This week, we read about the Golden Calf--the people are afraid because Moses has been up on Sinai for too long, so they panic. They demand a new God, so Aaron (the High Priest) says, "Give me all of your gold, and I'll make you a new God." They do; he does; God gets mad; Moses gets mad; Moses smashes the tablets.
Not our finest moment.
But, a teacher (his name is smudged in my book, so I can't cite him properly*) finds some merit in our idolatrous ancestors: at least they were willing to sacrifice their gold--their money--for their god. Even if he was false, they would do anything for him. As opposed to Jews in "our day" he says, who won't give of their wealth.
* Itturei Torah, volume 3, page 258, 1st teaching. Any of my Rabbi friends able to help?
Now, I'm not sharing this because of the chastisement itself--I'm not suggesting that all of you (all of us, really) are bad because we don't donate enough to our synagogues. I like it for another reasons--our teacher's willingness to find merit, even in an awful, idolatrous act.
Was the Golden Calf a sin? Of course it was. It was an awful thing for our people to do. For God's sake--we had just been rescued by God from slavery. God had split the Red Sea for us! And still, we couldn't be faithful. Such a betrayal.
But, even in that moment, this teacher finds merit. Even within an act which he would still undoubtably condemn, he finds something to admire.
It's easy to see people doing things that they shouldn't be doing. It's easy to get righteously indignant about it. It may even be justified.
But, at the same time, might we be able to find something to admire? Might we find a spark within the darkness? Are we generous enough of spirit?
I'd like to think I am. I'm not sure. Something to think about, and to try, this Shabbat, perhaps.
Shabbat Shalom!
Friday, February 14, 2014
Wednesday, February 5, 2014
Finding Awe (and God) in Evolution
So, I just posted to Facebook this fun little Buzzfeed article, featuring a series of Creationists holding up questions which, in theory, challenge Evolution and/or promote Creationism. Most of these are pretty weak--if there are good arguments to support the Biblical account of creation, I'm pretty sure that pointing to Lucy is not one of them. Fine.
I was tempted to go through and answer each one ("Yes." "No." "No, but I'm not sure what you think that proves."), but that seemed kind of snarky, even for me. And, maybe more to the point, it also seemed like a lot of work. So, I decided to just amuse myself with my answers in my head.
But, I just have to say something about #20 (and, it kinda applies to #5, and maybe a couple of others, too). It reads:
I mean, if there really is an all-powerful, active, independent God*, then creating the world, in all of its complicated beauty, wasn't the least bit difficult. Sure, the world seems awfully complicated to us. But, to God? Making it must have been no more difficult than a card trick. Right? But, if all of that beautiful complexity evolved through its own process, becoming what it is naturally, fluidly, independently? That is pretty darn amazing, isn't it? Awe inspiring, even.
* which, by the way, the Bible never really claims that there is. It might be worth remembering that.
I once learned (I think this is still the current thinking, but even if it's not, the point will stand) that the universe exists upon an unbelievably fine balancing point. Certain forces, and possibly the amount of matter in the universe, are so finely in balance that the smallest change to any of them could have made reality as we know it impossible. Some have pointed to that as more evidence of the existence of an active Creator.
But, again, setting up the world with such a fine balance might be many things, but it isn't the least bit difficult to God. Why would we be amazed that God could do that, when God can, we're told, do anything?
But, to know that the universe somehow unfolded and evolved into this, without the guiding hand of an all-powerful Being, that everything that we know--everything--exists only because of a knife-edge dance played out on every level from the sub-atomic to the cosmic, that our lives and everything we hold dear are, in some sense, a minor nudge away from non-existence? That fills me with awe. That fills me with the wondrous, scary feeling of being not just in the presence of, but of being within, some One who/that I can never, never understand.
I look at the world, and I most definitely believe that no One created/thought of it. At least, not in anything like a literal sense. And, you know what?
That is amazing. That is awesome. That, my anonymous friend on Buzzfeed, is what it truly feels like to stand in the presence of God.
Baruch atah adonai, eloheinu melech ha-olam, oseh ma'aseh v'reishit. Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, the Source of Creation.
I was tempted to go through and answer each one ("Yes." "No." "No, but I'm not sure what you think that proves."), but that seemed kind of snarky, even for me. And, maybe more to the point, it also seemed like a lot of work. So, I decided to just amuse myself with my answers in my head.
But, I just have to say something about #20 (and, it kinda applies to #5, and maybe a couple of others, too). It reads:
How can you look at the world and not believe Someone Created/thought of it? It's Amazing!!!Let me ask you: in all honesty, which is more deeply, profoundly amazing? That an all-powerful Being created the world as we see it? Or that, without any intervention, this world created itself?
I mean, if there really is an all-powerful, active, independent God*, then creating the world, in all of its complicated beauty, wasn't the least bit difficult. Sure, the world seems awfully complicated to us. But, to God? Making it must have been no more difficult than a card trick. Right? But, if all of that beautiful complexity evolved through its own process, becoming what it is naturally, fluidly, independently? That is pretty darn amazing, isn't it? Awe inspiring, even.
* which, by the way, the Bible never really claims that there is. It might be worth remembering that.
