Chances are: the world was just created

Here is a proof that the world is constantly being created ex nihilo.


A: Science tells us that the states of the Universe progress from less to more entropy (more to less order).

B: This is because a state which is more entropic (less orderly) is more likely to occur than the state that is less entropic (more orderly). Which is because there are more possible former kind of states than the latter.

This is why it is less likely for the smoke to go back into a cigarette than come out of it. Which is why the flow of time has a directionality: things progress from more to less ordered and don't go back, because it's more likely for them to go forward. The Universe has more states to choose from in the "future" pile than in the "past" pile, which is why it tends to pick the "future" ones.


Now, imagine two hypotheses:

1) The world came into being (as it is, with everything in it, including our memories, etc.) 5 minutes ago
2) The world came into being 10 minutes ago

The world in 1) is less orderly than the world in 2), as per A. But that means that that the world in 1) is also the one more likely (as per B)! Hence, it's more likely that hypothesis 1) is more correct.

Which means that it is more likely that the world came into being 5 minutes ago than 100 billion years ago. And so on...

But that also means that it's more likely that the world was just created — a Planck unit of time ago — than any time before it. Ex nihilo.

Any questions?..

Making sense of moral truths, cont.

Because moral truths must be truths about reality (as I have argued in my previous post) if we are to reject the subjectivist moral position, we have to define very carefully what we mean by saying that moral truths are objective.

We could mean that the moral truths are universal statements of goals. Subjective evaluative statements are statements of compatibility with subjective goals. To say "it's too cold in this room" is to mean "I want to feel comfortable, and in order for that to happen, the temperature in the room must be higher". Obviously, this is a subjective evaluative statement, since what's cold for you might be too warm for me because of our unique biology or mental reactions.

Saying "taking I-95 N from Boston is wrong" implies that you want to go south (e.g., to New York).

So, maybe all people have a certain set of goals, and to achieve these goals, they must do certain things having property of "good" and cannot do certain things thus having property of "bad". That would be interesting, but I don't think we would find such a universal set of goals for all humankind. In fact, quite the opposite: most people want to continue surviving and incur pleasure while staying away from pain. But what are we to do if people's goals intersect: i.e., if causing pleasure to myself will cause pain to you?

* * *

What else we got? Well, we could define good as "beneficial". For instance, something good for a bacterium is to avoid destruction. For every living being there seems to be a set of goods and bads. So, just like we can recognize that certain things are good for us in the sense that they allow us to survive and enjoy ourselves, there are things that are good for others, both humans and other living beings.

One problem is with defining what exactly good is. Ayn Rand famously said that only living forms have a choice between staying living and being dead. Dead matter is already dead: it has no choice about it.

But surely one could argue that there is a difference between being a magnificent stalagmite and a bunch of crushed rock. So, we can define "good" and "bad" in terms of order vs. entropy. Order means good. Destruction of something means increasing its entropy. (Another objection to Rand is that humans can have other choices besides being alive or dead, such as leading more or less creative or rational lives, enjoying oneself more or less, etc. Those are real choices, and it's not clear one set of choices — e.g., how much fun to have in one's life — must be more important than another — how long to live.)

The problem is that the obvious fact of life is that in order for anything to survive it needs to feed on something else. We have to destroy plants and sometimes animals to survive; the animals do the same. Even the plants feed on the products of our sun's continued destruction.

So, is it good for a bear to eat me? It is good for the bear; it is bad for me. The same is true in reverse. So, again, how are we to decide between choices of good and bad? Should I steal someone's umbrella? It's bad to do that to someone else; but it's equally bad to let me walk under rain without an umbrella. Which bad should I avoid? Which good should I choose?

I do not claim that there are no answers to these question. I am trying to show that simply defining good and bad as harm and benefit does not suffice.

* * *

One can go the route of moral intuitionists and say that "good" and "bad" are simple properties of nature as "red", "green", "hot", "cold" or having a certain electrical charge or mass or occupying certain amount of space. And we know these things simply from perception and do not have to define them in terms of anything else.

Here is my problem with this view of moral truths: it seems an intellectually arbitrary dead-end. All the physical qualities I listed above have relation to other events in the universe, can be investigated further, can be detected and verified independently. The same goes for mathematical truths, whatever one makes of them.

But if I am saying that "harming children for the fun of is bad; end of story", it doesn't seem like I can investigate the nature of this quality any further or connect it to other phenomena. I either believe it to be true or not. Maybe I can compare it with other similar truths ("Is it acceptable to allow three children of someone else to die at the cost of saving one's own single child?"), but it seems that the results of the comparison are themselves singular intuitive truths which one cannot investigate much further.

Also, this approach smacks of arbitrary ascribing of one's internal states to the nature without any way to verify the truth and validity of it. Imagine that I said that on a rainy day, the nature is sad, on a windy day it's angry, on a sunny day, it's happy, and early in the morning it's calm.

When asked what I mean by these things: are those the emotions that I feel, I would say, no, they are the nature's qualities. I can feel such emotions myself, but in this case, I am describing the states of nature. Well, do I mean that the nature feels those emotions? No, that's silly. I am just describing the nature's properties or some truths about nature, and no further definition is necessary. How do I know that the nature has these states? Why, I observe it. I already know what angry, happy, sad, or calm are from introspection. I can also recognize these qualities in nature. There are those that can agree with me, and there are those that cannot sense those qualities in nature; maybe they are psychopaths of sorts.

I think most people would find these descriptions not only somewhat silly, strange, and arbitrary, but also not very useful.

* * *

So, how do I personally define objective valuations? First, I want to return to the idea that a valuation is an expression of correspondence to some goal. Something is good if it allows one to reach some goal.

The goal itself may or may not need justification; it may or may not need be a part of another goal. For instance, I eat because I don't want to be hungry and want to survive. I don't want to be hungry because I don't want to suffer. My goals of not suffering and continuing to survive cannot be explained; they are what defines me as who I am.

Perhaps the latter point needs some work. Maybe it is wrong to define something as an end in itself or an axiom without a good justification. (Such that denying it would force one to contradict oneself, such as saying "I don't exist".) I do not know yet if one can apply this method to goals to verify which of them are "basic" (or "final") goals.

Be it as it may, let me quote myself from an earlier post:

How can there be an absolute, "objective" purpose to the world out there? I walk in a forest and see a beehive. My purpose for it is to eat the honey to satisfy my hunger. The bees' purpose is to keep the honey to feed their larvae. Maybe somebody else's purpose is to take the honey and sell it on the market. How can there be an "ultimate" or absolute purpose, independent of any agents, built-in into the fabric of reality of the beehive? 

Clearly there cannot be, unless there is one agent who imbues all reality with a purpose: the one who created and continues to create the beehive, consciously, willfully, and with a certain goal in mind (so to speak). I.e., G-d, [the Creator of the World, imbuing it with a purpose].

That is my definition of objective morality. It is that which corresponds with the objective, teleological end of the world, its purpose. Those who don't believe in G-d might believe in something like Omega Point theory, which states that the universe has a teleological purpose defined in its laws to which it tends. In that case, following that purpose is good, while going against it is bad.

I am not making this definition because I am trying to fit morality into religion. Simply all the other definitions do not make any sense to me. (And subjectivist morality contradicts my perception of  intuitive, non-subjective truths being real.) I may change my mind, but this is where my view stands at the moment.

Finally, I do not mean to say that the only way to know G-d's purpose for the world is through a revelation. Another way is, potentially, through intuition, one's "moral compass". It may or may not be a good way to know G-d's purpose in certain things, just like our eyes may or may not be a good way to gain knowledge about space, time, colors, etc.

I think one's moral landscape must consist of a symbiosis between one's knowledge of G-d's revelation of His desires about the world and one's moral intuition.

Thomas Nagel and coherence of moral truths

I have recently read a couple chapters from Thomas Nagel's recent book, Mind and Cosmos. In it, he argues that neo-Darwinian evolutionary theory of the origin of life as we know it must be incomplete or altogether erroneous, because it cannot account for many aspects of our everyday lives, specifically the parts of what's commonly known as mind–body problem. Nagel focuses on the problems with providing a Darwinian account of the origins (and justification of) consciousness, cognition (including knowledge of mathematical truths), and moral values.

I don't want to discuss here the main thesis of the book. I just want to focus on Nagel's definition of moral realism and objective moral truths, in which he follows the tradition of many other moral realists.

