Yarmulke

Why I Usually Don’t Wear a Yarmulke / Kippah

The Kippah is an expression of the vertical metaphor about G-d. It is a sign of submission to that which is above the wearer. G-d is above; I am below. G-d is authority; I am submissive. G-d is King; I am subject. G-d is the Commander; I am obedient. G-d is Creator; I am creature. And so on. Most likely my friend who wears a yarmulke knows that those metaphors are not literally true, and I know the same thing. Nevertheless, those vertical metaphors resonate for my friend; and they do not resonate for me.

When I think of G-d, I think of a level of reality that is deep within me and all that is; also surrounding me and all that is. G-d is Life; I am alive. G-d is closer than my breath. G-d is that to which I give expression when I am being my best and most inclusive self. G-d is the Self of the Universe of which I am an expression. Rather than think of G-d as my Commander, I think of G-d as my Inspiration. This is the depth metaphor.

In my mind, as a person for whom the depth metaphor resonates, wearing a kippah adds nothing and is actually somewhat inappropriate. As a symbol, it elicits attitudes and conceptions that are unhelpful. If I wanted to place the yarmulke where its symbolism would be most appropriate for me, I would swallow it (so it would be within me), or wrap myself in it (so it would surround me), but not place it on my head.

[For more elaboration on these metaphors see writings of Arthur Green, sh’lita, for example, Seek My Face, a Jewish Mystical Theology, p. 9.]

Now, I know that the depth metaphor is, after all, a metaphor and not literally true. I am not so bound to it that I feel the need to refrain from wearing a yarmulke, in protest, when attending a traditional synagogue where the head covering is customary. I have no axe to grind and no banner to wave. When in a situation where the kippah is socially expected, I have no problem wearing it.

However, given the choice to dress in a way that expresses the beliefs that most move me, I will not wear a yarmulke or kippah. Unless, on a given day, in a certain context, it does move me and give me meaning. In that case, I will put it on.

The Source of Value of Jewish Values

In a blog widely read on the internet last week, a “ba’al teshuvah” from Jerusalem wrote:

The big flaw and the unsolvable problem of Reform Judaism is that it does not acknowledge the divinity of the Torah and the obligation of a Jew to follow Jewish law (halachah) accordingly. If the Torah is not from G-d and G-d is not real, then why be Jewish? What’s the point?

For the aforementioned blogger, the divine Torah is his primary object of interest and value, and the rest of Jewish life is of interest and value only derivatively. That derivative value is strong enough that he has moved to Israel, sired seven children there, presumably fought in the army, and in general lived what I’m sure is an admirable Jewish life – all because he believes that G-d told him to. I do not want to denigrate this person at all. However, I cannot believe that he finds no value in Jewish life apart from a command of G-d. I cannot believe that if his faith in the “divinity of the Torah” should waver tomorrow, that the next day he would leave Israel, disown his wife and children, stop speaking Hebrew, and in every way abandon the whole array of culture, wisdom, religion, history, experience, and existential feeling called “Yiddishkeit.”

In contrast, for me, it is the Jewish people, our history, culture, values, music, food, languages, struggles, triumphs, and intense belonging with each other that is the primary object of interest and value, as far as religion is concerned. The Jewish people have an historic religion, partly based on but in no way limited by the Torah. To me the Torah (divine or not) has derivative interest and value, the primary interest and value for me being the Jewish people themselves. Like the blogger, my derivative values can be quite intense. I am intensely interested in the religious heritage of the Jewish people, including the part he considers the divine Torah. I study it a lot, and value it a lot. The fact that it is a derivative value for me does not mean at all that is of slight value.

To sum up:

• Jerusalem blogger values an idea about the Jewish religious heritage, and therefore values the Jews.
• I value the Jews and therefore our religious heritage.

G-d bless us both. For me, his point of view would be tremendously unstable and unsatisfying, relying as it does on a mere concept. My point of view makes much more sense to me. Maybe my brother in Jerusalem, if he tries hard enough, could understand why.

Gay

Last week a student asked me, "Does the Torah say you can't be gay?" I get that question or a similar question every so often. Although I wrote the following piece some time in the past, I wanted to post it to this blog in order to make it more widely available.