I once learned (I think this is still the current thinking, but even if it's not, the point will stand) that the universe exists upon an unbelievably fine balancing point. Certain forces, and possibly the amount of matter in the universe, are so finely in balance that the smallest change to any of them could have made reality as we know it impossible. Some have pointed to that as more evidence of the existence of an active Creator.
But, again, setting up the world with such a fine balance might be many things, but it isn't the least bit difficult to God. Why would we be amazed that God could do that, when God can, we're told, do anything?
But, to know that the universe somehow unfolded and evolved into this, without the guiding hand of an all-powerful Being, that everything that we know--everything--exists only because of a knife-edge dance played out on every level from the sub-atomic to the cosmic, that our lives and everything we hold dear are, in some sense, a minor nudge away from non-existence? That fills me with awe. That fills me with the wondrous, scary feeling of being not just in the presence of, but of being within, some One who/that I can never, never understand.
I look at the world, and I most definitely believe that no One created/thought of it. At least, not in anything like a literal sense. And, you know what?
That is amazing. That is awesome. That, my anonymous friend on Buzzfeed, is what it truly feels like to stand in the presence of God.
Baruch atah adonai, eloheinu melech ha-olam, oseh ma'aseh v'reishit. Blessed are You, Adonai our God, Ruler of the Universe, the Source of Creation.
Tuesday, February 4, 2014
Religion and the Benjamin Franklin Effect
An insight I had when trying to talk about Sacrifice with a student last week. We were pondering why God who, logic would tell us, couldn't possibly need anything that we have to offer. I mean, I'm pretty sure God doesn't need meat, and if God did, then God has access to some pretty good barbecue, without me throwing my bull on the altar. Right?
I was trying to explain the idea that, just maybe, these rituals were for us, not for God. I've talked about that before. Plenty. But, I then linked it to the Ben Franklin effect. In short, Franklin discovered (or, maybe just relied upon) the fact that the most effective way to get someone to like you is not to be nice to them (which most of us would assume to be the case). Far more effective is to get them to do you a small favor. When they do the favor, they become more likely to have nice feelings for you.
It's almost Pavlovian (I think). Usually, we do nice things for people we like. So, if you do something nice for me, something in your brain makes that association, and starts thinking "Hey! I must like this person."
I'm pretty sure that all of our religious rituals work on exactly this premise.
I was trying to explain the idea that, just maybe, these rituals were for us, not for God. I've talked about that before. Plenty. But, I then linked it to the Ben Franklin effect. In short, Franklin discovered (or, maybe just relied upon) the fact that the most effective way to get someone to like you is not to be nice to them (which most of us would assume to be the case). Far more effective is to get them to do you a small favor. When they do the favor, they become more likely to have nice feelings for you.
It's almost Pavlovian (I think). Usually, we do nice things for people we like. So, if you do something nice for me, something in your brain makes that association, and starts thinking "Hey! I must like this person."
I'm pretty sure that all of our religious rituals work on exactly this premise.
The Dangers of Certainty
For a long time, uncertainty and ambiguity have been among my favorite topics to read, write and think about. And, I mean that from a religious point of view—I am theologically committed to the idea of uncertainty. I suspect that would sound somewhat strange to someone who tends to think of religion as it is presented in larger settings–usually as absolute, confident assertions about who or what God is, what God wants and how others are wrong about those very same questions.
Me? I think that real truth (or, maybe I should say, real Truth) is never found in absolutes and certainties. There's an old Yiddish proverb that "to know God is to be God*," which I think is another way of saying that no one, other than God, can ever really be certain about anything when it comes to God. If my feeble, limited mind** can contain an idea, then that idea is, pretty much by definition, small enough to be contained in my feeble, limited mind. Which means it ain't as big as God!
* I tried to find the original Yiddish, and according to Google it seems that lots of cultures claim that as their original quote. One more thing I thought I knew...
** And, compared to an ultimate God, all of our minds are feeble and limited, right?
A lot of my writing over the years has been explicitly or implicitly about this topic. If you don't believe me, check out these blog posts (which are mostly implicit) or this sermon (which is pretty explicit!) on the topic. I even have a file of interesting ideas and articles on this topic, in the theory that, one day, I may even have a book to write about it!
But, lately, I haven't been writing so much. I still feel that it's one of the most important topics in my religious life, and as a Rabbi (which is a different). Especially given how certain many others in the world (and, especially in the religious world) seem to be, I think it's an absolutely essential topic. One of the most essential, frankly. But, I haven't had anything new to say about it in a while. So, I find myself not saying much, at all.
But then, I was pointed towards a recent blog post from the New York Times. It's titled The Dangers of Certainty: A Lesson From Auschwitz. I can't recommend strongly enough that you read it, and watch the (four minute) video with. It's simply extraordinary.
* Thanks, Steve B!
