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03.28.08 Shemini: Bad Religious ExperiencesDear Rabbi J., You are perhaps the only Rabbi that I feel I can write to about the following painful subject. I grew up in a very secular home, with no faith and no G-d. My parents were both highly intelligent, cultured individuals. My father amassed a fortune as a shrewd and successful businessman, while my mother was a professional in her own right. But despite my family’s stature, we grew up in a loveless home. Our parents were not there for us, nor were they there for each other. My parents were not loyal to each other and ultimately divorced, leaving my siblings and me adrift. I was always conscious of being Jewish, though I knew nothing about it. As I suffered through my un-nurturing home life, I began a spiritual search that ultimately led me to the Jewish community. There I found a warmth and love that I had never before experienced. The power of Jewish tradition – Shabbat, prayer, even kosher – resonated with me. Not that commitment came easily to me. But I appreciated the power of commitment – something I had never really experienced. My life was all about shifting loyalties, broken promises, dashed dreams – all creating profound distrust and insecurity. But now I discovered something new: Committed people to each other, to family, to community and to a higher calling. It was quite compelling. I also sensed a simplicity and even rejection of the high culture I grew up in. Most of the religious Jews I met were not open to other ideas and to a free-spirited perspective. But I reckoned that perhaps the trade-off was worth it: Sacrificing some of the beauty of art and literature, but without a rudder, for a life of trust, love and commitment, with very strong sense of purpose. I was seduced by the observant lifestyle, and I slowly but surely became totally observant myself. At some point I couldn’t do enough. I made friends quickly and was welcomed into the community with open arms. For every friend and family I came to know another set of traditions became part of my regimen. I began using my Hebrew name in place of my secular one. I was kissing mezuzahs, reciting Tehillim, running to synagogue, praying at holy places, tying red strings on every one of my joints. I even took an extended leave from work to go study in a Yeshiva in Israel. And I met many others on a similar journey. As I look back at it now, it all was a blurring whiz – I was completely taken and consumed by the euphoria, like a marathon runner whose legs can’t stop moving, being pulled along on the adrenalin generated by the cheers of all the bystanders and the momentum of my fellow runners. Pretty soon I was one of those “baalei teshuvah,” with various Rabbis and Rebbetzin’s taking credit for my miraculous “return” to my roots. Adding a feather to many caps, I was then deluged with “shidduchim,” potential marriage mates, whom I began to date. At that point, I began to feel my own self re-emerging and wasn’t really sure what I wanted outside of the demands and pressures of those around me. Truth be told, their intentions were for the most part pure, but they simply did not allow me to be myself. With the argument that they – or as they would put it, the “Torah” – knows better. I realized that my great hunger for spirit and meaning totally overwhelmed my senses and my sense of self, and I was being carried on the waves of enthusiasm. I seriously couldn’t distinguish between who I was as opposed to who others thought I was; between my individual needs and the expectations of me. The boundaries became blurred: where did others end and where did I begin? And then the ax fell. The honeymoon was over. As I began to land and returned to my daily routines, I also began to see many of the flaws of the communities that embraced me. Frankly, that did not disturb me at all. I was not a child nor naïve; I understood that every social circle has its strengths and its weaknesses. People are people. What drew me to the religious community was not a fantastic expectation that I found perfect people; rather that I had found a perfect Judaism – a way that G-d wants us to live. What ended up truly troubling me was that so many of the religious community were simply mindless and mechanical – and callous. That too is forgivable; the secular world is not much different. What was not forgivable, however, was that in their mindlessness (masked in blind faith) many were cruel and selfish. And to top it off, when “dressed” in religious garb, the self-righteousness is simply unbearable. From condescension to outright arrogance, anything that did not neatly fit into the “comfortable” zone of the initiated was simply dismissed or criticized. Religion was much more about appearances and mechanics than it was about inner spiritual development. Except for a rare few, I did not witness introspection, an effort in personal refinement and growth, deepening love and relationships. That’s fine, as long as you don’t spend your time criticizing others and convincing yourself that you are better than others just because you are wearing a sheitel. My questions, for example, became