According to Nagel, moral realism asserts that moral truths are not merely subjective experiences of individuals contingent on their personal preferences. Moral truths are independently real — and accessible to most individuals through reason. Furthermore, moral truths do not need to be defined or proven in terms of other truths (subjective or objective). After all, we cannot hold that every belief must be defined and verified through an infinite chain of definitions and verifications. That would be impossible and incoherent. Some ground-truths must exist simply because they must exist; according to Nagel's description of moral realism, that applies to moral truths:

[Moral] realism is not a metaphysical theory of the ground of moral and evaluative truth. It is a metaphysical position only in the negative sense that it denies that all basic truth is either natural or mathematical. [...] Value realism does not maintain that value judgments are made true or false by anything else, natural or supernatural.

The part in bold is what I am having a problem comprehending. But first, let Nagel continue...

He explains that, of course, our evaluation of certain events as good or bad requires our knowledge of those events. The fact that running over a dog for the fun of it is evil requires knowledge that running over a dog will cause pain, suffering, and death of a living creature for the fun of it. But knowledge that causing pain, suffering, and death to another living creature is bad is self-evident according to Nagel. It does not require knowledge of anything else.

So far so good. But then he elaborates on the bit in bold above. David Gordon, in his review of Cosmos, explains:

But is not moral realism exposed to a decisive objection, famously pressed by John L. Mackie? In suggesting that values are "out there" in the world, rather than human preferences or sentiments, does not the moral realist postulate "ontologically queer" abstract objects, unlike anything else in the universe? 

Nagel convincingly shows that this objection rests on a misunderstanding. Moral realism does not hold that there is, in addition to ordinary objects, a special class of metaphysical objects called "values." Rather, its contention is that moral reasons do not require reduction to something else in order to count as legitimate. 

"The dispute between realism and subjectivism is not about the contents of the universe. It is a dispute about the order of normative explanation. Realists believe that moral and other evaluative judgments can often be explained by more general or basic evaluative truths, together with the facts that bring them into play.… But they do not believe that the evaluative element in such a judgment can be explained by anything else. That there is a reason to do what will avoid grievous harm to a sentient creature is, in a realist view, one of the kinds of things that can be true in itself, and not because something else is true." (p. 102)

I.e., the statement that causing suffering and pain for fun is evil is not a statement about a law of the universe; nor is it a statement about one's mind (since that would make it subjectivist). It is merely a truth, in and of itself.

(Michael Huemer makes a similar point, but I can't find the quote right now. Perhaps I confabulated it.)

I find this position incoherent. All truths must be either truths about our mind or about the reality outside our mind. Take mathematical truths, for instance. What are they? Several views can exist:

Subjectivist: Mathematical truths are merely descriptions of the internal laws governing our processing of the world outside. Specific laws and notations of mathematics are our ways of making sense of the external world. To say that there are 10 bottles in a pack merely means to say that we have grouped the matter in the pack into 10 objects (per our definition of "ten" and "objects") in our heads. There is nothing more to it. 

The reason why Math is useful is because our brain can model the reality pretty well (at least to a certain extent), having been created/evolved for that purpose, and the brains of people are quite similar in this capacity, such that these models can be shared and mutually recognized as either true or false (or, rather, good predictors of reality or bad ones). 

 As a matter of support for this view, consider that mathematicians and physicists choose different kinds of Mathematics to describe the world. Eucledean mathematics can allow you to build a pyramid, but not circumnavigate the world. And Newton had to invent of a whole new set of mathematical concepts in order to prove his theory of gravitation. Same for Einstein: he had to adopt a radically new set of mathematical models to describe his view of the physical reality. 

 So, while the physical reality is "external" and objective, our ways of understanding and modelling it are internal and subjective, pure products of our minds.

Realist: The above view is ridiculous. Yes, the specific ways in which we measure and analyze the world and perceive the logic of it are unique to our brains and products of them. But there must be some independent, external aspect of reality that these internal models are representing. That is why Fermat could predict certain property of numbers in his Last Theorem, and people could prove it after a few hundred years, in a book several hundred pages long, itself being a product of seven years' worth of research based on centuries of previous research.

That is why, just from knowledge of geometry and Calculus, I can figure out how tall the level of water (whose rate of flow I know) will be in a pool of known dimensions after a certain number of minutes. I can figure it out theoretically, without knowledge of empirical laws of physics, and then go back and observe my answer being correct in reality (as long as the measurements of the pool's dimension, the flow of water, and the time elapsed were approximately correct). How the heck can I predict something like that about the world outside of my head just through introspection about my own logic? There must be something more to it. 

Furthermore, mathematicians sometimes develop theorems that they think are purely abstract. Later it turns out that they can be useful in modelling the world. For instance, extremely abstract Riemannian geometry (developed in the 19th century) was found to be useful in the 20th century as a mathematical basis for Einstein's General Relativity Theory. 

This manner of consistency must result from something objective existing "out there", not just a subjective modelling of the world inside our heads, a merely useful way to keep track of all the geese in one's herd. Thus, mathematics must be a part of the physical world.  

(Incidentally, perhaps the reason why mathematicians can study this part "internally", without ever getting out and observing the world, is because their brains also operate according to the same laws of logic as the rest of the universe. Thus, lehavdil, "from my flesh, I envision G-d".) 

Mystic/Platonist: The realist is right that there is objective reality which mathematicians study. But he is not right that it is a part of the physical world. It is a part of some parallel world of forms, "on which" the matter of this world is built, in a manner of a matryoshka (Russian doll). There, the forms and numbers and other abstract truths exist in their pristine form. 

In our, material world, those "ideal objects" are forced onto the matter (or the other way around), such that we can still recognize them through reason and observation of the world, but we have to abstract them in order to mentally study their relationships in the world of forms. This is why we can make precise predictions about the extremely imprecise physical world. Our theories about it must be modified all the time, but not our theories about how to make mathematical sense of it. 

This is not because our subjective view of our internal world is so unshakably consistent and reliable (after all, psychological accounts of our internal world evolve constantly). Nor is it because our knowledge of the physical world is so precise (it is constantly corrected as well; in fact, some long-held descriptions of reality, such as Newton's Laws, are eventually proven to be incorrect or imprecise). It is because we can know the world of forms (by inference from the physical world or by internal knowledge through our souls) in a better fashion that we can know the world of the physical matter. There may be a kabbalistic reason for it (such as that the world of forms is one of the Worlds of Truth, while in the physical world, the truth is muddled up by the physical matter).

Whatever the correct view of the ontology of mathematical truths, as I said before, they must be truths about something. They must be a part of the reality: either a subjective part of our brains and minds (similar to tastes), an objective part of the physical reality (like laws of physics), or a part of some parallel non-physical world. To say that something is good, but mean neither that "goodness" is its realistic property nor that its my mind's reaction to it, is not demonstrably wrong or illogical; it's simply incoherent.

To be continued...

A ma'amor summary

First, I changed my mind on moving to Tumblr.

Second, here is a ma'amor summary I wrote on Facebook:


Alter Rebbe says that people nowadays (meaning 18th/19th century — but this is true also today) think that the philosophers of old were fools. It is the philosophers of today that were able to develop wonderful new technological advances (the Alter Rebbe gives examples of cannons and air balloons) that are the geniuses.

In reality, he says, it's the opposite. People of old were geniuses, but they dealt with inyonim ruchniim — spiritual matters, or abstract concepts. The reason was that it was important to mekadesh (to make holy) the world from top to bottom. That is why the wise of the nations dealt with the abstract concepts, so that Yidden could mekadesh those concepts through their service.

Nowadays, the time has come to mekadesh the gashmius, the lowest aspects of the physical matter. This is why around the time of 17th-19th centuries, there was a revolution both in Chassidus (the ideas in Judaism that explain how dealing with physical things for the purpose of holiness creates "dira b'tachtoinim", Dwelling in the Lower Worlds for G-d) and in material sciences (natural sciences, medicine, economics, etc.) that allowed for more of the physical matter to be in use by the humans, more efficiently, and with greater benefit for the humanity. And economics is very important for this, because it allows literally the whole world to participate in creation of a single pencil.

Now this pencil (or an iPhone or an airplane) can be used for humanity's benefit and for avoidas Hashem. Through study of Chassidus, we are able to elevate the sparks even in the lowest aspects of the matter. Through study of natural sciences, we are able to make those aspects of the matter accessible for elevation. Furthermore, study of the world itself, combined with Chassidus, allows us to understand the greatness of G-d to a higher degree.