The author, Simon Critchley, points out that the history of science has actually not been an inexorable march towards certainty. People often assume that it is—as we learn more, we become more certain about how the world works. And, on the surface, that is indeed how science seems to work. But, real scientists have been learning for a long time just how uncertain we necessarily are about world:
Me? I think that real truth (or, maybe I should say, real Truth) is never found in absolutes and certainties. There's an old Yiddish proverb that "to know God is to be God*," which I think is another way of saying that no one, other than God, can ever really be certain about anything when it comes to God. If my feeble, limited mind** can contain an idea, then that idea is, pretty much by definition, small enough to be contained in my feeble, limited mind. Which means it ain't as big as God!
* I tried to find the original Yiddish, and according to Google it seems that lots of cultures claim that as their original quote. One more thing I thought I knew...
** And, compared to an ultimate God, all of our minds are feeble and limited, right?
A lot of my writing over the years has been explicitly or implicitly about this topic. If you don't believe me, check out these blog posts (which are mostly implicit) or this sermon (which is pretty explicit!) on the topic. I even have a file of interesting ideas and articles on this topic, in the theory that, one day, I may even have a book to write about it!
But, lately, I haven't been writing so much. I still feel that it's one of the most important topics in my religious life, and as a Rabbi (which is a different). Especially given how certain many others in the world (and, especially in the religious world) seem to be, I think it's an absolutely essential topic. One of the most essential, frankly. But, I haven't had anything new to say about it in a while. So, I find myself not saying much, at all.
But then, I was pointed towards a recent blog post from the New York Times. It's titled The Dangers of Certainty: A Lesson From Auschwitz. I can't recommend strongly enough that you read it, and watch the (four minute) video with. It's simply extraordinary.
* Thanks, Steve B!
The author, Simon Critchley, points out that the history of science has actually not been an inexorable march towards certainty. People often assume that it is—as we learn more, we become more certain about how the world works. And, on the surface, that is indeed how science seems to work. But, real scientists have been learning for a long time just how uncertain we necessarily are about world:
Dr. Bronowski’s 11th essay took him to the ancient university city of Göttingen in Germany, to explain the genesis of Werner Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle in the hugely creative milieu that surrounded the physicist Max Born in the 1920s. Dr. Bronowski insisted that the principle of uncertainty was a misnomer, because it gives the impression that in science (and outside of it) we are always uncertain. But this is wrong. Knowledge is precise, but that precision is confined within a certain toleration of uncertainty. Heisenberg’s insight is that the electron is a particle that yields only limited information; its speed and position are confined by the tolerance of Max Planck’s quantum, the basic element of matter.
Dr. Bronowski thought that the uncertainty principle should therefore be called the principle of tolerance. Pursuing knowledge means accepting uncertainty. Heisenberg’s principle has the consequence that no physical events can ultimately be described with absolute certainty or with “zero tolerance,” as it were. The more we know, the less certain we are.
The plain, scientific truth is that it is impossible for human beings to ever know, with absolute precision and certainty, anything. Anything at all. A certain amount of uncertainty is (quite literally?) built into the cosmos. Scientists know this–as far as I know, this is not a disputed point anymore. But, perhaps ironically*, many religious leaders, and religious non-leaders, seem to not accept this in their own lives. We might be uncertain about the exact state of an electron, but that doesn't mean that we can't be certain about God, right?!?
* I say "ironically" because, in theory, we're supposed to be the humble ones. Right?
It's obviously ridiculous idea, when I put it like that*. But, that really does seem to be the basis on which many people speak about religion: as a realm of absolute certainty in an uncertain world. I'm with Critchley (and the Dr. Bronowski he quotes) in believing that that's among the most dangerous attitudes in the world:
* that's why I put it like that.
For Dr. Bronowski, the moral consequence of knowledge is that we must never judge others on the basis of some absolute, God-like conception of certainty. All knowledge, all information that passes between human beings, can be exchanged only within what we might call “a play of tolerance,” whether in science, literature, politics or religion. As he eloquently put it, “Human knowledge is personal and responsible, an unending adventure at the edge of uncertainty.”
The relationship between humans and nature and humans and other humans can take place only within a certain play of tolerance. Insisting on certainty, by contrast, leads ineluctably to arrogance and dogma based on ignorance.
If I believed in tattoos* I might get that last sentence tattooed somewhere prominent on me.
* I have some religious objections to them, of course. But, mainly I'm against inflicting pain on myself.
Look, by this point in my searching, I'm fairly well convinced that all of our various statements about God only makes sense as metaphor and approximation. I'm an extreme non-literalist, and to quote myself, a Radical Non-Fundamentalist. So, I know I truly am (somewhat ironically) a bit extreme in this way. I simply don't believe that anything any of us say about God should ever be taken literally. But, even if you're less extreme and I am– even if you're a bit more of a certain, literalist than I am, don't you have to admit to at least some uncertainty? Don't you have to admit that in a world in which we can't be precisely sure of the location of the smallest building blocks of matter, we also can't be sure of the will of the Divine?
And, if you can't be absolutely sure about that, then don't you have to be at least a little bit tolerant about those who believe, or think, differently than you do?
It's really difficult to kill someone over an idea that you aren't 100% sure is true. Isn't it?
I just wish that it wasn't such a seemingly difficult concept for others, especially my partners and cousins in striving for God, to accept.
We always have to acknowledge that we might be mistaken. When we forget that, then we forget ourselves and the worst can happen.
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