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May 18, 2004

RE: Judaism and homosexuality

Dear [Student’s name]:

It's very hard to write about a complicated subject as background for a newspaper article. In the nature of things, a newspaper article can't digest an essay; you need short points and short quotes. I'll try to put my thoughts into a useful format.

1.       Reform Judaism in the U.S. is represented by the congregational organization, the Union for Reform Judaism, and the rabbinic organization, the Central Conference of American Rabbis. Both organizations have passed resolutions supporting equal civil rights for gay and lesbian couples, including secular marriage. In addition, the CCAR encourages (but does not require) its members to officiate at commitment ceremonies for gay and lesbian couples. The links to these resolutions are given below:

http://urj.org//about/union/governance/reso//?syspage=article&item_id=2000

http://ccarnet.org/rabbis-speak/resolutions/2000/same-gender-officiation/

2.    The written Torah forbids one possible sexual act which a man might perform with another man. Based this, people often say that the Bible condemns homosexuality. However, the written Torah forbids no sexual act which a woman might perform with another woman. It forbids a variety of sexual acts which a man might perform with a woman. It also forbids a variety of foods. No one has asserted based on this that the Bible is against heterosexuality, or against eating.

3.      The Tradition, going beyond the letter of the Torah, forbids most sexual acts which a person might perform by himself/herself or with another, except for sex between a married woman and her husband that culminates in vaginal intercourse. Based on the Bible, even in marriage, sex may take place only at a time when a wife is free from her menstrual period and has prepared herself through the mikvah.

4.    People differ from each other in terms of the strength of their sex drives and the focus of their sexual orientation. Some people are only attracted to people of the opposite sex and would find it impossible to bond in the same way with a partner of the same sex. Such people are heterosexual or "straight." Some people are attracted only to people of the same sex and are homosexual or "gay." Some people are bisexual and can be attracted to males and females. These are not rigid categories – there is an entire spectrum. A person's sexual orientation is discovered, not chosen – like one's preference for chocolate or vanilla ice cream, for blondes or brunettes, etc. The Torah does not (and could not) forbid any sexual orientation.

5.      If human nature has stayed the same since Biblical times, clearly some people in Biblical times were gay. The way King David expresses himself about his friend Jonathan has homoerotic overtones. There is no evidence that King David acted sexually on his feelings, but the feelings themselves were clear: "I am distressed for you, my brother Jonathan; very pleasant have you been to me; your love to me was wonderful, passing the love of women." (2 Samuel 1:26)

6.     A famous homoerotic relationship among the Talmudic sages was that between Resh Lakish and Rabbi Yohanan. Again, there is no evidence that they acted sexually on their feelings. See:          
http://www.jewishencyclopedia.com/view.jsp?artid=757&letter=S

7.      My own point of view is impacted by the fact that I have had friends in committed gay relationships whose lives were positive and healthy. I have also had friends who attempted to bury homosexual feelings inside a "straight" marriage, and I was witness to the constant daily suffering that came from the attempt. I've been present as a musician and friend at a Jewish wedding ceremony between two women, and found it very moving and wholesome.

8.      Because I believe that sexual behavior is best directed into a socially-constructive relationship, I think that heterosexual sexual activity, whenever possible, should be reserved for marriage. I think that homosexual sexual activity, whenever possible, should be reserved for a committed relationship. Of course, no one is coming up to me and asking me what they should do in their sex lives, and I don't judge, so long as the activities people are engaging in are responsible. Responsible means that people accept the consequences along with the act: children, health consequences, the emotional bonds that are created, etc. Where people act as if their actions do not have predictable, foreseeable consequences, they are unethical and immoral.

9.      In agreement with the statements from the Reform movement which I gave you above, I certainly support full civil rights for gay people. The government has no legitimate interest in what goes on inside our bedrooms. I also support commitment ceremonies for gay couples. I know of nothing in the Torah or the Jewish tradition that prohibits any two people from making any contracts with each other or promises to each other that they choose to. The community can certainly honor them by witnessing their promises and celebrating with them.

