045) If You Can't Think...Follow

Religious independence is not for everyone. Many turn to, or continue to practice religion because they have a need to be nurtured. Independence is something of an anathema to the archetypal spiritual seeker. This type of personality is, typically, non-threatening and even beneficial to all religions that need their traditions transmitted to future generations. Judaism included.

But Judaism must be more than the mere mechanical process of transmission of texts and traditions. Surely, as long as the commitment to Halacha remains sacrosanct, Judaism must be capable of withstanding and incorporating a strong component of freedom of spiritual thought. The Kotzker Rebbe championed this concept of spiritual independence, probably more than most.

The story is told¹ about an amazing interaction between two of his teachers, the Yid HaKadosh and the Chozeh of Lublin; The Yid felt some kind of premonition that he was going to die and mentioned it to the Chozeh. The Chozeh or ‘seer’ responded by saying that if the Yid spent Rosh HaShana with him, he would surely live. Strangely the Yid chose not to stay in Lublin but instead decided to move away from the Chozeh. The Yid said that he did this because had he stayed, he would have become so influenced by the Chozeh that he would have lost any sense of autonomy. He would take his chances and even die rather than lose his independence and individuality. In Kotzk a teacher is important, but independence is more important. The teacher must teach the student independence.

Only when the ‘I’ is clearly defined, can the relationship with any ‘other’ be sustainable. Otherwise who is initiating the relationship? I can't relate to G-d till I know who I am.

The Kotzker had a novel take on the well known Pesach story. The Torah says that one must take a lamb as a Passover sacrifice. Rashi comments² that ‘one who has’ (i.e. a man of means), should take (a lamb) from himself (i.e. from his own flock) – while ‘one who does not have’ (i.e. a poor man), should simply take from the market.  But the Kotzker sees this as talking about something much deeper than the historical paschal lamb.

The expression; ‘One who has’, refers to one who has the ability to think for himself. Such a person is quite capable of taking from his own intellectual stock. Whereas ‘one who does not have’, refers to one who does not have that ability, or is afraid to use his independence. Such an individual should simply take from the marketplace of scholars who are looking for dependants, and become subservient to them.³

This is one of the great challenges of modern Judaism. Everyone knows the theory and principle that as long as you observe Halacha you are free to form any Hashkafa or weltanschauung you wish. Sadly, we only know it. We don't practice it. In reality we frown upon any thinking that is not akin to how we have been taught to think. We also seem to miss the irony that the more we progress to an openness of mind, the more we are in keeping with our ancient tradition.

Thinking can’t be taught, it has to be thought.

---

<sup>1. Niflaos HaYehudi 86 ↩
2. Shemos 12:21 ↩
3. Amud HaEmet p42, par 5 ↩</sup>

038) Rather Make The Wrong Decision And Be Right

One of humanity’s great questions is: At what stage do we sacrifice self-principle for self-gain? Almost everybody trades principle for benefit at some stage. Some people are able to hold on just a little longer, while others hardly entertain the notion of principle at all.

How important is principle and why does it always get in the way of things we really want to do?

The Kotzker Rebbe has a profound and rather novel way of looking at the concept of principle. Instead of being that self-righteous ‘nerd’ that always rears its ugly head every time we want to do something exciting or advantageous…principle itself can become just as useful and beneficial. There is a special satisfaction that comes with living a life based on principle. And this satisfaction can often outweigh the advantages of unprincipled gain.

Of course, not everyone can perceive the pleasure and tranquility of living a life based on high standards of principle and integrity - but some will. Knowing that one has the strength to stand by one’s principles is probably one of the sweetest tastes that life has to offer. But it is an acquired taste.

The Kotzker Rebbe says: 

No matter what, never ever regret a decision one made based on principle.

(Amud HaEmet)

This reminds me of something I think Winston Churchill once said: “I'd rather make a bad decision and be right than make a good decision and be wrong.”

Principle becomes a currency that has a value. It becomes a commodity that, through its acquisition, enriches the soul.

It’s no accident that the Kotzker was also one of the greatest proponents of personal independence and freedom, that the Jewish world has ever known. He abhorred the mindless followers of mass movements. These movements had become extremely popular, as numerous Chassidic groups began infiltrating Poland at that time. Their reach and popularity had become almost unprecedented in Jewish history. In his view, being a part of any overbearing and dominating system, albeit Halachically sanctioned, spelt the end of intellectual individualism.

And, in the world of Kotzk, intellectual individualism and independence was at a premium.

It was the dominant currency of Kotzk.

Freedom and independence were also integral to the primacy of principle – because only ADHERENCE TO PRINCIPLE BRINGS TRUE INDEPENDENCE.

As Winston Churchill once did say; “You have enemies? Good. That means you've stood up for something, sometime in your life.”

036) Created Or Inherent Spirituality - Which Is Stronger?

To the layman it may seem that spirituality is, by definition, spirituality. It may seem that there can be no differential between one kind of spirituality and another. In truth, however, that would be like saying that art is art and there is no differential between one kind and another.

In broad terms, the Kotzker Rebbe distinguishes between two very different forms of spirituality. Essentially he differentiates between the type of holiness one is (potentially) able to achieve during the week, and between that which one is (theoretically) able to achieve on Shabbat:

During the week, the type of spirituality one achieves is predominantly a result of NEGATION of the physical.  Whereas on Shabbat, it results from the INCORPORATION of the physical. The latter is superior.

 (Amud HaEmet  p62, par2)

As a rule, the weekday spiritual encounter generally involves some form of battle against materialism. We engage in practices that remind us of our mission to try subdue the physical world. For example, we wear Teffillin to remind us that any contact with materialism has to be controlled and directed, so that we don’t become victims of a world that can very easily suck us under.

On Shabbat, however, the emphasis is completely inverted. For example, we no longer guard our food so much, because we eat big meals. We no longer guard our time so much, because we are encouraged to relax. Even sleep becomes more noble. We sing. We go for walks. We talk. Our study schedule is not so demanding. The holiness of Shabbat is therefore attained through incorporation of the physical, not through its negation. And strangely enough its holiness is superior to that attained during the week.

The Kotzker explains the reason for this:  During the week, whatever spirituality we find is mostly as a result of our efforts and our strivings to become better. On Shabbat, in contradistinction, the spirituality ‘descends’ upon us, almost as if it were a ‘gift’. The latter is superior to the former.

This distinction is an important one. Forget the weekday and the Shabbat for a moment, and let’s apply this principle more laterally: There are two types of spirituality we can experience. The first is the ethereal environment we create when we follow the rituals and dictates of the law. Don’t underestimate the power of this spirituality. It can be very tangible and very real. But it comes about as a result of some sort of fight which we win against the world around us.  Negative elements are identified and duly negated.

The second type of spirituality, however, involves no such battle. It results from a process that is far more natural. The holiness in the moment is identified and simply allowed to become incorporated within. Very little change is required. It is almost as if the spiritual beauty in everything around us suddenly becomes apparent and the need to fight simply goes away.

Put another way: The first type of spirituality is created by our religious labors. The second is discovered and one realizes that it was there all the time. The first is created by observance. The second is discovered by observing.

