What Might Have Been

When I was young I went to Hebrew School, like all good Jewish boys. After my Bar Mitzvah the rabbi called my mother into his office and told her that he thought I should go into the rabbinate. She was appalled. She was the daughter of a rabbi on the lower east side of Manhattan early in the early twentieth century and she, and many of her sibs, felt they were in a “fish bowl,” always under the eye of members of the community and unable to develop in their own way and at their own pace. She was happy to get out. And she didn't want her grandchildren under the same pressure.

I'm glad about her decision, however for entirely different reasons (some of which I hope to clarify in a future essay). Most notably because although I was raised in the Conservative movement, my practice now is Orthodox. I've moved a little to the right, and Conservatism has gone far to the left. The rabbinate toward which I would have been directed then would have been in the Conservative movement. I would have been a misfit, and I would have been very unhappy. That's not to say that I don't think I would have been good at it. I suspect I would have. But as time went by I would have lacked conviction. I would have been playing a part rather than practicing a profession. I would have had trouble following the call of my vocation.

Part of the problem is that I don't know what I believe. Having been reared in a secular setting and having attended public schools, I was steeped in rationality, and never oriented to believe in a transcendent deity. I wasn't taught that it was untrue, but it was never an issue of great concern. What has resulted is uncertainty about the existence of G-d.

I know that this doesn't correspond to my claim of orthodox observance. But observance doesn't necessarily reflect belief. The “rules” I observe were recorded by men, although they may have been dictated or inspired by G-d. They seem to be self-serving, elevating the status of the Rabbis – past and present. And the absence of a “proof” of G-d's existence in a world that bases everything on rational proof makes belief difficult.

But the same rationality that questions a deity also teaches that effects have causes. Notwithstanding Stephen Hawking, you can't get something from nothing. There's no “free lunch.” Even Hawking relies on laws of physics to account for existence, but he doesn't explain their origin. We're here, and there is a Universe. Where did we come from? And where did the Universe come from? Perhaps these are simply philosophical questions, but even the most educated and the most rational among us would have difficulty answering them.

If there is no rational explanation, then, I'm left with the conclusion that there must be an irrational one – or, better, a supra-rational one. And while I have no explanation for G-d, I can only conclude that some supra-rational force exists – whatever people choose to call it. I'll call it G-d, but I readily admit that I don't know what I'm talking about. As the saying goes, there are more questions than answers. Questions related to theodicy are, perhaps, the most difficult to answer, but long ago I accepted the idea that applying rational standards to a supra-rational process was irrational. The Book of Job makes it clear that we cannot understand G-d's ways. And I can accept that ignorance. I'm not G-d. I try to follow all the law and pray three times a day even when no one (human) is watching me, because I feel I've done wrong when I cut corners.  I guess that means I'm a believer. There are proofs of divinity all around us, but none that an atheist would accept. That's his loss.

But that doesn't deal with the question of the rules I follow. Are they G-d's, or are they the “creations” of men? Is it divine Law I try to follow, or is it “tradition?” Were humans authorized to speak in G-d's name? Should I believe that everything written by our sages has a divine origin? That's what we've been taught.

I don't know and I don't care. There's enough that I can't answer that is so much more profound than this that I don't have to focus on it. If it's only tradition that I follow, I can live with that. My heritage and my people have much to offer humanity – if only humanity would recognize it, rather than resent it and us.

Perhaps I'm a misfit similar to what I would have been had I entered the rabbinate. Pascal based his wager on the odds. After all he was a mathematician, and a scientist like him tried to be rational. But in a way I'm more rational, basing my acceptance of G-d on the logical belief in cause and effect. Still the rationalists of modern times cannot accept anything they cannot prove. So, from their perspective, I've been misled. And I'm following precepts that have no basis. Many of them – and I'm most aware of some of the scientific and medical precepts in Jewish religious teaching – are either not well thought out or are flat out wrong. Which, despite the apologetics, suggests to me that they were the ideas of humans rather than being divine precepts. Maybe they have value in the understanding of the eras in which they were written. But as we have been admonished to follow the teachings of the rabbis of our times – and their exposition of the words of their predecessors may differ from what was taught in the past – so, too, we are well advised to follow the explanations of modern medicine and science.

