillel’s equation. And if not now, when?

Labor Day 09

Today is Labor Day. The holiday began in Hamilton, Ontario, Canada in 1870s as part of unionization efforts by Canadian workers. (Full Disclosure: I went to grad school in Hamilton, Ontario in the 1970s with the intension of working for worker’s rights, but I was 100 years late. Story of my life.) Labor Day came to the US after workers were killed by US Marshals and US military deployed to break the Pullman Strike of 1894. Pretty radical stuff.

What troubles me about today’s Labor Day is not just the lack of focus on labor and the rights and workers, but the huge numbers of people who are out of work. Unemployment in Tennessee has topped 10%. Sure that is a far cry from Depression era numbers, but that is still a lot of people out of work. And out of work often means uninsured. Very scary.

I chose to forgo full–time employment eight years ago. I decided to take the plunge and see if I could earn a living from my writing and workshops. Lucky for me my wife works for the state and has insurance that covers the both of us. Otherwise, I too would be among the uninsured. But that was and is my choice. I don’t want a full–time job, and am grateful that I don’t have to find one. But I worry about those who want work and can’t find it. Especially when they fall under the sway of those fear mongers who actually convince them to turn against policies that might benefit them and people like them.

Yesterday, I received an email asking what advice I would give young college graduates this year. This is what I wrote, “Find a job, any job, to pay the bills, but don’t rely on others to keep you employed. While you are working at whatever you can find, figure out what it is you love to do and are good at (or can get good at), and create work for yourself that will keep you from being at the mercy of others. You can’t escape being part of the larger economy, but do your best not be a victim of it. Live as simply and as cheaply as you can. Don’t use credit or become enslaved to credit cards. Save every dollar you can. Talk to an expert about financial planning. Accept the fact that you are on your own. Nobody is going to take care of you. Take care of yourself—eat right, exercise, don’t do anything to damage your body, make friends, do what you love even if you to also work a job you hate. Create small communities of friends who pledge to take care of one another in times of illness or emergency. Meditate. Borrow from and rephrase the New Hampshire motto: Live free. Die well.”

I have no idea if this is good advice or not. It just came out of me, and I was too busy to edit it. I’m curious as to what you would have said. I’m sure I will learn a lot. Happy Labor Day to you all.

Blaming the Jew$

Not only did I kill Jesus, and continue to mix the blood of Christian babies with my Passover matzah, now it seems that I am responsible for the collapse of the global economy.

A recent survey of Americans published in Boston Review finds that 65% of Americans think my fellow Jews and I are responsible for the Great Recession.

I know what you’re thinking (besides the thought, “He has no idea what I’m thinking,” see I told you I knew what you were thinking)—most of these people are Republicans. But no, only 18.4% of Republicans think this way, while 32% of Democrats do.

Democrats!?! Are you kidding me? But I voted for Obama! I cried at the Kennedy memorial (though mostly because the coverage pre-empted my regular programming). I am a liberal for God’s sake. Why blame me? I lost money, too. Can it really be I have to hang with Sarah Palin to keep from being hung by my fellow Democrats? Damn!

The study goes on and on, and I just couldn’t read it all. It was too scary. Bottom line: Americans are growing more and more angry, and more and more eager to blame someone for their problems, and since it is no longer kosher for anyone other than Glenn Beck to blame our problems on black people, guess whose top on America’s hit list? Yep, the Jews.

With the Catholic Church deciding it is once again time to convert the Jews (see my last blog entry), and the majority of Americans blaming Jews for the state of the economy, is it time for us Jews to consider moving on? It could be.

I’m not saying we need to pack up and run just yet, but I would definitely keep my eyes and ears open. We used to say “America is different,” and it may be. But Americans aren’t. People love scapegoats, and we Jews are no exception. In fact we invented the idea of the scapegoat. Look it up in the Bible. The only difference is we used real goats, not people.

But where would we run? Europe? Nope. Thirty-one per cent of Europeans blame the Jews for the economy, so forget Europe. Israel? Most Israelis blame Jews for their economy, but that is because they are mostly Jews, so maybe if we have to run somewhere that is where we will run. But I hate the idea of putting all Jews in one basket (as opposed to putting one Jew in one basket which is the story of Passover). Makes us too easy to blot out. So I’m thinking China. (I know last Friday I suggested we consider Amsterdam, and I am not abandoning the Netherlands, just hedging my bets.)