Unfortunately, many who master the first category, have difficulty in mastering the other. Those who are masters of observance are often not comfortable to let go and allow the inherent holiness of the surrounding world to rain down on them. And those who see and trust the beauty and goodness even within the secular and the mundane, often do not see the benefit of ritual and observance.

To be truly spiritual means one has to be comfortable with both approaches.

Yet, in the Kotzker’s world (not that one should ever have to choose between the two – because the real Torah personality masters both), it seems that he believed that the second category was still superior.

NOTE: Someone read this blog before it was published and asked: Surely that which one achieves through one’s own efforts are worth more than something given as a gift? To which I responded: Yes. It is tempting and pacifying to think like that. Imagine a child who saves up a few cents. Very noble.  But in a real monetary sense, those few cents are nothing in comparison with a larger amount of money received say through an inheritance. So too in spirituality. The little one achieves is very noble and nice. But it pales into insignificance when compared to that which comes from the world of the Spirit itself

034) The Great Kotzker Contradiction - Either it Matters What Other People Think or it Doesn't

I have set myself the goal of trying to read every single Kotzker teaching I can get my hands on. In the process I have often comes across some interesting ideas and concepts. Here is one of them:

In one place the Kotzker says:

“And Leah’s eyes were weak…” Rashi explains that Leah cried a lot. She cried because people said that since Isaac had an older son (Esau), and a younger son (Jacob) - and since Lavan also had an older daughter (Leah), and a younger daughter (Rachel) - the older son could marry the older daughter, and the younger son could marry the younger daughter. This meant that Leah might end up marrying Esau, hence Leah’s tears.

The Kotzker is a little bothered by this explanation of Rashi, and asks:

Who were these people who were making these suggestions and talking like this? It was only Lavan and his wicked family. No one else. So why should Leah have been bothered by all this talk? - From here we learn that we should always be conscious and aware of what people say!    

(Amud HaEmet p26, par3)

In another place he appears to contradict this viewpoint:

When the spies returned from spying out the land of Israel, they said that the people living there were so big that they resembled giants, and that they [the spies] felt like little grasshoppers in comparison. The spies continued to report; “And so we appeared in their eyes.”

The Kotzker makes this observation:

It’s one thing to report how you yourself feel about a given situation. It’s another to extrapolate about the feelings others are experiencing in that same situation. One never really knows how another feels. Besides, it doesn't matter what other people think about you.   

(Kochav HaShachar p21, par 4)

So from two different books, we are presented with an apparent contradiction. Where does he stand on the issue of how seriously we should take what others think of us? Either it matters what others think, or it doesn’t. Did the Kotzker contradict himself?

I think there could be two answers:

On the one hand, let’s say he did contradict himself. That’s all the more reason why I would choose him as a teacher. It shows just how human he was. Perhaps when he was younger he didn't care what people thought of him. And perhaps with time he mellowed and took a different view. Or perhaps he started out worrying about how he was perceived by others, only to later on in life realize that life is there to be lived fully by the individual himself, with scant regard for those who opposed him.

On the other hand, let’s say there is no contradiction. We cannot live our lives constantly worrying about how everyone else is going to interpret our actions. If we do, we will never say or accomplish anything significant, for fear that someone might be offended. At the same time, one cannot just barge through life without caring about other the billions of other people we have to share this planet with. Victory has a bitter taste to it if it creates too many enemies.   

The solution lies somewhere in the delicate middle. We need to do what we need to do without allowing others to get in the way. But we don't need to get in the way of others either.

The art of living is to know when to be concerned about what others think, and when the time has come to push on regardless. 

033) When You Think You're Not Teaching - You Are!

The sense of achievement at having raised good children must be one of the greatest joys one can experience in this world. If you have any doubt as to whether this is indeed so, just speak to people who have constant consternation from their children.

When it comes to raising children, some try to take a shortcut and pray that G-d grant them good children. Unfortunately though, the only shortcut is lots and lots of (sometimes thankless) hard word. And then some.

The pragmatic, ‘no nonsense’, ‘no short cut’ Kotzker Rebbe makes an interesting theological and psychological point:

 If you want to raise Torah true children, then – instead of praying for their spiritual well being - simply continue studying Torah yourself. Rather occupy yourself with Torah than pray for your children. This way your children will learn from you and also study, instead of learning from you that they too need only pray for their children.

(Kochav HaShachar p161, par1)

In this teaching, the Kotzker makes striking sense by pointing out that children learn subliminally from their parents. When the parent least thinks he or she is teaching their child – that is when the greatest and most enduring lessons take place.

When moms and dads drive their children from one lesson to another, they forget that the only thing the child is really going to assimilate is the ‘lesson’ between the lessons. How the parent behaves in stressful traffic; the language the parent uses; the ability to control the stress of being late and so forth, all form part of the great syllabus the child subconsciously incorporates into his or her own personality.

When dad leaves for shul on Friday night and asks his young son to join him, and the son says he would rather stay home and play, and dad says fine: That is fine. Children need to play. But when fourteen years pass and dad continues to go to shul alone every Friday night, dad doesn't realize what an outstanding teacher he actually was. He managed to successfully communicate to his child that shul is not important.

We recently acquired a little puppy. When I went to collect it from the breeders, it affectionately jumped up to greet me. The breeder said that if I didn't want it to jump up onto people, I simply mustn't allow it to. Otherwise my inaction would be tantamount to actively teaching it that that behavior was perfectly acceptable.

I know that children cannot be compared to puppies but I think the point is well made: When you least think you are teaching – that is often when most of the teaching take place.

032) The Fourth Dimension

When talking about Jewish practices to people who are not observant, they often ask whether the matter under discussion is a ‘custom’ or a ’law’. Is it ‘Divine’ or ‘man made’? This is quite intriguing because the distinction between Torah Law and Rabbinical Law is often only drawn at quite an advanced level of Torah study. The advanced observer may be looking to better understand the structure of the Law (to ascertain whether extenuating circumstances may or may not allow the Law to be flexible). The non-observer, however, may be looking for a possible justification not to do something (since it’s ‘only’ a Rabbinical Law). This is reminiscent of the Karaites of old, who totally disregarded Rabbinical Judaism.

The question is: How much should we allow this invisible dividing line, between both sets of Law, to influence our observance?

From a purely halachic point of view, there is no practical distinction between them. One does not have the discretion or liberty to choose one over the other. The distinction between them exists only on an academic and theoretical level.

Part of the reason why so much authority is given to classical Rabbinical Law, is because the Torah itself instructs us to adhere to the ‘priest who will be in your day’. Furthermore, as we all know, the Torah of Sinai was presented together with an Oral (read Rabbinical) Tradition to support and supplement it. This gives tremendous credibility to the Rabbinical Tradition, as its authority is rather more primary than secondary.

Then there is the third issue concerning the status of Custom or Minhag: Although the concept of ‘minhag shtus’ (a silly or nonsensical custom) does exist - for the most part, a well established custom is treated with as great a reverence as the other two abovementioned components of our law. The fullness of time seems to imbue the custom or practice with an earned sanctity of its own.