I'm a physician, not a rabbi. I might have been a rabbi – indeed, I have a son who is one – but things didn't work out that way for me. So be it. In a way I'm glad. I can accept my ignorance about religion without having to defend it and explain it to others. And without having to abandon it because I can't always understand it. I'm not a misfit. But I might have been one.

42

How is a compulsive like a multiplication table?

No. That's not the first line of a joke. It's the first line of a discussion of several matters that came to mind this morning as my children were preparing theirs for school. [This particular essay will be the first in a multi-part series, but, for the moment, I'm not sure how long it will be. In all likelihood it will have two or three parts, but I can't be absolutely sure at this time. We'll both find out as I go along.]

I'm an observant Jew. But I admire ISIS and atheists. ISIS would strip me of my life and atheists of my beliefs. Yet I respect them both – at least in one particular way. I'm in awe of them. They have views which they hold very strongly. Members of ISIS would kill or die for them,ⁱ though I suspect that most atheists wouldn't go quite that far. But they don't hesitate to expound their views and when they talk – especially ISIS – the world listens. And in the United States, especially in legal settings, the atheists usually get their way. It's almost as if the Constitution prohibits religion.

Yet the Constitution and the Bible are very much alike. Both are filled with absolutes in the form of laws and standards. Both are subject to interpretation, and there is considerable disagreement about how to interpret those absolutes.ⁱⁱ But there are absolutes. There are rules. And in a world in which virtually anything goes, the discipline provided by rules, however you interpret them, and the structure they give to our lives helps us work our way through our quotidian struggles, is the factor that makes our lives more understandable.

On my refrigerator, held on by magnets, is an aging, typed list of assignments which were the responsibilities of my children as we prepared for the Sabbath. (They – the children – have families of their own now, but the document remains and serves as a checklist for me of chores that have to be done each week. I usually remember them all, but it's a good crutch.) There were other sets of rules distributed or posted that solved many problems before they occurred. I'm in agreement with those “experts” who favor structure for growing children; who believe that even though children seek independence, the existence of firm control is reassuring to them. I favor that view not because of the experts but because it makes sense, and my children responded to it. Order, structure, and predictability deflect chaos. They are the basis for living lives we can understand, and the same properties form the basis for meaningful change and progress.

But that approach isn't limited to parenting. In almost every profession there's a checklist that has to be followed by a practitioner so he can be sure he doesn't miss something. Take a pilot for example. There are certain things he must do every time, and every time he must do them in the same way. While that doesn't guarantee that every flight will be a safe one, it ensures that every precaution that can be taken has, in fact, been taken and the odds are better that there will be a successful outcome.

The same is true of the compulsive and the multiplication table. In both cases there is something that must be done the same way every time. There may or may not be a listing of precisely how – whether it's some particular act, as it might be for someone who's compulsive or, as with a multiplication table, the result of some specific act, but it should always be the same. People who straighten pictures, straighten pictures. Every one they see if that is possible. Multiply nine times eight and it will always be seventy-two. At least in base ten, which is the template usually used with children. Both compulsion and the multiplication table deal with some kind of absolute. It may be an absolute for a person or for everyone. But it is invariable. Gravity always brings things closer together. If it doesn't, it's not gravity.

Among the most important of absolutes – and I reject the concept of moral relativismⁱⁱⁱ – are right and wrong. Although it's not always obvious what is right, if we're not all on the same page, chaos will result.

Next episode: “Incompatibility” – Competing(?) absolutes.

I        They've made meaningless the entire concept of “mutually assured destruction” as a method for discouraging future conflict. They welcome destruction.

ii        There are many writers of commentaries on both. They deny that they are changing the contents – albeit there are many who would like to do so – and insist only that their interpretations of those contents clarify the meaning.

iii      At least within a given society for many of them. For others, however, there is only the belief that what is absolute is absolute.

Amazing Greece

                                                                                                                      

A few weeks ago, on November 7, 2013, a meeting was held of the Town Board. They have those meetings regularly as the governing body of the town in Greece, New York. I guess it's not unusual that they should do so, and it's not worthy of special notice. On the agenda, however, was a “Moment of Prayer,” which was given by the Reverend Frank Falletta. That's worthy of comment.

