In Defense of Materialism (?)

Just before Christmas, Jewish pundit and author Dennis Prager wrote an article suggesting that, contrary to most of what we read during the Christmas/holiday season, we should actually embrace the buying and acquisition of material things.

Now, let me just say that, for starters, I think that this is a terrible message to attach to Christmas/Hanukkah/whatever. There are incredibly valid, important, powerful arguments to make that focusing on materialism, while supposedly celebrating what are supposed to be sacred, spiritual times, is wrong on so many levels. That's not exactly a novel argument, so I won't bother repeating it here.

But, taken out of the context of the holidays, I think that Prager makes an interesting point. And, it's one which might serve to highlight one of the differences between Christianity and Judaism (acknowledging that my own knowledge of Christianity is obviously very limited, so I apologize in advance if I misrepresent anything here).

Before defending material things, let me make clear where I do agree with the joy-deniers. First, there is no question that no material thing can compete with love, religion, music, reading, health and other precious non-material things. And second, experiences contribute more to happiness than things do. If you only have x amount of money to spend on yourself, traveling to new places is usually more contributive to happiness than a better car. When I had almost no money through my early 30s, I still traveled abroad every year — which meant that I could only afford an inexpensive car. I have now visited a hundred countries, and that has given me more meaning and happiness than a luxury car or any other material thing.

But having said all that, material things matter. They can contribute a great deal to a happier and more meaningful life.

Very often, we are sent the message that material things are bad. But, at least in the Jewish point of view, material things are not bad. They are not important—at least not very much so—but that's a very different thing. Everything else being equal, it's better to have things than to not have things. There's nothing wrong with being rich, or with enjoying its benefits.

That's where I think Judaism and Christianity differ. Although I know there isn't exactly unanimity on this point, I think that Christianity leans towards the belief that material things are, ultimately, corrupting. That they're bad. That, all things being equal, were better off not having things than having them.
And, I learned somewhere along the way that this reflects a fundamental difference in our two religions.

At its core, Christianity is concerned with the next world. This world is, more than anything else, a prelude to that world. And so, that which attaches us to this world is, consequently, bad. Our focus should be entirely on the next. You can certainly find this view within Judaism, but it's not the dominant view. The dominant view is that this world is what we should be worried about, at least while we're in it. The next world is important, to be sure. More important, even. But, for now, what we have is what's around us, and it's good. What else could it mean in Genesis when, while creating the world, God pauses from time to time to declare the latest piece of creation “good.”

The world, and that which it contains, is good.

The Talmud teaches that a person will be held accountable for everything in this world which they could have enjoyed, but didn't.* God put these things here so that we could enjoy them. Not enjoying them is seen as a little bit of a slap in the face to God.


*obviously, the “which they could have enjoyed” is important. Things which have been outlawed need not apply…

This perspective seems to me to jibe pretty well with reality. Protest though we may, most of us find some real pleasure and happiness in the material world, even (especially?) in the little things:

With all my love of family, of friends, of music and of the life of the mind, I have always loved material things, too. On any happiness scale, it would be difficult to overstate how much joy my stereo equipment has given me since high school. I so love music that I periodically conduct orchestras in Southern California. And I now own a system that is so good that its offerings sound only a bit less real than what I hear from the conductor’s podium. I bless the engineers and others who design stereo products, and it is my joy to help support their noble quest of reproducing great music in people’s homes.

Since high school, too, I have written only with fountain pens. Buying new pens and trying out new inks are among the little joys of life that contribute as much — and sometimes more — to one’s happiness than the “big” things. There is incomparable joy at attending a child’s bar mitzvah or wedding. But those great events last a day. I write with a beloved fountain pen every day, listen to music every day, smoke a pleasure-giving cigar or pipe every day (except Shabbat, for the halachically curious). I love these things. What a colorless world it would be without them. So, too, I love my house. And I love the artwork and furniture and library that help to make it beautiful.

The danger, Judaism teaches us, is in going too far. In confusing “enjoying things” with “needing things.” With elevating things to a higher level, one of which they don't belong:

Can people overdo purchasing things? Of course they can. People can also overdo taking vitamins, exercising and even reading books or studying Talmud.
So, then, when do we need to control our buying things?
a) When it becomes a compulsion — when one cannot stop buying things because the buying gives more pleasure than the things that are bought.
b) When the primary purpose of the purchase is to impress others with one’s wealth.
c) When one cannot afford what one is buying.