The Kotzker Rebbe teaches that in more recent times, a fourth component appears to have silently crept into our body of tradition. This fourth dimension, he aptly calls ‘Frumkeit.’ ‘Frumkeit’ is difficult to define, but you’ll know it when you see it. It doesn't have to be, but sometimes is, a very visible display of ‘in your face’ Judaism. It’s more of a social construct and peer driven than hallowed over time.

While we have no effective discretion when it comes to the first three components of the Law - Torah Law, Rabbinical Law and Custom - we may (at least according to the Kotzker) exercise some agility with ‘Frumkeit’.

Says the Kotzker Rebbe:

Frumkeit is not necessary for someone who is already ‘fixed’.However, it is sometimes valuable as a means to an end.

(Emet VeEmunah p99, par 6)

I believe it is with regard to this fourth component of ‘Frumkeit’ that our religious mettle gets subjected to the most crucial of tests. How we handle this, defines who we are. We humans are, after all, social beings and need to know and show where we fit into society. But when ‘Frumkeit’ becomes an end in itself, instead of a means, we may have just missed the mark. It may also be an indication that we are not yet ‘fixed’.

When the perceived security of any social construct, becomes an end, the Kotzker reminds us that perhaps we have not yet even begun.

031) Who Gave Me the Right?

Recent media reports have focused much on the unfortunate actions of some so-called Chareidim in both Israel and abroad. Some of these people have used rock throwing and other forms of violence as a means of ethnically cleansing their areas of anyone who is not exactly like them. (See Kotzk Blog 30)

I believe these growing trends of violence are the first stirrings of a new and insidious type of 'reconstructionist' Judaism that is doing a good job of misrepresenting authentic and multifaceted Orthodoxy. They don't practice a Judaism I know.

Whatever happened to the concept of a Jew being supposed to set an example? Whatever happened to the concept of a Jew being supposed to practice a form of spirituality that is warm and inviting? When did ‘exclude’ become the battle-cry instead of ‘include’?

Let’s leave these extreme ‘reformers’ alone for a moment and look at something closer to home. I have occasion to interact with many young religious people in our community. The vast majority of them are wonderful caring and empathic young people, concerned about the world around them, and conscious of their obligation to contribute to society. They also understand the importance of creating a good impression upon those Jews who may have wandered away from Torah values.

But again, there is a small segment of this group, who having been raised religious, take their Judaism for granted. They just want to live like everyone else without the extra burden of having to set a good example. Some of these youngsters do just what other youngsters their age do, except they do it with yarmulkes on.   

I came across such a group, driving drunk around a parking lot with loud music blaring and behaving despicably. People were looking at them and I was embarrassed. I took the liberty of gracefully approaching them and asked them to please calm down. I suggested very politely that they put caps on their heads and tuck in their Tzitzit if they wanted to behave like this. They looked at me incredulously. They failed to see how they were harming anyone by their behavior. What right did I have to reproach them? In their eyes they were just a couple of kids having (dangerous and disruptive) fun. However in the eyes of others, they were representing every other Jew on this planet. Including you and I. This may not be fair but it’s the truth. That’s why I felt I had the right to approach them and not just ignore them.

If they are going to fly the flag by sticking out in a crowd, let them do so with dignity. If not, we reserve the right to censure them because they represent us. If they didn’t represent us, we would ignore them and let them be.

Being visible Torah Jews in public, means we have an obligation to preserve the integrity of the whole nation.

If even one person looks at us and hates Jews or Judaism because of us, we have misrepresented our people.

The Kotzker Rebbe teaches:

“Abraham sat at the doorway of his tent.” Rashi comments: “…To see if anyone was passing by, so that he could bring them into his home.” - In Hebrew the expression ‘passerby’ (over ve shav) can also mean a ‘sinner whom through your exemplary action, you cause to have a change of heart’. Such a person then becomes so inspired that he wants to come into your ‘tent’ and be like you.

(Kochav HaShachar p168, par1)

Being ‘frum’ is demanding. When a Torah person walks in the street, he cannot be neutral. He has to, by his actions, use his Torah as a means of changing even in some small way, the lives of others. They must want to come into his ‘tent’.

If some of our visible and vocal religious youth are offensively rowdy, how will they influence ‘sinners’ to have a change of heart?

And if some of our stone throwing so-called Chareidim chase people out of their areas, how will they ever be able, let alone want to, come into the tent of Abraham?

The irony is that those who were offended by the youngsters, and those attacked and excluded from the Chareidim, were perhaps the very people Abraham went in search of.

029) The Smokin' Hot NASCAR Prayer

I am always amazed to see with what authority people speak about G-d. I do, however, understand that people speak, sometimes with great authority about religion. And I also understand that ‘authentic’ religion is the will of G-d. But I nevertheless remain wary of anyone who claims to speak for G-d himself.

This being the case, can there ever be such a thing as a controversial prayer? Is there a spiritual censorship board that protects G-d from hearing things we pray for?

Rabbi Nachman of Breslov was quite outspoken when it came to answering such questions. According to him there were no holds barred when it came to prayer. We were given carte blanche to ask (or even simply to talk to) G-d, for (and about) absolutely anything at all.

He writes: 

We should pray to Hashem for anything and everything. Even for something as mundane as a shirt that needs to be mended. We should get so used to communicating with G-d that we see no difference between asking for something worthy and significant, and something small and insignificant. This concept was so difficult for one of Rabbi Nachman’s students to comprehend that he said: "I am astounded. Do you really mean that I can pray for something absolutely physical and mundane?" To which Rabbi Nachman responded with a question: "Is it beneath you to ask G-d for small things?"

(Sichot HaRan 233)

This was written two hundred years ago. Let’s test this theology with something really modern and mundane.

NASCAR racing is quite far from the relatively slow pace of synagogue prayer. At a recent race, a clergyman was asked to lead the prayers just prior to the event. It was later widely billed as a terribly ‘controversial’ and ‘blasphemous’ prayer.

The following is a (slightly) abbreviated version of that prayer: 

Heavenly Father, we thank you for all your blessings…So we want to thank you tonight for these mighty machines you brought before us. Thank you for the Dodges and Toyotas. Thank you for the Fords. And most of all we thank you for Roush and Yates partnering to give us the power that we see before us tonight. Thank you for GM performance technology and RO7 engines. Thank you for Sunoco racing fuel and Goodyear tires that bring performance and power to the track...May they put on a performance worthy of this great track… 

This poor clergyman was castigated for daring to infer that G-d may also be the driving force behind things of an earthly nature. But I suspect Rabbi Nachman might have been smiling down on that event that night.

The Kotzker Rebbe too, encourages us to not think of G-d as being aloof and detached.

He interprets the verse; 

“Do not make for you a strange god” – Do not make G-d ‘strange’ to you. Be comfortable and relaxed in your relationship with him.

(Kochav HaShachar p30, par2)

Yes, maybe G-d is also the G-d of NASCAR.

028) Is it Bad to Sin?

Of course it is. It’s also bad to eat white bread and drink fizzy drinks. A deeper question would be; Is it evil to sin?