the irritating voice of the malcontent. From “she’s too independent” to the profoundly psychological “what can you do, she comes from a dysfunctional family,” people seemed to need to explain me away some way, instead of just having an intelligent conversation that perhaps would enlighten us all. Especially destructive were those Rabbis and teachers who always knew “what was best for me.” I appreciate their scholarship, but many are quite unevolved when it comes to human emotions and personal refinement. They hide behind texts and quote chapters, verses and halachot. But some simply are clueless of the “fifth” shulchan aruch – common sense. Some of these “authorities” felt that they had to baby-sit for the “nebech” me and others who unfortunately did not grow up “frum.” Their guidance, I understand today, was anything but empowering. It was not driven by confidence in our souls, but by fear that we would wander off. Their intentions may have been fine, but they fundamentally believe that in Judaism there is an “us” and a “them,” “haves” and “have-nots,” and that they were superior to the less informed and educated. If you rejected their advice, on whatever grounds, you were turned on, blacklisted and cast out of the “inner circle.” Today I am alienated and angry. Lonely and disturbed. And yes, I have regressed in my observance. I deeply love the spiritual path of Judaism. [Not all is lost, Rabbi. I still kiss mezuzahs and wear my red string… Among other things that I cherish and embrace, including Shabbat]. Yet I cannot find a community where I can belong. Equally sad are the other lonely souls that I meet with similar stories. Many have completely rejected the Jewish tradition that they once embraced. Some are livid when it comes to this topic. I am not in that category. Please understand: I am not writing to you to vent my grievances or to just criticize the “system.” I see much of its beauty and am eternally grateful to those that took me in, taught me and in many ways transformed my life. I am writing on a personal level: How should I view my experience? What should I be doing? Is there hope? D. A. Dear D. A., Thank you for writing and opening up a “Pandora’s box” of issues that affect many people, yet is hardly discussed, at least in a Torah context. I for one firmly believe that as irreverent as your questions may be, it is absolutely critical to address them in a constructive and meaningful manner. Hopefully this can be a catalyst that will generate a wider discussion in the broader community. As you accurately emphasize, the focus here should not be on criticizing the negative elements of the “system” and “establishment.” That deserves its own discussion – and much can be said about it. What I will then discuss is the actual spiritual/religious journey you describe – a journey that many have taken – and its challenges and hazards, and above all: how we are to navigate in face of all the shortcomings you describe and many more that you don’t. You may be surprised to hear that your dilemma – troubling so many people today – is addressed in this week’s Torah portion. The chapter describes a defining event in history: For the first time ever the Divine presence finds a home in the material universe – in the Mishkan, the holy Sanctuary. “Built me a Sanctuary and I will rest among you.” As the verse states: On this first momentous “opening” day of the Mishkan, “G-d's glory was revealed to all the people. Fire came forth from before G-d and consumed the burnt offering.” You can imagine what kind of powerful reaction this must have caused amongst the people who witnessed this unprecedented revelation. What happened next? “When the people saw this, they raised their voices in praise and threw themselves on their faces” in complete awe. Then, in a moment of utter spiritual ecstasy, “Aaron’s sons, Nadav and Avihu, each took his fire pan, placed fire on it and then incense. They offered before G-d a strange fire, which He had not instructed them. Fire came forth from G-d and it consumed them, and they died before G-d.” Aaron’s sons had a religious awakening, and in their sheer hunger and bliss, they were driven to enter the Holy of Holies, and got consumed by the very fire they were trying to contain. What did they do wrong? They moved too fast and did so at their own volition, unprepared. The fire was Divine, but it was “strange” to them. They were not ready to contain it. Though Nadav and Avihu were on a level loftier than any of us will ever attain, the lesson to us all is very clear: True faith is a powerful force. Like a fire it has the power to warm and illuminate, but also the power to consume and destroy. When edging close to the fire great care has to be taken to ensure that you are able to take the heat and contain the light. Do not lose yourself in the process of becoming Divine. You have to own your choices. Faith ought not be a “strange fire,” which is alien to you; it needs to be integrated into your being. If not, its intensity can burn you. Does this then mean that we should not embrace Judaism until it is totally integrated? Absolutely not! An equally polarizing approach is to be so cautious