Spiritual timelessness of Judaism. Special days of Kislev

(source)

A repost:

In one of his shiurim on Chanukah (listen also to this shiur on the whole month of Kislev), Rabbi Paltiel explains that time is also a creation. Besides the time that is bound to space (which Einstein’s theories of relativity talk about), there is a more general, “background” time. Every moment of this time has its unique spiritual energy — Sunday has one type of energy, Monday another, etc.

This explains why certain holidays in Jewish history came and went, and other holidays remained. The particular day on which a particular holiday happened had its unique spiritual energy. The holidays with “universal” spiritual energies are still celebrated by Jews. For instance, the 15th of Nissan (the day when Jews left Egypt) had an energy of liberation, redemption from slavery, overcoming of one’s limitations and so on. This is why Pesach is celebrated throughout generations — not (only) to commemorate the leaving of Egypt, but mainly because the day itself is liberating; the same spiritual energy that allowed Jews to leave Egypt many years ago on this day appears again every year.

This applies to any holy day on Jewish calendar. On Rosh HaShana (New Year), the source of energy that allows the world to exist is renewed. By celebrating Rosh HaShana, we are celebrating literal rebirth of the Universe.

Shabbos is not merely a day to commemorate the fact that G-d “rested” (i.e., did not create the world actively); on this day, the stretch of time itself (and as a result, the world that exists in this time) is holy. The same mode of creation that was during the first Shabbos — through “thought” as opposed to “speech” — happens every Shabbos. It is as if on Shabbos we did not exist “outside” of Hashem, but inside His “mind”.

Rabbi Paltiel gives another example. In Sha’alos veTeshuvos min haShomayim (“Questions and Answers from Heaven”), a book in which halachic questions are asked “beyond the Curtain” and answers are recorded, at the end of one such teshuva, it is written: “Today is 19th of Kislev, Tuesday, and it is a day for celebration”. For a thousand years it was not known why 19th of Kislev was a happy day — until 1799, when on a Tuesday, 19th of Kislev, the first Rebbe of Chabad Chassidus, R’ Shneur Zalman of Lyadi (“Alter Rebbe”) was released from prison. This day became known as “New Year of Chassidus”, and it is generally recognized amongst Chabad Chassidim as a day instrumental for dissemination for Chabad Chassidus, which is a recipe for bringing Mashiach.

Yud-Tes Kislev is a lot bigger than Chabad. It is not New Year of Chassidus Chabad; it is New Year of Chassidus. In Yud-Tes Kislev lies spiritual victory of Baal Shem Tov. Baal Shem Tov was a special soul that came from heavens to introduce new, special type of Judaism, and it was being judged. [...] And the miracle of Yud-Tes Kislev effected not just Chabad Chassidim, but all Jews. [Listen on for explanation.]

The same is true regarding Chanukah. The day of 25th of Kislev has the special spiritual energy of renewal and dedication of Beis HaMikdosh. When the Mishkan was built, it was ready to be dedicated on the 25th of Kislev. Moses was told by G-d to wait until Adar, but the energy of this day revealed itself when it came time (on the same day) to renew and rededicate Beis HaMikdosh after victory over Greeks.

So, it is true that we celebrate the historical occurence of each holiday, but this occurence is but a keili, a vessel for the spiritual energy behind the occurence. We are really celebrating the spiritual occurence of a particular day (that is happening on that day), but since we live in the physical world and cannot “grasp” the spiritual events in their purity (they are beyond this world) — nor should we do this, because the ultimate purpose of creation is making a dwelling place for G-d in this, physical world, — we “dress” the spiritual energy of a particular day in the “vessel” of a particular holiday, with its history, customs, special prayers, symbolism, etc.

That is why Purim, for instance, could be meaningful even for Jews in the middle of Holocaust. While the historical relevance of this holiday was seemingly distant and reversed by contemporary events, the spiritual relevance (Purim is higher that Yom Kipur, as the Lubavitcher Rebbe explains in one of his ma’amorim) was nevertheless there.

* * *

This brings me to the question often asked about the “reason” of mitzvos. I will give a relatively obscure example. At the end of having a meal, before saying the main after-blessing for the meal, it is customary to wash one’s fingertips and pass the fingers over one’s lips. Men do this (usually, using a special cup and plate that is passed around the table); women do not. The explanation given on a nigleh (“revealed” or legal) level is that this custom was instituted to protect someone who had just eaten from the salts present in the food that may be harmful for one’s skin.

The question why this customs does not apply to women has several answers. One of them is that traditionally, women were involved with preparing food and therefore washed their hands anyway. Another is that the act of publicly washing one’s hands at the table is an act of doing something normally private in public, with the table’s attention drawn to oneself. Because privacy is more important for women than for men, it is generally recognized to be improper for the former to participate in attention-drawing events (which includes other activities, in which women normally do not participate, such as holding a public office, being a Rav, getting an aliyah, etc.).

Today, if we see in this custom nothing but a medical warning, it may seem somewhat irrelevant, to say the least. It may be surprising why this custom survived, while other, seemingly more important customs of past did not. The same logic that applies to holidays, however, applies to customs and mitzvos. They have both physical (historical, ritual, pragmatic) and spiritual dimension. The former is but a vessel for holding the latter.

Indeed, regarding washing of one’s fingertips after the meal, we find in the commentaries of AriZal (Rabbi Itzchok Luria, the founder of the most comprehensive contemporary system of Kabbala we have today — on which Chabad Chassidus is based, by the way) that through washing of our fingertips after the meal, we dispell the forces of klipah (spiritual impurity) that may have been attracted to us (similar to how the same forces are attracted to our body during our sleep and linger in the fingertips after we wake up, making it neccessary for us to wash them). Indeed, this is the kavana (conscious intent) one needs to have while washing one’s hands after the meal — to get rid of these forces of impurity.

So, why don’t women wash their fingertips? Apparently, because the forces of impurity do not affect them in this case. How do we know this? Because women are not required halachically to wash their fingertips after a meal. The most important lesson that Chabad Chassidus teaches us is: we must realize that ein od milvado — there is nothing but G-d. There is absolute unity of G-d with His creation, both space and time. All events happen in time and in space when they are supposed to happen according to the grand design of creation. Spiritual at all times is connected to the physical, both in historical events and in Torah.

Therefore, if — for whatever historical reasons! — women were not obligated to wash their fingertips at the time that this custom was instituted, it must mean that whatever the spiritual dimension of this custom is, it did not apply to women but applied to men. Even if nowadays the particular physical causes of this difference (and the reason for the custom itself) no longer apply, their spiritual aspects still do, making it necessary for us to honor the custom.

Willows of the brook

And you shall take on the first day the fruit of a beautiful tree, branches of palm trees, boughs of leafy trees, and willows of the brook, and you shall rejoice before the L-rd your G-d for seven days.

Vayikra, 23:40

Over the Yom Tov I read a beautiful sicho, in which the Rebbe's view of other Jews shines through.

The Rebbe notes that al pi Halacha, three out of the four species that we take on Sukkos need to correspond to their description from Torah: the fruit needs to specifically esrog and the palm branches have to be from a palm (and the fruit has to be beautiful in appearance), and the 'boughs' have to be 'leafy' (they need to have at least three leaves growing from the stem).

But the branch of the willow does not have to come literally from a 'willow of a brook'. I.e., the willow tree from which we cut the branch does not have to grow by a waterway. Why is that?

It is well known that the four species represent four kinds of Jews: those that perform mitzvos, those that learn Torah, those that do both, and those that do neither; these four categories correspond to the species that have good taste, good smell, both, and neither. The willow branch belongs to the latter category.

The willow thus represents the Jew who neither learns nor performs mitzvos. And that is why the willow does not need to grow specifically by the river.

The other three species are characterized by their mitzvos and their Torah. For both mitzvos and Torah to be 'valid', they need to be connected to a tradition: we cannot perform a mitzva willy-nilly; we must have received a tradition from our ancestors as to how to perform it. The same goes for Torah learning, especially learning Halachos. While to a certain extent innovation in Torah learning is allowed and even encouraged (especially interpretation of what Chumash teaches us in avoida), even that must happen within the context of an already-existing mesoira.

That is why the species that represent the Jews whose 'claim to fame' is observance of mitzvos and learning of Torah must themselves be validated by a tradition: they must correspond to their description in Torah. (Also, for instance, our Rebbeim note that we need to have a tradition for a specific sub-species of esrog, just like we need a tradition for a species of a bird to be kosher. That is why the Lubavitchers only get Calabria esrogim from Italy or Kfar Chabad.)