To a casual reader this may seem like a silly distinction. ‘Bad’ and ‘evil’ are only different in semantics. However the literature is full of fascinating debate as to the actual difference between these two concepts.

In classical Kabbalah, every time a person sins he causes a spiritual separation to take place between two G-dly ‘components’ (the Shechina and the Ein Sof). Only Teshuva (repentance or literally ‘return’) can bring them back together again.

In other writings, sin is equated to the very essence of impurity and evil. It is even said to have almost ‘demonic’ characteristics. (See Quest for Authenticity by R Michael Rosen)

However, in the teachings of the three generations of Peshischa, including the Rebbe of Kotzk, sin takes on none of these aforementioned nuances. Sin (while obviously not condoned) loses its esoteric status and becomes something far more human. In Kotzk there is nothing mystical or spiritual about sin. It is simply the natural consequence of human failing and frailty.

In Kotzk sin is not evil.

The Kotzker’s teacher, R Simcha Bunim writes:

Man [Adam], is still referred to as Man, even after his sin. As is Woman [Eve], still called Woman, even after being expelled from the garden.

(Ramatayim Tzofim 1,1)

In Torah literature, many people’s names and certainly statuses change as a direct result of their actions. Yet even with the fundamental and archetypical sin of the first man and woman, they remained essentially the same and unchanged, before and after.

It is interesting that in today’s world, we unknowingly continue to act out both sides of this debate: Some are quite accepting of people who may come from difficult and different backgrounds. They may not condone lifestyles antithetical to that of the Torah way of life but they move on and see what could be, not what was. They don’t dwell in the past. The Kotzker’s brother-in-law, the Chidushei HaRim says:

If you think about dirt you remain in the dirt.

(Chidushei HaRim 261)

Others, possibly from a sense of superiority or fear, can only look disapprovingly down, not ahead. At best their relationship with such people is coldly condescending and painfully patronizing. They seem to believe that there is something almost ‘demonic’ and ‘spiritually alien’ in these souls, and do not want to become contaminated.

These two attitudes are quite prevalent today. My personal belief is that practically there is only one choice that can save us from spiritual extinction. I’m with Kotzk on this one. You can only become contaminated if you believe that sin is evil. But if it’s only bad, perhaps you can ‘contaminate’ them with good.

027) Lovely but Meaningless Responses

Imagine your boss humiliating you in front of your colleagues. He asks you to prepare a report and you did not manage to have it ready on time. Now he is raging mad and everybody knows about it.

You leave the office for home with that sickly feeling in the pit of your stomach. You happen to bump in to eight good friends that evening and tell each one of them of your woes. Each has a different response which they are happy to share with you. In a situation like this, according to renowned psychologists Faber and Mazlish, there are eight common responses:

1. “THE DOWNGRADER” - This friend tells you that it’s not as terrible as you are making it out to be. You are blowing the situation out of proportion and you are far too sensitive and emotional. You are overreacting.  
2. “THE PHILOSOPHER” – The next friend explains to you that this is the nature of work. Deadlines are not met and bosses shout. He reminds you that life in general is like that. You get good days and bad days.
3. “THE ADVISOR” – The third friend jumps in and immediately offers his valuable suggestions. Either apologize to your boss first thing in the morning, or dig your heels in and resign in protest to the unfair way in which you were treated.
4. “THE INQUISITIVE” – This friend has nothing really to offer. All he wants to know is more details. How long have you worked in the company? Did he also shout at someone else? Is he Jewish?
5. “DEFENDS THE OTHER” – This type of friend offers you no support whatsoever but instead jumps to the defense of the boss. Then he rubs salt into the wound by saying that if he were your boss, he would do the same thing.
6. “PITIFUL” – This friend is so upset for you, he says that if he were you he would just go home and cry. He doesn't know how you could possibly face going back to work tomorrow.
7. “THE PSYCHOLOGIST” – He explains to you that a boss is a ‘fatherly figure’ and that you are feeling bad now because it’s akin to having your father reject you.
8. “EMPATHY” - This is the only friend out of the whole bunch who has a meaningful and useful response. He doesn't advise, nor psychoanalyze. He doesn’t take the side of the person who upset you. He doesn't ask questions nor offer you philosophical insights.

He may not even say a word. He may just touch your arm to show support, and leave you with your dignity restored. Now you know that you are still part of a social system that works and that you have not been entirely betrayed or targeted. This is the only friend who helps you in a meaningful way.

Let’s take these eight responses and play them out in a religious context. Assume you are having a religious crisis of sorts. Now you bump into eight of your religious friends and hear their responses: 

1. “DOWNGRADER” – This friend tells you that Judaism is easy. You just have to realize it comes from Hashem and all you need to do is persist, and soon everything you do will be amazingly meaningful.
2. “THE PHILOSOPHER” – The next friend explains that in this world we are only privy to half the picture. We build a puzzle with missing pieces which of course will become clearer only in the next world.
3. “THE ADVISOR” – The third friend jumps in and immediately tries to help by advising you to say Tehillim and have your Mezuzos checked, or to Daven slower.
4. “THE INQUISITIVE” - This friend has no real contribution to make. He is the same type of personality, who, after a shiur asks not; ‘what was said?’, but; ‘how many people were there?’
5. “DEFENDS THE OTHER” – This type has no consideration for your inner feelings, but quotes chapter and verse about how you are going to be punished for your doubts and dilemmas. He may also throw in the precise number of prohibitions you have already transgressed by your thoughts and actions.
6. “PITIFUL” – This friend (usually it’s an overbearing rebbetzin) is just so full of love and concern for you, they make you feel so weak and spiritually claustrophobic, and you are left (perhaps fuller but) no wiser.
7. “THE PSYCHOLOGIST” - He explains to you that according to Jewish mysticism there are often ‘blockages’ of sorts in the life-giving channels that dominate the spiritual realms. You need to ‘unblock’ these obstructions by careful attention to other areas of your life, which he proceeds to also offer more guidance upon. 

Clearly, while some of the aforementioned responses may be pleasing on the ear to some, others may find them bereft of any depth and perhaps even insulting. A person in crisis needs one thing:

8. “EMPATHY” – This is generally the best response. No advice, no complicated explanations, no pity, no hocus pocus and certainly no judging. You are completely accepted as you are, and shown genuine friendship. This friend has no agenda (hidden or otherwise).

The interesting thing about this approach is that a corrective reaction is very often elicited. Your crisis slowly finds (not magic), but an atmosphere in which the kernel and stirrings of resolution can take hold. 

The Kotzker Rebbe went to the yartzeit of his teacher, R Simcha Bunim of Peshischa. There he bumped in to his best friend R Yitzchak of Vorka, also a former student. “I see you have come to pray at the gravesite of our holy master and former teacher”, said the Vorka Rebbe. “No”, retorted the Kotzker, “I am not a man who believes in graves. I only came here to be with you, my dear friend.”

(Emet Ve Emunah) 

026) Are Religious People Nicer?