10.   I personally would not use the word "Kiddushin" for the relationship that is created by such a ceremony. The English word "Marriage" is fine with me. This is for technical reasons and has nothing to do with the moral quality of the relationship created.

My understanding of halakhah is that the marriage ceremony, between a man and a woman, changes the personal status of the woman, rendering her mekudeshet, with the result that if she sleeps with any Jewish man other than her husband, the union is called adultery and the children produced are mamzerim. The personal status of the husband remains unchanged. He assumes contractual obligations toward his wife, but he does not become mekudash toward her. If he has a relationship with a single Jewish woman, that relationship would not be called adultery (under Jewish law) and the children produced would not be mamzerim.

The kind of relationship created between two men or two women by a commitment ceremony would be, in my view, similar to the bond binding a husband to his wife under Jewish law – a bond created by contract or promises rather than a bond which changes the personal status of the parties. The only practical difference is that, if a woman bound by a commitment ceremony should have an affair and produce children, the affair is not "adultery" and the children are not mamzerim.

To anyone other than a student of Jewish law, this may seem like silly semantics. However, those are my reasons. Kiddushin is the relationship which binds a Jewish married woman to her husband (not vice versa), the violation of which is adultery (ni'uf).

The English word "Marriage" is fine with me because in our civil society, "marriage" creates a mutual obligation between two partners, equally binding in the same terms on both parties. That is exactly what a commitment ceremony for a gay couple seeks to create, and I see no reason, civilly, to hinder the creation of such a partnership.

11.    Bottom line: Neither the Bible nor Judaism prohibits "being gay." I think people should reserve sex for marriage. I think marriage should be possible under the law for gay people. I think appropriate Jewish ceremonies should be available for gay marriage. I think that people who think differently than me are OK.

An Article, in Which the Author Fails to Resolve Whether He is an Atheist

What concept am I referencing when I refer to G‑d?

Before I can answer the question of whether I believe in G‑d  I must know what conception of G‑d I am talking about. I personally speak of G‑d in three basic contexts.

1.      By “G‑d” I may mean, the Universe personified. If it rains, I might say that G‑d has sent rain. When a child is born, I may celebrate G‑d's gift of life. When a loved one dies, I may sadly accept the will of G‑d  By “G‑d” in this context, I mean “the Power behind whatever happens,” or more precisely, “Whatever happens, Personified.” I don’t believe that such an entity “really” exists apart from Its effects. The personification of reality is a vivid and useful way of thinking, sometimes. It is not “true.”

2.      By “G‑d” I may mean, the main character of the Bible [as eloquently described by Jack Miles]. The personal traits which would explain Its words and actions would be the traits I would ascribe to G‑d as a literary character. The relationship of Conception #1 to Conception #2 is perhaps the main problem for theologians in the Jewish tradition and related traditions. “G‑d” of the Bible is to “G‑d” of the Universe as “Hamlet” of Shakespeare is to “Hamlet” of history. Any connection is interesting but really unimportant. The main character of the Bible is a fascinating literary figure, but any resemblance to reality is entirely coincidental.

3.      By “G‑d” I may mean, the figure addressed in the Jewish Prayer Book. It is a fascinating synthesis of views 1 and 2. In prayer, I seek to find my place in the scheme of the Universe, so that I give importance to that which is important, and gain perspective on what is unimportant. It so happens that many of the prayers address G‑d the traditional literary character, especially those drawn from the Psalms and other parts of Scripture. I shamelessly recite such passages and completely transpose them in my mind. I sing the praises of G‑d #2 as if It were really G‑d #1 (which, as far as I know, does not particularly desire or enjoy praise). I recite the biblical words while discounting the over-personifications inherent in them.

To our ancestors, it was very important to believe that G‑d #2 is the only G‑d  and all others are idols. I do not believe that G‑d #2 is real. I don’t think that G‑d #2 is, in essence, any different than any other imagined G‑d.  The lack of visible physical representation is very important to Jewish culture, but is not philosophically significant. The Main Character of the Bible has psychological traits and may be analyzed like any other literary character. It is, in that sense, finite.

