bilbulatsia

Faith & YOU

2009-11-01T03:30:00.003-05:00

A friend of mine is doing some research that I've found interesting to participate in (outlined below, as quoted text). I've answered her questions and offered to spread the word further, as she's most likely to encounter right-wing Christians and Mormons in her neck of the woods (you can guess where!). She's very interested in atheist, agnostic and questioning viewpoints. If you're interested, post your responses as a comment, or email me (bilbulatsia[AT]gmail[DOT]com). You can even email me to ask me for her email address, if you prefer me not to see your replies. I'm going to post my responses as a comment, so you can answer the questions without reading my answers, if you wish. If this became a meme I don't think she'd complain, but let me know if you repost, so I can direct her to your blog/site.

I have recently taken on the task of doing a research project as an assignment for the writing group I belong to. The subject I've chosen is faith. It's something that has always interested me, and is a subject of great diversity and passion for many people. It's my hope to "interview" folks from a wide range of cultures and backgrounds in order to look not for differences, but for common threads. At this point I have no concrete ideas about how to correlate the information, but I've been personally very enriched by the few that I've already done.

I'm feeling my way here with the questions, trying to get an idea of what's important to me and what just muddies up the subject. If you're willing to be a guinea pig, I would ask for three pieces of information to accompany your answers: gender, age, and a name (doesn't have to be your real name) for purposes of tracking the questions only.

The questions are:
1. If you had to define faith, what would you say it is?
2. Do you consider yourself a person of faith -- one who practices a particular belief?
3. If so, how do you call that faith, and why is it so important to you? If not, why do you feel that way?
4. Where has your faith journey taken you so far? (Or lack of it?)
5. Do you think a person can be faithful, doubtful, even fearful in turns and still be a person of faith?
6. In your place of faith, how do you envision the end of this life?

Special thanks to Billie Jean for helping out by posting this to her blog. She's a sweetheart!

Bringing up baby

2009-10-16T01:14:00.001-05:00

We've blogged about our daughter before, but not for a while. She's old enough now that we need to put some thought into what we say to her. If we don't want the world to know something, we can't tell her, because she can talk (and she sure does).

We have ideas about her getting a Jewish education that's open and informative, and that allows her to participate in Jewish activities with confidence, but when she comes up with a "whyyy" question, we're often forced to wing it. So far, no disasters. We focus on shabbat and chagim and go light on kashrut and brachot and tefila. For me, I guess this reflects my growing feeling that I want the cultural attachment to Judaism without all the God stuff, and without the ludicrous stringency.

When she asks a question, I try to answer it as honestly as possible without saying anything that could get us into trouble if she repeated it. Practically, that often means getting her to think about it and answering the question herself. She's still very young, but you'd be surprised what she comes up with.

For me, the best moment so far has been when she said, pretty much out of the blue, "I think Hashem is pretend". When questioned why, she said, "I just think so". We don't talk much about Hashem to her, but she does get it from family, so I was intrigued. And impressed.

I know that when she's older she'll continue to come to her own conclusions, and later on they might not please me quite as much. But for now, I think we're off to a pretty good start.

Been a while.

2009-10-07T01:56:00.000-05:00

Well, if anyone cares, I am back. Not sure how long it will last, but I find myself with things to say, so here I am. I have at least three (3) ideas for posts, but I thought I'd start in the obvious place -- the impetus for returning to the skeptoblogosphere at all. It has a bit of a ghost town feel about it, from what I've seen... but maybe I just haven't met the new kids yet. In any case, that feeling only amplified the thought that I should post again.

Here's what happened. In conversation with some skeptic friends (yes, we have some! In real life!), a mutual acquaintance came up. It's clear to us that this friend is Off the Derech. I've seen him online on shabbat (while I'm covering my tracks being invisible in Gmail chat), for example, and he's dated non-Jewish girls. But for some reason, with us, he claims to still be keeping shabbat and kashrut. My personal theory is that being old family friends, it's too close to home to admit the truth. None of us have ever called him up on it, but I've been considering it.

Not to be mean, of course. But because it's obvious that he's confused, and I think he could use the support. We know where we stand, but we are still secretive about it. He's more open about some actions -- the dates haven't been a secret from his family, for example. In his situation, sorting out his philosophies might make it easier for him to come clean about his actions. Or reconcile them. And work out where he wants to be in life.

So what's that got to do with the blog? After long enough as a skeptic, it's easy to fall out of the habit of thinking about it actively. (Does anyone else see the parallel with religion?) But if I can make it easier for anyone to wrestle with any stage of the journey, I'd like to help. So even if I don't blog all that much, I will check in to my email -- bilbulatsia AT gmail DOT com -- sporadically, and will answer questions if anyone has any. Free counseling. If anyone wants it. If not, so much the better.

Oh, and for those wanting an update on how our secret skepticism is going. I can't remember how much detail I went into about why we're keeping it secret for now, but it's temporary. But behind closed doors, we're happy atheists. We eat what we want and do what we like on shabbat, but we're still mainly kosher at home and we still go to shule on shabbat.

I'm hoping to blog about how we're bringing up our daughter next time. Until then...

New skeptic group

2007-09-16T17:34:00.000-05:00

Because there can't be too much support for secret skeptics and the formerly frum.

Exorthodox Jews

Kids change everything

2007-08-23T19:03:00.000-05:00

For me, skepticism coincided with having my first child. I never gave this much thought in the past. Not that I thought of it as a coincidence; I just didn't think about it at all. Looking back, however, I can see that impending parenthood definitely affected my journey into skepticism.

As a single or even when married and childless, it's easy to just go with the flow. Once you have kids, though, things can get complicated. Suddenly, there's a person whose safety and wellbeing you're responsible for. You love her, it seems, more than anything else in the world. And, depending on your background and your outlook, you may also be responsible for her "spiritual growth". If she "goes off the derech", it's your fault for not being strict enough/being too strict/ having a TV/ etc. And woe betide you if her sexual preferences are outside the mainstream.

As a parent, when your child bakes out of the cookie cutter mould, essentially you have two choices: accept her for who she is, or disown her. It all comes down to what comes first for you, religion or your children.

Our daughter is a little young for rebellion (apart from not wanting to sleep when we want her to) but given that we planned to have her, we had the discussion beforehand. What would we do if she married out or came out? Once I was pregnant, my vague Khalil Gibran-esque ideas about parenthood crystallized and I knew my own answers: my children would always come before my religion.

I think that many religious parents make this choice and it doesn't automatically lead to skepticism. But it certain circumstances, it can pave the way. Because once you've made that choice and put God second, you've already made a pretty big statement, whether you meant to or not. Once God's not first on the list, it's easier for him to tumble further down the ladder. And that's what happened for me.

One year on

2007-07-22T17:14:00.000-05:00

Hi to anyone who is still reading (or still has us in RSS)!

I know most of you are wishing that TO would write a new edition of his parsha commentary, but in the meantime you'll have to settle with me. It's been just over a year since I started this blog and I figured it was time to reflect a little. I've come a long way since then. When I look at my old posts, it seems to me like I was clutching at straws, desperately trying to hold onto my belief that Judaism was right. In the scheme of things, it didn't take long for me to make the move to atheism. But when I think about it, in some ways I was always in that camp anyway...

So often I would end up in a conversation and find myself on the non-believers' side. I like to think that part of me knew all along that science has a lot more going for it than religion. I compartmentalized, certainly, and never really thought about whether the Jewish creation myth really happened, but doing a biology major definitely convinced me that evolution did.

I credit my parents for bringing me up, or allowing me to develop, an open mind. I never fooled myself into thinking that secular Jews were secular because they were evil. I always understood that if a Jew doesn't practice, it's because they don't believe, not because they're lazy or rebelling against God. And I never held that against them. I guess it was tinok shenishba extended a little more liberally than usual.

While I accepted Judaism as a whole, the Jewish values that were most important to me still are now. I have always been liberal and I guess I interpreted concepts in Judaism to suit: in Judaism I saw (and still see) social justice, honesty, environmentalism, and others.

I still don't know if I'll stay connected to Judaism at all. Part of me wants to draw out the good and keep a hold of it. The other part wants to leave it all behind. In some way, it hurts too much to stay in it. But I don't feel like I need to plan for that. We are gradually moving away in any case and can just see where we end up (literally and figuratively). Whatever feels right.

Parshas Korach

2007-06-18T20:39:00.000-05:00

Korach: Moses, I have decided to challenge your leadership. For simply asking why you get to be the leader I may eventually be made into a major villian in the midrash and rabbinic literature, but anyway we want elections or something.
Moses: Look this isnt a democracy. We settle this the old fashioned way. With pans. God has already given you Levites a sweet life. You dont have to get a real job, and you get to live off the donations of the rest of the people while you ostensibly perform some vital spiritual service. In the future, this will be known as "Kollel".
God: Can I annihilate them? Please can I annihilate them? Come on, I wanna kill someone today!!!
Moses: Remember we talked about your anger issues? Youve got to control that temper.
God: Thank you once again. You would think that being God I wouldnt need your advice and/or it wouldnt be able to sway me, but you are seriously better than Dr. Phil. Im going to miss you when we enter the land and you're not around...
Moses: Wha...?
God: Did I say that? just kidding...he..he...(phew).
Moses: Dathan & Aviram, you guys are so evil that you definitely deserve to die...and even though i have the influence to sway God, I have no moral objection your wives, children and even young babies dying too.
God: Yes! I knew I got up today for a reason.
Dathan & Aviram: Oh no! The ground is opening and swallowing us along with our households and possesions!!!
God: OK, rebels...you want fire in those pans? you want fire? heres some fire...(burns them)
I crack me up. This day is just getting better.
Moses: This incident has shown me that we need a more transparent and open system of God choosing who he desires. So we will leave a bunch of staffs in a place only I have access to and see what happens to them. I will go in and bring them out and that will prove beyond doubt that I am not rigging this. (Staffs grow almonds) Looks like Aarons family will be the priests and our family will all be Levites. Incidentally, God has just told me that you all have to give lots of money and donations to the Priests and Levites.

