Ishvara (Sanskrit Īśvara ईश्वर "lord, master", from an adjective īśvara "capable") is a philosophical concept in Hinduism, meaning controller or the Supreme controller (i.e. 'God') in a monotheistic sense or as an Ishta-Devata of monistic thought. Ishvara is also used to denote a "lord" in a temporal sense, as any master or king (a dual usage also found in English).
...
Advaitism [a school of Hindu philosophy] holds that when human beings think of Brahman, the Supreme Cosmic Spirit is projected upon the limited, finite human mind and appears as Ishvara. Therefore, the mind projects human attributes, such as personality, motherhood, and fatherhood on the Supreme Being. An interesting metaphor is that when the "reflection" of the Cosmic Spirit falls upon the mirror of Maya (Māyā; the principle of illusion, which binds the mind), it appears as the Supreme Lord. God (as in Brahman) is not thought to have such attributes in the true sense. However it may be helpful to project such attributes onto God — the myriad names and forms of God one finds in Hinduism are all human-constructed ways for approaching the divine.
Interesting.
Compare with this:
[W]e may promote certain conceptions about God that are valid in the sense of the lessons they teach without actually being technically true. Where fundamentalists fail is by essentially fetishizing the lessons by branding them as literal truth. The truth of the matter is that we know very little about the nature of the ultimate reality and so even while you might consider such an admission an evasion, it remains a key fact to understand.
On a personal note, another key realization is to understand that a skeptic's approach to religion need not always be a matter of confrontation.
What I conceive about God is hard to put in words. I have conflicting notions and ideas that are not yet fully developed - assuming they may one day be. But, fundamentally, I consider God to be the ground of being of existence - the source for existence itself. God is the source of order which makes rational existence as we know it possible.
But does God 'think'? Does God have 'knowledge'? Is God 'good'? These things sound like anthropomorphizations to me. Nevertheless, they may be useful approaches to the transcendent, even though they are flawed. We are limited beings, but just because we haven't figured out what's going on 'up there' doesn't mean that we can ignore it.
It's nice to see one's own ideas reflected in the wisdom of others'.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Thursday, October 25, 2007
Take a Hint from the East
Hinduism is a very rich and complex religion. Each sect is like a denomination with rich religious practices. Professional priestly brahmins have denominations like Shaivism, Shaktism, Vaishnavism, and Smartha. Each of these four denominations share rituals, beliefs, traditions and personal Gods with one another, but each denomination has a different philosophy on how to achieve life's ultimate goal (moksa, liberation) and different views of the Gods. Each follows different methods of self-realization and worships different aspects of the One Supreme God. However, each respects and accepts all others, and conflict of any kind is rare. Among Hindu followers as a whole, there is a strong belief that there are many paths leading to the One God or the Source, whatever one chooses to call that ultimate Truth.
...
The presence of different denominations and schools within Hinduism should not be viewed as a schism. On the contrary, there is no animosity between the schools. Instead there is a healthy cross-pollination of ideas and logical debate that serves to refine each school's philosophy. It is not uncommon, or disallowed, for an individual to follow one school but take the point of view of another school for a certain issue.
Although Hinduism has obvious differences from Judaism it still is, in some important ways, very much like Judaism. Like Judaism, it is a People first and a Religion second. It is all pervasive with ethics, rituals, values and beliefs underlying and directing all aspects of life. It has many different religious beliefs (albeit with more diversity than Judaism) but it is the constancy of orthopraxy which maintains its identity. They are both heritage-minded, non-exclusionary (i.e. Jews and Hindus both believe that non-adherents can still 'get into Heaven') and generally non-proselytizing.
It is therefore of no surprise - and frankly long overdue - that each community should finally recognize the other as natural allies in terms of how each religion intersects with communal life. (Not to mention politically as well, since both Israel and India are at the front lines of the confrontation with Islamic extremism.) In February there was a Hindu-Jewish summit in New Delhi where they met to officially recognize just that.
Anyway, I think we might have more to gain from our Hindu cousins in respect with how they manage a co-existence of very different ideas while not being much for heresy hunting. A similar approach could be applied for a reconstruction of modern pluralistic Judaism. Excerpts from here:
In the case of most religions, beliefs and practices come first, and those who subscribe to them are acknowledged as followers. In the case of the Hindu tradition, however, the acknowledgment of Hindus came first, and their beliefs and practices constitute the contents of the religion.
...
The Hindu tradition encourages Hindus to seek spiritual and moral truth wherever it might be found, while acknowledging that no creed can contain such truth in its fullness and that each individual must realize this truth through his or her own systematic effort. Our experience, our reason, and our dialogue with others—especially with enlightened individuals—provide various means of testing our understanding of spiritual and moral truth. And Hindu scripture, based on the insights of Hindu sages and seers, serves primarily as a guidebook. But ultimately truth comes to us through direct consciousness of the divine or the ultimate reality. In other religions this ultimate reality is known as God. Hindus refer to it by many names, but the most common name is Brahman.
...
A Hindu is thus identified by a dual exclusion. A Hindu is someone who does not subscribe to a religion of non-Indian origin, and who does not claim to belong exclusively to another religion of Indian origin—Buddhism, Jainism, or Sikhism. This effort at definition produces a rather artificial distinction between Hinduism and other dharmic traditions, which stems from an attempt to limit a system that sees itself as universal to an identity that is strictly religious.
...
Various schools have contributed to Hindu thought, each school with a different emphasis. The school known as Vedanta has been the standard form of intellectual Hinduism. According to Vedanta, the highest aim of existence is the realization of the identity or union of the individual’s innermost self (atman) with the ultimate reality. Although Vedanta states that this ultimate reality is beyond name, the word Brahman is used to refer to it.