of the fire that we never make a move. Balance is the key: Knowing how to move forward at your own pace, in a way that doesn’t overwhelm and consume you. One mitzvah at a time. “Mitzvah goreres mitzvah,” our sagely wisely tell us. One mitzvah brings along another. The outcome of the Nadav and Avihu story is not that no one shall ever enter the holy sanctuary; rather, G-d lays out an entire set of rules, a process, how one is to enter the holy place and remain intact. This delicate dance is especially acute for sensitive souls, who sense the power of the fire. Aaron’s sons were the most spiritual of them all, as Moses makes it abundantly clear that their demise was a result of their greatness. It was their deep love and passion for the Divine that caused them to enter the Temple unprepared (as the Ohr haChaim explains). As Moses told Aaron that his sons experience fulfilled G-d’s words, “I will be sanctified among those close to Me, and I will thus be glorified.” Deep souls hungry for spirituality and cognizant of its intimate power have to be especially careful when faced with a Divine experience. Too often religion is presented in a didactic and dogmatic way. Peer and social pressure is applied demanding conformation. And you – the individual – are lost in the process. While there is value in inspiring someone with faith and there is a notion of joining a community, and not standing on a side (“al tifrosh min hatzibbur”), at the same time, however, the power of community is only possible once and after an individual has found his distinct place and unique voice, then he can join and actually help create a community, to which he is loyal. But the group is not meant to stunt or annihilate the individual, rather to enhance him. First, we must cultivate self-confidence, and then allow the individual to make and own his choices. As important as a community may be, as welcoming as a religious group may be – what is even more important is that the individual entering the community be allowed and encouraged at his or her own pace. To ensure that newfound spiritual truth be integrated into his or her being. This is true even in the purest form of religious experience. How much more so when it is being presented by flawed human beings, who themselves are hardly role models and paragons of spiritual refinement. Too often, certain teachers and guides and mentors see their role as one of prodding along, directing, even babysitting for a person who is just being initiated into Judaism. Even if their intentions are right, it is vital to gauge the needs of the individual, not the needs of the teacher, lest you end up burning the person who is not yet ready for such spiritual enlightenment. How much more so when the teacher is far from perfect and may not be the best representative of the message. Then, it is of critical importance, that the teacher qualify his role and humbly acknowledge how he and all of us are in the same boat, and are available to help each other. So while it’s true that children need to be directed in the path of faith, and we all, even adults, are in need of the support and guidance of teachers and mentors, yet, the ultimate goal is not to create dependencies but independence. Because after all is said and done, the path of faith is not about the teacher, nor is it about the community; it is about G-d and His personal relationship with each one of us. The spiritual path is not a superimposed one but one that allows and facilitates the true human personality to emerge – the Divine Image in which each of us individually was created. The ultimate role of a teacher, a mentor and a Rabbi is to inspire, motivate and empower each of us in that direction. If an adult is unable to own his faith there is something seriously wrong. Bureaucracy more than religion is the root of the attitude that religion is an elitist country club, with a few “gifted” authorities – blessed with being born religious and having received a solid education, achieved scholar status and authority – bestowing their benevolence on others and allow them into the inner club. Either we believe that all people were created equally in the Divine Image or we don’t. Religion is not an end in itself; it is not about a set of rituals and traditions. It is about allowing the soul free, and actualizing the potential within each on of us. The spiritual journey is not about self-indulgence. Neither is it about scoring points. It is the sacred journey of discovering your life mission. It is a Divine journey about releasing your soul, and transforming your corner of the universe into a home for G-d. So though we need the support from communities and structure, yet above all it is a fiercely personal journey – that has little to do with other people’s expectations and pressures. This is the profound and yet simple lesson each one of us today can glean from Nadav and Avihu: Own your faith; make it yours; integrate it. Don’t allow it to be strange to you. Or else… Once it becomes yours then you will be less vulnerable to the predators, to the community and to the pressures around us. The fire, especially in the hands of those that don’t always