I have spent some time over the last few days with my mechanic. We were trying to fix a recalcitrant engine. He taught me how to open up an engine and calculate and penny-shim for valve clearances. I have never done that before and found it fascinating. We underestimate the wisdom in an engine and the amount of wisdom and understanding it takes to fix one.

Many mechanics are quite rough looking people. Mine is no exception. He has long hair, tattoos and rides a motorbike painted with the American flag. He is not Jewish nor is he religious. Yet he knows more about his discipline than I’ll ever know about mine.

Also, this mechanic didn't curse, he doesn’t drink, and in all the time that I spent with him, he never spoke loshon hora. He has a gentle nature and wouldn't even let me dispose of dirty old black engine oil down the drain. Strange isn’t it, how I can spend time with people who do not have tattoos, who are Jewish and look religious, who do curse, drink and speak loshen hora (and know nothing about how to fix an engine)!

I’m not suggesting that you grow long hair and get tattoos. But I question the success rate of the popular Torah system to penetrate deeper than the surface and effect meaningful change in the soul or psyche of the adherent. Sometimes it does. Too often it doesn’t.

I have always been told that given time, Torah will change you for the better. Although I have not yet interviewed every Torah practicing person in the world, empirical observation seems to make me want to question that hypothesis.

I do, however believe that there is often a latent potential for a person to change a little. The Kotzker Rebbe says;

A person can change for the better – but only a little. To affect a real major turnabout in a person’s character is out of his hands, and rests solely in the domain of the Divine.

(Kochav HaShachar p113, par 2)

The notion that the sudden embrace of Torah will be dramatically beneficial on any level is commonplace but erroneous.

In his typically forthright and no-nonsense style, the Kotzker re-interprets an oft quoted teaching:

“Turn it [the Torah] over, turn it over, because everything is contained in it. Look deeply into it, grow old and grey over it. Do not stir from it. For there is no greater measure [midah tovah] than it."  (Pirkei Avot, 5, 21) - A person can spend his entire life involved in all the intricacies of Torah, he can study and practice it from every angle….and still not be able to extract even a single good feature (midah tovah)  from it.

(Kochav HaShachar p119, par 2)

A great rabbi I once knew and loved, who taught me how to think for myself, always used to say that the notion of nations is an illusion. There are only two nations in the world: good people and bad people. No more no less. 

025) How Cheap is Your Ticket to Legitimacy?

The Kotzker Rebbe’s teacher, the Yid HaKadosh, was a student of the Chozeh of Lublin. One year, just before Rosh HaShanah, the Yid told the Chozeh that, based on his interpretation of what he had read in a book entitled Raziel HaMalach, he (the Yid) was destined to depart from this world soon after the festival. The Chozeh told him to stay with him, and that he would intervene on his student’s behalf, thus prolonging his life. Surprisingly the Yid declined and left his teacher saying that if he stayed his life would no longer be his own. He would be too beholden to his teacher and didn't want to live a life that wasn't entirely his own.

This was the beginning of the unsurpassed and unprecedented teachings of unrivalled independence that Kotzk became so famous for.

Kotzk was also famous for its opposition to mysticism, something quite unheard of in Chassidic circles.

General Chassidism had perfected the art of taking Kabbalah to the masses. The Kabbalah had become like a science, replete with concepts that could be depicted in diagrammatic representations, very similar to diagrams of modern electric circuitry. One could study how the Divine energy flowed from above to below and how to influence its course.

Kotzk attempted to replace religious and mystical Theology with religious Psychology. When faced with the vicissitudes and challenges of life, the school of Kotzk believed that man would be far better equipped to deal with real situations by facing them head on, than by resorting to mysticism. While vicariously deflecting real problems to an invisible entity may seem appealing to some, in Kotzk it was regarded as a weakness and an excuse for not dealing with problems. Thus mystical Theology was replaced with a type of practical Psychology, which emphasized strength and independence of the individual, and his innate ability to live a real life in a real world.

Key to this psychology was the developing of a healthy and assertive sense self-belief (Emunat Atzmo). Only when I know who I am, can I relate to you in a meaningful way. If my “I” is not healthy or clear, how can it understand “you” -  and, more importantly, how can it understand and relate to G-d? And how can you and G-d in turn relate to me, if my “me” is not clearly defined? 

In the schools of Kabbalah, the term “da'at” (knowledge), is usually explained as meaning ‘connection’. When man ‘connects’ with G-d, he ‘knows’ G-d. In Kotzk, “da’at” instead means ‘self-knowledge’ and ‘groundedness’. The more grounded the person, the more real his encounters with both other men and with G-d.   

The Kotzker Rebbe said that while some other Rebbes were preoccupied with ‘reviving the dead’, he was more concerned with ‘reviving the living’, which was much harder to do.  To teach the living how to be grounded to this real existence instead of trying to fly off to some other existence, is not what people want or expect to hear from a spiritual leader. But this is how, ironically, one becomes a healthy spiritual being. The ostensible spiritual path is, ironically again, often the easier path, and often just a way of opting out. Sometimes it may even be an illusion.

The Kotzker’s other teacher was R Simcha Bunim of Peshischa. He once said that if you are yourself (obviously within the framework of Halacha), and don't try pretend you are someone else who is more holy than you, you can never go to ‘hell’. How can you be punished for being the real person G-d created?

In Kotzk there are two beautiful and novel interpretations of two overused and clichéd religious concepts; ‘Arrogance’ and ‘Truth’:

‘Arrogance’ usually means haughtiness. Religious people are not supposed to be haughty. In Kotzk, however, it means pretending to be someone you are not. It means aiming too high relative to your current level. It means that you are no longer grounded. You can do all the mitzvot in the world but if you still haven't found your way and are merely copying some other prescribed way, you are considered ‘arrogant’.

‘Truth’ usually means not telling a lie. Religious people are not supposed to lie. In Kotzk, however, it means being true to yourself. It means finding a path that is appropriate to you. Not just following the trends of the mainstream.

There is that wonderful interpretation of the Baal Shem Tov on the famous expression: “Bishvili nivra HaOlam” (The world was created for me). The word “Bishvili”, doesn't only mean “for me”, it can also mean “for my pathway”. In other words, there is room in this great universe for me and my unique approach. And I would not be true to myself or to the universe if I didn’t make a concerted effort to discover it and live it.

In Kotzk one’s first allegiance was legitimacy to oneself.

“The issue is not whether one is legitimate in somebody else’s eyes, but whether one has integrity before G-d, and as one can never know that, more importantly, in one’s own eyes.”

(The Quest for Authenticity, by Michael Rosen)

To put it another way; One can never know if one is legitimate before G-d. One can seldom know if one is legitimate in the eyes of another. But one can always know if one is true and legitimate to oneself.

Allow me to share a short personal story with you.

I have to preface it with the following quotation from the Kotzker Rebbe:

“Do not think the Esau was a rough farmer wore checked undergarments, walked about barefoot, and raised pigs? Far from that. The evil Esau grew a full beard and had side locks.  He headed a religious community and used to say over Torah at the Third Meal on Shabbos.”