Whether this ultimate reality is itself ultimately without distinguishing attributes (nirguna) or with personal attributes (saguna) has been a subject of extensive debate among Hindu scholars. To be ultimate Brahman must transcend (exist above and beyond) all limiting attributes, such as name, gender, form, and features. But how can the human mind, with its limitations, conceive of this transcendent reality? Human comprehension requires a more personal reality, with attributes.
Saguna Brahman is also called Ishvara, a name best translated as "Lord." A quotation attributed to 8th-century Hindu scholar Shankara illustrates the subtlety of these ideas: "Ishvara, forgive these three sins of mine: that although you are everywhere I have gone on a pilgrimage, although you are beyond the mind I have tried to think of you; and although you are ineffable [indescribable] I offer this hymn in praise of you."
...
How do we proceed if we wish to rise toward Brahman? Hindu thought takes the personality of the seeker as the starting point. It divides human personalities into types dominated by physicality, activity, emotionality, or intellectuality. The composition of our personality intuitively predisposes us to a type of yoga—that is, a path we might follow to achieve union with Brahman. Although many people associate the word yoga with a physical discipline, in its original Hindu meaning yoga refers to any technique that unites the seeker with the ultimate reality.
While physical fitness buffs may seek such a union by practicing hatha yoga, people with different personality traits have other choices. For the action-oriented person there is karma yoga, the yoga of action, which calls for a life of selfless deeds and actions appropriate to the person’s station in life. For the person of feeling, bhakti yoga, the yoga of devotion, calls for unconditional love for a personal divinity. For the person of thought, jñana yoga, the yoga of knowledge, calls for spiritual and physical discipline intended to bring direct insight into ultimate reality. The yogas do not represent tightly sealed compartments, merely convenient classifications. A well-balanced personality might well employ all four. These yogas are sometimes called margas (paths), suggesting that the same destination can be approached by more than one route, and indeed by more than one mode of travel.
...
Hindus consider all of creation worthy of worship, and thus religious activity in Hinduism takes many forms. Rituals may be performed by the individual, the family, the village, the community or region; at home or in a temple; and frequently or infrequently. The prevalence and persistence of Hindu ritual may well provide the stabilizing factor in a tradition that is so flexible in doctrine. Ritual might even be considered the glue that holds Hindus and Hinduism together. Many rites and observances that Hindus practice daily have come down from ancient times. Others grew up around the lives and teachings of Hindu saints and sages. While details of rituals may differ from region to region and jati to jati, their meaning and central practices have remained consistent over vast distances of time and space.
Virtually all rituals in Hinduism possess multiple meanings, including symbolic interpretations. Even the way Hindus regularly greet each other may be regarded as symbolically bowing to the divine. The Hindu greeting involves pressing the palms of the hands together, which symbolizes the meeting of two people; placing the hands over the heart where Brahman dwells, indicating that one meets the self in the other; bowing the head in recognition of this meeting; and saying namaste, a Sanskrit word that means "I bow to you" and signifies "I bow to the divine in you."
So are there differences? Sure. But perhaps it is no coincidence that in Hebrew, Hudi and Yehudi are only separated by one letter.
...
The presence of different denominations and schools within Hinduism should not be viewed as a schism. On the contrary, there is no animosity between the schools. Instead there is a healthy cross-pollination of ideas and logical debate that serves to refine each school's philosophy. It is not uncommon, or disallowed, for an individual to follow one school but take the point of view of another school for a certain issue.
Although Hinduism has obvious differences from Judaism it still is, in some important ways, very much like Judaism. Like Judaism, it is a People first and a Religion second. It is all pervasive with ethics, rituals, values and beliefs underlying and directing all aspects of life. It has many different religious beliefs (albeit with more diversity than Judaism) but it is the constancy of orthopraxy which maintains its identity. They are both heritage-minded, non-exclusionary (i.e. Jews and Hindus both believe that non-adherents can still 'get into Heaven') and generally non-proselytizing.
It is therefore of no surprise - and frankly long overdue - that each community should finally recognize the other as natural allies in terms of how each religion intersects with communal life. (Not to mention politically as well, since both Israel and India are at the front lines of the confrontation with Islamic extremism.) In February there was a Hindu-Jewish summit in New Delhi where they met to officially recognize just that.
Anyway, I think we might have more to gain from our Hindu cousins in respect with how they manage a co-existence of very different ideas while not being much for heresy hunting. A similar approach could be applied for a reconstruction of modern pluralistic Judaism. Excerpts from here:
In the case of most religions, beliefs and practices come first, and those who subscribe to them are acknowledged as followers. In the case of the Hindu tradition, however, the acknowledgment of Hindus came first, and their beliefs and practices constitute the contents of the religion.
...
The Hindu tradition encourages Hindus to seek spiritual and moral truth wherever it might be found, while acknowledging that no creed can contain such truth in its fullness and that each individual must realize this truth through his or her own systematic effort. Our experience, our reason, and our dialogue with others—especially with enlightened individuals—provide various means of testing our understanding of spiritual and moral truth. And Hindu scripture, based on the insights of Hindu sages and seers, serves primarily as a guidebook. But ultimately truth comes to us through direct consciousness of the divine or the ultimate reality. In other religions this ultimate reality is known as God. Hindus refer to it by many names, but the most common name is Brahman.
...
A Hindu is thus identified by a dual exclusion. A Hindu is someone who does not subscribe to a religion of non-Indian origin, and who does not claim to belong exclusively to another religion of Indian origin—Buddhism, Jainism, or Sikhism. This effort at definition produces a rather artificial distinction between Hinduism and other dharmic traditions, which stems from an attempt to limit a system that sees itself as universal to an identity that is strictly religious.
...