Why China? First, because I love the Tao te Ching. Second, because Jewish people love Chinese food. Third, because their economy isn’t as bad off as ours, so they aren’t blaming the Jews. Yet. If things go south I assume the Chinese people will suddenly discover that the ruling junta were all Jews in disguise. Scooby Dooby Jew!

Anyway, all I’m saying is that we have seen this before and it never turns out well for us. When will you know it is time to run? When it turns out that page 64,532 of the final healthcare reform bill has a paragraph that mandates the wearing of yellow Stars of David by all Jews. Then come the real death panels. Try to be packed by then.

The Old/New Future of Catholic-Jewish Relations

In 1965 Vatican II began a long process toward Jewish–Catholic rapprochement that eventually produced the 2002 document on interfaith understanding called “Reflections on Covenant and Mission.” In this document the Church affirmed the Jewish mission in the world and the value of Judaism as a unique and authentic way to God.

Pretty radical stuff. Too radical it turns out, and the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops has just published a new statement clarifying certain ambiguities in the 2002 document.

The 2002 paper said, “both the Church and the Jewish people abide in covenant with God;” and that both Catholicism and Judaism “have missions before God to undertake in the world,” and that the Jewish mission “must not be curtailed [by Catholics] seeking the conversion of the Jewish people.”

That seems pretty unambiguous to me, but, then, I’m not Catholic. To help ambiguity prone Catholics understand the meaning of the 2002 statement, the American Bishops clarified it by saying that the only way Jews can fulfill their mission is by converting to Catholicism. And, just in case you found that clarification a bit murky, they charged every Catholic to convert every Jew “in every generation.”

Wow! I guess the 2002 document really was ambiguous, since it seemed to say just the opposite!

Then there was the equally ambiguous notion from 2002 that interfaith dialogue was for the “sharing of gifts, devoid of any intention whatsoever to invite the dialogue partner into baptism.” Clarifying that confusing statement, the Conference now tells us that it is the job of the Catholic dialogue partner to promote Catholicism and to invite her fellow partners in dialogue to follow Christ.

That really helps. I thought the earlier statement about being “devoid of any intention whatsoever” to convert the other person meant that Catholics were to be “devoid of any intention whatsoever” to convert the other person when in fact it meant that Catholics are obligated to convert the other person. I mean, talk about ambiguity!

How bad is this going to get? Before his death last year at 90 years of age, Cardinal Avery Dulles, a major American Catholic theologian, declared the Jews’ covenant with God “obsolete,” and let my people know that there is no salvation outside the Church. And earlier this year Pope Benedict XVI welcomed back into the priestly fold Richard Williamson the formerly excommunicated Holocaust denier. And last year he reinstated the Good Friday prayer calling for the conversion of all Jews. So it is safe to say that it isn’t safe anymore?

If this was 1492 and I lived in Catholic Spain under King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella, I would seriously think about moving to Amsterdam. But for now I’ll just avoid walking by a Catholic Church after Good Friday services. Still I think I’ll purchase a few open tickets to the Netherlands just in case. Spinoza, anyone?

The Jewish Problem with Prayer

The August 28, 2009 edition of the Forward, one of the great Jewish newspapers, had two articles on new siddurim (prayer books) being published by both Jewish denominations and individual synagogues.

The lead article opens with the question, “What can a new Hebrew-English Siddur do to solve the problems of prayer for modern Jews?” I have read the article several times, and I am not sure it ever answers the question, though the editor’s headline suggests one: “Even a New Siddur Can’t Close ‘God Gap.’” If the headline means that the answer to the lead question is “no,” then I agree. But agreeing or disagreeing is irrelevant unless and until someone defines what the problem is Jews have with prayer.

The answer, I suppose, is the God Gap, but that presupposes we know what God is, and I doubt that is true. So let’s try this again:

Can a new siddur solve the problem of prayer for modern Jews? No. Why not? Because the “problem of prayer” is that most Jews don’t pray. Why not? Because most Jews don’t believe in a God that merits prayer.