But what about the fourth Jew? What's good about him? Certainly not his 'external' aspects -- he has nothing to be proud of in his service of Hashem. But we still love him, because Hashem loves him. Because he is a Jew. He has in him Essence of Hashem. And that comes to the fore when the external aspects are diminished.

That is why the willow branches do not have to be specifically from the willows that grow by the river. As long as we know that they originate from brook willows, that in their essence they belong to the species, no matter where they are right now, they can still be part of the avoida of Sukkos.

Lacanian psychoanalysis of Chabad and Modern Orthodox Judaism

(Slavoj Žižek, post-modernist troublemaker)

I am going to try to analyze Chabad and Modern Orthodoxy using the psychoanalytic approach of Lacanian triad: 'the imaginary, the symbolic, and the real' (I'll explain below).

I want to do this because I have for a long time thought about the dichotomy of the 'real' and the 'imaginary' in the MO world. In addition, recently, I have read Iraq: the Borrowed Kettle by Slavoj Žižek (pronounced as 'Slah-voy Zhih-zhek'), a Marxist philosopher-psychoanalyst. I obviously disagree with many of Žižek's ideas and conclusions about capitalism and the Western world, but I find his analytic methodology entertaining. (So, keep this in mind as you read the bits of this post about the Iraqi war. What matters is not the contents, but the analysis.)

In Iraq, Žižek analyzed the motivations for the 2003 invasion of Iraq using Lacanian psychoanalytic triad:

1. The imaginary: the purpose of the war was to spread the ideals and the benefits of the Western democracy. This was the official propaganda line fed to the masses in order to garner their support.

2. The symbolic: the purpose of the war was to spread American political hegemony. This level is called symbolic because the invasion of Iraq really served a 'symbolic' purpose in the international diplomatic stance of the USA: it strengthened its roles as the international policeman and 'paved the way' for the possibility and acceptability of now starting the war on the 'imaginary' grounds, without support of the UN, and in a form of preemptive strikes.

3. The real reason for the invasion, according to Žižek, was economic control over Iraqi oil and, more generally, strengthening of US dollar against the euro. (Perhaps one can tie in the Keynesian motive for mythical 'stimulus' of the economy through defense spending.) This is classical of Žižekian analysis of political events: he envisions a nation-state, a government, or a culture (e.g., the USA) as an individual, and applies to it Freudian and Lacanian psychoanalysis, showing that (in his opinion) the sub-conscious drive is the real one.

Now, let me say at once that I do not necessarily agree with the above analysis of Iraqi war. Or, rather, I neither agree nor disagree. It is certainly the case that the invasion has failed on all three accounts: it did not help with spreading of democracy, either in the region or in the world; it has ruined US political image and led to diplomatic and military backlash, and it had an adverse effect on US economy on multiple levels, including, in the long-term, the current Great Recession. Of course, that doesn't mean that Zizek is wrong in his analysis of motivations.

As Kelsey Wood notes in Žižek: A Reader's Guide:

Žižek is careful to point out that in this Lacanian triad of imaginary-symbolic-real, each of these three levels has some degree of autonomy, and none of the is simply a mere semblance (Iraq, p.4). For example, ideological fantasy produces effects in people's behavior, and has an impact on people's lives. This indicates how fantasy is constitutive of symbolic reality. But again, with regard to the triad of imaginary-symbolic-real, 'it is not that one is the "truth" of the others; the "truth" is, rather, the very shift of perspective between them' (Iraq, p.6).

Again, I do not care whether or not Zizek's analysis is true. I care about using this method to analyse both MO and Chabad branches of 'frum' Judaism.

Let me start with Chabad, using davening as an example (I am crediting my wife for giving me this idea):

1. The imaginary: on this level, we look at davening through 'general' Orthodox Judaism. I.e., all the halachos of davening, the nusach, what davening consists of (the parts of davening), the zmanim, etc. Also, the purpose of davening as interpreted by Alter Rebbe: connection to Hashem.

The 'imaginary' level can also be termed 'ideal' or 'formal'. In a chess game, the 'imaginary' dimension of a chess piece is the rules by which it moves. A synonymous expression for 'imaginary' is 'make-belief', and that applies to the religious application of the Lacanian triad: the 'imaginary' aspect is not something that is not real (G-d forbid), but it is something one must believe in, or at least it's not something accessible to one's immediate experience; it is both a foundation and a goal, both of which must exist on the level of emunah-like commitment (you can read here more about the distinction between emunah and da'as).

2. The symbolic: when looked at through Chabad Chassidus, davening is not simply carrying out of the halachic obligation, but a path of self-development, literally an avoida ('service'). Again, I am using the 'symbolic' as merely Lacanian jargon. In an abstract sense, the act of prayer itself (i.e., what is literally a supplication) is a 'symbol' (an excuse, if you wish) for improving oneself and establishing a relationship with Hashem.

For that purpose, one must daven at length, with great concentration (oftentimes outside of the minyan), and, most significantly, one must learn Chassidus before davening, so that one can be hisboinen (contemplative, meditative) of the learned concepts (comprising either haskallah, the intellectual concepts, or avoida, the concepts of self-service, of Chassidus, or both). This has effect on the interpretation of Halacha (the first level), since, to fulfill the 'symbolic' aspect of davening, we must be lax with the zmanim, allow eating before davening, etc.

3. The real. In reality, you can find Shachris minyanim in 770 going on until almost after shkiah. Not because some chassidim use this much time to learn Chassidus, but because davening late has become a 'reality' of Chabad culture, independently of its 'imaginary' and 'symbolic' counterparts. The same goes for eating before davening (sometimes eating a quite substantial meal), etc.

Don't get me wrong: I am not saying that this is what happens to most Lubavitchers. (In fact, I don't really know what the numbers are.) I am just saying that this phenomenon (almost unique to Chabad) exists, and that's what its nature is.

Of course, it is also true that davening has become a completely different experience ('reality') in Chabad circles, both for the newcomers and the 'balabatim'. Many people would describe davening at Chabad as a richer, deeper, more vibrant experience, albeit annoying to the Jews belonging to other branches of Orthodox Judaism, whose 'imaginary' and 'symbolic' (and, as a result, 'real') expectations of davening are somewhat different.

The same analysis can be applied to many other aspects of modern Chabad 'culture', both in terms of shlichus and the 'Crown Heights' velt. I think it can also be used in a positive sense. For example: a person is stopped on the street and asked to shake lulav and esrog:

1. The imaginary: the person does the mitzva of lulav and esrog, the formal obligation he has to G-d. G-d's Will is carried out in this world.

2. The symbolic: the act of doing the mitzva connects to the essence of his neshama, revealing it (potentially). The act of doing the mitzva is important not because of its dry obligatory context, but because of what it accomplishes: the unification of G-d with this world through the act of mitzva and the subsequent creation of dira b'tachtoinim (the dwelling place of G-d in the lower worlds). I.e., the mitzva is not just a dry fulfillment of a contract, but a vehicle (a 'symbol') for the essential purpose of creation and revelation.

3. The real: it is possible that the person will become interested in Yiddishkeit and inquire about it (and, perhaps, about Chabad specifically) and this simple encounter will bring him 'back' (or, at least, closer) to frumkeit. In this, the circle of the purpose of mivtzoim is closed.


Now, let's use the same analysis in application to Modern Orthodoxy:

1. The imaginary: MO views itself as Orthodox Judaism. In fact, it does not view itself as a 'b'dieved Judaism', i.e., Judaism of a compromise. According to the MO philosophy, its path of Yiddishkeit is preferred. Torah is given to be lived, in this world. (Note that this is not the same as the Chabad concept of engaging 'der velt' in order to make dira b'tachtonim. For Chabad, 'der velt' is the goal. For MO, it's simply the status quo. When a Lubavitcher gets a job, he is being an idealist, at least as far as Chabad Chassidus is concerned. When a MO Jew gets a job, he is being a realist.)

Likewise, Torah is given to real human beings, with real desires and everyday circumstances; it was not given to the angels.

2. The symbolic: In order to accomplish the goal making Torah accessible to the modern mentality of the 'real, everyday' Jew living in the Western world in modern times, one must unite Torah with 'modernity'. Because this contemporary Jew is the one commanded with both performance of the mitzvos and learning of Torah, we must be able to interpret the meaning of the former and the content of the latter from today's, modern, perspective.

From here comes the MO view of Judaism. Mitzvos are patterns of behavior that bind us together in a Jewish community. Torah is G-d's revelation of His message of how to live a fulfilling and successful life in everyday world. The 'realism' of the mitzvos and of Torah is pushed to the shadows. It doesn't matter whether the world was created in Six Days, 5773 years ago. What matters is the message of the story to us, today. It doesn't matter whether I accomplish 'objectively' anything when I shake lulav and esrog. What matters is that that I feel and 'experience' something when I do it, that I focus on the symbolism of the act, in its historical and (constantly reinterpreted) everyday context.