According to the First Amendment to our Constitution,

“Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion …”

and while that might simply seem to apply to the nation's Congress, the Fourteenth Amendment states

“No State shall make or enforce any law which shall abridge the privileges or immunities of citizens of the United States...”

so it's clear that that the prohibition is not one solely applying to the Federal Government.

Does this apply to local governments as well? I don't know. My prejudice would be that even though this is not spelled out explicitly, it does. But that's an issue for wiser minds than mine, and, as I had learned a day earlier, the practice in Greece regarding prayers opening public meetings, was a question that the Supreme Court was considering this term. Many – and not just atheists – consider this to be an intrusion of religion on the citizenry contrary to the Bill of Rights.

Different groups have different objections to the practice which, in this case, involves the presentation of clearly Christian prayers as an intrinsic part of a governmental meeting. It is likely that the original intent of the First Amendment related to the protection of the people from the imposition of a particular doctrine as a state religion – a protection of the population from a specific religionⁱ – but over the years it came to be understood also as a protection of our various religions from state influences. There is no belief system to which they are required to conform.

The current construction, however, is that instead of protecting the population from a specific state religion, the government should have nothing whatever to do with religion or any religious practice. It should “protect” the people from religion.ⁱⁱ Although some exceptions are made – like the military chaplaincy, religious mottoes on our currency and in the Pledge of Allegiance, and tax exemptions for religious institutions – by and large we have banished religion from the “public square.” It's simply not a matter for public discussion. And anyone who considers what someone else views as a religious teaching when evaluating any aspect of our society is engaging in an unconstitutional practice. We see as sacred the “wall of separation between church and state” of which Thomas Jefferson wrote in 1802.^{iii iv} And a colleague of his, George Washington, wrote “We should be very cautious of violating the Rights of Conscience in others,” and “religious controversies are always productive of more acrimony and irreconcilable hatreds than those which spring from any other cause.”

Well, I believe President Washington's latter statement – if it is understood to refer not to the theological differences between members of different sects, but to the vituperative behavior which occurs when a non-believer meets a believer. But I also wonder how his view relates to other “Rights of Conscience,” the controversies, for example, between liberals and conservatives which are “always productive of [extreme] acrimony and irreconcilable hatred,” or those who favor and those who oppose the death penalty.^v

One of the main issues in any such discussion is a definition of “religion.” It's not possible to be sure what the Founding Fathers meant by the term, but in all likelihood they were referring to “organized” religion, a system of beliefs centered on a deity. By and large, most people at that time didn't question the existence of G-d, although they may have disagreed on His^vi nature and the ways to serve Him.

The first definition in the Random House Dictionary, however, refers to the term's spiritual and divine natures without mentioning G-d.^vii I'm more interested in the second, though, which characterizes religion as “a specific fundamental set of beliefs and practices generally agreed upon by a number of persons or sects.” As such, the definition includes atheists as well as church members. Most of them do not argue about the issue of beliefs,^viii even if they deny the existence of any deity or of existence after death.

And that appears to be the current issue: is there or isn't there a G-d? Opinions based on the concept that there is no deity are legitimate, but a corollary is that no spiritual feelings can be discussed or used as the basis of constitutional arguments. So, according to that perspective, if you accept the constitutional view probably held by those who wrote the Constitution, you had better be careful what you say. There are many who would bar you from using such ideas as a basis for political or legal positions, or for the public practice of your religion. Certainly the display of religious symbols on public property is considered a blasphemy on the secular religion we practice. The individual who argues a point that may be supported by religious teaching – even if his motives have nothing to do with any religious view – is viewed as a fanatic, and there are many who argue that he is not entitled to use his First Amendment rights irrespective both of his intent and that of our founding document's authors. They wrote “Congress shall make no law ... abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press ...” That, however, appears to relate only to the use of speech educated by the secular religion we observe, not by any other faith.

The reality is that America is a Christian nation. I'm not a Christian and there are times when I'm offended by its flaunting and its display. But as long as it is not imposed on me and I am free to practice my own religion in the way I consider appropriate, I can live with reality. I can ignore public prayers like those in Greece or even argue for equal time for members of other religions. Perhaps town meetings, like school classrooms, should be deemed off-limits for prayers, because there are captive audiences present, but it seems to me that the suppression of other opinions simply because they reflect, or are coincidentally consistent with, religious doctrines, contravenes the First Amendment rather than promotes it.