There are only two reasons to pray to God. Either you are praising (and thanking) Him for something He did or didn’t do, or asking Him to do something you are afraid He doesn’t want to do. In either case you are assuming God is male, self-conscious, and volitional; a being who knows you and your situation, and who actually gives a damn about it. Most Jews just don’t think this way.

How do I know what most Jews think? Just look at the statistics of synagogue attendance. One statistic I read recently (sorry, I can’t remember the source) claimed that only 11% of American Jews attend synagogue on any given Shabbat. We can assume that some of these attendees aren’t there to pray, but are simply meeting a communal or cultural obligation, but even if all them were God–fearing men and women, that still leaves 89% of American Jews in the non–praying category.

I am one of the 89%. I find Shabbat services tedious, lifeless, emotionally and intellectually vapid, and, not surprisingly, boring. And it doesn’t matter what siddur is being used.

What would bring me to shul?

First, high quality music—not cantorial pomp or silly schlock rock from some long outgrown Jewish camp experience, but deeply moving Hebrew chanting and evocative even ecstatic Hasidic music ala Rabbi Shlomo Carlebach. If you have never gone to services at the Carlebach shul in Manhattan, I suggest you do. Very moving.

Second, and this where even the Carlebach shul fails me, a liturgy that is brief and theologically compelling. No reading of the same prayers over and over. No warlord God who chooses the Jews and whacks our enemies. No ass–kissing, no thanking God for making the sunshine and keeping the stars to their orbits. No God who guarantees me success if I follow His rules. The universe is so much more grand, terrible, and awe–inspiring than Iron Age cosmology or medieval poetry can imagine. I want a liturgy that helps me feel the awesomeness of creation, and that can’t happen when we are sitting in a brick box reading out of a book. I want to pray outdoors at night under the stars, or, because I love to stay dry and avoid extremes of heat and cold, I would revamp every sanctuary to function as a planetarium. There is only one liturgy worth praying, and that is "Holy shit! This world is awesome!" Or, in the interest of the kids, I would settle for a full-bodied "Wow!"

Third, I want Torah study that is intellectually rigorous, historically accurate, and radically iconoclastic. I don’t want to discuss how Noah got all those animals on the ark; I want to discuss what kind of God drowns 99.999999999% of life on earth? I want to study the Akeida, the near–sacrifice of Isaac, in the context of child sacrifice among Jews and nonJews in biblical times. I want to read Torah as an educated adult.

Fourth, I want to experience something during services other than the urge to scream and run from the room. I want to feel awe and wonder. I want to sense my connectedness to Something Greater (call it God, Universe, Nature) that includes all beings and the cosmos as a whole. I don’t want to talk about God; I want to experience God.

And fifth, I want silence. Not a faux silent prayer that is mumbled aloud; not a half–moment of silence; not a silence filled with someone's guided meditation—actual silence. Just me and you breathing together.

No new prayer book is going to do this. And I say this as one whose liturgical poems appear in siddurim across the country and around the world. I have written several siddurim in my lifetime. I even toy with the idea of writing another, but what stops me is the knowledge that words are not our only problem. The setting is wrong. The tone is wrong. The theology is wrong. The politics are wrong. The expectation is wrong. We don't demand anything from our liturgy or our services. We expect to be bored and we are. It isn't just our rabbis and cantors fault, it is ours, the 89% of us who fail to go to shul regularly.

Yes, it is my fault that synagogue is vapid and boring. But it is too hard to change things. The people who do go like it the way it is, and I don't want to fight them. The people who lead services are proud of what they do, and I don't want to insult them. It is easier to simply stay home.

So this Shabbat I will do what I do on most Saturdays: walk in the woods, chant aloud, and allow myself to be surrendered to the reality of What Is that I call God. No book; never boring.

Off Line until next week

I am teaching in Aspen, CO. all next week, and may not be able to post from there. Talk with you all when I get back.

Headlines

There were a number of interesting articles in this past Monday’s USA TODAY (August 17, 2009). Here are three of them:

Lutherans Consider Same–Sex Clergy.

Aren’t all clergy same–sex? Do you know any clergy people who are more than one sex?

Mormons are Less Mans?