Judaism tends to view the world as a balancing act (one more reason that "Jewish Extremist" should be an oxymoron. If only). So it is here. Enjoy the little things, but keep them in perspective. After all, God made them, too.

"These and These" on Israel

One of my favorite topics (on this blog, and in life) is ambiguity - the idea that truth is rarely precise or absolute. It lies not so much between the extremes, as it does over the entire spectrum, including the extremes. Everyone is, at least in part, usually right. It's summed up in the famous Talmudic statement that "Elu v'elu devarim elohim chayim -- these and these are the words of the living God."

One of my favorite writers about Israel is Rabbi Daniel Gordis. I think that he's clear, honest, and usually right on the issues.

So, I was particularly happy when Rabbi Gordis wrote an article about the need to acknowledge the validity of all parts of the spectrum, when it comes to Israel:

That’s why some of us who write about Israel take a different approach. We don’t care about being neatly classifiable as “left” or “right”; because to love a country is not that different from loving a person. It means defending but also critiquing. It means loving unconditionally but knowing that love does not mean overlooking serious flaws. To love Israel, I believe, is to know that the Jewish state is not just a flag or an army or some holy place. To love Israel is to love the real Israel, with all its many warts and imperfections. And to love Israel is to know that there is a difference between a wart and a serious disease; when an imperfection is so serious as to threaten the entire enterprise, then the most loyal thing that one can do is to insist that Israel be better.

I am incredibly pro-peace. I believe that the Palestinians deserve a state of their own, and that ongoing occupation (or whatever you want to call it now) serves the interests of no one. 

I am incredibly pro-Israel and pro-security. I think that the Palestinians, not Israel, have overwhelmingly been the obstacle to peace. I think that making peace with a people which is openly and actively dedicated to your destruction is foolhardy, and untenable, if not ridiculous.

Am I a leftist or righty? A hawk or a dove? In the words of Gordis' article, a prophet or a guardian?

I am a Zionist. A lover of Israel, Which makes me all of the above.

Speaking out against Jewish extremists

Jewish extremists in Israel have been making the news again and, not surprisingly, it hasn't been for good things (is it ever?). These self assigned defenders of the faith have continued to harass women who—horrors!—dare to go out in public in clothes which don't meet ultra orthodox approval. And they even—yes, it's hard to believe—want to sit at the front of the bus, in plain view of the men. There's been a lot more than that, but you get the idea.

Liberal Jews have been quick to condem these despicable acts. And, Israeli politicians have been, too (if you're cynical, you might think that has to do with upcoming elections). But, it's nice that some Rabbis from the Orthodox world are speaking up, too, as Rabbi Shmuley Boteach did recently on Huffpost*:

There is a common thread uniting these stories. Religious extremism festers when decent lay people are cowed into submission by fanatics whom they falsely believe to be more religious than them. But there is nothing holy about Rabbis refusing to teach 2500 young Jews who are pining for Jewish knowledge. More importantly, it is an abomination to faith for men to treat women abusively. A black coat will never redeem a dark heart and a long beard is poor compensation for a shriveled soul.

Their defenders pointed out that these heinous acts are perpetrated by only a small number of Haredim. True. But in the face of Islamic terror outrages we in the West rightly demand that mainstream Islamic leaders condemn the extremists, lest their silence make them complicit in the violence. The Jewish community must be judged by the same standard and Rabbis of every stripe must condemn this abuse as sickening and contrary to the core of Judaism.

* If you click through, then be warned - I have NO idea why he starts talking about the UK Chief Rabbinate, about halfway through. But, until then, I'm all-in with him.

Yes, it may be another case of shooting fish in a barrel, preaching the choir or whatever you want to call it. But, it's worth a second to speak out and say that narrow-minded, petty, hateful, destructive people do not speak for me. And they certainly don't speak for God.

Speaking out about depression

Amidst my musings on various Jewish topics, I'd like to insert a bit of a public service announcement.

The Blogess is (if you couldn't guess) a blogger who has recently gotten some fame in the blogosphere. I find her hysterical, but she's beyond irreverent and completely inappropriate, in terms of her language. If you don't like that kind of thing, please don't click through to anything of hers!