So the Justices will evaluate the arguments and rule on the glory that is Greece. Was Reverend Falletta violating the Constitution?

To be continued.^ix

Next episode: “Time And Again” – Slow down. You go too fast.

i       Indeed, those who reject any divinity believe that the population should be shielded from any manifestation of religion. They do not accept the idea that there can be “non-denominational” prayers, though this would be a satisfactory solution for many of those who oppose the “establishment of [a state] religion” by the government.

ii      Free choice is accepted. Indeed, “choice” is the watchword of our times. We worship it. A democratic society like ours is a staunch believer in such a position. In certain areas it is the law of the land – like abortion and the exercise of majority rule. But it is lionized, primarily when it concerns sexual mores, and the expression of favorable opinions regarding any practice that is considered unacceptable in the Bible – whether it is abortion, suicide, homosexuality, ritual slaughter, or other similar matters. Those ideas are praiseworthy, but views supporting religious practices are not tolerated well. (It is hard not to wonder how a secular government that enforces its views on the religious differs from a religious government that enforces its beliefs on the secular.)
iii     It was in a letter to the Danbury Baptist Association and ended, “I reciprocate your kind prayers for the protection and blessing of the common Father and creator of man ...” He was not opposed to private expressions of belief.

iv     Also of interest is President Jefferson's reluctance to declare a Thanksgiving. While as Governor of Virginia he promoted a day of Thanksgiving and Prayer, yet as President, in a letter to Reverend Samuel Miller on January 23, 1808 he wrote, “I consider the government of the United States as interdicted by the Constitution from intermeddling with religious institutions, their doctrines, discipline, or exercises...” Most Americans now would see Thanksgiving as a secular holiday, but that was not his view.

v       Or circumcision.

vi     Its(?) Assigning a sex (gender?) to G-d is obviously inappropriate, even though it makes the discussion easier.

vii    The Random House Dictionary of the English Language (The Unabridged Edition), 1967, New York. Page 1212.

viii   Actually, they usually proclaim their beliefs loudly and proudly. They consider it as a lack of belief, but in reality it is only a lack of belief in a deity. They firmly believe in His absence. And they have a strong belief in “good,” which they claim characterizes all their positions, and is achieveable by human means alone.

ix      Or concluded. Depending on what the losing side chooses to do, and what variations on the case they can bring before the Court.

"God, save our flight!" -- The Religion Of Atheism

 

Believe it or not, atheism is a religion.

While its primary dogma states that there is no G-d, it's a structured belief system with countless followers who accept its teachings and who spread them as diligently as they can. In fact, they sometimes spread them too diligently.

I have no interest in belittling our Constitution's First Amendment. Thank G-d we're all free to believe what we choose and to speak of our beliefs to anyone. We are free to evangelize – to involve others in our faith if they choose to accept it. In fact, most religions encourage others to join them – to observe the ritualsⁱ that they do. And atheists are certainly free to spread their Gospel along with the others.

Most religions try to attract other worshipers by means of example, provision of services,ⁱⁱ or by non-threatening evangelism. But not all. Islam, for example, encouraged belief by the use of the sword.ⁱⁱⁱ It wasn't a subtle or psychologically sophisticated way, but it brought them millions of adherents. Atheists, too, are anything but subtle. Their sword, however, is the word, the insult, the denigration they apply to anyone who may believe in a divinity. I suspect that most atheists are equal-opportunity maligners, who have as little regard for Eastern as Western religions – for those who sacrifice others and for those who make sacrifices for others.

They are religious fanatics. They're not the only ones, but too many of them are fanatics.

I know it's inappropriate and incorrect to characterize a group based on the actions of a few of its members, however the confidence expressed by some atheists, and the deprecation of the beliefs of others – the “in your face” attitude – of too many of its members, is the principal face presented to the public, and it is hard to overlook. I like to believe that my religion is the most valid, but I believe that to be the case for me, not necessarily for others.

Too many atheists, however, express the view that anyone who sees things differently from them is a fool who is being hoodwinked by purveyors of the opium of the masses. From their perspective, anyone who believes in G-d is a gullible simpleton who has not seen the light. And, like it or not, they will enlighten us.