Parsha In brief: Shlach

2007-06-11T08:45:00.000-05:00

Hello everybody,
Due to the constraints of modern life, and the fact that we live among the many perversions of western society, many of us do not have the time to learn as much Torah as we should as we are busy pursuing materialistic things. To try and help you, and hasten the coming of Moshiach Tizdkenu Bimhera Beyamenu, I am providing what i hope will be the first in a series of brief parsha summaries - with all the boring stuff taken out.

This week: Shlach

Spies: We will never be able to successfully enter the land of Canaan
Jews: OMG! God has brought us here to kill us in the desert. We were better off in Egypt. Let us try and kill Moses & Aaron.
God: OK, now I am going to kill you all in the desert.
Jews: OK, we are contrite and have learnt our lesson. We are now ready and willing to enter the land and fight, which is what you originally wanted anyway.
God: Yes, but now its half a day too late. So instead, even though you have gotten the message , I will kill you all in the desert - due to my delicious sense of irony, you will wander 1 year for every 1 day the spies spent in Canaan.
Jews: Yesterday when we suspected that God had brought us here to die in the desert we rioted, now that we have been assured that our entire generation is going to die in the desert, we are kind of OK with it.
Joshua & Caleb: Sweeeeeet.

Meanwhile, in a secret location, somewhere in the desert:

God: I have had it up to here with these people. How about I get rid of them and make you a great nation?
Moses: Have you considered what that will do for your image? I mean, do you want the Egyptians to think you are a sissy?
God: Good point. I hadn't thought of that angle. Fortunately, even though I am omnipotent and all knowing, and no human is capable of possible comprehending my thoughts, you have managed to talk sense into me once again.

Skeptic at a shiur

2007-06-03T17:47:00.000-05:00

I got dragged to a shiur last night. It actually wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. The teacher was fairly engaging and actually managed to hold my attention through his public speaking skills (it definitely wasn't the subject material). The shiur was on hilchot Shabbat. It was interesting to be there as an outsider. Sometimes I think I should become an anthropologist. Anyway, a few things struck me during the course of the shiur.

At some point he made a casual mention of the death penalty for violating Shabbat. No one else even blinked, but to me now, it is unbelievably abhorrent to stone someone to death for anything, but particularly for something as benign as weaving a basket. It's sickening, but the thing that really struck me was that no one questioned that the ideal state of being for the Jewish people is one where that would happen. All these Jews longing for Mashiach -- do they ever think of how cruel that era could be? Of course, they say that the death penalty was rare in the times of the Beit Hamikdash, but that it even existed in principle is bad enough for me.
He admitted that there are some key definitions not given (e.g., for grinding, what tools may/may not be used; how small is grinding, and what may/may not be ground). He claimed that the answers to these questions were arrived at logically by the rabbis but it seems to me to be anything but. For some reason, non-food items and vegetables and fruit can't be ground, but other food items can be. How on earth did they come up with this one? It just seems very random.
He was talking about why a knife may be used on Shabbat, but a grater may not. His explanation, that a grater is designed to cut things too small, doesn't wash with me. It all seems like part of the plot to keep women in the kitchen for longer. Especially when he said, "I don't have to worry about this, but you do" (it was a women's shiur). Jeeeez, what century are we in here?

Oh, god, not again...

2007-03-14T19:57:00.000-05:00

In the past few months I've faced some tough decisions. I know I'll be faced with more. But at the end of the day, I find the randomness of a godless existence much less troubling than the alternative. TO and I have survived several family tragedies together. At the time, as believers, we really had to fight feelings of guilt. Maybe we didn't pray hard enough. Maybe our mezuzot were pasul. Etc, etc. Now, looking back, I feel free of that. My actions had no bearing on these events, and neither did my husband's. So even though I may at times feel rudderless, bad things that happen to me are either due to my own mistakes or chance. Not the vengeance of a temperamental, cruel god. So too with evil on a greater scale, from wars to natural disasters.

I think that the concept of "tzadik v'ra lo" is one of the main things that makes me glad to be a skeptic. I never minded keeping most of the laws -- while I believed, the sacrifice was not too great. But now, I've judged God more harshly than I did in the past. Bottom line is, if this is what God is like, I don't believe in Him. So why should I listen to him?

Of course, there are other proofs that point to there being no god, and specifically that the Jewish god does not exist. But I don't feel the need to go into them right now. There isn't much concrete evidence, and there are logical proofs for and against. I don't have any really interesting reasons to be an atheist. But I think it's interesting that, less than two years after my first skeptical thought, I pretty much am one. And that it's so liberating. It really wipes so much of the guilt. It doesn't automatically point to hedonism. I'm much too busy for that. But it makes life simpler overall, and that's good for me.

Honesty

2007-03-08T00:29:00.000-05:00

Update to this post: Yesterday I ate treif chicken. I was mildly nervous when I bought it, but when it came time to eat it, I just ... did. It felt like nothing. It tasted like chicken. I didn't feel like I did anything wrong (and I don't believe I did either, otherwise I wouldn't have done it, obviously). I didn't feel anything, apart from no longer hungry.

A little anti-climactic really. But if I'm really honest with myself, I've never really felt anything spiritual.

The Shabbat laws broken while I was in labor (ones I wasn't meant to break) -- nothing.
All those times davening at the kotel, trying desperately to feel something, anything -- nothing.
Hell, any davening at any time, trying to act as if someone was actually listening -- nothing.

I was well aware that I wasn't spiritual. I always thought my Judaism was based on logic and an emotional connection to God. But really, was anything ever there at all, or was I just telling myself that there was? I'm inclined to think that is was the latter. I think I was a skeptic all along; I just didn't know it.

It does make me feel a little sad that I really don't care. I do feel like I've lost something. I mean, I don't dislike Judaism overall. I think there are lots of positive things about it. And part of me would rather care about it and be part of it. But it's just a small part. Ultimately I'd rather know the truth, even if it means I have to make my own way.

Warning: ramble ahead

2007-03-03T22:17:00.001-05:00

I haven't posted for a long time, I know. I've been busy but the main reason I guess is that I'm not really sure what I want to write. Sometimes I get ideas before I fall asleep but I always forget them before I wake up. So where am I at? Have I reached a new milestone? Is being indifferent better for my mental health?

The truth is, I might be indifferent to this blog (temporarily), but I'm not indifferent to skepticism. TO and I still talk about it a lot, of course. I think about it all the time. I guess what I'm trying to work out is what it means to be connected without believing. Most of the time, I don't really feel Jewish, but I don't feel not Jewish either. I just feel like me. But there are still things I want to do. It was so important for me to get to megilla reading tonight. Why? Is it just habit? Or fear of getting caught out being less frum than I used to be? Do I even care about what other people think? (I know the answer to that question -- I do sometimes.)

The afternoon I was walking down the street with a religious friend and we passed a small group of people who were obviously Israelis, not frum. They looked relaxed and happy. My friend and I just ignored them and they ignored us, but I was thinking to myself that in some way I'd like to be like them. Secular. Not overdressed on a Saturday afternoon. But still with an inescapable connection to Jewishness.

After we passed them it occurred to me that I could have said "Shabbat Shalom" and they probably would have appreciated it. I didn't not say it for any particular reason; it simply didn't occur to me. But the fact that it didn't occur to me in time bothers me.

I've often walked past people (men and women) more religious than me and been ignored when I said "Good Shabbos". Depending on my mood, I either let it slide or say, "I said, Good Shabbos" really loudly. Either way, I find it offensive to be ignored in that fashion. And I don't care if another Jew is religious or secular. So I'd like to greet either type (or anyone in between) in the same way.

Anyway, I'm not really sure where all of this is going. I think what I'm trying to say is that I still have a long way to go before I'm the person I want to be Jewishly. It's going to take a long time before I can not look down on Reform. Before I can work out why I won't eat treif meat but I'll turn on lights on Shabbat. There aren't necessarily concrete arguments to be made here. To me the proofs are already there and not really disputable. But the emotional side of things, the emancipation from my previous mindset, that's what's ahead for me.

My new favorite band

2007-01-28T01:39:00.000-05:00

This song in particular just speaks to me.

Letters

2007-01-20T22:12:00.000-05:00

Two letters I enjoyed from last week's New Scientist:

I don't believe it
Roy Sablosky Takoma Park, Maryland, US

The first four letters you printed on the "Beyond belief" conference (9 December 2006, p 24) invoke the "brilliant insight" that atheism is itself a belief. This is rubbish, and New Scientist should not be promulgating it.

An atheist simply does not believe in any gods. By definition, this is not a belief. Just as nakedness is not a way of getting dressed; sleep is not a technique for paying attention; sunlight is not a kind of shade (nor even its opposite): atheism simply means that one has no religious beliefs.

Even to call it "non-belief" is perhaps misleading. After all, when you're feeling comfortable you don't call it "non-pain".

Many believers literally cannot imagine that atheism is possible. But millions of us enjoy it - all day, every day.
From issue 2586 of New Scientist magazine, 13 January 2007, page 19

And

Investigating design
Henry Law Brighton, East Sussex, UK

Creationism is indeed worthy of serious investigation - as an exercise in social anthropology (16 December 2006, p 8). Adherents of Christianity and Judaism are not required to believe in the literal truth of scripture. [BJ: Wonder who he's been talking to? Not charedim, that's for sure.] In order to do so, creationists must first accept that these texts came directly from God, which raises the immediate question of how they came into existence. Were they encapsulated in a rock, perhaps a meteorite? Did they arrive in the form of a celestial email, perhaps via a modem connected to the numinal realm - to the mind of the supreme creator who conjured a material cosmos into being from eternity?

If indeed they imagine they can know the divine mind in this way, then they are claiming an authority which exceeds that which their humanity allows them. Only the numinal can fully comprehend itself; as Saint Paul points out, "we see through a glass darkly".