But, one of her most recent posts is incredibly important, because it deals with her depression (about which she has talked freely) and even her self harming behavior (about which she hadn't talked until now). Here's the whole of the first part, in case you don't want to click through:

If you follow me on twitter you already know that I’ve been battling off one of the most severe bouts of depression I’ve ever had.  Yesterday it started to pass, and for the first time in weeks I cried with relief instead of with hopelessness.  Depression can be crippling, and deadly.  I’m lucky that it’s a rare thing for me, and that I have a support system to lean on.  I’m lucky that I’ve learned that depression lies to you, and that you should never listen to it, in spite of how persuasive it is at the time.

When cancer sufferers fight, recover, and go into remission we laud their bravery.  We call them survivors.  Because they are.

When depression sufferers fight, recover and go into remission we seldom even know, simply because so many suffer in the dark…ashamed to admit something they see as a personal weakness…afraid that people will worry, and more afraid that they won’t.  We find ourselves unable to do anything but cling to the couch and force ourselves to breathe.

When you come out of the grips of a depression there is an incredible relief, but not one you feel allowed to celebrate.  Instead, the feeling of victory is replaced with anxiety that it will happen again, and with shame and vulnerability when you see how your illness affected your family, your work, everything left untouched while you struggled to survive.  We come back to life thinner, paler, weaker…but as survivors.  Survivors who don’t get pats on the back from coworkers who congratulate them on making it.  Survivors who wake to more work than before because their friends and family are exhausted from helping them fight a battle they may not even understand.

Regardless, today I feel proud.  I survived.  And I celebrate every one of you reading this.  I celebrate the fact that you’ve fought your battle and continue to win.  I celebrate the fact that you may not understand the battle, but you pick up the baton dropped by someone you love until they can carry it again.  I celebrate the fact that each time we go through this, we get a little stronger.  We learn new tricks on the battlefield.  We learn them in terrible ways, but we use them.  We don’t struggle in vain.

We win.

We are alive.

Depression is an evil, insidious, brutal disease. And, it can strike anyone—absolutely anyone. Man, woman. Young, old. Smart, not so smart. Popular, outcast. Anyone.

Someone you work with is struggling with depression.

Someone in your school is struggling with depression.

Someone in your (extended, at least) family is struggling with depression.

All these statements, and countless more like them, are almost undoubtedly true. Depression is all around us, yet somehow it's still not out in the open. Not completely. People feel shame about fighting depression. People feel guilty for suffering it. Like it's a sign of weakness.

It's not weakness. It's a disease.

If you are depressed, or you think you may be, or someone you know and love is—speak up. Reach out. Get help. Tell someone you love. Tell a counselor, or a social worker. A Rabbi, or other clergy. A teacher. A friend. Tell anyone.

No one should have to fight this disease alone. No one does.

L'Chaim!

L'Chaim!

It's probably one of the best known words/expressions in Judaism. I'm sure it's in large part because of Fiddler on the Roof, but it seems that even those with almost no knowledge of Judaism now that "L'Chaim!" is the Jewish version of “Cheers!” And that it means, “To life!”

It turns out that this innocuous little phrase is actually the source of some scholarly debate. I've seen recently some questions about the grammar—that isn't actually a proper phrase. But, there's even more debate about its origins. If you like quirky little explorations of folkways, click on through—it's an interesting, short article.

One aspect of the article which I found interesting, almost as an aside, is that among the several most likely incorrect explanations of the term is one which connected it to potentially poisoned wine.

The opinion asked for was whether the wine might be harmful or even poisoned, as it was in the case of several assassinated monarchs of the Byzantine period — i.e., whether the drinker of it was destined for life or death. Only after the assembled company responded resoundingly ‘L’chaim,’ ‘For life,’ was the wine drunk.

So, it was a symbolic way of warding off evil/poison before we drank: to life; not to death!

As the article shows, it's incredibly unlikely that this reflects the actual origin. But it does accurately reflect a Jewish preoccupation with negative explanations for customs of unknown origin. Why do we whisper the line after the Shema*? Because the Romans didn't like the statement, which could have been interpreted as rebellious. Why do we read Haftarah (a reading from the Prophets after the Torah reading)? Because the Romans (there they are again—those dastardly Romans!) outlawed the reading of the Torah, so this was the next best thing.