Various schools have contributed to Hindu thought, each school with a different emphasis. The school known as Vedanta has been the standard form of intellectual Hinduism. According to Vedanta, the highest aim of existence is the realization of the identity or union of the individual’s innermost self (atman) with the ultimate reality. Although Vedanta states that this ultimate reality is beyond name, the word Brahman is used to refer to it.
Whether this ultimate reality is itself ultimately without distinguishing attributes (nirguna) or with personal attributes (saguna) has been a subject of extensive debate among Hindu scholars. To be ultimate Brahman must transcend (exist above and beyond) all limiting attributes, such as name, gender, form, and features. But how can the human mind, with its limitations, conceive of this transcendent reality? Human comprehension requires a more personal reality, with attributes.
Saguna Brahman is also called Ishvara, a name best translated as "Lord." A quotation attributed to 8th-century Hindu scholar Shankara illustrates the subtlety of these ideas: "Ishvara, forgive these three sins of mine: that although you are everywhere I have gone on a pilgrimage, although you are beyond the mind I have tried to think of you; and although you are ineffable [indescribable] I offer this hymn in praise of you."
...
How do we proceed if we wish to rise toward Brahman? Hindu thought takes the personality of the seeker as the starting point. It divides human personalities into types dominated by physicality, activity, emotionality, or intellectuality. The composition of our personality intuitively predisposes us to a type of yoga—that is, a path we might follow to achieve union with Brahman. Although many people associate the word yoga with a physical discipline, in its original Hindu meaning yoga refers to any technique that unites the seeker with the ultimate reality.
While physical fitness buffs may seek such a union by practicing hatha yoga, people with different personality traits have other choices. For the action-oriented person there is karma yoga, the yoga of action, which calls for a life of selfless deeds and actions appropriate to the person’s station in life. For the person of feeling, bhakti yoga, the yoga of devotion, calls for unconditional love for a personal divinity. For the person of thought, jñana yoga, the yoga of knowledge, calls for spiritual and physical discipline intended to bring direct insight into ultimate reality. The yogas do not represent tightly sealed compartments, merely convenient classifications. A well-balanced personality might well employ all four. These yogas are sometimes called margas (paths), suggesting that the same destination can be approached by more than one route, and indeed by more than one mode of travel.
...
Hindus consider all of creation worthy of worship, and thus religious activity in Hinduism takes many forms. Rituals may be performed by the individual, the family, the village, the community or region; at home or in a temple; and frequently or infrequently. The prevalence and persistence of Hindu ritual may well provide the stabilizing factor in a tradition that is so flexible in doctrine. Ritual might even be considered the glue that holds Hindus and Hinduism together. Many rites and observances that Hindus practice daily have come down from ancient times. Others grew up around the lives and teachings of Hindu saints and sages. While details of rituals may differ from region to region and jati to jati, their meaning and central practices have remained consistent over vast distances of time and space.
Virtually all rituals in Hinduism possess multiple meanings, including symbolic interpretations. Even the way Hindus regularly greet each other may be regarded as symbolically bowing to the divine. The Hindu greeting involves pressing the palms of the hands together, which symbolizes the meeting of two people; placing the hands over the heart where Brahman dwells, indicating that one meets the self in the other; bowing the head in recognition of this meeting; and saying namaste, a Sanskrit word that means "I bow to you" and signifies "I bow to the divine in you."
So are there differences? Sure. But perhaps it is no coincidence that in Hebrew, Hudi and Yehudi are only separated by one letter.
Monday, October 22, 2007
On Obligation
This is a bit of a sticky issue. How can the movements of Judaism which do not recognize the divine authority of the mitzvot or the standing of rabbis to declare judgment in Halacha still maintain a sense of obligation to Jewish heritage and traditional Jewish practices? What is the place of Halacha in a philosophy that does not recognize divine law? Simply, on what basis can liberal Judaism make requirements on their constituents?
A major problem of Reform and Conservative Judaism is the apparent "anything goes" approach to Jewish practice and belief which leads to a free for all and disintegration of Jewish identity and community. This approach is based on the ill-conceived idea that people will leave Judaism entirely if they feel the least bit chaffed by obligations that do not suit them, yet it is those people who are most likely to be committed to Judaism which then feel little for it because it requires nothing of them. Judaism becomes meaningless. Liberal movements tend to play towards the lowest common denominator in order to create the biggest tent, but ultimately this backfires as the content of Judaism is lost in empty aphorisms and continually dated political efforts. The process promotes a weakness in Judaism to which even committed Jews have trouble finding tangible connection.
So I have an approach which is akin to some Reconstructionist approaches where it is Jewish heritage itself that makes claims on each Jew. A committed - religious - Jew is one who delves into the richness of our history, religious evolution and traditional practices in order to make a home for themselves in our heritage - and, most importantly, is keen on passing on that sense of patrimony to the next generation. The idea is that one is not just a passive receiver of a heritage, but one has an obligation to maintain it, make it one's own and pass it on. The mandate is to build a Jewish philosophy, a Jewish family and a Jewish community. This necessarily applies to both individuals and the larger collective as the goals cannot be met by a kahal without individual interest, nor can an individual best express his Jewishness without communal life.
B. Spinoza elsewhere lambasted this approach as being little more realistic than divine obligation. That a heritage cannot create an obligation. I disagree (obviously). A Jew is defined by his heritage - since it is only our heritage which makes us different from any goy on the street and therefore it is by our heritage that we can judge whether a person is a good or a bad Jew. First and foremost is how importantly a Jew considers his heritage to be - indeed, how important a Jew believes it is to be a Jew. Any individual Jew may be a great person, but if he doesn't take his heritage seriously and doesn't care to pass it onto his children, then he (I'm sorry to say) simply isn't a great Jew.