We must ask, then, why groups of people are taking up such a position, especially in the light of two centuries of philology that has demonstrated the fluidity of language. One reason could be that it espouses a form of totalitarianism. In the light of the last century's examples of totalitarianism, study of the present creationist revival could well be rewarding.
From issue 2586 of New Scientist magazine, 13 January 2007, page 18

To know or not to know

2007-01-17T02:31:00.000-05:00

My friend Baal Habos's tagline, "Ignorance is bliss" got me thinking recently, as it has in the past. I have never quite been able to work out the answer to this question: If I could go back in time and prevent myself from becoming a skeptic (stopping myself from reading certain books, for example), would I do it?

Earlier on in this process, I would have done anything to go back to how I was. There's so much security in religion, and casting oneself adrift is frightening. And I guess I still had the niggling feelings that OJ could still be correct.

When I asked TO this question a while ago, his answer was instant: he'd rather know the truth, even though it's harder. At the time I didn't agree with him, but I think I have finally arrived at that point. I'm pretty sure that the more I read (about documentary hypothesis, comparative religion, or even traditional Jewish sources), the surer I'll be that I've gone down the right path.

The future is a little more uncertain than it was, but I've dropped so much guilt. I am optimistic that we'll find a place (theologically as well as physically). That we'll strike a balance between freedom of thought and cherishing our heritage.

In retrospect, I look down on the old me, just a little. She prided herself on her analytical skills, but she never put it all together. And now all the pieces are in place, I wouldn't have it any other way. Ignorance might be bliss, but knowledge is real.

What I've dropped

2007-01-15T04:08:00.000-05:00

For the people to whom this is actually important, or for those who are just nosy, I thought I'd list the commandments I've dropped over my course to becoming a skeptic. I'll go in chronological order (earliest first). For the record, I think I'm 80-90% orthoprax. The remaining 10-20% is generally only in private, or where I wouldn't be seen by anyone I know. This will change as I feel like it.

Chalav yisrael was the first to go. That was ages ago.
I've always been a bit slack with brachot and birkat hamazon. I still say things out of habit but I always forgot half the time and still do. I'm just too absent-minded.
I started wearing pants and short sleeves after I got married. But I still cover my hair (most of the time anyway) which is fun, because it confuses people.
I haven't davened regularly for a long time now. But I still say a bit when I'm in shule on Shabbat. I quite like it.
I haven't learned for a while either.
I drink "non-kosher" wine.
I eat non-kosher vegetarian food. And packaged food... somehow it seems less treif. (Well, it's probably only gelatin and we always held that it was OK anyway.) I will probably eat treif meat at some stage, but our kitchen is 100% kosher. Well, as kosher as it ever was. Some people wouldn't eat in it.
I don't wait very long between meat and milk, although I don't eat them together.
On Shabbat I will turn lights on and off if I need to. And I push the button at the crosswalk if I've got my baby with me. And turn the "blech" off after we're finished with it.

That's about it. My husband, who initially suggested I go through all 613 commandments, made an excellent point as he read this post over my shoulder. He said that many of these things depend on where you're coming from. To some, nothing I've done is a big deal at all. To others, I was an apikores all along, I just didn't know it. Certainly many of the things I've done can be justified one way or another. But that's not really the point. The point is that I've made a mindshift. I used to justify the things I was lax in. Now, I keep what I want to and don't keep what I don't want to keep. I used to defend the modern Orthodox viewpoint until I was blue in the face. Now, I still see it as preferable to the Charedi viewpoint, which I believe is more flawed than MO. But at the end of the day, I don't believe in either. So my only real justification is this: the god I don't believe in lets me.

A marriage made in... ?

2007-01-06T06:26:00.000-05:00

Apparently if you make three shidduchim, you have automatic entry to Gan Eden. So maybe I have an ulterior motive here... could be easier than Pascal's wager. I could get in and still eat pork one day. ;)

Anyway, here's the deal.

As should be evident from the husband-wife team running this blog, I am happily in a marriage that would be made in heaven ... if I believed in heaven. Unfortunately, I've also seen relationships break down because one partner has become skeptical and the other is still a believer. Then there are the single skeptics. Some are divorced, some never married, some looking, some not ready yet. But for many I'm sure, you're in a difficult situation. You're might be secretly skeptical, or you may have cut ties with the community and thus the matchmaking services that being in an Orthodox community provides (professional or casual). What's a girl/guy to do?

Well, here's the solution. A fellow skeptic, henceforth known as the Skeptoshadchan, has started a skeptic "dating service". What a brilliant idea (IMO, at least).

At present, the Skeptoshadchan wishes to remain anonymous. Consider me an agent for the Skeptoshadchan. BTA is another. If you'd like to get on the file, send an email to bilbulatsiaATgmailDOTcom with your profile. You don't have to have a blog or even read blogs: you might mention this to a friend who you think might be interested.

It's hard to write a definitive list of items to include without knowing what's important to you. But as a minimum:
1. Basic stats: Name (full or internet nickname, whatever you like), age, sex, location, divorced/never married, an idea of what you look like (need I mention that lying will lead to ultimate disappointment?) or a photo.
2. Skeptic status: how long have you been doubting? What do you doubt? Have you "come out" about your skepticism to your family?
3. Observance: what do you keep or want to keep in future? Do you want to be fully orthoprax, traditional, or never step foot in a shul again?
4. Any other characteristics that are important to you in a mate.

I'd like to especially ask women to speak up. The skeptic world is male-dominated, but I believe that this is because women tend to be less vocal and are more likely to "just go along with it", not because there are less female skeptics around.

As a final note, I'd like to discourage time-wasters. This service is for genuine skeptics who genuinely want to meet someone to marry. Not for hooking up or for kiruv clowns. Complete unknowns may be asked for someone to vouch for them.

UPDATE: The Skeptoshadchan now has a blog.
Another reference to this project.

Movin' out

2007-01-01T02:31:00.000-05:00

I can't remember where I got the link to this article, so I owe someone a hat-tip. It might have been on TFSG but it's been open on my desktop for so long, I can't remember.

Anyway, it got me thinking. I don't want to judge anyone, but this guy's process of "freying out" has me confused. He says that is was a really quick process, suddenly he just started breaking Shabbat, went to India and smoked pot. What's with that?

I guess it just confuses me because it's the exact opposite of my process. He dropped Orthopraxis first. I've dropped Orthodoxy, and some parts of Orthopraxis but not the whole package.

Maybe it just all means different things in Israel. I don't know. I just feel that if your actions don't flow from your world view, there's soimething a little awry there. I mean, if you believe, you should do what you believe. If you don't believe -- well, it gets much more complex. But I can't respect a person who leaves his religion so that he can have sex with lots of women is a bit sad. (Not as sad as someone who stays in it and molests children, though.)

Judaism and social activism

2006-12-27T06:00:00.000-05:00

Morgan writes:

Social action is important. But it's not inherently Jewish, so, almost by definition, Judaism can't survive by raising money for the hungry, saving the environment, or promoting "spay your pet" week.

I'm not sure I agree. Certainly the protest movement doesn't seem to have a lot in common with Judaism. But there are examples of zealotry throughout our texts (whether these things happened or not doesn't matter, they're still part of our tradition). Avraham is a great example. Aside from the midrashic examples of him taking a stand against his father's idolatry, he interceded with God on behalf of S'dom and went to war against the four kings, rescuing not just Lot, his nephew, but other people as well. Other examples (of varying palatability to modern sensibilities) are Shimon and Levi, Moshe, Pinchas, Eliyahu, and several incidents in the Purim story. So that's activism.

What about social justice, which is in essence the other half of the equation of "social activism"? Well, off-hand, let's see. There's tzedakah (charity), tikum olam (repairng the world), ba'al tashchit (don't waste), return of land in yovel (jubilee year, every 50 years), free produce in shmita (sabbatical year, every 7), pe'ah (leaving a corner of your field for the poor), kindness to widows and orphans, kindness to converts, kindness to animals, fair wages and treatment of employees. I'm sure I've missed some concepts, but to me, Judaism has always covered the basics of humanitarianism and environmentalism. Of course, there are conflicting messages -- it's really not clear if God is loving or vengeful -- but at the end of the day it's up to us how to interpret our patchwork tradition. I think it's a real shame that minute laws (like whether you can separate a bone from your fish on Shabbat) are viewed as more important than these major world issues.

I guess I feel that if that's how things remain, Judaism doesn't really deserve to survive. It only deserves to survive if it has something to offer the world. We're not an ohr l'goyim (light unto the nations) if we measure our success on how long our skirts are or how big our kippot are. We only deserve that title if we earn it by making a positive difference. Jews have contributed to many fields: arts, science, politics, economics. This will wane if the move to the right continues: we'll become a curiosity like the Amish and nothing more.

(Well, there's my dvar Torah for the year. Hope you enjoyed it!)

Judaism by numbers

2006-12-20T06:12:00.000-05:00

This article by Douglas Rushkoff (from 2002) is really interesting.

Summary: Jews are too concerned about survival and not enough about Judaism. The best way to ensure Jewish continuity is to make it meaningful, not obsess over intermarriage rates.

Continuity

2006-12-18T16:25:00.000-05:00

An argument that OJ apologists often throw at skeptics is that we must stay frum in order to keep our tradition alive. If you "frei out", become secular, it's a slippery slope down to them being even worse: prostitutes, or Christians or something.

I find this argument flawed on a number of levels.

Firstly: the slippery slope argument is not really valid. In some cases, sure, successive generations become less and less religious. Some of my family members are from very assimilated backgrounds. But I have seen so many families where the kids are much frummer than the parents: it's part of the general move to the right, and the success of the kiruv clowns. At the end of the day, though, people make their own choices. They're influenced by what their parents did, but there are many other factors at play, so it's not correct to predict that kids will be less connected than parents. And of course once you're looking at tradition, rather than religion, it's easy to see that many families keep the tradition without being strictly halachic -- and have for generations.

Secondly, and more selfishly: I don't believe in the underlying premises of Judaism. I think there are many positive aspects of it, and I would like to pass those on to my daughter (and any other children we may have). But I'm certainly not going to bend over backwards to force her into a system that I myself don't believe in, and that it would be a struggle for me to indoctrinate her in. It's like trying to make your kid eat broccoli if you don't like it: eventually it's going to become clear that you were being a little hypocritical about it.