3. The real: Having their significance reduced to merely symbolic context, mitzvos and Torah stop being religious phenomena and start being social ones. They are no longer an aspect of the Jew's (or the community's) relationship with G-d; they are an aspect of the Jew's relationship with other Jews and a way for him to see his own culture and self-identity on the national and international scale.

When a Chabad rabbi speaks before Musaf, he talks about avoidas Hashem and da'as Hashem. He uses some aspect of the parsha or the Yom Tov as an illustration of what our relationship with G-d must be, or how we can understand G-dliness -- G-d's revelation of Himself in the worlds, the purpose and design of His creation, etc.

When a MO rabbi speaks before Musaf, he talks about Israeli politics, using a symbolic interpretation of an aspect of the parsha (reduced almost to an anecdote). Or, perhaps, he talks about how we must approach our everyday work environment or a project: the parsha can teach us about successful interpersonal relationships or work ethic and give us peace of mind.

The interpretation of the mitzvos also suffers from the symbolic approach. Because hair covering is looked at from the symbolic point of view, not either strictly legal (as a Litvish Jew might look at it) or 'realistic' -- i.e., having a real, objective purpose outside of one's perception (a Chabad Jew's perspective), it is only important insofar as it binds a Jewish woman to a particular community of hair-covering women, or if it adds anything to her personal experience. Otherwise, it is discarded.

The same goes for many other mitzvos. The tendency of make Torah 'livable', armed with always-ready ability to assign a symbolic interpretation to a mitzva, allows one to be as meichel as one possibly can (or as Rav Moishe allows), and then perhaps some more.

In reality, therefore, MO Judaism is 'Orthodox' in name only. In practice, both its theoretical view of Judaism and its practical observance is almost closer to Conservative Judaism, from which, after all, it has evolved (as one MO rabbi said, a bit tongue-in-cheek, 'if the Hareidim build mechitza up to the ceiling, and the Conservative don't have a mechitza at all, the Modern Orthodox mechitza will be exactly half-way').


I don't know what my conclusion might be. Writing of this post was mostly self-therapeutic in nature and perhaps may be of some help to those whose encounters with MO Judaism (or Chabad, for that matter) were frustrating.

Next project: psychoanalysis of the 'yechi' culture. Just kidding!..

Chai Ellul

There is a Chassidic saying that 18th of Ellul, "Chay Ellul", the birthday of the founder of Chabad movement, Alter Rebbe, brings chayus, life, into the month of Ellul.

What does this mean? It means that teachings of Chabad allow one to have his Ellul with chayus, with life and energy. Ellul stands for "ani l'doidi v'doidi li" -- "I am to my beloved, and my beloved is to me", which corresponds to our relationship with G-d. This relationship, expressed in Judaism, must be done with chayus, with life and energy.

A person must realize that Torah and mitzvos are not a "lifestyle". They are a living, breathing relationship with the Creator of the world. Every time a person does a mitzva, every time he learns Torah, he must not do it as a habit, as a rote, as a part of his "lifestyle" or "identity", but as an aspect of an ongoing relationship with the Eibeshter.

And the same way, every aspect of his life, from his work and his hobbies to his family to, obviously, his davening and learning and mitzvos, one must strive to connect to G-d. When something happens to a person, or when a person does something during his day, no matter how mundane, he must ask: "How is this a part of my relationship with Hashem?" And if he doesn't know the answer, he must search for it.

There is a story told about Mitteler Rebbe, Alter Rebbe's son. One year, Alter Rebbe was away for the reading of the Torah portion where all the curses that would befall the Jews if they did not keep Torah were listed. When he heard the curses being read out loud, he fainted and fell so ill that it wasn't clear if he would be able to fast on Yom Kippur.

People eventually asked: "What happened? You hear your father read the same Torah portion every year." He answered: "When my father reads this, I only hear blessings."

What's the point of this story? One of the major ideas expressed through the teachings of Alter Rebbe is that G-d is benevolent towards us. There are many mystical and philosophical ways of understanding it, and one must learn them all, but the bottom line that one must keep in mind every day is that anything that happens to one is a direct gift from G-d, whether or not it is a revealed blessing or a blessing in disguise.

May we be worthy of reaching very soon the time when our relationship with Hashem is revealed in this world on all levels.

E pluribus unum

It is said that even if Hashem did not give us the land of Israel and the Holy Temple, just bringing us to Mt. Sinai would be enough. The famous question is asked: what do you mean, it would be enough? The whole point of bringing us to Har Sinai is to give us Torah, which we would keep in Eretz Yisroel. The answer is that it would be enough, because when Jews received Torah, they were unified as one person. (We learn that Jews were tired before receiving of Torah. Why were they tired? Because it took them an effort to become unified. We learn from this that Jews get their strength from argument, which is why the main pastime of a frum Jew is to learn Gemara and argue.)
        Being unified “would be enough”, because unity amongst Jews results in the unity between the holy Names of G-d, between Him and His Presence, and between Him and this world. (For a detailed kabbalistic explanation of this process, see Derech Mitzvosecha, mitzvas Ahavas Yisroel. Suffice it to say that each Jewish soul contains sparks from all the other Jewish souls, and unification “below” draws forth the unification “above”.)
        This is why it is said that loving your fellow as yourself is the basis of the whole Torah. The point is not so much that the purpose of Torah is to bring peace amongst people (how exactly does putting on tefillin result in peace?), but that all Torah mitzvos accomplish the same thing that the single mitzva of ahavas Yisroel accomplishes: unity between G-d and His Presence in this world. And this is the whole purpose of creation and giving of Torah.

Now, the concept of unity is a tricky one. How can two separate entities become unified? This problem of disunity existed throughout the history of creation and of Jewish people. It all started from shviras ha’keilim, the breaking of the vessels of the chaotic world of Tohu (don’t worry, I won’t talk about that in detail now). The sfiroes of Tohu did not get along, couldn’t cooperate, each thinking of itself as the most important one — and kabloom! Chernobyl b’ruchnius.
        And the story repeated itself many times and indeed still goes on today. The theme of disunity is the theme of Omer. As everyone knows, the students of Rabbi Akiva quaralled, had no respect to each other, and a plague sent by G-d and augmented by socialized healthcare system killed many of them, r"l, in this very period of time.
        But what does it mean that they quarreled? These were the greatest sages of their generation, and they couldn’t get along? What were their disagreements about? What were the disagreements of the Jews in the desert about that they had to put aside to receive Torah? Now that we are writing a string of questions, what was the deal with the sferoes of Tohu? We shall examine these answers after the commercial break.



The Rebbe writes in the sicho devoted to Lag B’Omer that you can’t really blame the Jews in the desert, the spheroes, the students of Rabbi Akiva. They were not arguing about petty matters. They were not practicing sinas chinum. They didn’t care about chitzoinius (“your shtreimel looks worse than my hat”). Each of them had a shitta. Each of them had a job to do, a role that they played. And they took that job seriously.
        Think about it: if Chessed is merciful, and it’s taking its own job as the source of mercy seriously, how can it tolerate Gevurah? What do you mean, gevurah? Chessed! And Gevurah had the same attitude. In order to “live and let live”, to “agree to disagree”, one has to take a slightly mild view of one’s own shitta. Look at it with a bit of sense of humor. And these guys couldn’t afford doing that. They were responsible agents of their missions. The sages really believed, each of them, that they were right. Of course, each one of them was, but it’s all nice and good for us, sitting here in our b’dieved armchairs, to say “eilu v’eilu”. For these people, their shittos were their whole world.