appreciate it, can be a force that annihilates personalities and ends up being used as yet another weapon of control. It is up to each of us to understand that we are adults and that we assume responsibility for our choices, with the full and complete ability to live up to them. I empathize with your life story and cry for your disappointments, as well as for so many others who have lost their trust in the Jewish community. With that being said, please don’t suffice with joining yet another club – the ex-club, “ex-baal-teshuva,” ex-orthodox, or the other exes out there, who gather together and share horror stories of the religious world. I understand the tendency and even healing element in finding a support group; I do not dismiss the value that it offers (no different than any of the support programs that help many people heal from various addictions and abuses). But true healing comes when we don’t just complain but do something about it. Like it is with healing from any form of abuse – religious abuse included – we cannot afford to just wallow in the grief and remain bitter. To sit around and complain about absentee fathers and neurotic mothers doesn’t allow you to grow. It keeps you trapped as a victim. And if Judaism and faith is anything it is not about victimization. It is about empowerment. We must mobilize ourselves and create a revolution. Allow your disappointments inform you and others. Your disillusionment contains much more than a negative experience; it demonstrates that 1) you have/had great confidence and aspirations in the spiritual path, 2) you have experienced first hand the inadequacies and failures of the “system.” This places you in the unique position of doing something about it. We can say that those who have personally experienced the limitations and shortcomings of the religious community are uniquely positioned to teach us all how we can create a spiritual revolution, and do so in fashion that allows us to bypass the petty and partisan forces of the system, and above all – allow the spirit within each of us to shine. The key is that you care. You genuinely and sincerely are troubled about the situation. Don’t allow that concern to turn into resignation. It would be a terrible shame if you allowed some flawed people and underdeveloped communities to shatter your dreams and hopes; it would be a great loss if your experiences undermine everything you ever believed in, your confidence and your spirit. Even Aaron’s sons, though consumed by the fire, were driven by their spiritual heights, by their love and passion for the Divine. Now you are at a place where you can own your Judaism; where you can express your faith with your beautiful and unique voice. Don’t be afraid of yourself. Don’t be afraid of those that want you to conform. The story of history is that the masses have always tried to intimidate the spirited few. It was our great father Abraham that pioneered the path of individuality. Defying the mainstream he forged a path toward G-d. Today too we need you to be our Abraham. You, who have been burned by the fire, teach us how to walk slowly, but proudly. It is vital that we create a network, a healthy and powerful synergy of like-minded individuals, who are on the spiritual journey and have yet to din their place. We must create grass-root connections (if not communities). So much good can grow out of that. Please see me as a friend and kindred spirit, offering you any support I can in your journey. Hopefully we both can help each other and so many more in our mutual Divine odyssey. Much success in your journey. May it be glorious. Rabbi Simon Jacobson Meaningful Life Center - Simon Jacobson To subscribe to Op-Ed Weekly newsletter 04.04.08 Tazria: Bad Religious Experiences Part 2Dear Rabbi Jacobson, I carefully read your response to D.A. Both her words and your reply are very well phrased. I commend you for your lucid and sensitive approach. But after finishing the entire exchange I was left with a gnawing feeling that something is missing. With all due respect, there is another side to the coin. That side is called kabolos ol, naaseh v’nishma – the general acceptance of Torah authority, Daas Torah. The basis of faith is accepting an authority that is beyond you. By suggesting that uneducated Jews returning to their roots should “own their choices,” and go at their “own pace,” you run the risk of allowing every individual to just follow their heart and not submit to any authority at all – a conclusion I am sure you did not want anyone to reach. In my opinion, we live today in a time when there is far too little respect for authority. Nothing is sacred. Everyone, including children, declares their “rights” to be autonomous. There is too much permissiveness. What we need is a call for more obedience, not less. Perhaps you should have suggested to D.A. that she should not be so involved with herself and her needs, and instead learn to serve G-d. This, I believe, is what her Rabbis were trying to tell her. Not that they know what’s best for her, but that the Torah knows what’s best for her. As such, she should be submitting and surrendering to Daas Torah and the Torah leaders that