Now I believe that once a person really takes his identity seriously, a next step is to follow a way of life that best exemplifies the values so accepted. Following some approximation of traditional Jewish practice - orthopraxy - seems like an ideal fit to me. What precisely the borders of Halacha ought to be in such a state is essentially a matter of politics, though some general principles need to be followed in order for communities to coherently exist. Personally I tend towards relatively more conservative realizations of Jewish practice, but these are details.
A major problem of Reform and Conservative Judaism is the apparent "anything goes" approach to Jewish practice and belief which leads to a free for all and disintegration of Jewish identity and community. This approach is based on the ill-conceived idea that people will leave Judaism entirely if they feel the least bit chaffed by obligations that do not suit them, yet it is those people who are most likely to be committed to Judaism which then feel little for it because it requires nothing of them. Judaism becomes meaningless. Liberal movements tend to play towards the lowest common denominator in order to create the biggest tent, but ultimately this backfires as the content of Judaism is lost in empty aphorisms and continually dated political efforts. The process promotes a weakness in Judaism to which even committed Jews have trouble finding tangible connection.
So I have an approach which is akin to some Reconstructionist approaches where it is Jewish heritage itself that makes claims on each Jew. A committed - religious - Jew is one who delves into the richness of our history, religious evolution and traditional practices in order to make a home for themselves in our heritage - and, most importantly, is keen on passing on that sense of patrimony to the next generation. The idea is that one is not just a passive receiver of a heritage, but one has an obligation to maintain it, make it one's own and pass it on. The mandate is to build a Jewish philosophy, a Jewish family and a Jewish community. This necessarily applies to both individuals and the larger collective as the goals cannot be met by a kahal without individual interest, nor can an individual best express his Jewishness without communal life.
B. Spinoza elsewhere lambasted this approach as being little more realistic than divine obligation. That a heritage cannot create an obligation. I disagree (obviously). A Jew is defined by his heritage - since it is only our heritage which makes us different from any goy on the street and therefore it is by our heritage that we can judge whether a person is a good or a bad Jew. First and foremost is how importantly a Jew considers his heritage to be - indeed, how important a Jew believes it is to be a Jew. Any individual Jew may be a great person, but if he doesn't take his heritage seriously and doesn't care to pass it onto his children, then he (I'm sorry to say) simply isn't a great Jew.
Now I believe that once a person really takes his identity seriously, a next step is to follow a way of life that best exemplifies the values so accepted. Following some approximation of traditional Jewish practice - orthopraxy - seems like an ideal fit to me. What precisely the borders of Halacha ought to be in such a state is essentially a matter of politics, though some general principles need to be followed in order for communities to coherently exist. Personally I tend towards relatively more conservative realizations of Jewish practice, but these are details.
Thursday, October 18, 2007
Rabbi Schachter (effectively) Forbids Jewish Surgeons
Rabbi Hershel Schachter (Rosh HaYeshiva of RIETS) says:
"There is a terrible misconception that the laws of Shabbos do not apply to doctors. This is absolutely incorrect. No profession exempts anyone from any mitzvos. Medical students are certainly not exempt from Shabbos observance. And even after having completed his school years, the future doctor must take special care to make sure he has a Sabbath-observant residency. If this can not be arranged, the student must simply look for a different profession."
That's a pretty strong statement there. And since there are some fields of medicine that don't really offer such residencies, is R' Schachter saying that an Orthodox Jew cannot realistically become, say, a surgeon or a cardiologist? (Though if anyone does know of a shomer-shabbos surgical residency, I'd be interested to hear about it.)
Clearly, though, there are plenty of observant doctors today who did go through residencies that were not particularly Shabbos friendly - so what gives? Are all these people in error?
Compare the above with the responsum of Rabbi Dr. Mordechai Halpern of Shaare Zedek:
Question: I am a medical student in the United States and am in the process of choosing a residency. Here in the States, there are some specialties in which one can obtain a residency that does not require working on Shabbos (eg, internal medicine, pediatrics, psychiatry and radiology), whereas there are other specialties where working on Shabbos is a requirement (eg, general surgery, OB/Gyn, urology, cardiology). Is it permissible to pursue training in one of these latter fields in the United States?
Answer: It is preferable to train in a Shomer-Shabbat program. If one feels very strongly that he can best serve as a physician in a field which has no such program, it is permissible to train in a regular program. However, one should be very knowledgeable concerning the laws of Shabbat, which is quite a complicated matter.
Looks like Rabbi Dr. Halpern takes a much more reasonable approach. It seems obvious to me, however, that Halachic conflicts are almost inevitable when working in any field on Shabbos but that shouldn't be reason enough to make people turn their back on what otherwise could be their calling, especially when the unimpeachable goal is to save human life and/or to better the quality of life for those who are suffering. As the famous saying goes, I'm not maikil on hilchot Shabbos, I'm machmir on hilchot pikuach nefesh!
I never liked the idea that Halacha is a barrier to the success of man. What it is (or should be), is taking a different approach through life that allows you to get to the same destination - but as a Jew.
"There is a terrible misconception that the laws of Shabbos do not apply to doctors. This is absolutely incorrect. No profession exempts anyone from any mitzvos. Medical students are certainly not exempt from Shabbos observance. And even after having completed his school years, the future doctor must take special care to make sure he has a Sabbath-observant residency. If this can not be arranged, the student must simply look for a different profession."
That's a pretty strong statement there. And since there are some fields of medicine that don't really offer such residencies, is R' Schachter saying that an Orthodox Jew cannot realistically become, say, a surgeon or a cardiologist? (Though if anyone does know of a shomer-shabbos surgical residency, I'd be interested to hear about it.)
Clearly, though, there are plenty of observant doctors today who did go through residencies that were not particularly Shabbos friendly - so what gives? Are all these people in error?