Yesterday I saw a story on my computer Home Page entitled: “Cathay Pacific Airbus 330 makes emergency landing in Singapore.” It told of the crisis on board an Airbus when one of the engines failed and the pilot was forced to take unanticipated action. The sub-headline read “'God, save our flight! Give us your protection!' passengers pray.” And as is the case more and more with internet news, there was room provided for comment. While many of the submissions were supportive and expressed gratitude over the safety of passengers and crew, there were many who found the terror of the participants to be a good platform for their religious^iv pronouncements. A typical message: “I'm sure God didn't have anything to do with it. He was too busy not existing.” Whatever beliefs I may have about the subject, it's hard to understand what this writer, and others like him, hoped to accomplish by their mocking.

Here's another example. This billboard was up just before last Christmas, greeting drivers coming into New York City.

I don't celebrate Christmas myself, but I think the confrontational approach can only reflect the insecurity of American Atheists.^v I can't put any other construction on the proposition that everyone who disagrees with them is wrong. That's anything but a unique view, however it usually reflects paranoia and a lack of confidence in one's position.^vi Those who are secure don't need to defend themselves when there is no attack.

They can say whatever they like and wherever they choose. They can spend their money on whatever campaigns they consider worthwhile. But that doesn't add any credibility to their message. Who is right? If they are, they'll never know. And neither will the rest of us. But if they're wrong they'll have to rethink the matter. If that's possible.

 

i     Or non-rituals.

ii     Some may view this as bribery.

iii    I know I'm not supposed to say things like this since some may view it as “hate speech.” All you need to do to confirm what I'm saying, though, is to look in a history book. And you'd better do it quickly. Before they're “corrected” and some of the things we don't wish to teach are removed.

iv    Actually anti-religious. But expressed with the self-assurance of a true believer.

v     I also wonder if they were unreasonable before 1963.

vi    As I noted earlier, there are others whose way it is to evangelize – to educate and attract those with other points of view – but it is far more effective when done without taunting and provoking. Vehemence and fanaticism may prompt fright in the listener, and possibly even fearful agreement, but they do not encourage the confidence of those subjected to them.

Dear _____

 

What follows is a letter I wrote recently to a relative. It gave me the opportunity to explore some ideas which had been troubling me and, certainly, had been troubling the one to whom I wrote. I've made some slight changes in the document both to make it a little more anonymous and to fit in with the style of the blogs I write.ⁱ

-----------------------------------------------

April 27, 2011

Dear ______,

First of all, It was nice spending a few days with you. I suspect, though, that you were as glad to go home as we were. Visiting is nice, but there's no bed like your own.

Second, I apologize for the delay, but … slowed me down.

And now the real reason for writing. I overheard your discussion with ____ – the one dealing with the unfairness of children suffering, and of death in general. I was busy and couldn't talk then, but I'd like to offer some thoughts now. I know I won't be able to satisfy your concerns but I think there are some things that weren't said, relating to the issue.

There are numerous books written about the suffering of the good and the success of those who are less so. They are numerous because we have no answers. In fact, that is one of the major lessons they teach – that G-d's ways cannot be understood by humans; they can only be accepted. And the ills which we endure must be accepted along with the “blessings” in which we rejoice. It will always be a source of unhappiness to recognize that there doesn't seem to be a direct relationship between our actions and our rewards. Clearly G-d's ways are beyond our comprehension. But that really shouldn't be too much of a surprise. Our intelligence is negligible compared to His, and our attempts to understand the world in which we live and the conditions affecting our lives are doomed to failure. In the Book of Job, G-d upbraids the long-suffering man for trying to understand and explain His ways. Job did not participate in creation or in the “management” of the earth, so he cannot possibly fathom its mysteries or the logic of the Creator. That is one of our teachings – that His ways are not understandable in human terms and that we cannot possibly explain the apparent paradoxes of life. There are no answers. All we can do is accept what we are given – good or bad – as the portion G-d wanted us to have. Theodicy will always be a stumbling block if we let it be.

Theodicy, though, is a strictly human invention. It asks the question, “Can the Creator of good also be the Creator of evil?” It presumes that we know what is “good” and what is “evil.” But we don't. We've coined the words and given them meanings that reflect human prejudices. That's not to say that we shouldn't try to be good, but we should realize that what we're doing is based on our feelings rather than knowledge. In fact, we lack true knowledge of such principles. Indeed, we must lack that knowledge.