Once you don't believe, Jewish continuity is a different beast. Instead of maintaining our link to Sinai and moving forwards towards Mashiach, for me all it is now is a link to heritage. Tradition is important. It's cool to belong to a group of people with ancient origins, and to still follow some of the traditions (well, versions of them). But ultimately I'm going to put my happiness, and my family's happiness first. If my daughter wanted to marry someone non-Jewish, I wouldn't be sitting shiva.

Our tradition is only valuable subjectively. It's not worth keeping just because our ancestors did it. To me, it's only worth keeping if we gain something positive from it. And if in 1000 years, it dies off because no one care anymore, I think it will be sad, but not tragic. I'd love it to be there (preferably in an improved form) but if it wasn't, I'd point to the flaws in the system rather than guilt-tripping individuals.

Show me the way

2006-12-11T04:40:00.000-05:00

I got an email from one of my rabanim from yeshiva today. Not "my" rav, but one I liked very much. It was just a short note, but it really took me back to those days. I took TMS for granted then. I was cementing my MO philosophy (which isn't what I grew up with) and learning, filing away details and processes and putting the halachic system together in my head. I loved it. And I felt like I could ask the rabanim anything. I was innocent. I didn't have any difficult questions to ask. My toughest questions were "Can I wear pants?" and "Will I need a hatarat nedarim to stop keeping chalav Yisrael?"

On a good day, I'm confident in my skepticism and I know it's the right move. But on a day like today, when I'm tired after work and agnosticism isn't very comforting, I wish I could email my rav, or better yet, call him, and tell him what's been on my mind. Of course, I also wish that he had all the answers to my questions. That's when I remember that there are no answers, so there's no point.

It's a pretty depressing train of thought. Maybe, though, I'm not really looking for answers. Maybe what I'm looking for is mentorship, which is something I haven't really had since those days. Maybe I should email Richard Dawkins.

The truth is, though, I'm done with having people tell me what to think. So even though I might want a mentor, I don't need one. I have to grow up and go it alone.*

Related

* Of course, I can cheat and soundboard off TO, but we're at the same stage, so that's not the same as mentorship.

2006-12-04T16:45:00.000-05:00

Haloscan commenting and trackback have been added to this blog.

Dear Anonymous

2006-11-27T17:23:00.000-05:00

To my anonymous readers,

I respect your privacy and don't want to change the settings so that a blogger account is required. But it would be great if you could give yourselves nicknames so that I (and others) can tell you apart.

Thanks,

BJ

TFSG under fire again

2006-11-27T04:45:00.000-05:00

It must suddenly be in fashion to join TFSG, try and convert us, and the be rude when we're resistant. Here's my reply to the latest:

I'm really not sure what you hope to gain by insulting us as a group.

I have found very intelligent and knowledgable people here who know
Tanach, Talmud, and other general Jewish sources well, as well as
Biblical archeology, DH, etc. I've learned a lot from being here.

When I first started having skeptical thoughts I honestly thought that
there were answers to all my questions. My husband and I wrote a list
of questions and went to our Rav (who I still respect very much). We
asked our questions 100% innocently. He was impressed with my
knowledge of Mishna (he is pretty much UO and doesn't often come
across women who have learned the "hard stuff".) His answers didn't
satisfy us -- they were apologetics. Before we left, he told us to
learn more. Since then I've heard that answer to heretical questions
often.

My questions come from my learning. If I hadn't learned, I wouldn't
have them. You say I need to learn more. When is it enough? How many
hours should we be putting in before you're satisfied that I've
learned enough to be a proper kofer? I've learned Tanach with
mefarshim, multiple siyums in mishna and Gemara, learned lots of
Rambam and Ramchal, and still enjoy reading Rabbi Slifkin, Rav
Soloveitchik and Rav Lichteinstein. I've searched and searched. And
the best answer that I can find is that our tradition, while beautiful
in some areas, is barbaric in others, wildly inconsistent and
therefore likely written by people. Or at best (or perhaps worst)
corrupted by people. Now, if you have a magic book that can prove that
conclusion wrong, let's hear it. But I don't think it exists.
Ultimately you believe what you believe out of blind faith, and I've
lost mine. I don't think it can be retained.

I and most others here are not skeptical because we're lazy. Many of
us are still strictly orthoprax. Just no longer Orthodox. It's not
easy. It involves keeping secrets. It involved restricting yourself in
ways that have no meaning to you. It involves uncomfortable thoughts
about what might happen when you die. For some, it means years of
loneliness, without a friend or relative with whom you can be honest.
It's not a hedonistic, fun lifestyle. It's hard work being a secret
skeptic and it's not something I'd wish on anyone.

So don't sneer at us, even if it does make you feel secure in your
pseudointellectual ideas. It's uncalled for.

Related (from June 06)

Another Unchosen review

2006-11-27T03:03:00.000-05:00

I finally read Unchosen. I found it an enjoyable read, it was well written. I got through it on one Friday night -- if anything it was too short. I liked how she wove the storylines together. There wasn't enough of the author in the book though; I felt unable to judge it accurately because she didn't really state her "conflicts of interest" the way anthropolgists do in ethnographies. (Not really conflicts of interest, they just talk about themselves so that you get to know the prism through which a society is being viewed.) You do get some sense of her and certainly see that she's very sympathetic to the Chasidic rebels and obviously quite involved with them, given how involved she gets with Yossi towards the end. But not enough for me. I just wanted more overall I guess.

A few points it raised for me:
1. Thank GOD I'm not Satmar.

2. In spite of growing up worlds away from Satmar, I identified a lot with Dini. Mainly about not wanting Rabbis to have control over my body. That is for me, and me alone. (OK, if I have to I might trust a doctor.) And wanting to feel normal and attractive, as a feeling quite apart from wanting to actually pick up guys who aren't my husband.

3. I also liked how Leah decided to bring up her daughter. In a sense it has given me the answer to how I want to bring up my daughter: with knowledge of her heritage, and the tools to be religious if she wants to be, but without fear or coercion, and of course with ample skills to make her own way in the world. How that translates in practical terms will be difficult. It will probably mean I'll have be much less lax myself, so that I can teach by example. But I somehow feel more confident that I can play by ear, and always answer her questions honestly.

4. We haven't hidden the book away but have left it out for people to see. The reactions have been interesting. One friend said it's just like reading lashon hara. Another said it highlights the problems in Jewish education across the board. Which is a fair point, considering the rising levels of drug abuse and unprotected sex that seems to be going on. Sure, it's lower than the rest of the population but that gap is becoming narrower, or at least appears to be.

5. Guilt is powerful, but not all-powerful. It's something that's holding me back in many ways, but eventually I know I'll be able to keep the positive and lose the negative aspects of being part of this amorphous thing called Judaism.

"And you shall teach them to your children"

2006-11-09T09:04:00.000-05:00

From Thoracic Outlet

Its wonderful to see my baby growing up. Seeing her learn to do new things and develop into a happy and excitable infant has been tremendously satisfying. At the back of my mind, I know that one day i'll have to make a decision that is slowly creeping up.
Years ago, a consideration for us was the standard of religious education our children would be able to recieve. Were there any schools which fitted our philosophy? If there weren't, what would we be willing to compromise on? Would we move somewhere to give them a better Jewish education? Now our question is : "exactly how do we want to raise our children?". We have ideas of the values and lifestyle that we want her to have. We think its important for her to play sport and we will encourage her to do so. I would like her to gain an appreciation for the music of Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd (who I started her on at the age of 2 weeks). A lot of what we want her to become is independant of Judaism per se. (We certainly dont want to raise her to be a housewife and have 15 children...unless she wants to. We just dont want her self worth to hinge on that.) Im not going to force her into anything, but I would like to show her that some things are fun and worthwhile.
Early on in my skepticisation process, I felt a certain guilty shame. I hoped that my skepticism would be a generational abberation, that would begin and end with me before my progeny continued on the path. But what would I tell my daughter? When she asked me questions Could I lie to her? Would she understand if she started to question things later in her life? Would she understand that I let her develop one way and left her to find the same things I did on her own?
Ideally I would like my children to make up their own minds about religion. But practically this is really difficult. Religions seem to rely heavily on the teaching of certain basic concepts in early childhood in the crucial period of neural development from 0-4. I certainly want her to get a good Jewish education. Its an important part of her culture and history, though I worry a lot about sending mixed messages to a child. It seems that Jewish education is rarely confined to history and culture but is usually bound up with practice and belief. Is it harmless to let her believe what she is taught then teach her something else later on? Im thinking about dinosuars, evolution, bible stories and aspects of Jewish practice. When she asks me why god didnt answer her prayers. When she asks how Noah really managed to collect so many specimens. If I was entirely honest with her ,how would her teachers respond? Are there Jewish educators that are open minded to cope with it? Probably not. But then I dont want to be furtive about anything either. Since she wont be going to a Jewish school, we have more freedom to teach her the things we want to and not have to undermine what shes learning elsewhere. I think we will have to make sure we guide her to think and challenge things(hopefully not things like how unfair it is she has to go to bed when we say so)until she is old enough to make her own decisions. We will love her regardless.

Skepticism at work

2006-11-06T20:04:00.000-05:00

I'm currently at a loss as to how to approach skepticism at work. Do I tell them, or keep it secret?

At the moment, my work life and Jewish social life are completely separate. I can keep it that way as we don't have such a social culture at work. Occasionally we go out together but no one expects to be invited to your birthday party.

I've always been vocal about my Judaism. I don't go on about it unless people ask questions, but I've never lied about why I can't go out on Saturday night or eat out with non-Jewish friends (unless they care to come to one of the few, fairly poor, kosher establishments that are available here). So everyone at work knows that I keep Shabbat and kosher. There are only two other Jewish people in the company, neither of whom are frum.

On the one hand, it would be nice to have a few friends at work who know where I stand. Many of them are atheist and it would be nice to be able to have some good discussions along those lines.