Compare the above with the responsum of Rabbi Dr. Mordechai Halpern of Shaare Zedek:
Question: I am a medical student in the United States and am in the process of choosing a residency. Here in the States, there are some specialties in which one can obtain a residency that does not require working on Shabbos (eg, internal medicine, pediatrics, psychiatry and radiology), whereas there are other specialties where working on Shabbos is a requirement (eg, general surgery, OB/Gyn, urology, cardiology). Is it permissible to pursue training in one of these latter fields in the United States?
Answer: It is preferable to train in a Shomer-Shabbat program. If one feels very strongly that he can best serve as a physician in a field which has no such program, it is permissible to train in a regular program. However, one should be very knowledgeable concerning the laws of Shabbat, which is quite a complicated matter.
Looks like Rabbi Dr. Halpern takes a much more reasonable approach. It seems obvious to me, however, that Halachic conflicts are almost inevitable when working in any field on Shabbos but that shouldn't be reason enough to make people turn their back on what otherwise could be their calling, especially when the unimpeachable goal is to save human life and/or to better the quality of life for those who are suffering. As the famous saying goes, I'm not maikil on hilchot Shabbos, I'm machmir on hilchot pikuach nefesh!
I never liked the idea that Halacha is a barrier to the success of man. What it is (or should be), is taking a different approach through life that allows you to get to the same destination - but as a Jew.
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
A Charging Metaphor for Metaphysics
To Lubab No More on fundamentalism and the skepticism of simple absolute truths:
The way God is often described is designedly so simple that a child can understand it. And, like most fields of knowledge, simplification is good for handing over important ideas but not for an in depth study. Oversimplification leads to blurring of the complexities which lead to apparent contradiction.
As a case in point - does water conduct electricity? You probably learned in kindergarten that yes, it does very much! and you need to be very careful when around water and a live current.
But actually that's misleading. I mean it's practically true, but if you then study some chemistry you'd question how H2O passes current - it shouldn't by itself since it's an uncharged molecule. Contradiction! What is actually passing current are the _impurities_ in the water. The salts, the minerals, etc. The charge bounces off of them.
So then you may be happy with that level of understanding, but then you learn that even pure water conducts electricity a little bit. How can that be? That contradicts the last explanation! What is actually happening in water is that the molecules don't just sit around quietly but they are somewhat unstable. Some portion of them are constantly breaking apart into H+ and OH- and then reassembling themselves. So it is those transient ions on which charge flows.
See the kindergarten-level understanding of water and electricity isn't wrong per se, it's just oversimplified. The lesson is very important to pass along without all of that other complication even though you miss a great deal of further understanding in the process.
Now that was just about water. Maybe (kal v'chomer) the same kind of process applies to the God you were taught about in kindergarten too, hmm?
The way God is often described is designedly so simple that a child can understand it. And, like most fields of knowledge, simplification is good for handing over important ideas but not for an in depth study. Oversimplification leads to blurring of the complexities which lead to apparent contradiction.
As a case in point - does water conduct electricity? You probably learned in kindergarten that yes, it does very much! and you need to be very careful when around water and a live current.
But actually that's misleading. I mean it's practically true, but if you then study some chemistry you'd question how H2O passes current - it shouldn't by itself since it's an uncharged molecule. Contradiction! What is actually passing current are the _impurities_ in the water. The salts, the minerals, etc. The charge bounces off of them.
So then you may be happy with that level of understanding, but then you learn that even pure water conducts electricity a little bit. How can that be? That contradicts the last explanation! What is actually happening in water is that the molecules don't just sit around quietly but they are somewhat unstable. Some portion of them are constantly breaking apart into H+ and OH- and then reassembling themselves. So it is those transient ions on which charge flows.
See the kindergarten-level understanding of water and electricity isn't wrong per se, it's just oversimplified. The lesson is very important to pass along without all of that other complication even though you miss a great deal of further understanding in the process.
Now that was just about water. Maybe (kal v'chomer) the same kind of process applies to the God you were taught about in kindergarten too, hmm?
Monday, September 17, 2007
Some Perspective
A favourite saying of the Rabbis of Jabneh was: I am God's creature and my fellow is God's creature. My work is in the town and his work is in the country. I rise early for my work and he rises early for his work. Just as he does not presume to do my work, so I do not presume to do his work. Will you say, I do much and he does little? We have learnt: One may do much or one may do little; it is all one, provided he directs his heart to heaven.
Brachot 17a
Seems to me like those Yavneh rabbis had a better appreciation for non-kollelites than do some segments of contemporary Judaism.
Brachot 17a
Seems to me like those Yavneh rabbis had a better appreciation for non-kollelites than do some segments of contemporary Judaism.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
On Ethics:
I wrote this to GH for his recent post as a musing on the nature of ethics:
The issue with ethics is always the profit motive. If I can profit by being unethical, why shouldn't I?
The answer must be that in some way the 'profit' actually comes at a steeper cost.
The other issue is where one's ethical standards come from in the first place. How do we know they are valid? Subjective ethics do not work because they can only justify how you act, but you cannot use them to criticize the acts of others.
Orthodoxy has answers to these questions, but skepticism makes those answers impotent.
My answers: I value my own ethical integrity and that integrity is worth more to me than any monetary gain or whatever. I also believe that ethics are essentially discovered by mankind as codes that lead to good or bad things for people in society and society in general. We can tell whether an ethic is valid by observing its fruit.
But such experiments, as it would be, are tough to explore in many cases and so we must practically rely on the sustained wisdom of the ages, the sentiments of gifted individuals, and ultimately our own judgement.
The final issue is why should we even care about being ethical at all? Most people care about morality intuitively - an integral part of being human is caring about other people, but I have little to say that could convince a nihilist.
The issue with ethics is always the profit motive. If I can profit by being unethical, why shouldn't I?
The answer must be that in some way the 'profit' actually comes at a steeper cost.
The other issue is where one's ethical standards come from in the first place. How do we know they are valid? Subjective ethics do not work because they can only justify how you act, but you cannot use them to criticize the acts of others.