(Kochav HaShachar p 149, par 1)

I recently officiated at a wedding. One of the guests was an older rabbi whom I hadn't seen for many years. I respectfully went up to him and complimented him on how well he looked. I told him that the years hadn't touched him and that he still looked the same as he always did. He took me aside and suggested that if I wanted to be ‘more legitimate’ and have more of a ‘presence’, I should grow a full beard again. He remembered me having a full beard some twenty odd years ago. I needed, he said, to regain my ‘Tzelem Elokim’ (G-dly image).

I'm embarrassed to say that the Kotzk in me responded that I really didn't want to worship a G-d who could be so easily emulated by default . And I (mischievously) told him that I still had ‘full beard’ and that perhaps the years had affected him after all, because conceivably he couldn't see so clearly anymore. Perhaps he, like so many others, was only looking for the cheap ticket to legitimacy.

024) Who is More Religious?

The question of ‘Who is a Jew?’ always sparks a great debate. Another great debate could be held over the question of ‘Who is a religious Jew?’ (The assumption being made that the reader is aware of the difference between religious and observant. Observance is easy to ascertain, while religious is subject to debate and definition.)

There are many varied and valid positions one could take, and the Kotzker Rebbe as usual, has some strong views on the issue: He says;

The silent and suppressed cry of someone needing to shout out but who doesn’t, is the loudest cry of them all.

(Kochav HaShachar p 62, par2)

I have always understood this teaching in the context of a non-observant person who has a need to express himself spiritually but either cannot or does not. His peers may consider him as being far from spiritual, but in essence his suppressed cry is acutely audible to those seeking more than the superficial. I believe this type of teaching was fundamental to the followers of the early schools of Chassidism. Everyone has a ‘spark’ of holiness, and often those with the greatest souls stem from the most unlikely (even unholy) of sources.

This idea is profoundly encapsulated in a saying of the Kotzker’s teacher, R Simcha Bunim of Peshischa; 

I cannot talk to those I pray with, and I cannot pray with those I talk to.

In other words there exists the dichotomy between those one ‘prays with’ (the observant sector within society) and those one ‘talks to’ (the non-observant sector). The Peshischa Rebbe was known to have had strong connections with the secular, non-religious and even anti-religious worlds. He was quite comfortable talking to these people, but because they did not pray in the formal sense, he obviously couldn't pray with them. However he associated with them because he sensed they too had something special to contribute.

Sometimes suppressed spirituality is deeper than expressed observance.

Over the years I have been amazed again and again by the suppressed spirituality I detected in people who professed not to be religious. I have come across deep commitment to deep ideals by people who openly espoused not to have them. I have learned not to underestimate the potential for innate goodness found in ordinary people. I have become frugal with my labeling of people into religious and non-religious camps.

Just when I thought I maturely arrived at a sane and balanced acceptance of the value of both observant and secular people, I discovered a rather dramatic interpretation, by the Kotzker, of a well known biblical passage;

“[The Torah] is not in Heaven” (Devarim 30,12) - The Torah cannot be found among those Jews who think they have reached the heights of heaven.

(Kochav HaShachar p 140, par1)

Here Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk is clearly referring to those observant Jews who think they have exclusively discovered what he calls ‘Shemei-Shamayim’ or Heaven’s Heaven. Whatever lofty thing they believe they have found is, in his opinion, simply not Torah.

What a great irony! Our observant friends may not be as religious as they think they are. And our non-observant friends may be more religious than they want to be. 

023) The Most Dangerous Game in Town

There is an old game in town. The stakes are high and it’s all or nothing. Most people play this game but cheat.

It’s called the G-d game.

If G-d is who we say he is, then he is my G-d and your G-d. We call him “Elokeinu”, “Our G-d”.  We visit him in my Shul and in your Shul.

Oh yes, I almost forgot, he is also the G-d of my enemy and your enemy. And what's more, he can be found outside of my Shul and outside of your Shul - in the streets, in the gutters and also in my foe’s home and even his place of worship.

The Kotzker Rebbe writes: 

“Understand this principle very clearly – If you are not prepared to find G-d everywhere, you will not find Him anywhere!”

(Kochav HaShachar p 24, par2)

Here the Kotzker succinctly outlines for us the simple rules for playing the G-d game. Unless and until I accept unconditionally the absolute universalism of G-d, and his equidistance from everyone and everything, I cannot play the game fairly. This is where most people cheat. This is where many load the dice, and skew the G-d concept toward them and theirs.

I have called this game ‘dangerous’ because as soon as one steps out of the cozy world of theology and begins to walk in the harsh real world, we are required to draw the line as to how far we are prepared to extend this concept.

How deep into the enemy’s camp are we prepared to go with this.

It’s dangerous because sometime applying this principle prematurely may take ones right of self defense away at a time of conflict.

It’s also dangerous because conflict is dangerous – and conflict occurs when we don’t apply this principle.

I once heard that at about the same time as Rabbi Goren was sounding the shofar at the Western Wall during the Six Day War of 1967, another rabbi was running through the streets of the Old City looking for Arabs to embrace and to reassure them that we were coming in peace. Sadly, history got in the way and some time later that rabbi had a change of heart.

Bombs do funny things to theology.

In the end, that rabbi drew the line between what he knew to be true and what he saw to be true and unfortunately so do most of us. And most of them.

If only we didn't have to cheat at this game.

022) Intangible, But Life Changing

Torah education is flourishing. So many young people, today, have the privilege of experiencing some form of Jewish education. The numbers of children passing through Torah institutions is quite staggering.

Yet, huge numbers of these same people are being turned off Judaism by these same institutions.

“The fact is, we are witness to literally thousands of yeshiva-educated children (boys and girls) who have left the path of the Torah.”

(Chinuch in Turbulent Times by R. Brezak p 18)

This book was published about ten years ago, and people estimate the numbers to be far greater today.

What are we doing wrong?

One of the Kotzker Rebbe's most influential teachers was the Yid HaKadosh (1766-1814). He studied under the tutelage of the Chozeh of Lublin (1766-1827). The strange thing was that the student was more learned than the teacher. (Interestingly enough, both were born in the same year, 1766, and both bore the same name Yaakov Yitzchak.) The Yid came from a non-chassidic family who traced their ancestry line back to the brother of the famous Taz. The Yid was an outstanding Talmudic scholar and was highly praised by R Akiva Eiger.

What then was he doing at the Chozeh?

The answer lies in the simple fact that real learning has nothing to do with the technical transfer of information. True learning has to do with the transfer of something more subtle and less tangible. Sometimes the deepest learning takes place without the recipient even being able to articulate exactly what it was he learned. But he knows he learned something because his life changed.

The Yid studied under the Chozeh because he received from his teacher something no one else gave him.

There is a supposition that every third generation is the hardest generation to teach. This is loosely based on the verse; “When you give birth to children and grandchildren and have been long in the land, you will grow corrupt…” (Devarim 4:25) While this verse literally refers to the Land of Israel, it can also allude to a well established Torah family becoming somewhat ‘corrupt’ as a consequence of over familiarity with Torah values.