On the other hand, there are a few reasons not to tell. I still have a lot of respect for Modern Orthodoxy (or Open Orthodoxy, I think I fit better there) and I don't want to present it in a bad light. I guess I feel like it would be a chilul Hashem, a disgrace of God's name. And of course I don't want to seem fickle. Especially to the Christians at work. I wonder how they'd react. (I do occasionally mention my dissatisfaction with the politicization of Judaism, especially kashrut. But that's about all.)

But here's another reason. One of the other Jewish people in the company works in my department. He's very culturally Jewish, but completely atheist and eats ham on pizza (he says that the god that he doesn't believe in lets). And then there's me, who outwardly (and until recently, inwardly) was completely frum. I cover my hair and only eat kosher. And we're good friends, and I liked presenting that to the others. Just showing the range there can be.

So for now, at least, I suppose I'll retain my orthopraxis at work, and in various other environments where there wouldn't be repurcussions in the Jewish community as well. But I do feel a little cowardly about it.

The sea of faith

2006-10-28T08:44:00.000-05:00

The sea of faith
Was once, too, at the full, and round earth's shore
Lay like the folds of a bright girdle furl'd.
But now I only hear
Its melancholy, long, withdrawing roar,
Retreating, to the breath
Of the night-wind, down the vast edges drear
And naked shingles of the world.

From Dover Beach by Matthew Arnold

It's all downhill from here, folks

2006-10-28T05:34:00.000-05:00

Well, I think I just got on the slippery slope.

I was out with some non-Jewish friends (I suppose some would say I was already on the slippery slope by having them) this week and I had a glass of wine.

It was not "kosher" wine. It was damn good, I might add. Either boiling white wine really does ruin it, or kosher wine of that quality is out of my price range.

Why wasn't it "kosher"? It didn't contain meat and milk mixed together, permissible animals slaughtered incorrectly, or even non-permissible animals. Wine, essentially, is just fruit juice, only more fun. (Especially when it has bubbles in it.) The wine I so sinfully drank was not kosher because it was made by "akum", which is a Hebrew acronym standing for avdei kochavim u'mazalot, or worshippers of stars and omens (ie, idol worshippers; ie, non-Jews or non-religious Jews ). Because of this, it is assumed to be made for the purpose of idol worship. This is despite the fact that this wine was made, bottled and sold for commercial use. I have always found this halacha to be irrelevant and tedious, particularly since I don't drink beer. Like chalav Yisrael (milk that has been milked with Orthodox Jewish supervision) and pat Yisrael (bread that has been baked with the assistance of a Jew), which are no longer universally followed amongst the Orthodox, I don't feel that this law still applies. I find its racism offensive and tiresome.

According to the Wikipedia article linked above, that puts me in the Conservative camp. Not that that bothers me.

Anyway, I don't usually find slippery slope argument valid. And I don't think I will now start eating treif. But I felt no guilt whatsoever drinking that wine, and it definitely made me feel like I wouldn't feel at all bad eating things that are "really" not kosher. So, we'll see what happens.

Time and energy

2006-10-23T20:49:00.000-05:00

I've finally worked out why most Orthodox people aren't skeptics.

They don't have the time or the energy.

The past few weeks, between my baby, the chagim and some extra hours at work, I've barely had time to think about my plans for tomorrow, let alone my evolving world view I feel like a zombie who's only just starting to wake up.

Life is always hectic though, and I seriously do wonder if that's a reason (obviously it wouldn't be the only one) why people stick with the status quo. The just don't have the time or the energy to imagine anything different. Life just keeps throwing the punches and if you don't roll with them, you'll get overwhelmed.

It makes me think of one of my late relatives who used to read trashy novels to relax. She liked a particular author whose name I can't remember, but they weren't exactly romance novels. They were sort of intertwined stories about different people and how they affected each other. That's not a great description, but never mind. She loved those novels but her main criticism was that they weren't true to life because the characters had so much "get up and go". They decided what they wanted, and if they wanted to change their lives, they just went ahead and did it and smoothed it over with their families easily.

Real life just isn't like that. There are repercussions to our actions, and it's so easy to be dishonest with yourself. You can go through the motions in Judaism surprisingly easily, considering how demanding a religion it is. And there are many things that, until recently, I simply never thought about. It's easy not to think. And that's why, when you do, it's such a rude awakening. Because you realize that it was all there in front of you and you just never noticed.

Wake me slowly next time, that's all I ask.

Related

Davening

2006-10-16T02:28:00.000-05:00

I can't express how glad I am that this round of chagim are over. Why do they have to be bunched together like that? And this was a good year... I didn't have to take any leave from work.

But I did notice something interesting. The more skeptical I get, the more I enjoy davening. I used to daven three times a day but with my baby taking up so much of my life, I'm lucky if I squeeze in Shacharit on Shabbat morning these days. By Simchat Torah I never wanted to eat again, but I was still grateful when a friend held my daughter so that I could daven unimpeded.

I've been trying to work out why I like davening so much now. I'm well aware that guys who "have" to daven three times a day might not feel the same...

Firstly I think it's a more intellectual process. Because I'm not talking to God so much, I actually have time to read the words. And boy, are some of them fascinating. Especially some of the ones that don't come up that often, like the prayer for rain. And some of it, like Hallel, is just beautiful. Lines of simple, stark beauty like
" לֹֽא אָמ֥וּת כִּי־אֶֽחְיֶ֑ה וַ֝אֲסַפֵּ֗ר מַֽעֲשֵׂ֥י יָֽהּ׃"
"I will not die for I will live, and tell the works of God" (118:17)

just get me every time.

The other thing I really like about davening is that now that I don't have to feel guilty about my lack of kavana, I can just enjoy the meditative time to myself. It's quite nice really.

How to treat a skeptic

2006-10-10T06:34:00.000-05:00

Over the chagim I've had some extra time on my hands, which of course I spent reading. I read some chapters of Leaves of Faith by Rav Aharon Lichtenstein and also some of Jewish Values in a Changing World by Rav Yehuda Amital. I'm much more of a Rav Lichteinstein fan than a Rav Amital fan, but my husband recommended Chapter 16, entitled "How to relate to one who has lost his faith" (or her faith, I presume).

He doesn't provide any magic answers, but that's no surprise. I'm pretty sure that if there was a magic answer I'd have heard it by now. But he does provide an interesting perspective on skeptics.

In summary...

He discusses the various types of heretics and focuses on four different categories.
1. One who doesn't believe in some principles of faith because of "erroneous reasoning". Rav Amital holds that such a person is considered to be coerced by his logic and not held accountable.
2. He discusses the reason that is traditionally held as the reason of all skeptics: the yetzer hara (evil inclination). Apparently it is this type of heretic that should be "thrown in the pit". Rav Amital says: "Many people come to a secular outlook not in order to satisfy their desires, but rather because of their dedication to ideals that may, at times, even demand great sacrifice. It is difficult to pin all disbelief on following one's desires."
3. Real, certain denial of God. It's rare because most atheists will concede that they can't prove for certain that there's no God. He doesn't give a clear conclusion about what he thinks of those who do deny God with absolute certainty.
4. The classic tinok shenishba (captured infant). People not raised in OJ are considered blameless.

He cites the Chazon Ish about the "thrusting in the pit" halacha. Basically, according to the Chazon Ish this law would only apply when God's presence was clear in the world. Now that it's not, "'thrusting down' does not serve to fill the breach, but rather it adds to it".

And he talks about the shift in anti-Semitism from hatred of people who keep Jewish practises (in medieval times, etc, when conversion was a way to escape persecution), to hatred of Jews because they are Jews ("In Auchwitz, they did not check people's tzitit before sending them to the gas chambers.")

He also says that ahavat Yisrael is needed to run the State of Israel, and that a positive attitude will have more of an effect in bringing people back to Judaism than a negative one.

Now, obviously his agenda is quite different from mine, but I found this worthwhile reading for a few reasons.

1. It provided recognition that we're not all skeptics because we can't be bothered keeping the Torah.
2. I agree 100% that a harsh attitude only serves to push people away. It's certainly the case for me. I don't think anything will de-skeptic me but overall I have a positive attitude to Judaism as a culture and I'd like to retain that. Some people don't make it easy.
3. I agree with his comments about the Holocaust. Anyone that was Jewish enough for Hitler should be Jewish enough for other Jews.
4. The bolded quote above. That's me. The ideal I'm dedicated to is intellectual honesty.

TMS

2006-10-02T06:48:00.000-05:00

Simon Holloway said...
I would be very interested in hearing your thoughts concerning Torah min HaShamayim. That's something that interests me a great deal. Do you think that the Rabbis genuinely meant that the whole Torah was divine? Or did they use it in the same way that they suggested that anything an advanced pupil comes up with was Halakhah leMoshe miSinay (ie: as an expression indicative of the statement's validity, but nontheless cognizant of its own necessary untruth)?

I haven't really finished forming my ideas about TMS, but it's definitely an interesting topic.

I also wonder what the Rabbis really thought. There are the arguments in the Talmud (I think it's the Talmud) about who wrote the final verses, and which version of the Torah is the correct one. But these are minor things compared to the authorship of the entire Pentateuch. I think the arguments about the minor points indicates that they did believe that it was of divine origin, but that it was corrupted by human involvement, at least in some small way.

At the moment I have two main theories. One is human authorship entirely. I haven't studied documentary hypothesis enough to know if I really find it plausible, but I certainly don't think it's impossible that the Pentateuch had a single author. I think

The other theory I have, which in a way is far more disturbing, is that there was some kind of revelation on Sinai, but that the Torah was corrupted far more than Orthodox Judaism would like to believe. There were several opportunities for this to happen (Josiah, Ezra). It would be so tempting, with the masses ignorant, to change the text that they believed was divine. To fix a name that no longer made sense. To make it more relevant. I think it's likely that at some point, perhaps not until after the second Temple time, there was some kind of shift of power.