It is the responsibility of every Mormon male to go on a mission and bring the word of the Angel Maroni to the peoples of the earth. Good for them! But whether or not you think as Glenn Beck does that President Obama hates white people (which is only fair since Kanye West told us that President Bush hates black people), the Obama administration certainly has a Mormon problem.

It seems that they have decided not to count Mormons on missions outside the United States in the next US census. According to the Census Bureau there is no way to accurately count the reported (by me) two hundred million Mormon missionaries serving overseas. According to officials in Utah, not counting missionaries has and could again cost Utah its fair share of seats in the US House of Representatives.

Why would Obama do this to the Mormons? Could it have anything to do with the fact that until fairly recently taught that all black people were cursed? Or that it used to be easier for a dead Jew to be baptized as a Mormon (a practice the Mormon church insists it has ceased to perform, though my dead bubbe keeps knocking on my door with copies of the Book of Mormon in her hand) than for a live black man to join? Could it? Huh? It’s payback time, Joseph Smith! Deal with it!

Hello, My Name is Armageddon

I was watching GPS with Fareed Zakaria this past Sunday as he interviewed the Israeli Ambassador to the United States. When asked about Israel’s stockpile of nuclear weapons (shh, no one is supposed to know they have them, though the secret is revealed to every Jewish kid who becomes bat or bar mitzvah), he insisted that Israel would not be the first country to “introduce” nukes into the Middle East.

Asked what he meant given the fact that everyone knows Israel has a couple of hundred nukes (Fareed is a Muslim, but as a kid he attended lots of b’nai mitzvah parties and must have heard this from some loose-lipped Jewish kid), the ambassador kept repeating the word “introduce, introduce” as if Fareed didn’t understand the word.

Maybe he doesn’t. What the ambassador was saying that Israel has never introduced anyone to its missiles. Like, you know, “Mr. President this is our friend Nuke and his two hundred or so brothers and sisters.” No, Israel is one rude country, and its nukes just sit in a corner ignored by almost everyone. Except the Iranians. I think the Ayatollah went to a bar mitzvah or two himself.

What's Next

[The following questions came from a graduate student researching middle–aged clergy. The questions thoughtful, and I share my answers with you if only to get those of you who are my age (58) and older to think about how you might answer similar questions.]

What were your goals when you first graduated seminary, and how close have you come to reaching them? I had one goal when I graduated Hebrew Union College in 1981, and that was to create a Judaism in which I felt comfortable. That meant shifting from dualism (God as supernatural Other) to panentheism (God as all reality), which in turn required revisioning liturgy, holy days, and Torah to reflect that nondual theology.

I created my own synagogue to carry out my vision and achieve my goal, and stayed with that shul for twenty years. I would say the experiment was a success in that a thriving community arose around the ideas I was teaching. I have published these ideas in two books, Minyan and Open Secrets, published in 1997 and 2004, respectively.

How did mid–life impact your career, and how do you feel about it? My mid–life shift came around my fiftieth birthday in 2001. By then I had taken my synagogue work as far as I could, and I needed to do something else. I wanted to be free from communal obligations and limitations. I didn’t want to represent anything or anyone other than myself. So I left my shul and focused on my writing and speaking.

Writing has been my passion since seventh grade. I have published about fourteen books, written numerous essays and poems that have appeared in many magazines and anthologies, write a spiritual advice column for Spirituality & Health magazine, and have even had some of my short verse published as greeting cards. My writing has won several awards, and allowed me to reach thousands of people through both my books and articles, and the retreats and workshops I give based on them. So I would say the last decade has been very good to me.

What are your current goals and interests? How do plan to spend the second half of your life? Let me start with the second question. I think it is a mistake to divide one’s life in halves. Given that three of my grandparents were long–lived, and that both my parents are alive and well in their mid–eighties, I expect that, barring anything unforeseen, I will live into my eighties. That means I am not in the second half of my life, but in the final third. [Notice I have no problem with dividing life into sections, I just think three is better than two. Hindus prefer four to three, and that deserves some consideration as well.]

The first third of my life was devoted to earning the credentials that would allow me to do whatever it was I was going to do with the second third of my life. The second third was devoted to making my mark on the world these credentials opened to me. I did this by creating my synagogue, and writing books, music, liturgy—everything for which I am currently known. But the final third…. Hmmm.