have the authority to render Torah-based opinions. Instead, you are encouraging her and others to just follow their own subjective whims, which goes counter and actually undermines the entire power of Torah, the Divine instructions how to live our lives. Given, some Rabbis are incompetent or untrained to apply Torah in a way that addresses today’s needs and challenges. But is that enough reason to undermine the entire authority of all Rabbis? (signed) Rabbi xxx Dear Rabbi xxx, Thank you for writing and for making some very legitimate points. However, as you can imagine, I disagree with you – not about our generation’s lack of reverence, but about who is to blame and what we are to do about it. Above all, your call to D.A. and others to simply submit with obedience to Daas Torah is precisely the crisis I was addressing, and demonstrates how detached you are from the problem. I wonder how much experience you have in this area. While what some of what you say may be correct on paper, in real life things are far more complex. And the Torah, being a Torah of life and for life, not a book on paper, addresses life in all its complexions. Some argue that there are actually two schools of thought how to deal with so-called “Baalei Teshuvah.” Let’s call them the “authoritative school” and the “individualistic school,” or the “school of self-abnegation” and the “school of self-actualization.” The former argues that the entire purpose of life is self-abnegation. G-d demands of us to subjugate our own self-interest and will to His Divine will. The latter contends that the purpose of existence is that we not lose our personalities and individuality, but rather that we become instruments of G-d’s will. Yes, we must subjugate ourselves to G-d’s law, but the ultimate goal is not self-abnegation but self-actualization. A more radical version of the first school suggests that men are basically brutes, and left to their own resources they will gravitate to self-interest and narcissism. Thus, the need to subjugate oneself and one’s desires to the Divine law in the Torah. The only reason, some claim, that we were given our own minds and personalities is a test – in order for us to suppress our individuality and surrender to G-d. The second school is repulsed by this concept and sees it, in effect, as a form of self-annihilation. Why would G-d create us with such unique and beautiful features, only to have us suppress it?! They in turn profess the Divine Image in which we all created. Though we have selfish traits, we are not mere beasts, but Divine souls. And our focus should be not on the inferiority of man, but on the majesty of the Divine spirit within us. In Chassidic thought both these viewpoints have some legitimacy. The first perspective can be justified by the distance between us mortal creatures and the Immortal Creator. The second perspective is driven by the fact that the Creator shaped the human being in His Divine Image, thus creating a relationship between the human and the Divine, allowing for integration, not just abnegation. But the ultimate objective is the fusion of both perspectives. Yes, Torah comes to lift us up to a higher plane, and as such we are required to have kabolos ol and subjugate our selves, our desires and interest, through utter bittul, to the Higher Will. To “lose ourselves” in the Divine. But at the same time, Torah was not given in Heaven or for Heaven; it was given on and for Earth. “Torah speaks in the language of man” is not just an issue of language but context. Torah speaks to us as we are on Earth and addresses the full spectrum of our material lives and its real challenges. This explains an entire slew of Torah laws and idioms that emphasize the importance of applying Torah to the needs and parameters of the people, not just their abnegation. Just to name a few examples: One should always begin keeping Torah and Mitzvos out of ulterior motives (shelo leshmo), because from these ulterior motives one will come to perform them with pure motive (leshmo) (Pesachim 50b). Educate the child according to his way, so that as he grows old he will not waver from it (Proverbs 22:6). A person should always study where his heart desires (Avodah Zorah 19a). Which is the correct path for man to choose? Whatever is harmonious for the one who does it, and harmonious for mankind (Avot 2:1). A decree should not be issued that the public cannot comply with (Avodah Zorah 36a, Baba Basra 60b). The Torah speaks to pacify the yetzer hora (Kidushin 21b. Sifra, Rashi Kedoshim 19:25). The halachik concept of “compromise” (peshoreh) (Sanhedrin 6b-7a. Rambam Sanhedrin 22:4. Tur and Shulchan Aruch Choshen Mishpat 12:2). These and more such statements underscore how important it is that Torah be applied to the limitations of the human condition; to enhance life, not destroy it. “You shall live by them [Torah edicts],” not die by them. One could question all these Torah principles, with the seemingly logical argument, as you suggest: Since the Torah presents absolute truth where is their room in an absolute system for relative and subjective, personal applications? How could we give any credibility to “your way,” your “hearts desire?” Truth is true regardless whether the public can accept it or not. Since when does an absolute Torah have to accommodate individual needs? On a simplistic level, absolute truth and relative application can seem irreconcilable. But when you appreciate the complexity of life, all its nuances, the diversity of people, human subjectivity, and above all, the fact that human nature begins with self-interest – all these features created by the same G-d that gave us the Torah – it becomes quite obvious that the whole point of Torah is that we should use it’s absolute principles to guide us, but guide us in a way that we can contain and grow with, as we slowly acclimate our lives and align ourselves to the Divine will, moving from self-interest to a Higher calling. Up top the point where we can recognize that our self-interest is to live up to our calling. Not unlike the basic principles of education, in which certain truths have to be conveyed to a child at his/her own level. Is it a compromise of absolute truth if one has to offer a child an incentive (a candy or toy) to study? No less than an analogy compromises a deeper truth that cannot be appreciated without the analogy. In effect, the commitment to Torah and the embrace of the spiritual path consists of two stages: Acceptance and integration. First there is the need for suspension of self and acceptance of a Higher calling (naaseh). Then one has to integrate and internalize the experience (nishma). All this is true even in the best of times. Even when Rabbis, teachers and authorities were impeccable role models of selflessness and wisdom, sensitive to the needs of their constituents. How much more so in times when leadership is sorely lacking. Then it becomes absolutely imperative that the commitment to Torah be integrated by the individual, being that we cannot ride on the faith of authorities. So though we can bemoan today’s lack of submission to Torah authorities and see it as our shortcoming, yet, upon reflection, it may be the other way around; this element of “chutzpah” may also be a blessing in disguise: Because today’s authorities are so lame, G-d made sure that they will not be listened to. “One who has no awe of G-d will not be heeded.” Authorities will be honored in direct proportion to their level of integrity. Undeserving authorities will not garner respect nor obedience. The same is on a collective level. Perhaps G-d in His Divine benevolence and Providence choreographed it so that in our times – ever since the Holy Temple was destroyed – there is no central Sanhedrin (Rabbinic Supreme Court), which regulates law for the entire nation, lest it be abused. Today each community has its own respective Torah authorities. Recognizing that we are living in a time when “hearts are diminished” and “the awe of G-d” is weaker, a built-in immune system ensures that centralized power will not be abused. “G-d did charity with Israel by dispersing them among the nations.” Why is that charity? Because their dispersion ensures their survival, that they can never be all destroyed all at once. Today, more than ever, with the breakdown of authority, it is absolutely critical to ensure that each of us “own” our choices; that the path of faith become your path, not someone else’s; that our life choices, though initially driven by all types of influences, ultimately are not driven by superficial reasons to please others. I would also add: Using your argument for the need of obedience to Torah authority, I would venture to say that if Torah leaders today would demonstrate their own obedience to G-d with the appropriate humility (and not just pull rank as scholars and authorities), I have no doubt that their constituents and students would learn by example and reciprocate. But can we actually expect that an arrogant or insensitive teacher will inspire humility and obedience in his students? So though there is always a need to accept the truths and authority of Torah, much can be learned from the skeptics and cynics of our time. Though many may go overboard and others may use it as an excuse for their own unwillingness to be accountable, the fact remains that you learn most from your critics. They help illuminate what is wrong with the system, so that we can repair it. To indiscriminately demand blind obedience from our generation may be appealing to some. However, I am sorry to be the one to rudely remind you, that 1) it won’t work. And 2) It shouldn’t work, because sustainable commitment is only possible when total acceptance is coupled with internalization. And we are all the better for that, because if we were able to secure blind obedience, our systems would never heal. The status quo would continue on, in a self-perpetuating vicious cycle of obedience feeding unhealthy authority and vice versa. This may be one of the reasons why in the end of days “chutzpa will reign.” Reverence for unholy and corrupt structures only makes them more corrupt. In unhealthy times it is only through irreverence that we can ever hope to create change. Meaningful Life Center - Simon Jacobson To subscribe to Op-Ed Weekly newsletter |
Last modified: 4:39 PM 4/7/2008