But that kind of explanation is unlikely to be very satisfactory to anyone who does not already believe in what may be called a “super-rational”ⁱⁱ system. We are trained in reason – at least reason as we understand it – and we use that system as the benchmark by which we judge everything. We live by the platitude “Man is the measure of all things.” With that as the standard for judging everything, it is not a surprise that we belittle that which we don't comprehend; it is understandable that what we don't recognize as “fair,” must be unfair.

Suppose, however, that we don't know everything. It's not hard to suppose because it's so obvious. Before we could demonstrate their existence, there were electrons; before we had microscopes, there were cells – even if we couldn't see them. And there are still many mysteries for which we have no explanation. In fact, there are some things that will never be explained, because we lack the tools and the wisdom to do so.ⁱⁱⁱ

With that in mind, then, consider the following construct: this world, which is the only one we know, is not the best of all possible worlds. It's a difficult idea for us to comprehend because we know of no other, so we view our existence on this earth as the only existence, and certainly as the only one worth anything. Many people have such a perspective, but not everybody. Perhaps the following analogy is applicable. One who lives in a village in the third world, and who struggles through a life of hardship, may consider that life to be the only possibility. He may not be aware that anything else exists. Another person from the same village, one who has learned of the outside world, may decide, correctly, that life in America would be preferable, so he comes here and enjoys a better life. But he's the exception. What is familiar is – for most people – what is best.

However such a perspective reflects a very narrow view. We fear what we don't know and try to explain what we don't like. So a child may refuse broccoli or Brussels sprouts without even tasting them. “I don't like that.” You've heard it I'm sure. “Like” takes priority over “good.” And we have our own prejudices about what we like, though they may not always be good. Thinking about children again, it is hard to ignore their liking of sugar and “junk” food. They lack the knowledge of what is good for them and judge all things by what they like.

We adults are the same way. We indulge in risky behaviors as well, whether in terms of what we do or what we ingest. Once, when I was in the Air Force, I nearly killed myself while flying. I was in the process of getting a private pilot's license^iv and I crashed and destroyed the plane. But I survived, and I continued with my lessons, eventually getting the license. In retrospect I realize how stupid that was, and that even though I thought I liked what I was doing, I was only trying to prove myself. I liked being able to tell people that I knew how to fly. But now I know that not everything I like – indeed, not everything anyone likes – is right or good.^v And the opposite has merit as well. “The worse it tastes, the better it is for you.” Whether true or not, the saying demonstrates that the correlation between “like” and “good” is not a given. Some of the things we see around us may appear to be good – we may like them – and still be bad, and many of the things that we consider bad – ideas and situations – may be good. Unfortunately^vi we're not wise enough to know.

So let me get back to your original point – that the suffering of children is unfair. It certainly seems that way to me as well, but I yield on any ultimate meanings. I don't know what reward and punishment are, and I don't know what is good and bad. I only know what I like and dislike. Que sera sera. Both of the approaches I've taken really say “I don't know,” but I sometimes rely on the second to provide some ideas to support what may otherwise be viewed as a glib response.^vii If there is such a thing as “free choice,” (as opposed to determinism) it must be the choice to believe that we don't know everything and can't judge everything. We can bewail our fate or believe that, somehow or other, what we view as wrongs will be righted, even if that means we will learn that some of them were not wrongs. So in the meantime, our best option is to do good for others as we see it while we are waiting.

I'm not foolish enough to believe that this will convince you, but it may give you something to think about when mulling over the issue. I apologize for it turning into a long sermon, but when I start it's hard to finish.

See you soon,

Next episode: “They” – Remember. It's not your fault.

i     Especially the footnotes.

ii    Not “irrational,” which is a pejorative term.

iii   Atheists may disagree, believing that science will someday answer all questions. I'm prepared to wait and see.

iv    Don't worry. It wasn't a military plane. It didn't come out of your taxes.

v    I love red meat, especially steak. And I love it fatty, burnt, and with salt. That certainly qualifies as risky behavior, but some habits die hard.

vi    Or, perhaps, fortunately.

vii    I'm not sure it's any less glib than the first, but the thought that went into it is comforting to me.