Orthodoxy has answers to these questions, but skepticism makes those answers impotent.
My answers: I value my own ethical integrity and that integrity is worth more to me than any monetary gain or whatever. I also believe that ethics are essentially discovered by mankind as codes that lead to good or bad things for people in society and society in general. We can tell whether an ethic is valid by observing its fruit.
But such experiments, as it would be, are tough to explore in many cases and so we must practically rely on the sustained wisdom of the ages, the sentiments of gifted individuals, and ultimately our own judgement.
The final issue is why should we even care about being ethical at all? Most people care about morality intuitively - an integral part of being human is caring about other people, but I have little to say that could convince a nihilist.
A Midrash on Moshe and Metaphysics
R' Abbahu said: All the forty days that Moses was on high, he kept on forgetting the Torah he learnt. He then said: 'Lord of the Universe, I have spent forty days, yet I know nothing.' What did God do? At the end of the forty days, He gave him the Torah as a gift, for it says, AND HE GAVE UNTO MOSES. Could then Moses have learnt the whole Torah? Of the Torah it says: The measure thereof is longer than the earth, and broader than the sea (Job 11:9); could then Moses have learnt it all in forty days? No; but it was only the principles thereof which God taught Moses.
-Exodus Rabbah 41:6
This is an interesting midrash. The most striking point is that it says that God only taught Moshe the principles of the Torah - which runs contrary to the typical Orthodox perspective that God revealed all of the Torah and all of the Oral Law to him. But secondly, there's the point that "Torah" is defined here not as the Pentateuch, but through the reference in Job which uses "The measure..." to describe the mysteries and (non)limits of God - "Torah" is then defined essentially as all metaphysical truth of God's ways.
Job 11:
7 "Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty?
8 They are higher than the heavens—what can you do? They are deeper than the depths of the grave—what can you know?
9 Their measure is longer than the earth and wider than the sea.
So what is the midrash saying that Moshe received at Sinai? He received the principles of metaphysical truth.
For those of a skeptical bent who yet still recognize wisdom in the scriptures, this may be a helpful perspective in one's approach to Judaism.
-Exodus Rabbah 41:6
This is an interesting midrash. The most striking point is that it says that God only taught Moshe the principles of the Torah - which runs contrary to the typical Orthodox perspective that God revealed all of the Torah and all of the Oral Law to him. But secondly, there's the point that "Torah" is defined here not as the Pentateuch, but through the reference in Job which uses "The measure..." to describe the mysteries and (non)limits of God - "Torah" is then defined essentially as all metaphysical truth of God's ways.
Job 11:
7 "Can you fathom the mysteries of God? Can you probe the limits of the Almighty?
8 They are higher than the heavens—what can you do? They are deeper than the depths of the grave—what can you know?
9 Their measure is longer than the earth and wider than the sea.
So what is the midrash saying that Moshe received at Sinai? He received the principles of metaphysical truth.
For those of a skeptical bent who yet still recognize wisdom in the scriptures, this may be a helpful perspective in one's approach to Judaism.
Sunday, September 09, 2007
It's Rosh Hashanah...isn't it?
Here's an interesting little tidbit I stumbled upon recently. Rosh Hashanah this year begins Wednesday night, but the molad - the timing of the new moon - is early Wednesday morning. See, on an otherwise unmolested calendric system the molad would determine the day of Rosh Hashanah as beginning Tuesday night (as then the molad would actually occur on the first day of Rosh Hashanah) but the traditional calendric system has several different reasons for why the date for Rosh Hashanah can be pushed off for a day or two.
They go into it simply here:
Once the date of the Molad Tishrei has been calculated, some additional considerations must be taken into account to determine the actual date of Rosh HaShanah. These considerations may cause the actual date of 1 Tishrei to be postponed from the date of the Molad Tishrei. There are four such postponements:
First, if the time of the Molad Tishrei is later than 18 hours from the beginning of the day, Rosh HaShanah is postponed to the next day. This probably accounts for the fact that the young moon could not have been observed until the next day.
Second, for common years only, if the Molad Tishrei falls on a Tuesday, and is later than 9 hours and 204 halakhim from the start of the day, Rosh HaShanah is postponed to the next day. This rule prevents a situation in which the postponements for the next year would require the year to be 356 days long.
Third, for years following leap years only, if the Molad Tishrei falls on a Monday, and is later than 15 hours and 589 halakhim from the start of the day, Rosh HaShanah is postponed to the next day. This rule prevents a situation that would require the previous year to be only 382 days long.
Finally, if Rosh HaShanah would fall on Sunday, Wednesday, or Friday, it is postponed to the next day. In combination with one of the above postponements, Rosh HaShanah could be postponed by as much as two days. This postponement prevents certain holidays from falling on the Sabbath.
The site also has a neat number crunching program that tells you when each of the above situations affect a given year's schedule and the rescheduled date for Rosh Hashanah.
Anyway, so the first three issues are essentially practical concerns to keep the entire system from going off kilter, but what really interests me is the last means of postponement. See, what it is referring to is the postponement rule of Lo ADU Rosh which is a mnemonic name, aleph, dalet, vuv to indicate that if the molad falls on the first, fourth or sixth day of the week then Rosh Hashanah is to be delayed. But why those days of the week? What's the significance?
So the Talmud says (Rosh Hashanah 20a) that the reason for the Wednesday and Friday rule is so that Yom Kippur doesn't fall out on either side of Shabbos and it's pushed off from Sunday because otherwise Hoshanah Rabbah can fall out on Shabbos (Sukkah 43a). So the Gemaras continue, respectively, explaining that having Shabbos and Yom Kippur after one another is bad either because then the dead may have to wait two days before burial and/or that food will go bad and that if Hoshanah Rabbah falls on Shabbos then people will be unable to perform the classic aravot beating.