When someone asks, “Do you believe in G‑d ” I think that they are usually referencing version #2, as they understand It. The G‑d of the Ten Commandments, the seven day Creation, and the Exodus. No, I do not believe in that G‑d  but I do cherish It. It represents the way my people understood Ultimate Reality for thousands of years. It has become, for me and my tribe, a symbol of Ultimate Reality – but not an accurate portrayal of It.

[I should also entertain the figure of G‑d as portrayed by various world religions and philosophies. On a day to day basis, though, they do not come into my mind and this is a personal “blog.”]

Do I believe in the natural G‑d which I designated version #1? “Believe” is just not the right word. I often view things from that perspective. A perspective is not a belief. I don’t think the natural G‑d exists apart from the Universe of which It is a personification. There is ultimately no practical significance to whether It exists or not, except for a measure of personal inspiration that I derive from the imagery. Certainly the World exists, Life exists; however we make sense of it is up to us.

Why Would a Skeptic Study World Religious Literature?

What do I expect to find when I explore sacred texts?

1.  I do not expect to find revelation. The text will not show me something which could otherwise not be known about the nature of reality or the intentions of G-d.
2. I do expect to find the results of religious experience, religious imagination.
3. I do expect to find wisdom, along with failed attempts at wisdom.
4. I expect to find important expressions of culture and language, root stories and social norms.
5.  I expect to find legal traditions and models of behavior – some of enduring relevance but some not worthy of perpetuation.
6. I expect to find superstitions – supposed links of cause and effect that do not bear up under examination.
7. I expect to find intolerance and hostility toward that which is unfamiliar or frightening.

Beyond all that, when I explore sacred texts, I hope to discover and generate value for myself and my growth as a moral / spiritual person:

1. I hope to find inspiration, and renewed dedication. I hope to find examples of people who transcended the smallness of petty concerns and made a great contribution with their lives. I hope to discover what inspired and moved them.
2. I hope to find conversation partners, companions for the journey. Through texts ancient and new, I hope to engage in the dialogue of the ages about the deep structures of life, and make my living more rich and intentional.
3. I hope to achieve peace of mind and focus, as my concerns shift from fleeting anxieties to more enduring matters.

I do not expect to find a perfect dialogue partner in the ancient text. I want to take what is of value and acknowledge where I see flaws. I also am a mixture of light and darkness and I hope that just as I critique the text, the text will critique parts of me, and out of the creative tension of our dialogue a better person will gently emerge.

Kindness and Severity (Evolution)

The coming-into-existence of the human race depended on two things: That the Universe provided everything necessary for life to exist; and, that the Universe made survival difficult. Had conditions for life been unfailingly favorable, there would have been no survival advantage for the complex creature over protein soup. There would have been no engine for the process of evolution. The opposable thumb and a large brain would have provided no advantage over the worm or the cockroach. (It is still debatable whether the human species has a survival advantage over the cockroach.) Unfailingly favorable conditions would have blocked our emergence almost as surely as completely deadly conditions. It is the strange mixture of that which supports life and that which thwarts life that resulted in the human race coming into being.

In Kabbalah, that aspect of Reality that is favorable, gracious, and nurturing is called “Hesed.” Hesed is like G-d’s right arm, if one could say so. The opposite principle to “Hesed” is called “Gevurah” meaning “severity.” Gevurah is the principle that restrains the unlimited outflow of Hesed. It is a principle of judgement, definition, and limitation. If Hesed is the right arm, Gevurah is the left. Human beings enjoy the experience of Hesed much more, naturally, and so from our point of view Hesed is better. The Kabbalists are clear, however, that unrestrained Hesed would wash us away, making our existence as self-aware creatures impossible. Hesed alone cannot sustain human life, only the mixture of Hesed and Gevurah, with the balance tipping toward Hesed. Obstacles, dangers, scarcity, injury, illness and mortality are all extremely unpleasant to us, but without them we could not be and would not continue to develop.

I mention the interplay of Hesed and Gevurah, not as if I believe in it as a dogma, and certainly not just because it is mentioned in Kabbalah. I find meaning in the symbol because it is true to my experience of life. I experience life as gracious and harsh, as nurturing and threatening, and this symbol helps me make some sense of it. It helps me to endure some of the more gevuradik episodes of my life and the lives of those I love, to be able to put the Gevurah in perspective against the Hesed and against the ultimately beneficial result.