Here is what I know so far:

1. I have no interest in going backwards. That is to say, I cannot foresee taking on any kind of communal responsibility. Nor do I wish to be a guru of any sort. I am a seeker, and have desire to either lead or follow.

2. While I imagine I will continue to write books, I question whether or not this is a backward move. Does the world need yet another book? Are books the right vehicle for reaching the twenty and thirty–somethings I hope to reach? The future isn’t the printed page, but the third screen—the pocket Internet platform we anachronistically call a phone. My fledgling efforts on YouTube along with my seemingly never ending Holy Rascals film project may be more indicative of my creative future than anything I have done in the past.

3. Judaism is no longer my primary focus. While I continue to study and teach about Judaism, I have long been drawn to more interfaith settings. Yet interfaith gatherings, even the larger spectacle–oriented events, are too often simplistic compare and contrast affairs that bore me. This is because I have been blessed with, and spoiled by, teachers who point toward a post-religious Interspirituality that honors one’s religion of origin even as it focuses on an unbounded quest for meaning rooted more in mythopoetics and scientific cosmology rather than in neo–tribal partisanship and pre–modern theologies.

4. This means I am searching for what’s next for me. I have made peace with being a Jew, but I refuse to let Judaism define me. I certainly don’t want to take on any other label. So where I go from here, I have no idea. Not–knowing isn’t a bad thing. It may be the blessing of the final third of life. And yet I admit to finding not–knowing anything but comforting. It isn’t that I am choosing not to know, it is that I have no choice but not to know.

So here is what I don’t know:

1. I don’t know if I will publish another book after the next two (The Angelic Way and Tanya: A Guide for Inbetweeners). And I don’t know if I care to.

2. I don’t know if I will make more short videos, though I hope to.

3. I don’t know if I will create a killer spiritual app for the iPhone or Blackberry, though I am working on it.

4. I don’t know if I will find a way a way to more deeply honor and engage with those teachers who have continued to shape my thinking since the 1960’s—Ramana Maharshi, Martin Buber, Alan Watts, and J. Krishnamurti—but I want to.

So, the bottom–line for me is this: I had goals and I achieved them. For that I am blessed and grateful. If I die today I can honestly say I did not live in vain. (Which is not to say I did not live vainly.) As for the rest—I just don’t know.

Parental Rights and Wrongs

What limits, if any, must be placed on a parent’s “right” to raise a child? I was in Portland, OR a couple of weeks ago working on my Holy Rascals film project. The local paper was abuzz with a jury’s verdict regarding Carl and Raylene Worthington who chose to heal their 15-month-old daughter, Ava, spirituality rather than medically. Ava died. Deadlocked for days, the jury finally acquitted the couple of all manslaughter charges, and found Carl Worthington guilty of a misdemeanor.

I don’t want to argue the verdict. I want to explore the idea behind it. Are parents allowed to suffer their children to bear the burden of the parent’s faith? Ava died not because of what she believed, but because of what her parents’ believed. Do parents have the right to do this?

And what about instilling your beliefs in your child as they mature? I taught my son that he is a Jew, and along with that identity comes serious obligations. He is a member of a tribe that is often hated and hunted. He is often associated with Israeli policies with which he has no connection and shares no love. Had I not told him that he was a Jew, would any of this be true?

What about parents who instill in their children the notion of Original Sin? My son doesn’t suffer from this particular spiritual disease, and has no need of the Cure: belief in Jesus as Christ. Are those who infect their children with sin doing the right thing? Are those who tell their children there is no such thing at fault?

I know children who were told from early on that the earth is only ten thousand years old and that humans coexisted with and even road on the backs of dinosaurs. Is this not a form of child abuse? Are these kids not handicapped in a world that is rooted in what former President George W. Bush dismissively called the “reality based community”? And if it is, it is any less insane than teaching your child that wrong beliefs (i.e. beliefs that mom and dad call wrong) send you to hell? Or that God gave a strip of land to the Jews and they have a right to divest it of those who lived in it for centuries?

Do parents’ have the right to teach children whatever they please? Does the child have no right to truth? If, when it comes to the physical welfare of a child, the government is apt to intervene and at least try to hold parents responsible for their child’s welfare, why not do so when it is the child’s intellectual welfare is at state as well?