Now, I find this really remarkable for a couple of reasons. The first reason is due to the fact that they seemed to think it was alright to mess around with the whole calender - and the dates of all the holidays - for what is essentially ritual convenience! In the pre-calculated system the molad would happen when the molad would happen and you couldn't just change around the dates at will. Yom Kippur no doubt _did_ fall out on Friday and Sunday on a regular basis. And even more than that, to ensure that people far from Jerusalem were observing the correct date for the holiday they kept two days yom tov - and yet here we are messing around with the holy times for convenience! It is really amazing.
Secondly, if the reason Yom Kippur was so moved was so that two days of Shabbos didn't follow one another - what would those Amoraim make of today's three days yom tov/Shabbos in a row?! But besides that, even within the calculated system, Pesach comes up against Shabbos pretty regularly - as it does this year - and Shavuous too regularly does the same. So I'm not even sure I understand their reasoning. Do the dead not have to wait the same two days? In any case, I'd much rather have it set up so that Pesach can never begin on a Saturday night rather than Yom Kippur getting that special concern.
They go into it simply here:
Once the date of the Molad Tishrei has been calculated, some additional considerations must be taken into account to determine the actual date of Rosh HaShanah. These considerations may cause the actual date of 1 Tishrei to be postponed from the date of the Molad Tishrei. There are four such postponements:
First, if the time of the Molad Tishrei is later than 18 hours from the beginning of the day, Rosh HaShanah is postponed to the next day. This probably accounts for the fact that the young moon could not have been observed until the next day.
Second, for common years only, if the Molad Tishrei falls on a Tuesday, and is later than 9 hours and 204 halakhim from the start of the day, Rosh HaShanah is postponed to the next day. This rule prevents a situation in which the postponements for the next year would require the year to be 356 days long.
Third, for years following leap years only, if the Molad Tishrei falls on a Monday, and is later than 15 hours and 589 halakhim from the start of the day, Rosh HaShanah is postponed to the next day. This rule prevents a situation that would require the previous year to be only 382 days long.
Finally, if Rosh HaShanah would fall on Sunday, Wednesday, or Friday, it is postponed to the next day. In combination with one of the above postponements, Rosh HaShanah could be postponed by as much as two days. This postponement prevents certain holidays from falling on the Sabbath.
The site also has a neat number crunching program that tells you when each of the above situations affect a given year's schedule and the rescheduled date for Rosh Hashanah.
Anyway, so the first three issues are essentially practical concerns to keep the entire system from going off kilter, but what really interests me is the last means of postponement. See, what it is referring to is the postponement rule of Lo ADU Rosh which is a mnemonic name, aleph, dalet, vuv to indicate that if the molad falls on the first, fourth or sixth day of the week then Rosh Hashanah is to be delayed. But why those days of the week? What's the significance?
So the Talmud says (Rosh Hashanah 20a) that the reason for the Wednesday and Friday rule is so that Yom Kippur doesn't fall out on either side of Shabbos and it's pushed off from Sunday because otherwise Hoshanah Rabbah can fall out on Shabbos (Sukkah 43a). So the Gemaras continue, respectively, explaining that having Shabbos and Yom Kippur after one another is bad either because then the dead may have to wait two days before burial and/or that food will go bad and that if Hoshanah Rabbah falls on Shabbos then people will be unable to perform the classic aravot beating.
Now, I find this really remarkable for a couple of reasons. The first reason is due to the fact that they seemed to think it was alright to mess around with the whole calender - and the dates of all the holidays - for what is essentially ritual convenience! In the pre-calculated system the molad would happen when the molad would happen and you couldn't just change around the dates at will. Yom Kippur no doubt _did_ fall out on Friday and Sunday on a regular basis. And even more than that, to ensure that people far from Jerusalem were observing the correct date for the holiday they kept two days yom tov - and yet here we are messing around with the holy times for convenience! It is really amazing.
Secondly, if the reason Yom Kippur was so moved was so that two days of Shabbos didn't follow one another - what would those Amoraim make of today's three days yom tov/Shabbos in a row?! But besides that, even within the calculated system, Pesach comes up against Shabbos pretty regularly - as it does this year - and Shavuous too regularly does the same. So I'm not even sure I understand their reasoning. Do the dead not have to wait the same two days? In any case, I'd much rather have it set up so that Pesach can never begin on a Saturday night rather than Yom Kippur getting that special concern.
Lastly, I'd like to say a few words about the molad itself. The molad was initially figured out by eye witnesses and was taken very seriously as the Mishnah and Gemara report in great detail. Indeed, witnesses could break the Shabbos to travel to the court to make sure that the molad was set on it's proper time. But as that system became impractical the molad was calculated into a calendric system that could operate independently of witness' sitings. So the molad was calculated to be 29 days 12 hours and 44+1/18 minutes after the previous molad (possibly taken from Ptolemy), which was actually very accurate. But the problem is that due to tidal effects between the Earth and Moon, the mean time for the Moon's orbit is now _less than_ what it was in Hillel II's day. The difference is about 0.6 seconds each month and the accumulated molad has by now gained almost 100 minutes on the actual molad that witnesses would report.
The consequence of this is that today the calculated molads are no longer somewhere between Israel and Babylon as it was during the Talmudic period. Now they are calculating a molad that happens somewhere over Afghanistan! And with a difference of over 100 minutes (out of 1440 minutes in day) that means that the molad is calculated to be on the _wrong day_ about 7% of the time! Link
Now that's some weird stuff, isn't it?
I guess I'll just leave this off with wishing all my readers a shana tovah umetukah and a pleasant Rosh Hashanah....assuming it actually is Rosh Hashanah, of course.
