A Generation Without Sacrifices

We are the blessed generations. We, the Boomer and Gen Xers of North America, have had it better than any other generation in history. No Holocaust, no Communism, no World Wars, and no Great Depression. We can take for granted exceptional wealth as well as unprecedented luxuries and technologies. 21st century North America appears to be a contemporary Garden of Eden.

At the center of this Garden of Eden stands the consumer. A culture of consumerism worships the individual, catering to every possible appetite. Advertising campaigns feature taglines like “because you’re worth it” and “for me, myself and I”. The service sector keeps growing economically, and the customer is king. Consumers are entertained and pampered, and offered exotic pleasures. It’s a great time to be alive.

Yet there is trouble in this new paradise. People simply aren’t happy. Remarkably, even though life has vastly improved in the past century, research shows that people actually feel less happy than previous generations. (Greg Easterbrook has called this “The Progress Paradox”). Apparently, happy lives require more than “me, myself and I”.

I was considering this “progress paradox” while reading the Biblical narrative of Akeidat Yitzchak, the binding of Isaac. In this narrative, Abraham is told by God to sacrifice his son Isaac; and Abraham is immediately ready to comply with God’s command.

Most people are extremely disturbed by this narrative. It is of course disturbing on a moral level: How could God command Abraham to commit murder? But the text also disturbs us because it is so foreign. Abraham’s selflessness is out of place in a self centered culture of consumerism. And that’s precisely our problem.

I believe the Akeidah holds the answer to the “progress paradox”. Without character, material comfort is meaningless. The extreme self-sacrifice of the Akeidah will hopefully never be necessary; yet the selflessness Abraham displayed is a basic ingredient to living a good life. Overindulgence is a series of empty comforts, but an altruistic sacrifice is not only meaningful, but actually makes you happier.

The Akeidah’s message needs to be heard more clearly. Wendy Mogel, a psychologist working with an affluent clientele, felt frustrated by problems that seemed to transcend her therapeutic techniques. She realized that her clients were not suffering from psychological problems, but rather from parental overindulgence and overprotection. What they really needed was solid values to anchor their families. In response to their problems, she wrote a book entitled “The Blessings of a Skinned Knee: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self Reliant Children”. Genuine happiness requires serious values, values that include antiquated notions like self control and selflessness.

Yet these values are usually ignored. Some couples will refuse to have an additional child because it’ll dent their standard of living. They assume this will make them happy, yet this is a tragic mistake. By trading in their baby for a BMW, they have performed a bizarre 21st century Akeidah, sacrificing children for material goods. This faux Akeidah is a recipe for a meaningless, materialistic life.

It’s time to unravel the “progress paradox”. We must learn that values are more important than vanity, and noble sacrifices actually pay dividends.

Senseless Fate, Meaningful Destiny

It doesn’t make sense. Recently, the absurdity of fate has dominated the headlines. An outgoing 18 year old, Anastasia De Sousa, goes to school in the morning; a gunmen bursts into her school, Dawson College, and she’s shot dead. A highway overpass collapses, killing 5 young people. Beyond the headlines, everyone has been personally touched by an absurd tragedy. Fate seems senseless.

Fate’s absurdity engenders strange reactions. Some of us become superstitious, nervously clutching rabbit’s foots and red strings, hoping these will bring us luck. Others become fatalistic. While visiting Northern Israel during the Lebanese war, I asked our driver Ofer if he was worried about the Kaytushas raining down. He said no, because ‘when it’s your time it’s your time’.

Fate often seems unjust, and the unanswered question of blind fate makes philosophers of us all. Some are certain that they can explain every twist of fate, secure in the knowledge that someone else’s sins are the source of all suffering. Others are angry at God and the world, upset that the utopian vision of their childhood has been shattered by reality.

I have an aversion to these philosophical ruminations. Personally, I prefer the view of the Mishnah in Pirkei Avot, that says we simply do not know why the wicked prosper or the righteous suffer. By accepting fate as a mystery, at least it won’t be an insult, an affront to the victims who are often blamed for their own misfortune.

Fate doesn’t require an answer, it requires a response. Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik notes there are two phases of life: fate and destiny. At times man is passive and helpless, a mere object of fate. At other times, man can take control of his environment and become the master of his own destiny. Most of life seems to fluctuate between moments of fate and moments of destiny. However, even in our worst moments, fate does not reign supreme; we can always choose how we respond to fate.

It is in the response that a meaningful destiny is found. Do we respond with cowardice and confusion, or with a sense of higher purpose? We can choose either to surrender to fate or to struggle for a meaningful destiny.