So, what is one to do? Well, says the Rebbe, this is a serious problem. This is not just a problem for the sages or spheroes or the Jews in the desert. This is a problem for any two people that are trying to create a relationship. Any kind. Two friends, two colleagues, a husband and a wife, a parent and a child, etc. How can two people become one? What do you mean, one? If I am X, I am X. I cannot be Y. I can tolerate Y. I can respect Y. I can agree to disagree, even, but to be absolutely completely unified with Y? But then what happens with my identity, my “job” (which I take seriously) of X?
        Elsewhere (Inyanei Toras HaChassidus), the Rebbe explains that giluim (revelations) of G-dliness are always in conflict with each other. Because, as explained above, in order for each gilui to be itself, it must be itself and nothing else. Gevurah is Gevurah. End of story. That is why we can’t eat meat with milk. Meat is Gevurah; milk is Chessed. They don’t mix well.
        But the Essence of G-d, says the Rebbe, does not have that problem. Because the Essence includes all the revelations in itself (in potential). So, when the Essence is brought into play, no threat to the identities of individual revelations happens — and they can co-exist. Which is why G-d Himself can disobey rules of logic and do things that are mutually exclusive. Which is why, when Moshiach comes and G-d’s Essence is revealed (may it happen now), there will be no contradiction between the fact that G-d is revealed (which, under normal circumstances, would destroy this world) and, at the same time, the world exists and is a world, with its physical matter. (And, incidentally, we shall be allowed to eat meat and milk together.)

So, what’s the solution to disunity? Bring G-d into the equation. When the spheroes gain the awareness that each of them is not just Chessed or Gevurah, but Chessed and Gevurah that are each doing a job for G-d, this awareness allows them to co-operate, since each of them is doing essentially the same thing (serving G-d), albeit in a different way. The deepest identity of Chessed is not its vessel, but its Light, and the whole point of the Light is the idea that it’s on a mission from G-d (“light reveals the luminary”). Furthermore, this co-operation allows them to do their jobs better. And voilá, the world of Atzilus (aka Tikkun) is here. Jews are given Torah. Sages stop dying.
        And two people become one. This is the only way. In order for a relationship to be that of true, absolute unity, not just tolerance, one needs to bring G-d into it. G-d in the relationship is what allows the two people to become completely one and at the same time each retain his-or-her unique identity.

Gutt Yom Tov, y’all. May we merit to see speedily the time when the greatest unity of all possible is achieved: that between G-d and His nation, with the coming of Moshiach.

Importance of Akeidas Yitzchok — spiritual perspective

(limit at infinity)

In an earlier post, I covered logical arguments concerning akeidas Yitzchok. This event, however, has a very important spiritual lesson, which Avraham had to learn: we can define G-d’s expression in this world, but we cannot define His Essence.

In parshas Lech Lecha, Torah tells us that Avraham circumcised himself. In parshas Vayeira, he receives news of Sodom’s and Gamorra’s planned destruction and argues with G-d that some righteous individuals may live in them. Later, Yitzchok is miraculously conceived and born, and later yet (fast-forward thirty-odd years), G-d orders Avraham to sacrifice Yitzchok. What’s the connection between these events?

Initially, Avraham understood G-d as the Creator of the Universe. He deduced necessity of G-d’s existence from the fact that Universe functioned in an obvious order, which necessitated the source — only one — of that order. He preached monotheism and eventually received revelation of G-d, who told him to go to Eretz Kna’an to become an ancestor of a great nation. Before G-d’s revelation, Avraham’s understanding of G-d was limited to that of a Creator, after revelation — to whatever aspect of Himself G-d chose to reveal to Avraham. His understanding of G-d also was limited by his own nature. Avraham was kind and thus perceived G-d from this point of view, as a source of kindness in the world. Next came the circumcision. Chabad-Chassidic commentary on parshas Vayeira states:

When, as a young boy, Sholom DovBer of Lubavitch learned [the verse “G-d appeared to him”], he came in tears to his grandfather, Rabbi Menachem Mendel of Lubavitch (the Tzemach Tzedek), and cried, “If G-d appeared to Abraham, why doesn’t He appear to me, as well?” In reply to his little grandson’s anguished question, the Tzemach Tzedek told him that Abraham merited having G-d appear to him because, although he had indeed refined himself enough to attain very sublime levels of Divine consciousness, he at the same time knew that G-d is infinite and that therefore there were still an infinite number of levels of Divine consciousness to attain. This recognition left Abraham feeling grossly inadequate, as though he were still encrusted by layers of insensitivity to Divine awareness that needed to be removed — to be “circumcised” — in order to bare his heart before his Creator.

So, we see a gradual progression of Avraham’s understanding of G-d’s nature. He started with definition of G-d as a creator. Then he progressed to understanding of G-d as one who does kindness, chessed — from the “right” pillar of the kabbalistic tree of Divine Attributes. After his circumcision, Avraham achieved a level of being able to see the whole tree, with left side present. He was able to perceived that G-d is also a judge (as can be seen from his arguing with G-d about destruction of the Cities of the Plane: “Shall the Judge of the whole world not judge fairly?”). Birth of Yitzchok pushed the definition even further: not only was G-d the source of the world’s order, of Nature, but He was able to do miracles, transcending definitions of natural laws.



So, what did ordering Avraham to sacrifice Yitzchok accomplish? It elevated Avraham to understanding that G-d is beyond any definition or limitation whatsoever. Not of a Creator, not of a Kind Creator, not of a Just Creator, not even of someone who promised Avraham to become a father of a chosen nation. Avraham was not allowed to place any kind of limitation on G-d: natural, intellectual, emotional or logical. This new level Avraham achieved through an act of bittul, nullification of one’s ego and its importance. When being kind, Avraham related to the level of G-d’s Kindness (chesed). When asking for justice, Avraham asked for the level of G-d’s Justice (gevurah). When raising Yitzchok to become an ancestor of the Jewish nation that would proclaim G-d as King, Avraham was relating to the level of G-d’s Kingship (malchus). But what to do to relate to G-d’s undefinable Essence? Only through an act of sacrifice, nullification, removal of all definitions.

In our lives, we must do kindness, be just, keep all the mitzvos that make us G-d’s nation. While doing all this, however, we cannot allow any definitions or barriers to limit our relationship with Torah and G-d (as the Rebbe teaches). We must live in a constant act of self-sacrifice of our lives, our self-interests, our pleasures to G-d, reaching up to His Essence.

The final part of the story teaches us another lesson. In the end, G-d did not allow Avraham to slaughter his son and showed that He intended to keep his promise. Although G-d does not have to be limited by any characteristics, definitions of promises, he chooses to do so. He chooses to continue creating the world which defies His Oneness. He chooses to be the source of Kindness and Justice (and other eight spheros, whose vessels limit and define G-d’s Infinite Light). He chooses to continue having Jews as a chosen nation.

Giving us His Torah, G-d defied His own Infinity by limiting Himself to 613 commandments, to the physical world through which they are kept, to a specific nation, to whom a promise was given. A promise G-d intends to keep: that Jews through their efforts will bring about an Era when G-d’s Essence will be revealed in the materiality of the physical world, the Era of Mashiach. May this happen speedily in our days.

P.S. This also means that Hashem’s choice of us is limited to the specific 613 mitzvos. We can’t just serve Hashem in any way we want.

Parshas Noach — floodgates of teshuva

On Shmini Atzeres we prayed for rain, which we received next day on Simchas Torah — the rain of Torah, which starts with the account of the creation of the world. This week we are reading the next parsha: about Noach and the flood. Because nothing in Torah is random, we should be able to examine the connection between all these ideas.

Torah is compared to water in many places. In Tanya, Alter Rebbe compares Torah to water that falls from high and cascades from level to level until reaching its final destination, down below. So does Torah originate in the Will and Essence of Hashem, beyond creation (Torah is one of the things said to precede creation), and cascades from one spiritual world to another, taking form of each world, along the chain of creation, until it reaches our lowly and physical universe and takes in it the form of physical laws regarding material objects.

The importance of this analogy is two-fold:

First, we need to understand that all the halachos of Torah (and the physical events described in Torah) are nothing but the superficial aspect of Torah, whose essence is beyond mere physical laws and forms. We must strive to understand the inner essence of the laws, always remember where they came from, and never allow our observance of mitzvos to take superficial, routine form of execution of rituals.

Second, just like water that originates from great heights is destined for the lowly valleys, Torah, despite originating from great spiritual heights is destined for this world — and once it reached it, it stays here.

All the spiritual foundations of our physical laws exist so that a Jewish soul can descend into this world and bind these spiritual and lofty phenomena with lowly material matter. We must be, therefore, extremely careful with Halacha and very respectful to even minute aspects of it — there are no “more” or “less” important mitzvos. Even the slightest, minute mitzvah closes a circuit connecting the matter of this world with infinitely removed spiritual heights.



In the first chapter of Torah, Bereishis, we learn about the creation of the world, whose center is human being. The energy sustaining our world’s existence has recently been renewed on Rosh HaShanah, commonly called “Jewish New Year”. The day of Rosh HaShanah, however, is not the first day of creation, but the day when human was created — because the purpose of creation is for human to transform the physical universe into G-dly world, to unite the infinite and the finite, revealing thus the Oneness of G-d.