Please share your thoughts on this.

Ten Thoughts

I woke up this morning and these ten thoughts just gripped my fingers and controlled the keys. Here they are as raw and unedited as they came to me. Comments welcome.

Judaism is the invention of the Jew. Different Jews invent different Judaisms. There never was, nor will there ever be, just one Judaism.
• • •
The Jew is the invention of the Torah. Torah is the story of the Jews, and there are no Jews without this story. But Torah is also the invention of the Jew. Hence the Jews invented themselves.
• • •
The Jews invented God. Well, not GOD, but YHVH, their God. Different Jews, different Gods. Priestly Jews invented a spectacle¬–hungry God who loves priestly pomp and power. Prophetic Jews invented a righteous God who hates what the Priestly God loves, and demands justice and compassion instead. Rabbinic Jews invented a lawyer God who loves legal wrangling and obedience to rabbinic law. Secular Jews invented a doubting God who denied even Himself. Zionist Jews invented a realtor God who loved land more than law, especially now—Century 21 indeed!
• • •
All gods are as real as those who invent them, as powerful as those who profit from them, and as immortal as those who worship them.
• • •
Christian Jews invented a powerless God. Can you imagine YHVH hanging from a cross? The YHVH who terrorized the Egyptians and slaughtered their firstborn sons being captured, scourged, and crucified by Romans? Of course not. Jesus was the son of a powerless God worshipped by a powerless people who, since they couldn’t save their sons, invented a God who couldn’t save his either.
• • •
The God of Jesus eschews power, for Jesus had none. And the God of his followers eschewed power until they get some.
• • •
While the early Christians embraced death and their crucified God, elevating martyrdom to the greatest mitzvah, the Jews imagined new life into their old Warlord and went to war. But imagination wasn’t sufficient, and Rome won.
• • •
This should have been the end of the Jews, but it wasn’t. They imagined differently, and YHVH went from a God who rewards those he loves to a God who tests (read allows to be hounded, hunted, brutalized, tortured, and gassed) those he loves. The Jews imagined a Divine Batterer and loved him all the more for it. Jews imagined themselves as the Bride of YHVH, and made a religion out of Battered Wife Syndrome. Maybe that’s why we invented psychotherapy?!?
• • •
Today the questions are these: Will the battered become the batterers? Can the Jewish imagination invent a new Jew, a new Torah, a new God, a new future? Or are we too old, too tired, too tied to what was to imagine what might yet be?

The Danger of Difference

Two weeks ago I attended an interfaith gathering in Portland, OR. The purpose of the gathering was to introduce people to the Parliament of the World’s Religions and encourage us to attend this year’s Parliament in Australia. It was a nice enough gathering with the usual collection of well-intentioned people peppered with a smattering of socially functional schizophrenics. One conversion I had with a member of the former group proved most interesting.

A sixty-something woman who has devoted the latter part of her life to promoting interfaith understanding told me that she was tired of gatherings such as this where we all put on our most polite faces, unpacked our most humble theological positions, and pretended that all religions are rooted in and pointing toward the same truth. “I would prefer,” she told me, “to speak about the differences among the world’s religions rather than their supposed similarities.”

I smiled, nodded in a noncommittal manner, and hoped the subject would pass. It didn’t. She pressed me for an opinion. I gave her one, unfortunately it was my own.

I don’t think people who come to interfaith gatherings are really interested in learning about other religions, but only in learning how other religions jibe with their own. Isn’t it wonderful: we all want to end poverty, homelessness, inequality, and fix the environment! But do we? Look at countries like Iran, Iraq, and Israel—countries that define themselves to one degree or another by religion. Are these nations paragons of environmental health? Have they eliminated poverty, homelessness, and inequality? Or look at the United States, ostensibly a secular state, yet one with a population that describes itself as overwhelmingly religious: are we exemplars of virtue?