If G-d loves us, He has infinitely more patience than I do for the realization of His loving aims. He is willing to have innocent and tender people suffer and perish so that the human race can stumble toward fulfillment. Though I can somewhat put the gevuradik side of life in perspective and see its necessity, I really don’t have the stomach for it. It disturbs me about G-d that He does. (Of course I am being absurdly anthropomorphic.) I don’t know if there could be any other way to achieve life in all its fullness than with such immense suffering. I am going to have to admit that as far as I know, there isn’t any other way. Ours may well be the best of all possible universes. In any case, it’s the way things are. Yehi shem haShem mevorakh. (Job 1:21)

Elijah and the Prophets of Ba'al (Rough Mix)

Monotheism is Atheism regarding 99.9% of gods. The habits of mind which gave our ancestors insight to doubt the existence of the pagan deities lead us, their descendants, to doubt the existence of any personal G-d however conceived. These doubts are not a betrayal of Monotheism but a logical extension of it. Monotheism was a step in the development of skepticism.

As illustration we might recall the legend of Elijah and the prophets of Ba’al as recounted in 1^st Kings chapter 18. Elijah challenged the worshippers of Ba’al to a demonstration: “Let two bulls be given to us; and let them choose one bull for themselves, and cut it in pieces and lay it on the wood, but put no fire to it; and I will prepare the other bull and lay it on the wood, and put no fire to it. And you call on the name of your god and I will call on the name of the L-rd; and the G-d who answers by fire, he is G-d.”

The rest of the story is well known. The priests of Ba’al called to him “from morning until noon,” but “there was no voice, and no one answered.” In profound contrast, as soon as Elijah finished his prayer, “the fire of the L-rd fell, and consumed the burnt offering, and the wood, and the stones, and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench. And when all the people saw it, they fell on their faces; and they said, ‘The L-rd, he is G-d; the L-rd, he is G-d.’”

There is a glaring fact usually overlooked here, and I do not know how preachers treating this story manage to get around it. This is not the way things really happen in life. If this demonstration were actually attempted, true enough the worshippers of Ba’al would get no visible result for their prayers; but the worshippers of The One True G-d (whichever version you like) would also see no result at all. The fire from heaven never falls. I know this as surely as I know that when I look outside my window pigs will not be flying, and the Starship Enterprise will not be landing in my back yard. Centuries and millennia of unbroken human experience let us know that no amount of prayer or chanting results in fire from heaven, or any comparable result. I know this as a person who has prayed many prayers, and empathized with communities praying many earnest prayers to many versions of G-d for many important things.

The logic by which the author of 1^st Kings teaches us to doubt Ba’al, therefore, must also lead us to doubt the L-rd (as 1^st Kings portrays Him). The same insight that caused Abraham to smash the idols in his father’s shop also topples the altar erected by Elijah. Doubt, once unleashed, is not easily contained.

Perhaps I am being naïve in taking the story of Elijah as a basis for doubt, even more than others are naïve if they take the story of Elijah as a basis for faith. It is, after all, a legend, and perhaps no one was ever intended to take it at face value.

I am not concluding that prayer is without any value whatsoever. I do pray. Prayer has social and psychological benefits. But prayer, intended to bring about a change in the behavior of the universe, has never produced any measurable result, and no god has a better track record than any other in this regard. (Despite this I must admit that if one of my loved ones is in trouble, you may find me praying to affect the outcome, against my better judgement. It's a deeply human response and I am not immune to it.)

There are many possible concepts of G-d that are truly consistent with our experience of life. The supernatural remote-controlled G-d portrayed in 1^st Kings, however, is contrary to human experience. By the Bible’s own logic, that sort of G-d must be rejected. Perhaps this is why so many Jews find themselves skeptics and Atheists while being very devoted to the heritage of Israel. This is the way of Abraham our father – to doubt and deny, not in a sterile and negative fashion, but to clear the way for us to focus our lives on that which truly deserves our attention.

[I revised and expanded the thoughts in this entry for a presentation to the British Association of Jewish Studies. You can read the published paper here or listen to me read it on YouTube, here.]