The first person in the family to become observant is usually fired up about everything Jewish. He can’t wait to raise his own family in the ways of Torah true Judaism. At least they will lose the ‘stigma’ of being ‘new recruits’. He learned to daven at twenty, now his child will daven at three. Only thing, though, he forgets that his child may not be as enthusiastic about all this as he is. The child never underwent the same process of choice and discovery that the father did. Sometimes it doesn't matter, and the child turns out just fine. But sometimes it does. And when it does, it matters. The situation compounds itself even more during the third generation.

Assuming that each generation in this scenario was given a proper Torah education, still, many children fall out.

Why?

Because too much emphasis is placed on the technical transfer of knowledge. To put it bluntly: If we only teach our children because we think they are more stupid than us, we will never transmit to them that most important intangible aspect of life-changing education we spoke about earlier. Perhaps we need to start with the hypothetical assumption that our children know more than us. Yet we are still tasked with the responsibility of teaching them.

What would we teach them in such a case? Would we have anything to teach them?

Perhaps even the word ‘education’ is the root cause of the problem of uninspired youngsters. Perhaps we need to stop trying to educate them so much, and develop within them more of a philosophy about life. An attitude. An approach. Something they can use instead of just know.  

This is why the Yid HaKadosh went to study under the Chozeh of Lublin. He needed to learn how to use what he already knew.

021) Robbed by "Religion"

Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk waged a huge philosophical battle against the “I”, the self absorbed ego. He believed that most people have the inability to see beyond themselves, and they are not even aware of this incapacity.

He quotes the opening words of the Shema; 

“And you shall love Hashem your G-d”. Isn’t this obvious? Who else, in your religion, are you going to love?

• Perhaps you will confuse love of yourself for love of G-d. 
• Perhaps your religion is more self serving than you realize.
• Perhaps it suits you to be religious because you can hide your egotistical self behind it, and no one will ever know. They will think you are simply acting in the name of G-d. 

Then the Kotzker introduces a further dimension;

And if you think that this deception only applies to this world, know it is just as easily applicable to the next world as well.

(Kochav HaShachar p 45, par 2)

Thus, according to the Kotzker, the insidious nature of this dominant sense of self is ever present, even (perhaps especially) in the realms of spirit. 

Rabbi Wolf of Strikov, together with some older Kotzker Chassidim, were all present at the deathbed of their friend and colleague, R Yisrael. He asked his friend; “Does the evil inclination have an effect on you even now, as you are about to depart this world?” The weak and frail R Yisrael responded; “Absolutely yes! That ‘ganef’ (thief) is standing right here next to me, even at this time. He wants me to say the Shema out loud, and draw out the word ‘echad’ (G-d is one). He wants me to pass away while saying ‘echad’, so that you all can think that I am such a holy sage. Then afterwards I will always be remembered as the holy man who died with the words of the Shema on his lips, just like Rabbi Akiva of old.

(HaShavah LeTova 130)

There are two interesting points about this story:

1. The evil inclination/ego still stalks an old dying man.
2. The old man refers to the evil inclination as a ‘ganef’ (thief).

Let’s explore this unusual usage of the word ‘thief’. [The Kotzker Rebbe himself also uses that same expression when referring to the evil inclination/ego. He refers to it as a ‘ganef nistar’, a menacing and ‘sneaky thief’. (See Kochav HaShachar p 43, par 2)]

In our story, the evil inclination is called a ‘thief’ because it was trying to ‘steal’ the death away from R Yisrael. 

“…every death is a private affair. If …(he) had given in …and said the Shema in a loud voice with his last life’s strength, no one would have been present at the death of this man – neither the man going to meet his maker nor the friends gathered about his deathbed – for they would all be acting out a script already written… rather than standing in the mystery of the passing of a dear friend…To have died while acting out a role or an image…is not to have died, but to have been already dead.”

(The Quest for Authenticity, by Michael Rosen p 19)

Sometimes, acting out the ‘script’ that religion presents, robs us of the authenticity of the moment. Far from being noble, it could be the work of the ‘thief’.

It is here that we, as religious people, walk a very fine line. So much of what we do is dictated by higher authorities. We have to do them. But we also have to be who we are. We are not expected to be clones of each other.

I once observed someone responding selectively to two people, in the space of about five minutes: To the first person who asked how he was, he said; “Fine thanks.” To the second, he said; “Fine, thank G-d". The first response was to someone who was not religious, while the second response was to another religious person. Some might say that he was simply being respectful to both persons. Others (Kotzkers?) might say he didn’t want to be caught out by the second person for failing to ‘read from the script’.

Whatever the psychology was, one thing is for sure. Real religion is there to enhance our moments. If we find ourselves acting out roles or following scripts, so, that our performances are met with appropriate approval, we may instead be victims of that ‘thief’ who is trying to rob us of our authentic life moments.

020) Give Me What I Know I Need

Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk was born in the town of Gurai, and later settled in Tomashov where his father-in-law resided.

An old chassid [whose name, for some reason is not recorded] once passed through the town of Tomashov. The Kotzker [who at the time of this story was still very young], befriended the old man. One night, after everyone else had left the study house, the two of them remained behind to talk. The old man started telling his young friend all about the ways of the Baal Shem Tov and about the new light that was brought into the world by the Chassidic movement in general.  The young man was deeply inspired by the stranger and became determined explore Chassidism for himself. He later said of the old man; “He knew how to talk and I knew how to listen.” He subsequently journeyed to R Yaakov Yitzchak, the ‘Seer’ or Chozeh of Lublin.

To give you some idea of the esteem in which the Chozeh of Lublin was held, this is how R Asher of Ropshitz described him: 

“Lublin was as holy as the Land of Israel. The courtyard of the Chozeh was like Jerusalem. His Beit HaMedrash was like the Temple Mount. The Chozeh himself was like the Holy of Holies. And when he spoke it was as if the Divine Presence was speaking.” 

At that time people from all over Poland were streaming in their thousands to see the Chozeh. Historically, the Chozeh had created the biggest mass movement (to that date), since the founding of the Chassidic movement itself. It was very difficult to get a private audience with him because of the great demand to speak with him. 

To many people’s surprise, the Chozeh invited the young man into his private and exclusive inner circle. He showed great honor to his young visitor and spent much time talking to him - Yet, notwithstanding all the attention and honor, the Kotzker remained unmoved in the slightest. He said he didn’t find what he was looking for in Lublin. He knew exactly what he wanted. But the Chozeh, great as he may have been, was not to be the one to teach it to him.

(Sneh Bo’er BeKotzk p27)

How very different is the act of finding a teacher today: Although a popular pastime, the prevalent contemporary process is a lot more passive. Today, we don't seek out or journey to teachers. We wait for them to pass through. We listen to one speaker after another, and after a process of elimination we make our choice. Often it’s the one who entertains us the best. Sometimes it’s the one who impresses us the most with his display of great wisdom. Other times it’s the one who, through carefully constructed arguments, win us over to his way of thinking, and convinces us to change our minds or to shift our paradigms.

Most of the processes enumerated above, involve sitting and listening. And the best teacher wins.

However, in Kotzk, as we have seen, the process of finding a teacher is far more complicated and dynamic.

More demand is placed on the student, than on the teacher. More than the teacher teaches, the student is expected to learn.