So even on those subjects where we pretend to take a real interest, we actually do very little. If we were to open the can of worms called “difference” would that help? If Jew were honest and admitted that Judaism’s notion that Jews are God’s Chosen People elevates Jews above all others in the eyes of God, would that help interfaith cooperation? If Christians who believed that Jesus Christ is the only way, life, and truth affirmed that faith and admitted that this means all other religions are false, would our dialogue improve? If Buddhists really made it clear that there is no soul, would those whose religions depend on the existence of souls be any more inclined to carry on a conversation? Would it improve relations between Islam and Christianity if Muslim attendees at interfaith gatherings voiced the central Muslim idea that the very thought of God having a son is anathema?

Of course not. Interfaith dialogue as most people practice it is built on a foundation of voluntary silence: everyone agrees to remain silent about the beliefs they hold when those beliefs contradict those of other religions. I suspect that if real issues of belief were broached at most interfaith gatherings the dialogue would end immediately.

Most people I encounter at most interfaith gatherings want to believe that everyone else believes just what they believe only they use different words to say it. Given this premise, there really isn’t much dialogue going on at these gatherings at all.

Does Jonny Z Have Rights?

I don’t like to argue, though I do like to rant. When I found myself in a conversation on “Right to Life” issues the other day I did my best to avoid both. It went something like this:*

Him: “I’m pro-life.”

Me: “Me too.”

Him: “I believe that life begins at conception.”

Me: “Me too.”

Him: “I believe that all humans have rights.”

Me: “Me too.”

Him: “I am pro-family and I believe that children are happier being brought up by two loving parents than by one loving parent.”

Me: “Me too, though by this logic three loving parents would be even better, and four better still; and that one loving parent is better than ½ of a loving parent, or one loving parent and one abusive parent, or one loving parent and a Great Ape, or two Great Apes no matter how loving (Tarzan being the sole exception, his adopted mom being a loving Great Ape).”

This last response was a bit much, and by the look on the other fellow’s face I should have shut up. But I didn’t. God help me, I ranted:

Me: “While I agree with you on these issues, for the life of me I can’t see how these beliefs help me any when dealing with the cultural landmines of our times.

“Take our belief that a human zygote has rights. OK, what rights? Right to life. OK, what kind of life? Does it have a right to clean air, clean water? Maybe not, since zygotes don’t breathe or drink. How about the right to a decent education? No, zygotes have less consciousness than a turnip. How about the right to live in a healthy womb, and the right not to be poisoned by a mom who smokes, drinks, does drugs, breathes polluted air, and drinks unclean water? This seems basic to me, and yet mom has a right to smoke and drink, and has little control over the air she breathes and the water she drinks. So do little Jonny Zygote’s rights really matter?

“Having rights tells us very little. Jonny Zygote’s right to a smoke-free womb conflicts with Mommy’s right to smoke-filled lungs. How do we decide who wins?

“And what about the case where Jonny’s life will take mommy’s life? Why should his right to life trump her right to life? Shouldn’t the ‘last hired, first fired’ rule work in this situation, or does seniority have no meaning when it comes to the right to life?

“And what if mommy is mommy to others, and also cares for an aged and ailing grandma or grandpa? What if Jonny Z. has a birth defect that will wipe out his family’s finances? Does he have the right to rob his family of the finances they need to survive? Is it right that his need for medication and care trumps similar needs for grandma and grandpa? Or are you for socialized medicine as well as right to life?”

Him: “No socialized medicine is Communist and Canadian.”

Me: “Right, so we have to ration health care to those who can afford it, and Jonny Z hasn’t got a dime, so let’s take care of mom and her parents first. At least they’ve earned it.”

Him: “But we can’t just kill the unborn babies!”

Me: “But does that mean we have to let the unborn kill the long–ago born? Or what if Jonny Z’s condition will rob his two-year-old sister of healthcare she desperately needs? Is being two a crime? Does being unborn trump being born in every case? My point is that rights are irrelevant. When we talk about rights we have to talk about competing rights, and do you want the government deciding whose rights take precedence?”

Him: “No way. I want the government out of our lives altogether!”

Me: “Me too. So let’s just leave the government out of all moral decisions.”

Him: “Sounds good to me.”

Me: “So no more government interference with marriage, end-of-life issues, abortion, or any other matter that is really between a person and her conscience. I had no idea you were such a liberal. Must be tough living here in Middle Tennessee.”

Him:

Me: ☺

*This is based on an actual conversation, though it is recalled from memory.