To me the reapplication of the phrase "לֹ֥א בַשָּׁמַ֖יִם הִ֑וא" ("It is not in heaven", Deut 30:12*) is pivotal. Taken in context, this verse is about the law being approachable and doable (it is?). Rabbi Yehoshua reapplies it to mean that halachic decisions will be made by the Rabbis, rendering Rabbi Eliezer's proofs from heaven invalid. If the Rabbis were meant to have this much power, I believe it should have been in the Torah. In fact we see the opposite:

וּשְׁמַרְתֶּ֣ם לַעֲשֹׂ֔ות כַּאֲשֶׁ֥ר צִוָּ֛ה יְהוָ֥ה אֱלֹהֵיכֶ֖ם אֶתְכֶ֑ם לֹ֥א תָסֻ֖רוּ יָמִ֥ין וּשְׂמֹֽאל

Be careful to do as YHVH your God commanded you; do not turn left or right. (Deut 5:32*)

And:

לֹ֣א תֹסִ֗פוּ עַל־הַדָּבָר֙ אֲשֶׁ֤ר אָנֹכִי֙ מְצַוֶּ֣ה אֶתְכֶ֔ם וְלֹ֥א תִגְרְע֖וּ מִמֶּ֑נּוּ לִשְׁמֹ֗ר אֶת־מִצְוֹת֙ יְהוָ֣ה אֱלֹֽהֵיכֶ֔ם אֲשֶׁ֥ר אָנֹכִ֖י מְצַוֶּ֥ה אֶתְכֶֽם

Do not add to what I command you and do not subtract from it, but keep the commands of YHVH your God that I give you. (Deut 4:2*)

Yet somehow, the idea of the Oral Law allows the Rabbis to add (OK, not so much subtract) and change the meaning of verses ("לֹ֥א בַשָּׁמַ֖יִם הִ֑וא" is a prime example).

I'm not sure if I believe this or not, but it does worry me. I need to study a lot more before I can form a final opinion, but this is what's floating around my head right now.

* Of course, it's interesting that these verses are all from Deuteronomy, which is meant to be the book that Josiah found. Oh, and all translations are my own.

Rosh Hashana

2006-09-24T22:30:00.000-05:00

Wow, two days without blogging. Fortunately, lots of other bloggers I read have also had two days off, so there's not too much to catch up on.

Some highlights, and lowlights, of my Rosh Hashana (you can work out which is which):

I got locked out of the relatives' house where we were eating dinner one night. I'm glad I don't believe in simanim because if I did, "kol dodi dofek" is not really what I had in mind.
We found out who staged the Orthodox gay wedding. No, I'm not telling, but it's a friend of a friend. Good one, guys.
I read some of Slifkin's The Science of Torah. So far, not too bad.
I also read a chapter of Rav Yehuda Amital's Jewish Values In A Changing World about how to relate to one who has lost faith in Judaism. Very interesting and worthy of its own post.
I got to shule for both days and heard the shofar on the second day. The davening was great where I went, lots of singing (but didn't finish too late) and very little talking. I found I could still appreciate the davening despite my skeptic thoughts. Probably because I still believe in God. Just not sure if God wrote a book, that's all.
Also on the topic of simanim, I discovered some notes in my machzor. In the "shofarot" section of musaf, I had some notes about "Torah min Shamayim". That really jumped out at me.
I thought about talking to my favorite rabbi from my yeshiva about my issues. I figure he might have some answers that the UO don't have. Still thinking about this.

So, overall, I rate it a positive experience. I was dreading it but actually I got a lot out of it. Not answers, but I know I might never get answers. But some measure of peace of mind.

Racism

2006-09-19T03:21:00.000-05:00

Here's one thing that's always bothered me about many Jews that I've met, Orthodox or not. They claim to be open-minded, but amongst themselves, the sneering, condescending hatred of "goyim" comes out. Perfectly polite to non-Jews of course, but inside they really see themselves as the chosen people. Not just in the sense of an Am Kehuna (priestly nation), but in the sense that if you're not Jewish, you're not worth talking to (unless some money can be made from it, I suppose).

I won't go into the details, but I have many non-Jewish family members. I've grown up with them: played with the ones my age, been looked after by the older ones, and our relationships are still good. I can't imagine thinking any less of them for not being born into the same cultural-religious group as me.

Before I went to college I was open in attitude, but apart from my family (all caucasian) I had limited exposure to non-Jews. At university, I was embarrassed when I couldn't understand people I met with strong Asian accents and made an effort to get used to it. I joined student organizations (a short dabble in socialism and a dismal attempt at martial arts). I went out socially with people I met in college. I made friends who I'm still in touch with.

By my final year of my bachelor degree, my friends included many caucasians, several Asians, a few Greeks, a Sudanese Muslim, a Syrian Christian, and my best friend, a country girl of Kenyan and South American descent. I loved it. I felt like I was living a multicultural dream. We all respected each other, were fascinated by each others backgrounds without any pressure to find Jesus or Allah -- or sex, drugs, or anything else that I wasn't interested in. Now that I'm working, I enjoy actually being friends with my colleagues. I'm still in touch with my co-workers from my last job.

I think that Jews who will only hang out with Jews are missing out and shunning the people who have made it possible for them to live the lives they're living. (Dov Bear had a post on that topic a while back.) But it's more than that. Their ingrained racism, against mainstream culture and minority groups, is disgusting and makes my blood boil.

Is it justified, or even explained, by the Holocaust? By outdated halachot designed to keep us apart from them? Personally I think there's no excuse for it. The laws that exist are backward; no longer needed since there aren't exactly hundreds of Christians trying to insidiously convert us (jihad is a bit of a different story); and as it is we pick and choose which ones are still "relevant". But even if one wanted to be strict and keep them all, a recognition that their original purpose is no longer valid is needed. The whole world isn't out to get us. Average people really don't care if you're Jewish. Get over it and get rid of your prejudices.

Bilbulatsia

2006-09-18T04:36:00.000-05:00

BHB wants to know, why Bilbulatsia?

Good question. Unfortunately the answer isn't that exciting, but I figured the question might be asked again, so it may as well be in a post rather than a comment.

Basically, I knew I wanted something derived from bilbul, which is confusion in Hebrew, because I'm confused about lots of stuff, obviously. I couldn't find it when I searched again but when I originally Googled bilbul, something similar to the second hit on the list showed up. The page itself was not relevant and didn't even contain the word. But I liked the Google preview for it.

To me it sounded like a Hebraicized(?) English word, like democratzia, only funny because bilbul is already a Hebrew word. I decided pretty spontaneously. I was on my laptop at my parents' house, and Godol Hador had just closed. I think another skeptic blog had just closed too. I rattled off an introductory post and uploaded it.

Then I realized that I was angling the screen so that no one could see. And it hit me that maybe, if I wanted to keep my issues secret from my family, putting them on the internet for all to see wasn't the smartest move ever. Especially not at their house.

But I didn't delete the blog. And one day when I was talking to my friend who'd shown me Daat Emet. We talk a lot on IM and there's never enough time to finish a conversation. So I asked some pertinent questions to my dad (he's a tech head)
Q: can you tell a blogger's IP address from their blog? A friend wants to know.
A: with great difficulty.
Q: By the way, what blogs do you read?
A: Mentalblog. And my own.

My dad is pretty smart and I think if he stumbled across my blog he might be able to work it out. But I don't think it's likely. And anyway, I mainly don't want my mom to find out. So, I'm being young and a little reckless on this one.

My friend had another comment about the name: it almost sounds like an ideology. That really fit. Because I feel like I'm in limbo, but I might be there for a loooong time, so it pretty much is an intellectual state of being, which is practically an ideology.

A test of faith

2006-09-16T05:00:00.000-05:00

Warning: very bad language ahead!

... and another thing

2006-09-12T21:39:00.000-05:00

Two things, actually, to add to the pot of "why I became a skeptic".

One was the Brick Testament. For those of you who haven't seen it, it's a quite clever illustration of parts of the Bible (OT and NT) with lego bricks. Some of it is hysterically funny, which was why a friend showed it to me. But some of it was quite confronting, particularly parts of Nach that are rarely studied or brushed over. Samson is a particular highlight.

This is what God looks like according to the BT, which I think says it all:

It's funny to think that some lego men can have an effect on one's faith. But the juxtaposition of children's toys and some of the most gruesome parts of Tanach is clever. It highlights exactly how gruesome, how sexist, and how racist parts of our holy book are. This is a book that's meant to give us truth, meant to guide us through life, regardless of the generation. Of course there are many wonderful parts of Tanach as well, but huge chunks of it are pretty much a guide of what not to do if you want to win friends and influence people.

The other thing was the deaths of several of our close family members in close succession. The first was tragic, the end of a wonderful life in its prime. The next two were older, fuller lives lived, but were further kicks in the gut while we were down. And the last was another relatively young person.

I won't dwell too much on the emotional side of things only because it's not immediately relevant, not because it's not there. But on a philosophical level, it really makes you think. What does it all mean? Is premature death a punishment? If so, is it a punishment for the person who died, or those left behind? How does God balance the books when dealing with a whole family, not just an individual?

As you can probably tell I don't want to go into too many details here. But the first death, almost three years ago, caused irreparable damage to our family. After the fallout I found myself trying to work it out. What had we done to deserve this? In a family noted for being baalei tzedakah, for involvement in the community, for kindness within and outside of the family. Good, simple Jews, not learned for the most part through various circumstances, but really, just great people.

And that's when the whole idea of reward and punishment started to unravel for me. And life after death. I just started seeing everything as far more random. Sure, there are some crazy coincidences out there. But I can no longer see them as any more than just that.

Where it all began II

2006-09-09T07:53:00.000-05:00

Continued from this post. Start there!

Throughout the whole of last year, we've had growing tension with one of my husband's cousins. His family are mainly MO (more or less), but she married a man who wanted to be UO. She went along with it, they did the kollel shtick for a while. Before my wedding she tried to convince me to read a book on marriage whose starting message was: "Show your love to your husband by cleaning the house, cooking a gourmet dinner, and changing out of your housecoat and putting on make-up before he gets home." Despite this I did get on well with her for a while. But gradually it began to unravel, at least on our end. It just became more and more apparent to us how much their world view is at odds with ours.