For me, two points stand out:

1)      “He knew how to talk and I knew how to listen.” It’s not enough to just have a teacher who knows how to talk. We need to know how to carefully analyze and interpret what is said. We need to be able to discern for ourselves whether there is any real value for us in what we hear. It has to be more that just interesting, convincing and entertaining. We need to know what to listen out for, so that we can identify whether we have been touched to the core, or simply moved superficially.

2)      “He knew exactly what he wanted.” It’s not enough for a teacher to ply you with knowledge. It’s not his job to tell you what you need to know. You need to know what it is you need to know. This needs to be very clear from the outset. You know you have found the teacher you are looking for, when at the end of the whole process, you find you have not been blown off course. Instead, you are right where you want to be. You did not have your mind manipulated or changed. You knew what you wanted to know and now you know it. (When I first came across the teachings of Kotzk, my immediate reaction was: “Wow, I have always thought like this. I just didn't know anyone else wrote like this.”)

After all this has occurred, you may have just found yourself a teacher, instead of having the teacher find you.

019) Inventing Spirituality

Some people are enticed into religion by the promise of miracles and wonders. After all is that not what we read about in the scriptures? The problem though, is that in Biblical times ‘cause and effect’ played a more direct role than they do today. A ‘spiritual effect’ was often experienced soon after a ‘physical cause’. Not so today, as we venture further and further away from that period in history. Today we rarely, if ever, see a spiritual effect following closely on the heels of our mundane activities.

(The ancient Biblical disease of ‘leprosy’ – not to be confused with the modern disease – is one such case in point. Although the Torah speaks about it being immediately afflicted upon one who had spoken badly about another, it no longer exists today.)

The challenge of being religious in our times is to live in the great mystery of ‘cause’ not necessarily followed by ‘effect’. To seek too closely for the ‘effect’ is futile. To those who claim to find it, one wonders whether what they find is real or imagined. Again, the great challenge of being religious today, is grappling with ‘effects’ that seem to have absolutely no bearing on, or relationship to, our ‘causes’.

Understand this and you will save yourself much spiritual and emotional agony.

Here is an example of the realistic and pragmatic style of theology as practiced by the Rebbe of Kotzk:

Once, a chassid asked the Kotzker Rebbe for advice about a certain potential marriage partner. The rebbe didn’t give a clear answer. This just made the chassid even more distraught and clueless as to what to do. He further pressed the rebbe for a decision, but none was forthcoming. Eventually the Kotzker said; “Do you think that we rebbes go up to heaven every time people like you ask us questions? Do you think that we have access to special ledgers in which all answers are written? All we can do is follow the dictates of the Law and rely on common sense.

(Emet ve Emunah p 24, par 2)

This illustrates how the Kotzker Rebbe became so frustrated with people always seeking the supernatural.

Spirituality can be a bright light but it can also be a blinding light.

It would have been easy for the Kotzker to just placate people like this who came to him time and time again with similar questions  - but that would not have been truthful.

I came across another source where he warns about the temptation of people in search of religion, to ‘over-spiritualize’:

“In a place where there is too much ‘sod’ [or ‘secrets’, a term used to describe mysticism and spirituality], know that there will also be deceit.

(Kochav HaShachar p 33, par 2)

Pursuant to this, he says:

“If you need to hide and sustain something behind a veil of ‘sod’, know that you are doing something incorrectly.”

(Kochav HaShachar p 33, par 3)

These are fascinating teachings because how many times do we come across people who disparagingly tell others off, in the name of some or other holy thing-a-ma-bob, and neither they nor their new disciple have even the faintest idea about what’s going on. They wisely tell you; “Don't do this because it’s bad for the soul!” Or they tell you; “Don't place your hands like that because…” and they cannot furnish a reason.

Then they tell you; “Don't do certain activities (especially after sunset) because it attracts evil spirits.” And everybody nods sagely as if they understand.

Oh yes. Religion is about spirituality. But it’s about discovering spirituality, not inventing it. And until such discovery is made, it’s also about living in the mystery and angst of unanswered questions.

018) Less Than One Afternoon

A close relative of mine has long passed retirement age. He should have retired from surgery about 15 years ago, but still practices to this day. Thanks to me. I did think it quite strange when he asked my advice about whether or not to retire, because I suspect he always regarded me as somewhat of a young up-start. Possibly, because we are both a little older now, he may have felt more comfortable confiding in me. I told him to never ever entertain the notion of retirement even for an instant. As long as he has something to give he must keep at it. I told him that he would lose his prestige and dignity if he stops working. He asked me how long it would take for his dignity to dissipate. I told him, ‘less than one afternoon.’

We know that older people spiral very quickly into a state of feeling worthless, which rapidly deteriorates into actual worthlessness, as long as they feel they have nothing left to contribute. Even past presidents look different on TV the day after they were actual presidents. It really does not take long for the fire to subside when it is no longer being stoked.

When you can’t wait to wake up in the morning and start living your dream…when you feel sad at the end of the day that the day is over…when time seems to pass by so quickly – you probably have passion for what it is you do. On the other hand, when you have to ‘kill time’ and can’t wait for the long day to end and wish tomorrow wasn't going to happen – you probably don’t have the passion we are talking about.

Rebbe Nachman of Breslov explains that sometimes even a neutral type of activity performed with a degree of passion, has a similar effect on the soul as Torah Study. As long as the activity is not prohibited, even a non-Torah activity, can be considered like Torah itself, provided it is done with passion and joy. By making positive use of time, one does not succumb to the evils of sin, hence he naturally and automatically achieves what Torah achieves, without even realizing it.

  

In a similar vein, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Kotzk writes; 

“I want you not to sin. Not because it is forbidden, but rather because you simply do not have the time to do so.”

(Emet ve Emunah p 53. par 3)

Imagine that. The Kotzker turns our entire perception of sin on its head. We think we don’t sin because it is forbidden and wrong (which of course it is). But that’s a lesser level of understanding the theology of sin. The deeper reason we don’t sin is because we have so filled all our physical and emotional voids and vacuums that there is no longer any room for anything else. Sin therefore can take no hold.

Psychologists tell us that for a human being to live a healthy emotional life, he needs three things;

1)      Something to do.

2)      Someone to love, and

3)      Something to look forward to.

I have always liked this deceptively simple three-part philosophy. The first and most important thing in life, no matter who you are is to have something (hopefully meaningful and worthwhile) to do. If you are in the zone and on a mission of sorts, there is not much that can get to you. If you are so fired up that you don’t even want to talk on the phone, there is little chance of the Yetzer (evil inclination) getting through either. And then you need to be able to share your love with others. Meaning becomes enhanced when shared with someone you love. Finally, you also need to project towards the future. Being too locked into the here-and-now can give you emotional cabin-fever. Looking forward to tomorrow with a plan lends both previous points a little more buoyancy as well.

It’s interesting, though that the first point is still the first point. The preliminary focus must always be on having something meaningful to do now. This usually acts as a conduit for the next two points anyway, and (at least according to Rebbe Nachman) is Torah-like in and of itself.