Jewish sources describe Adam as extremely wise human with prophetic abilities. How could he sin then, knowing what his actions will lead to? The answer is: he knew the Ohm’s Law. If you raise resistance, you also raise voltage. If you connect to G-d through holiness, you are revealing G-dliness in light. If you are connecting to G-d through unholiness, you are revealing G-dliness in darkness, a much more intense revelation. In order to connect to G-d through darkness, he had first to know of light and of darkness, and he reached for the source of this knowledge.

Adam was right: the connection to G-d through darkness is much stronger. This is why this world, the world of darkness and concealment of G-d’s existence, was created, and that is why our souls descend into it. In order to know how to find life in death, however, one must first taste life. Adam first tasted death and was exiled…

In the generation that followed, Adam’s error became increasingly difficult to rectify. The world was exposed to sin, to darkness, but inner essence of darkness, the Hidden Light, was difficult to access, because this Light was not tasted a priori.

This is what the Flood accomplished. It erased the sin and made teshuva (repentance) — an act of transforming sin into mitzva — easier. The original plan was to taste Life first and, “cook” the physical world with it, enfusing it with this taste. The plan did not work — raw flesh of the deadly and dark world was tasted first. That taste had to be washed out with the Flood, and a new sequence had to be invented: humans would not come into darkness with a priori experience and knowledge of light; they would be born in the darkness and discover light hidden in it.



It was not, however, until Avraham Avinu, when this process started. In his ma’amor Bosi LeGani, the Previous Rebbe of Chabad quotes medrash that explains that through the sin of Adam, Presence of G-d that was in this world departed. Through sins of following generations, it departed six more times, further and further.

Through actions of Avraham and his descendants, the Presence started to return, until It did so completely with the giving of Torah. The damage done by the sin of Avraham was reversed; the job of the Flood of teshuva has started. Now came the time to bring the world to its desired state: the state of unity between G-d and the world.

The sparks of Adam’s soul returned into this world in a form of Jewish souls to finish the job that he started: to do the collosal act of Great Teshuva: to return this world into the state of its oneness with G-d. Throughout the history, this process had success and had failure. Sometimes the end of Teshuva was near; sometimes it drew farther. Yet the Presence of G-d never departed this world again, as long as Jewish children were learning Torah.

Three centuries ago (as predicted beforehand by Kabbalah) the floodgates opened again. Not the floodgates of destruction, but the floodgates of life. The final act of teshuva started happening: the Essence of Torah was revealed in teachings of Chassidus — a recipe of how to complete the Return of the world to its source. At the same time, the floodgates in the material reason also opened, starting the era of discovery and increased understanding amongst the Nations. Today we have access to the deepest phenomena of the physical Universe that reveal the source (albeit incompletely studied and understood) of the physical phenomena. At the same time, we have access to teachings that reveal the source and essence of our Torah.

Just like a physicist can understand the classical phenomenon of friction better with knowledge of quantum mechanics, a Jew can understand — lehavdil — five classical levels of Torah knowledge (pardes — pshat, remez, drush, soid) much deeper with the help of essential level of Torah, Chassidus. More importantly, however, one has access to explanation of how to complete what was started in the first six days of Creation, what (after Adam messed up) was started by the Flood, by work of Avram Avinu and his descendants, by Exodus from Egypt, by giving of Torah, by building of the Temple — how to bring about the Era of Mashiach when the great teshuva of the world will be complete, and the revelation of G-d’s Oneness will be higher than it was before the physical world was created.

May this happen speedily in our days.

“We came to disperse the darkness”

Nadav Bachar (guitar) and Oren Tzur (violin):


(source — download the video)

I’ve never seen before a violin being used like balalaika. Can you do this with all stringed instruments (play them with fingers)? Can you use bow on guitar?

Also, at the beginning of the video (0:07–0:09), is that a monkey, a cat or a squirrel sitting in the yard?

More by Nadav Bachar (and on MySpace):


(download)

Do tzaddikim make mistakes?

I read this in the weekly e-mail that I receive from the Avner Institute and was amazed at how the Rebbe was able to explain very succinctly and clearly the concepts of tzaddikim not erring but doing teshuva and in general, if "these and these are words of Living G-d", how can one path be more appropriate than another:

Many years ago, a group of students visited the Rebbe. When told that the spirit of G-d spoke from the Rebbe’s throat, one of them exclaimed, “Does that mean the Rebbe never makes a mistake?” 

When they entered the Rebbe’s room, one of them asked the Rebbe pointblank, “If the Rebbe never makes a mistake, why does he have an eraser on his pencil?” 

The Rebbe quietly answered, “A Rebbe does not err, but today he is greater than yesterday and today he adds to what was written yesterday. In other words, it’s not in order to erase a mistake, but to erase what was correct yesterday. Today he is of a different, higher stature.”

(source)

To us, this is not only a lesson in appreciation of who tzaddikim are and what their avoida is, but also in our own personal lives. We are not tzaddikim and will make mistakes. But that's not the only reason to have "erasers on our pencils". Even if something we created yesterday was good, today we can make it better.

Shaving, mirrors, world-views and contradictions

(Rav Moishe Feinstein and Rav Hutner)

I was reading a seifer by Rabbi Getsel Ellinson on hilchos of tznius yesterday and saw two strange teshuvos from Rav Moishe Feinstein. They were strange not individually, but in combination.

In the first teshuva (Igros Moishe, "Yorei Deiah", vol. II, 61), Rav Moishe says that even in the times of Tzemach Tzedek some poskim allowed trimming the beard with scissors (or applying depilatory cream) to achieve a clean-shaven look. And that the Tzemach Tzedek says that doing so is begged isha (wearing women's clothes or, by extension, beautifying oneself) seems strange to Rav Moishe because when Gemara talked about beautifying oneself, it meant specifically the way women do it, which means make-up and clothes, not making sure that one's face has no hair (even though a woman's face usually has no hair, it's not due to her efforts*). And anyway, a man's face, even when shaven, is not indistinguishable from a woman's face (one can see the roots of the hairs, etc.).

So, fine, fair enough. Rav Moishe disagrees with the Tzemach Tzedek, which he is entitled to do.

It's very possible that their "world-views" were different anyway. The author of the seifer quotes the Tzemach Tzedek earlier, but says in a footnote that it seems that the Tzemach Tzedek was "influenced by his world view, and by Chassidus and Cabbala [sic]", which is also true and fair enough. We do not deny that, and if anything, we are definitely happy about that. (Arizal mentions that when one learns nigleh and, especially, when paskens nigleh, one has to go back and make sure that his learning of nigleh, and especially the psak, are consistent with Kabbalah. And one of the Acharoinim says that this is what "veshinantem levanechoh" means — to make sure that the outer aspect of Torah corresponds with the inner aspect. And, actually, Vilna Gaon said the same. The chiddush for us, therefore, is not that the Tzemach Tzedek was influenced by Kabbalah and Chassidus, but that there were poskim who were not influenced by it.)

So, the fact that Rav Moishe disagrees with the Tzemach Tzedek is not surprising or especially interesting to me. What's interesting is his second teshuva: about using a mirror. Rav Moishe says (Igros Moishe, "Yorei Deiah", vol. II, 61) that it is ossur for a man to use a mirror to improve his looks (i.e., for medicinal purposes, such as to remove food from your teeth or remove a splinter from your nose, it's fine, but to brush your hair or mustache, for example, it is not; also, it's obviously permissible to use a mirror in the cases such as when driving a car). He explains that the fact that in the end of the day the man does not wear women's clothes or that he does not do in front of the mirror what women do (put on make-up, pluck eyebrows, etc.) does not matter. What matters is that by using the mirror, he shows that he cares about his appearance! And that constitutes begged isha.

So, I am confused. And the fact that a man shaves shows what? That his face is too hot in the summer? Clearly men shave to improve their appearance (in their eyes**). Whether it is for the purpose of satisfying their vanity or because they want to look presentable for their professional environment does not matter. Rav Moishe clearly indicates in the second teshuva that he does not care about the final purpose of "priming" oneself, or even the end result — he cares about the intention of standing in front of the mirror: to improve one's looks, which is ossur for a man.

It would seem to me, the same should apply to shaving.

If anyone has any input, I would be most interested to read it in the comments. (Later, I will quote Tzemach Tzedek's teshuva in a separate post, be"H.)

[By the way, although Rav Moishe permitted shaving, he himself did not, as you can see from the picture above. Nor did he drink "cholov stam" milk.]