It started with more general things: we don't like their parenting style; they're very permissive and their oldest child is bratty and bullies the younger ones, but they don't discipline her. We were neighbors and she would always want to borrow things, ask us to mind the kids, and so on. We'd complain about her to each other and gradually it became more and more about religion. We realized that we both didn't like how she tried to impose her views on everyone -- almost as if that would convince her of them, because I don't believe she is convinced. She really looks down on the more open upbringing that most of the extended family is giving their children, and she makes it clear to everyone. She tries to teach middot to some of the younger cousins, stops them watching TV, things like that.

So, who cares if we have a fundy cousin? It's annoying, but so what?

Well, one thing leads to another. Here's an analogy. (Funny, I hate hearing analogies but like giving them.) When you crochet a kippah (or anything) you need to double back the last few stitches to secure it. Otherwise, the whole thing can unravel. In conversation, that's what happened to my husband and I. We picked on his cousin. We picked on her lifestyle, ultra-orthodoxy in general, some of her chumras. We started on halacha and realised how bogus and random some things are. And so it all fell apart. Maybe that's why lashon hara is an aveira.

In short, I think that a combination of factors got us talking about these issues. Some of it was Daat Emet, some of it was various occurences in our lives, and some of it was just us getting talking. We talk about everything and we're pretty honest with each other. So it never occurred to me hide my doubts. When I started this blog and told him where I'm at, I think I heard a sigh of relief -- relief that we're on the same page. Because it would be so much worse if we weren't. We've just started a family. We have everything in front of us. So, if nothing else, we're in it together.

Where it all began I

2006-09-09T07:42:00.000-05:00

Here, Baal Habos said he was curious about my story. While I touched on it in this post, I thought I'd zoom in on where I began to be a skeptic.*

Of course, the beginning for me really is the relatively open upbringing I had. My family is Lubavitch but from a BT background. The sort of BT that maintains contact with the outside world. My parents never stopped listening to the Beatles and Jim Croce. We were allowed to watch movies and sometimes even had a TV in the house. We could read whatever we wanted. We could be friends with whoever we wanted. And we were encouraged to think, and most importantly, think for ourselves. So in that sense, the groundwork was already laid.

But the real deal is much more recent than that. It started, maybe, with a lack of inspiration. After I got home from my year of yeshiva in Israel, the opportunities to learn where I live, which started off OK, lessened. We go to shule at the highest bidder -- my husband has a paid position in our shule and we're young and poor. It's not a particularly frum shule; very traditional, but not frum. So for several years now I haven't been "growing" Jewishly.

Last year I attended a lecture series on women in Judaism, which was actually very good and overall a positive experience for me. There were two other regulars who I got to know. (One was a woman who had been Orthodox but was now Conservative because of the way women are treated in Orthodox Judaism. She was consumed with hatred for OJ because of it. She is important to the overall plot, but I won't go into it in this post.)

The other was a guy (I was so impressed that a man came!). He was not religious but very knowledgeable about all things Jewish, including textual criticism. We had some great discussions which were quite eye-opening. He put me on to Daat Emet. I read a lengthy article on it, which I can no longer find on the site, which detailed the main "proofs" against the divine origin of the Torah and the halachic process. It was long and vitriolic, written (I felt) in deep hatred. I googled Daat Emet and found GH's post on him. (That was what introduced me to the jblogosphere, actually. From GH I learned about the Slifkin affair and discovered Hirhurim.) My first explanation to myself was: "This Daat Emet guy hates Judaism so much, I can't take him seriously." But some of the points he made seemed valid to me.

My husband read the article too. His initial reaction was: "I knew there were some holes in the plot, but I didn't realise how serious they were."

Very soon after that we visited some friends in another city. Their community was in uproar because of a speaker who had come to town. His basic point was that, while the evidence suggests that the Torah was not written by God, orthopraxis is still important, for cultural reasons and so on. My husband seemed very interested in this idea. I wasn't particularly impressed by it; I still believed 100%.

I was pregnant with my daughter at that time. I had an extremely difficult pregnancy. While I was attending the lecture series I often had to run out to throw up (quite awkward as no one knew yet). I stopped davening because it just felt weird stopping in the middle to vomit.** And I was exhausted all the time. It was hot and I stopped covering my hair while I was around my husband's family. I was in and out of hospital under observation and I had to travel on Shabbat and Yom Tov, take the elevator, sign documents. I found myself breaking Shabbat even if I could have got out of it. It just didn't seem to matter. (Since then I have resumed complete orthopraxis.)

There is more, but this post is getting really long. To be continued.

* Disclaimer: The human memory is a tricky and fallible thing. These events are quite possibly not in order and not quite accurate. However they are as I remember them.
** TMI, I know. Sorry.

The first commandment

2006-09-06T07:26:00.000-05:00

Just because Moses was given the Ten Commandments doesn't mean he understood them.

Why?

2006-09-05T02:19:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I wonder why I even care whether I believe or not. If I don't, then so what? I should just drop everything, particularly the things that really rankle (kosher, niddah, covering my hair).

What is it that's keeping me in this antiquated world?

Part of it is family. I don't want to disappoint them. I'm in a great space with my parents right now and it's taken me a long time to get there. I think I've already pushed the boundaries of heresy with them. It's great that I can joke around with my mother about the Rebbe being Mashiach. And that she's accepted that I wear pants and short sleeves. I don't know how she'd take my current mindset.

Part of it is an underlying commitment to Modern Orthodoxy, even if I don't believe in it. I think that the underlying principle of Torah im Derech Eretz is a good one. (I'm just less and less sure about the Torah part.) And I've spent so long defending MO, I don't want to let it down. It's almost as though it would be a triumph of UO. They could say, "You see what happens when you go to university and study science and mix with the goyim? Better to stay in the shtetl." Regardless of where I end up, I'll never agree with that. Besides, I don't think that it's science that's made me start doubting.

I also feel like it would be a chilul Hashem, somehow, to suddenly stop practicing Judaism. I can't imagine how I'd explain that to my work colleagues. It's hard enough for them to get their heads around the difference between me and another guy at work, who's Jewish and very culturally affiliated, but atheist.

But there's still the part of me that isn't sure that this religion is wrong. I know it's not perfect and I know it's changed over time a lot, in spite of the fact that it's not meant to. But I still don't buy the Documentary Hypothesis any more than I buy the Revelation at Sinai. I need to do more research. My journey is far from over. I have a strong emotional connection to much of my religion, but I just hope I can approach it with intellectual honesty. After all, I can keep doing whatever I like, even if I don't believe. The jblogosphere has taught me that much at least: if I continue with orthopraxis solely, I won't be alone.

Fictional conversion?

2006-08-31T23:33:00.000-05:00

Pinocchio and friends converted to Islam

I've seen books manually "edited" by the UO to tzniusify clothes and tone down language (~~shut up~~ be quiet), but this is classic.

Dear hubby

2006-08-29T19:01:00.000-05:00

Below is part of a comment I wrote in response to a post on Orthoprax. Here's what I wrote:

... Firstly, while it's nice that "traditional" Judaism values family, I believe it's really just apologetics to equate that with valuing women. Judaism, based on the traditional sources, does not value women. They are treated as chattel in Tanach: a man can divorce a woman for any reason; irreparably shame her if he merely suspects that she's cheating; cut off her hand if she crushes a man's testicles while trying to defend her husband.

They are also treated like crap throughout the Mishna and Talmud. Later commentaries (Ibn Ezra, from memory, but I could be mistaken) say that they are actually not obligated in Torah at all. In other words, Judaism is a religion for men, not women. Any attempt that a woman makes to take some kind of ownership of "her" religion is considered worthless. Conveniently, keeping mitzvot that you're actually commanded to do is "worth" more than ones you keep voluntarily (contrary to my logic, at least), so with that line of reasoning, women's attempts to connect to God are meaningless.

Having said that, when I compare myself to some women I know I've been very lucky with how men have responded to me and my opinions. Some men (my husband, my father, various rabbis that have taught me over the years) go way beyond the apologetics. Jewish morality, despite mainstream belief, does change over time and I'm optimistic about "women's issues". Sure, we're 50 years behind the rest of the world in this but we are in everything.

More than anything I'm encouraged by my husband, who made me (well, gently suggested in such reasonable terms that I couldn't refuse) take turns making kiddush and saying the bracha on the challa with him. I can't do it in front of most of our friends or they'd freak out, but it means a lot to me. He also told me about a guy who'd confessed to pretending not to be able to do housework -- hubby said he was an idiot. He did everything around the house while I was researching and writing my thesis. And he came home from a shalom zachar complaining about how the rabbi was going on about how wonderful it was to have a boy (I was pregnant with my daughter at the time; we knew we were having a girl). My husband the feminist.

Because he's so great I'd like to invite him to share my blog with me. As soon as he signs up with Blogger, he'll be in charge of funny stuff on this blog, so the humor levels should rise pretty soon. He may or may not talk. That's up to him.

Note to self:

2006-08-29T02:46:00.000-05:00

Must email DovBear to say thanks for the new sidebar. It enabled me to find this post from last year about the eighth principle of faith. Here's the bit I like:

... let's recall that we're dealing here with a two-tiered verity, ie: the truth of fact, or reality, and the truth of law.

Often reality is set aside in favor of law. If a piece of pork, for example, were to fall into a very large vat of kosher meat, it becomes kosher according to the laws of bitul. The law says that under these conditions, the pork is kosher; though the facts haven't changed: it's still pig meat.

There was an intense tussle in the comments about his philosophy. Personally I'm not sure if I agree 100% but I like it anyway. It's an interesting way of looking at things and it does fit with the Talmudic examples he gives.

I also think it answers Simon's question about the multiple scrolls.

Definitely some food for thought. I was intending to give Rambam a bit of a break and start dissing some other Rabbi I like (makes lots of sense, I know) but maybe I'll have to stick with him for a while. I can always tackle Rav JB Soloveitchik's views on women's tefilla groups later...

Seven out of 13 ain't bad...

2006-08-26T23:54:00.000-05:00

As promised, here are my thoughts on Rambam's 13 principles of faith.

1-6
I'm pretty much fine with the first six, but my issues just get bigger going down the list.

7-8
I'm not really sure about the whole prophecy thing. It's complicated and I don't know what I think. So I'll leave numbers six and seven for now.