Monday, August 27, 2007
Members of a Different Tribe
Over the past some time I've come to realize a growing appreciation for the stories of the Native Americans, their respective cultures and their resilience in the historical face of institutional prejudice and persecution. The Indian identities are focused around the tribe. They each have their sacred, ancestral lands, their respective religious beliefs and their own languages. And their greatest concerns in modern times are how to maintain the traditions of their ancestors in order to perpetuate their tribal identities. If we then understand that the Jew is essentially a tribal creature then it becomes clear that we fit right along that kind of social structure. Not perfectly though, since the vagaries of history have warped our tribal order, but it is still easily recognizable.
In many ways their stories remind me of our stories, as Jews have been likewise persecuted down the ages - and often for similar reasons. Sadly, in the typical American history education, the many injustices against the Indians are glossed over. But they had been repeatedly lied to through treaty violations, exiled far from their homes, been at the mercy of government sponsored massacres and were the objects of forced institutional assimilation. So think outside the box for a moment, doesn't the Trail of Tears and the Long Walk remind you of certain episodes in Jewish history? Were the originally tiny reservations so different from the European ghettos? Are the massacres really no different from a pogrom?
It's a little strange to think about, but from the Cherokee's perspective Andrew Jackson could be their Nebuchadnezzar.
Keep in mind too that I do not intend on equating these events. This is not a contest for who suffered the most, but an attempt to show some mirrors of history which promote a greater understanding and appreciation for the histories of others as well as our own.
A few friends (all modern to right-wing Orthodox) and I visited Phoenix a couple of weeks ago and we went to the apparently world renown Heard Museum which displays Native American culture, art and history. (They didn’t appreciate it as much as I did, but there isn’t much to do in Phoenix anyway.) One of the exhibits presented the story of the Indian Schools which had been first set up in the late nineteenth century as a means to forcibly assimilate the Indians into normative American life.
These children were pulled from their homes and were forbidden to practice their traditional culture, wear their traditional clothing and had to cut their hair. They were forced to give up their Indian names and were given English ones. They could not speak their native languages, even privately, for fear of punishment. They were forced to attend Church services and were expected to convert to Christianity as their native religious practices were prohibited.
Seeing that, I said to my friends, that’s not much different from Antiochus, now is it? One of them mocked the grievance that they had to cut their hair. So I responded that while I didn’t know the specific meaningfulness of their hair (though I found out later that it does hold cultural or spiritual importance to many tribes) try to put it in perspective - what if you were mocking the idea of forcibly cutting off payes?
Some conversation ensued and soon one of them spontaneously remarked that a huge flaw in the typical yeshivah education is the lack of historical perspective that is given to Jewish history. He said that no attempt is made to try and understand the motives or goals of the people involved. Antiochus was simply evil and all of history is black and white. Indeed. I replied saying that he should read through Tanach and see how Shmuel and Melachim are chock full of unapologetic political intrigue.
Jewish history is real history in the normal world of men and you don’t need mystical or supernatural inducement to explain the diachronic plight of the Jewish people as an unpopular minority. If one understands our past as a singularity, bound by different, special rules and incomparable to anything else, then one cannot engage with it to learn from the lessons of the past. To learn from our history requires us to understand that it is history and has reflections in the histories of other peoples.
In many ways their stories remind me of our stories, as Jews have been likewise persecuted down the ages - and often for similar reasons. Sadly, in the typical American history education, the many injustices against the Indians are glossed over. But they had been repeatedly lied to through treaty violations, exiled far from their homes, been at the mercy of government sponsored massacres and were the objects of forced institutional assimilation. So think outside the box for a moment, doesn't the Trail of Tears and the Long Walk remind you of certain episodes in Jewish history? Were the originally tiny reservations so different from the European ghettos? Are the massacres really no different from a pogrom?
It's a little strange to think about, but from the Cherokee's perspective Andrew Jackson could be their Nebuchadnezzar.
Keep in mind too that I do not intend on equating these events. This is not a contest for who suffered the most, but an attempt to show some mirrors of history which promote a greater understanding and appreciation for the histories of others as well as our own.
A few friends (all modern to right-wing Orthodox) and I visited Phoenix a couple of weeks ago and we went to the apparently world renown Heard Museum which displays Native American culture, art and history. (They didn’t appreciate it as much as I did, but there isn’t much to do in Phoenix anyway.) One of the exhibits presented the story of the Indian Schools which had been first set up in the late nineteenth century as a means to forcibly assimilate the Indians into normative American life.
These children were pulled from their homes and were forbidden to practice their traditional culture, wear their traditional clothing and had to cut their hair. They were forced to give up their Indian names and were given English ones. They could not speak their native languages, even privately, for fear of punishment. They were forced to attend Church services and were expected to convert to Christianity as their native religious practices were prohibited.
Seeing that, I said to my friends, that’s not much different from Antiochus, now is it? One of them mocked the grievance that they had to cut their hair. So I responded that while I didn’t know the specific meaningfulness of their hair (though I found out later that it does hold cultural or spiritual importance to many tribes) try to put it in perspective - what if you were mocking the idea of forcibly cutting off payes?
Some conversation ensued and soon one of them spontaneously remarked that a huge flaw in the typical yeshivah education is the lack of historical perspective that is given to Jewish history. He said that no attempt is made to try and understand the motives or goals of the people involved. Antiochus was simply evil and all of history is black and white. Indeed. I replied saying that he should read through Tanach and see how Shmuel and Melachim are chock full of unapologetic political intrigue.
Jewish history is real history in the normal world of men and you don’t need mystical or supernatural inducement to explain the diachronic plight of the Jewish people as an unpopular minority. If one understands our past as a singularity, bound by different, special rules and incomparable to anything else, then one cannot engage with it to learn from the lessons of the past. To learn from our history requires us to understand that it is history and has reflections in the histories of other peoples.
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