On the topic, see also:

"Who or what is Tzemach Tzedek?"
"About shirayim"
"Frierdiker Rebbe on 'modern' Judaism"
"Beards are natural"

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* It seems that one could say that even though it is true that most women's faces naturally have no visible hair, in the unfortunate cases when they do, women oftentimes will make an effort to remove that hair. Although one could say that they do so not through shaving, but through plucking or laser treatment, the end result and the purpose are the same as with men shaving.

** Some could say that if one had the sensitivity and cultural standards of the Jewish tradition, a male face without a beard would look as ugly to him, as, for instance, a face without eyebrows or without a nose, G-d forbid. In fact, there was one godol who said that whenever a Jew without a beard came to visit him, the godol would instinctively experience vomit reflex. Which doesn't teach us a proper way to treat a fellow Jew, but shows the way that someone steeped in the proper Jewish mesoira should instinctively feel. The same goes for the arguments that certain examples of ervah are no longer such, because we have grown used to them. Perhaps if one had the sensitivities of the traditional Jewish community, one would not be used to the sound of adult female voice, etc. I mean, the people living around us are desensitized not just to female voice or forearms... Therefore what?..

Ein od milvado

"In the heavens above and on the earth below, there is nothing but Him."

It says that the heavens are mentioned first, because it is easier to conceive that there is only Hashem in the spiritual worlds, since they are far away from us conceptually, such that "the spiritual" is some abstract concept anyway, so that it's possible to imagine that all there is "up there" is just G-d or G-dliness or "mind of G-d" or some other such fuzzy idea.

But our world -- it's much more difficult to comprehend how it can be said about it that there is nothing but G-d. What about the sky, the leaves, the ground, the annoying construction company that will turn off the water in the area 11 pm to 5 am on Friday night? Surely, they exist!

So, many explanations can be brought from Kabbala, Chassidus, philosophy, but one can also think of it in a simple way, due to the contributions of modern science.

Modern science tells us that everything is emptiness. Not for the most part, but in reality. As the famous fantasy writer Terry Pratchet put it (I will find the exact quote later), most of the universe is empty, because most of its existence consists of keeping tabs on those parts which are not empty. And this doesn't just means the expanses of space between the galaxies. I mean, inside the chair you're sitting on, most of the space is just "instructions" on how the elementary particles should interact with each other.

But those "instructions" come themselves from the properties of the particles. (The way I put it to someone: let's say you have an observation of a law that if you have a skinhead and a hippy meeting in a street, they will always get in a fight. Now, is this law "imposed" on the hippy and the skinhead from the outside, or is it a sequence of their properties ["skinheads hate pacifists" and "hippies hate racists"]? It would seem the latter.)

And those properties -- what are they properties of? It seems that they are just properties of empty pieces of space. These properties interact with each other; they get assigned to other pieces of space; the pieces of space they were assigned to get other properties, and so on.

Now we have to bring in Chassidus and to say that everything is created every second ex nihilo, by G-d. So, every single moment aspect of space-time is created by G-d, and He assigns to every single aspect of space certain properties, which interact (according to the laws that He set up) with each other in time.

So, looking at this web-site, or the next time you're outside, in the fresh air, think about it: all of the Universe is filled with Dvar Havaya, the speech of G-d.

Body and soul, part 3

I am continuing my musings (including links from Chassidic texts) about body–soul relationship.

Part 1.
Part 2.

In this part, I would like to quote Mitteler Rebbe from prakim 10 and 12 of his Sha'ar HaYichud, the Gate of Unity.

Briefly, as a background, in Chapter 10, Mitteler Rebbe says that there are three levels of unity within the Essence of the Infinite Light. At the first level, it is impossible to say that there are 10 Spheroes "unified", because they exist in absolute simplicity. The Rebbe gives an example of the soul, which has power of kindness, power of intellect, power of sight, etc. But in the essence of the soul (Yechida), these powers are not unified; they exist in potential. I.e., you don't have many different forces rooming together in the essence of the soul. You have one phenomenon, which has a potential to be expressed in a number of different ways.

The second and third level involve estimation and preparation of a force to be expressed in action. On these two levels, one can say that different forces of the soul exist in unification with each other, since they are indeed distinct forces; it's just that they are still unified, because they have not yet been actualized.

What's interesting to me at this point is the language the Mitteler Rebbe uses when talking about the actualization of the soul's power (the brackets are from the translator and editor; I am not copying the Hebrew text, because it's a major pain to edit, but you can refer to the original in the above link):

[All of these three levels] are before anything came out into actuality. For example, in the power of movement, [this entire estimation] is before any actual physical movement. Or, in the spiritual force, [this preparation] is before it actually comes into a physical body. 

Then, there is a change from a spiritual existence to a physical existence, such as a physical movement and physical life force. The same is true in the example of the physical growth. 

For this [change of existence] it is necessary for there to be an initial Tzimtzum — contraction and restrains in the revelation of the spiritual [potential]. This is so that there may be a [transition] from spiritual to physical (as will be explained in chapter 12).

Examining this loshon, one gets the impression that Mitteler Rebbe would not agree that the force that results in a growth of a limb is the same phenomenon as the growth itself — or, indeed, the physiological processes in the limb that constitute the growth. Instead, the Rebbe insists, there is a tzimtzum between the spiritual force and the physical process that results from the "actualization" of the force in the body. Just, one might say, as there is a tzimtzum between the Light that creates a stone and the actual chomer/tzura of the stone.

Going further, to the relevant part of Chapter 12, we find this analogy for the Tzimtzum of Oir Ein Soif:

The second type of analogy [of Tzimtzum], which is the life of the soul [as it is invested] in the body, also brings out the same point as above. This is that in order for there to be a change from the essential spiritual life of the soul, to a [physical] life of flesh, it is necessary for there to be an initial concealment and contraction of the light of the soul. This is because there is no comparison between them. 

Nonetheless, the soul is affected by the occurrences of the body. Therefore, even the light of the physical life [force] is connected and bound with the spiritual light of the essence. This is similar to [how the aforementioned] physical growth is bound to the spiritual power of growth. [Note the distinction! — CA]

However, when one’s [physical] limb becomes severed [G-d forbid,] this does not cause a loss to the spiritual light and life force of that limb. The proof of this is from [the fact that] a blind person can give birth to a whole person, as is known. This [shows that] the spiritual [life force] is merely concealed, but it still exists, hovering over the physical life force of the body. This is called “Tzelem Ish — The form of man”. This is similar to how the aforementioned [breadth and length of] knowledge which is concealed, [encompasses the brief teaching,] etc. (All of this is explained elsewhere at length.) 

Likewise, when the spiritual power of movement comes into an [actual] physical movement, it becomes constrained within itself *. Nonetheless, the physical movement is connected and bound to the spiritual [power of] movement. There are many other examples of this as well, such as the matter of having insight into a particular concept, which comes from the power of conceptualization [of his soul], which rests upon him in a concealed [fashion]. [This means that in order for there to be a particular flash of insight into a particular field of knowledge, it is necessary for there to be a Tzimtzum in his essential power of conceptualization (Koach HaMaskil).]
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[* I am not sure what "it becomes constrained within itself" means. — CA]

Again, it seems that the Rebbe is saying that "there is no comparison" between the "life" of the body and the soul power that is the source of that life, the former being spiritual and the latter physical.

Although, one could also interpret the above as the Rebbe saying that there needs to be tzimtzum between the Light of the soul as it exists in Yechida (the essence of the soul) and the specific koach of the soul as it enlivens the specific body part (e.g., koach ha'reiyah as it "enlivens" the eye, the visual cortices, etc.). It would seem to me, however, that the first interpretation is closer to the pshat of the text.

The nature of the bottom-to-up influence of the body on the soul is not as clear to me from the text.

But the above text does seem to answer my objection to the idea that soul is the tzura of moach vis-a-vis brain death: if the cortex is destroyed, then the tzura of the cortex is destroyed; in that case, the soul is no longer there... and yet we rule Halachically that the person is alive. Based on what the Mitteler Rebbe said about loss of the limb and the life-force of the limb not being lost, but "hovering over the physical life-force of the body", one could answer my objection: certain aspects of the soul (koach ha'maskil, for instance) have become concealed and disconnected from the body, since their keili has been destroyed, r"l, but, first of all, the rest of the soul is still connected to the body, since those of its powers that enliven it (and are responsible for breathing and heartbeat, for instance) are still present, and second, koach ha'maskil is "hovering" over the life-force of the body; it has not been disconnected, merely concealed.

To be continued...