* Most Reform synagogues don't do this, actually. Ironically, that's because we rejected the original reason for the whispering, except that like the "poisoned wine" theory, it was probably a completely false explanation! 


One of my professors (I'm 99% sure that it was Dr. Carole Balin) referred to it as the “Lachrymose Theory of Jewish History.” Everything in Jewish history could be explained as something tear-filled. Everything goes back to something negative, and painful.

Clearly, Jews have had our share of misfortune. In fact, we've had several people's shares. But, we've also had some good times. We've had more than our share of joy, when times are good, too. “L'Chaim” is probably nothing more than a polite way of gathering everyone before a joyous blessing. Sometimes, raising a glass and toasting to life is enough.

L'Chaim!

How the Washington Post (among others) distorts the Middle East

I've said plenty of times that the press does a terrible job of reporting on the ongoing conflict in the Middle East, particularly with Israel (it's not exactly an opinion which is original to me). For some reason, the Washington Post has been one of the worst offenders in this regard, and I recently came across this description of exactly how they get it so wrong.

The Washington Post consistently mischaracterizes the Arab-Israeli conflict as: (1) primarily a dispute over land in the West Bank and Gaza, rather than what is, in reality, a continuing attempt by the Arabs to annihilate Israel that began long before Israel was in control of the West Bank and Gaza; (2) then, mischaracterizes the land as "Palestinian land,"illegally occupied by Israel, instead of disputed territory to which Israel has legitimate claims; and, (3) finally, mischaracterizes Israel's military and security tactics as inhumane and in violation of international norms, when they are probably the most protective of human rights in the history of warfare. All three of these fundamental mischaracterizations by The Post are developed in more detail below.

It goes on from there to give a lot more detail. It's not exactly a nuanced article, and even a strong supporter of Israel like myself can find ways in which it goes too far in the other direction (for instance, there are plenty of ways in which the Israeli Army has clearly stepped over the line from time to time. Even if (importantly) these are isolated incidents, rather than planned policy, it's still important to acknowledge them, if you're going to say/suggest that all innocent Palestinian injuries were reasonable accidents). But, it gives a strong summary of how the press can often use omission and distortion to make Israel look bad.

If you're one of the many who want to support Israel more vocally, but are often confused/frustrated by what you see in the press, this is a good place to start.

Israel: still not an Apartheid state

I don't usually reference Dennis Prager, but I have to admit that this five minute video does an excellent job of debunking the “Israel is an Apartheid state” nonsense:

Israel is not perfect. Far from it. Israel has some very serious problems, with its internal politics, as well as with its relations with the Palestinians. That statement is so obvious that it's almost ridiculous to have to say it, but I never want to be accused of being in the “Israel can do no wrong” camp. Israel can do wrong, and it has. And it's the right of anyone, Jewish or not, to criticize Israel when it does so.

But, when that criticism become so ridiculous, so disproportionate, so completely disconnected from reality, we have to ask ourselves about the motivation for that criticism. Is it an honest concern for the country, or for those who are being wronged by the country? Or, is it an attempt to demonize that country, and cut off any reasonable debate?

So then, why is Israel called apartheid state? Because by comparing the freest, most equitable country in the Middle East to the former South Africa those who hate Israel hope they can persuade uninformed people that Israel doesn't deserve to exist just as apartheid South Africa didn't deserve to exist

Imagine, for moment, that you do something wrong. Something serious, but not egregious. And then I call you on it—I point out what you did wrong, and hold you to account for it. We can disagree on whether or not you did it. We can disagree on whether or not you are wrong. We can disagree on how bad it was. All reasonable.

But then, imagine instead that I just begin the conversation by calling you, in all seriousness, an evil, worthless scumbag who deserves a painful death. Would you consider that to be, in any way, a reasonable approach? Would you try to engage me in a rational conversation, explaining that, in fact, you are not an evil worthless scumbag? Or would you assume that I was crazy, unreasonable, and/or just out to get you?

When someone calls Israel and Apartheid state, they aren't engaging in reasonable discussion. They're screaming at the top of their lungs that Israel is evil, and they don't want you to think, and they don't want to listen.