Rabbi Seth Mandell recently told me a story. (Seth directs a foundation in memory of his son Koby, who was murdered in a terror attack. The foundation runs camps for children who have lost a family member to terror.) A girl in his camp was so grief-stricken that she had begun to cut herself on the wrist. On the first day of camp, the girl’s counselor saw the cut and remarked “time heals all wounds”. The girl angrily reacted and said “it does not”, a global reference to all wounds, both psychic and physical. The counselor persevered in befriending the girl. Towards the end of the camp, the girl stopped cutting herself and the wound healed. Noticing this, the counselor lightheartedly remarked “I guess time does heal all wounds.” The girl responded: “no, it does not…. But love heals all wounds”.

This phrase is a formula for transforming fate into destiny. Fate may cut us deeply, and leave us angry and confused. But with a little bit of love, we can still find a way to heal our wounds and reclaim control of our destiny.

Bring Them Home

A new post on my other website, about Gilad Shalit, Eldad Regev and Ehud Goldwasser.

New Post on My Other Website

I'm trying to stay disciplined, and use this website for insights into life in general, and the other one for issues specifically related to politics, Israel and Judaism. Here's the link.

Is Freedom Normal?

There's an interesting piece in today's Jerusalem Post by Michael Freund. He makes the argument Al Qaeda and their fellow fanatics will be a fleeting historical phenomena:

"Like the Communists, Islamic fundamentalists seek global domination, and they have no qualms about murdering the innocent to further their goals. Their aims are totalitarian, and their means are depraved. As US President George W. Bush pointed out in a speech last October, these two ideologies both speak of justice and devotion, but offer only oppression and misery in their stead.

Ultimately, however, the fundamentalists will fail, just as the Communists did, because both seek to vanquish the basic human desire for freedom."

I'd like to agree with the argument, but wonder if freedom is really that "normal". Westerners take it for granted that one should be free; however, it is hard to say this is a normative assumption in most societies. From Pharoah, who thinks the idea of universal freedom to be comical, to Aristotle, who believes people are naturally masters or slaves, to the multiple totalitarian regimes around the world, there is no shortage of societies that believe freedom to be abnormal.

So, I guess I'm not sure if the argument is true, but certainly hope so!!

Weddings During Wartime

There is a time for everything. Even emotions must follow an etiquette of proper timing. As Ecclesiastes says: “There is a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance”.

This summer, I had a full slate of summer weddings at the same time that the war in Israel was going on. At times, I’d enter a celebration right after hearing bad news on the radio. I wondered whether this was the right time to rejoice.

It’s insensitive to ignore communal suffering. Jewish tradition obligates everyone to reduce frivolous activities during a time of crisis. (One view even requires couples to diminish marital relations). This tradition added to my difficulty: how can we celebrate when Israel is suffering?

The Jewish calendar offers a solution to this dilemma. In Talmudic times, a singles holiday was held on Tu b’Av, the fifteenth day of Av. Young men and women would gather at celebrations to find a match. It was the most joyous of holidays in the Jewish calendar.

However, the Tu b’Av tradition is strange. Just six days earlier is the ninth of Av, the day we mourn the destruction of the two Temples. Isn’t it deeply inappropriate to have a single’s holiday right after a day of mourning?

The answer is that joy plays many functions. Joy can be a diversion, a frivolous distraction. In times of tragedy, such a celebration is insensitive because it ignores the suffering of others. However, joy is also a genuine response to tragedy.

After a tragedy, we can remain frozen, unable to continue on. Unfortunately, by refusing to live life to the fullest, we will have allowed the tragedy to claim a new victim, and enlarged the scope of destruction. Mourning can collaborate with death, allowing death to overtake the living. In these moments, one must celebrate to assert that life goes on.

Tu b’Av teaches us that a good wedding is a genuine response to tragedy. The Talmud says that when a bride and groom rejoice, it is as if a section of Jerusalem has been rebuilt. By marrying, the young couple have reversed the tide of tragedy, and have taken a step on the road to redemption.

In the first week of the war, Shlomi Boskila and Maya Lugasi got married in northern Israel. Because of Kaytusha attacks, they couldn’t use the hall they had booked, so they got married in a bomb shelter. Their new venue may have been cramped and the crowd small, yet their wedding made a huge statement. As Boskilla put it: "This shows … that not even 20,000 missiles can destroy the happiness of the bride and groom". In times of tragedy, a wedding like this that expresses courage and affirms life is exactly what is needed.

There is a time for everything. Sometimes, wartime is the right time for a wedding too.

Hi! I've started to post articles on the current situation at this URL