8-9
Number eight (and nine, they're so closely related) is where it all gets really tricky. To my mind, a best-case (but unlikely) scenario is where there was a revelation, but minor parts of the Torah were altered. It's hard to deny that things were changed when there is historical evidence of it. The rabbis even discuss it: who wrote the last few words (after Moses died); whether Moses wrote Deuteronomy in his own words; etc.

At worst, the whole thing is written by humans. I'm not sure about the documentary hypothesis for a few reasons. Firstly, if it's true, whoever canonised the Torah was an idiot (OK, a bad editor). I mean, we're talking about some glaring holes in the plot (eg, Elohim vs YHVH). Secondly, why bother with all the obscure rules that seem to have nothing to do with either worship of God or running society?

Of course, if I don't believe it, I'm in big trouble according to Rambam. But regardless of where it comes from, I think it has value beyond the stories. Timeless? Maybe not quite. But the Torah can definitely teach any discerning reader a lot.

A further point on number 9: If the Torah is complete, how come the rabbis are allowed to add to it? (Of which more will be said in future posts, I'm sure.)

10
I'm not too fussed about this one.

11
Reward and punishment... it's not so much the concept that bothers me. What gets to me is how variable it seems to be. Even the things that are meant to be set aren't really. And how people read into it. Everything bad that happens to you is somehow related to something totally random. You're sick? Better check your mezuzas. Infertile? Must be because you were mean to someone with kids ten years ago. I can't cope with that stuff.

12
I'm fairly cool with the Messianic era. What I really don't like about this one is less what Rambam has to say and more how people have reinterpreted it. In the siddur, suddenly we're meant to be awaiting Mashiach every day. And if you're Lubavitch, you're not just hoping that he'll arrive today. You're expecting him to arrive right this second. I don't find that at all necessary.

13
I do believe that God can raise the dead. I just don't think it's a good idea. It's fraught with problems: population density for one. And what about women who've been married twice? I suppose they'd have to pick a husband. But it just all gets a bit weird when you start thinking of the practicalities.
EDIT: I forgot to mention that this one also has the shakiest source from Torah. The afterlife is really not discussed much in Tanach. I feel that something as major as this should be mentioned, at least in passing. The lack of mention encourages me to think that we can make up our own minds regarding resurrection, reincarnation and life after death in general.

So, am I going to hell???

Moses son of Maimon

2006-08-22T06:45:00.000-05:00

Why I like Rambam:
1. He was intelligent and rational. I like his views on science and his opinion on how to approach aggada.
2. He was the 12th century equivalent of Modern Orthodox and a renaissance man too (yes, I know that's an anacronism). What I mean is that I admire his accomplishments in Torah and medicine, for the same reason that I admire Rav JB Soloveitchik's PhD in philosophy and Rav Aharon Lichtenstein's in English literature: they are paradigms of MO.
3. He said that superstitious people were stupid. He had other things to say about stupid people which I can't remember right now (or be bothered looking up).

Why I don't like Rambam*:
1. He was a misogynist**.
2. He inadvertently created the dogma of the 13 principles of faith. I feel that the introduction to Perek Helek (Chapter 10 of Tractate Sanherdrin) was not necessarily meant to be taken quite so seriously. It was just, like, his opinion, man. Many other Jewish philosophers had an issue with at least one of Rambam's principles, or with the concept of having principles at all. In particular, the rewording of the 12th principle present in the siddur (the addition of waiting for the Messiah every day) annoys me because it has been reinterpreted by some groups (like Lubavitch) to mean that one should expect his arrival daily. I know that really isn't Rambam's fault, but he started it.

Next up: The principles I have issues with.

* I'm really talking about his writings. He shouldn't take it personally.
** Of course things were a little different in those days. But with Orthodoxy as it is now, the things he said then somehow have a profound effect on how religious men treat women.

Evolving ideologies

2006-08-20T05:06:00.000-05:00

In response to my previous post, Simon wanted to know why I don't see a contradiction between Genesis and evolution. So, here's an attempt at a coherent answer to that...

I should begin by clarifying a couple of things. Firstly, I should expand evolution to also include the more general scientific view of the origin of the Earth. Secondly, when I say I don't see a contradiction, what I really mean is that I don't see any important (I said major in the last post) contradiction. Obviously they really are two different accounts of how the world came into being, but ultimately I see Genesis as something not to be taken literally. There are a few things that make this obvious.

Until day 4, there's no sun for the Earth to revolve around (or vice versa...) and no moon to orbit the earth. So the first three or four 'days' are obviously not days in the traditional sense of sunrise to sunset. The first couple of days are really weird and seem quite metaphysical. The whole 'let there be light' followed by 'separating the light from the darkness' is odd. I mean, once there's light, there's automatically dark, since dark is just the absence of light.

Plants before the sun is a bit problematic and off the cuff I can't really think of a proper explanation for this. But I think the whole thing is really just vague stuff about the beginning (which can hopefully teach us something). While this does point to a human author of the Bible, I also think that a human author, even whenever BCE, would know that you need the sun first. I always think of biblical criticism in terms of 'if I was writing the Torah, would I have written it like this?' Because if you were writing something to be the basis for a religion, surely you'd be a bit more careful. I know the logic is tenuous but I like it and ultimately, I want to believe it (probably the subject for another post).

Also, there isn't really enough detail to compare it to the intricacy of Big Bang theory and evolution/natural selection. There are whole phyla, even whole kingdoms of living creatures that are brushed over or not mentioned at all. So I think that comparing in too much detail is a little unfair. I'm not well versed in Big Bang theory because my strong point is definitely biology rather than physics, but the biology that's there is only slightly out of order. In Genesis we have plants, "living creatures", birds, "great sea monsters", creeping things, wild animals, creeping things of the earth, cattle, and then humans. As a biologist I can say that this phylogeny is pretty lacking. There should be bacteria, archaea (sort of like bacteria but different), and then eukarya (organisms with compartmentalised cells). Within eukarya there are a bunch of cool primitive organisms, then plants, then animals (and fungi) branching off the tree (see here for more info). I haven't checked but I think that birds, being related to dinosaurs, are older than mammals, and reptiles should be too. So apart from the plants coming first, it's not too far off. Maybe the plants are first because they grow in the ground rather than because they belong first in an evolutionary sense.

Anyway, this is all getting a little technical and long and boring. I guess the point is really that I see Genesis as a metaphor rather than as dogma. Rav Soloveitchik says it has 'eidetic-noetic' value, which basically means that 'offers immediate imagery that carries with it meaning for its readers' (definition and explanation lifted from here. In Lonely Man of Faith, where the 'eidetic-noetic' phrase is used, he provides an excellent example of his own point: the main focus of the book is an explanation of the two versions of the creation of Adam. He uses the differences between the two accounts to discuss two different roles of humankind, one practical and community oriented, one spiritual and solitary. He doesn't talk about the other parts of the creation story, but I've spent alot of time learning it the traditional way and I've enjoyed teasing out philosophical elements out of it.

So... attack.

Where I'm coming from and where I'm at

2006-08-15T02:45:00.000-05:00

A little background about me, mainly because I find it annoying when other people don't have some back story.

I was brought up Lubavitch, although my family is a little unusual. Both my parents are university educated and my father has always encouraged intellectual independence. While I was in high school, he encouraged me to research the laws about memorising Tanach so that I could get out of memorising Shir David. For a while in high school I basically was not religious at all, albeit covertly. I had a boyfriend, wore pants when I got the chance, and ate non-kosher chocolates. I became obsessed wih rock music. Gradually I found my way back to Judaism but I knew that Lubavitch wasn't for me. I was already straddling two worlds, the real world and the religous world, and ultra-Orthodoxy, even a stream as open as Lubavitch, wasn't going to cut it. The whole meshichist thing didn't help.

I fell into the Bnei Akiva crowd and went to a religious Zionist yeshiva. I loved it, especially Talmud, and I still believe that in many ways that year was an intellectual peak for me. I planned to make aliya, but my parents wanted me home for six months first. I started studying science at uni and realised that I wouldn't be able to afford to continue my studies in Israel. Right after I decided to postpone my aliya, I met my future husband, which was wonderful although it did postpone aliya further. I continued studying science, majoring in biotechnology. I had no problems with evolution. I wasn't even compartmentalising; I genuinely didn't (and still don't) see any major contraditions between Genesis and evolution.

I got married and finished my degree, did a masters in communications, and started working for a magazine. I started wearing pants but continued to cover my hair. Somewhere along the way, I started looking at things a little more critically. I couldn't pin it on any one conversation or book I read, but it has quite a bit to do with feminism and biblical criticism. In a nutshell, I believe that Judaism is a religion for men, not women, and I know there are some major innacuracies in our supposedly perfect book.

But somehow I still believe in something. Of the 13 principles of faith (I know I'll be writing about those in more detail) I have issues with at least four (not to mentions issues with the idea of 13 principles, suddenly written at the time they written). My world view still incorporates belief in God and an evolutionary process guided by God (note deliberate avoidance of gender). That's why this blog is really about confusion, because I'm not really sure about a lot of things. I'm not sure if what I'm doing is really only Orthopraxis and not Orthodoxy; it's definitely not cut and dry. But I'm not sure if I only believe because I'm afraid not to.

Anyway, in this blog I'm going to try and explore these issues further, more for myself than anyone else, but I always welcome input.

B'reishit

2006-07-19T10:23:00.000-05:00

So, why another blog in a saturated market? I don't know if I have anything new to say, to be honest. There are lots of other jblogs that will be funnier and more entertaining and are written by people who know more than me. I know I can't compete with the boys in terms of raw Jewish knowledge, and I may not appeal to the girls in that I'm not overly emotional and sympathetic.

Really this is my journey, and it's just slightly easier if shared. I guess often a jblog is a feeble attempt to alleviate the ontological loneliness that the Rav describes in Lonely Man of Faith and certainly that's the case with me. I have alot of questions and am short on answers, but deep down I know that often there are no answers. Still, getting it out helps a little. I hope that's enough of an excuse.