Ben Z at Mah Rabu has a post on egalitarian issues in marriage entitled Marriage In Generalized Coordinates. He used some advanced math (including Lagrangian mechanics), but his basic point is that since we have not worked out all the kinks in how to do a more egalitarian wedding ceremony, individual people have to do a lot more thinking, compromising, and trial-and-error work than would otherwise be true.
Ben's post raises an interesting general point about the evolution of Jewish practices and their resulting or non-resulting equilibrium. Ben's background is in physics, but mine is in both law and economics. (My use of Lagrange multipliers was limited to solving n-dimensional optimization problems.) And so I approached this issue a little differently.
Here's the problem. Traditional Judaism advocates particular Jewish practices, rituals, and laws. Before the modern age, these were more or less universally accepted as what Judaism advocated, even if particular people might not follow them. (So there was a traditional standard of kashrut, or of shabbat observance, although some people did not keep kosher or shabbat.) But in the modern age, there has been pressure to change some some of these laws in light of modern ideals, especially in the Reform and Conservative world. The problem is that they have not evolved into a single new standard, but have resulted in many people and many communities each doing their own thing.
I am not arguing whether this is good or bad, only that it has happened.
To see the problem, it might be helpful to look at both law and economics. Both of these fields involve evolution. Legal rules change over time, and current American law is quite different from English common law from 700 years ago, even though it evolved from this. But we have a single law (at least in any single jurisdiction) not a bunch of people, each with their own law.
And of course institutions in the economy change and evolve. New companies are created and succeeds, some companies fail, some new product succeed, and others fail. We are constantly getting better mousetraps, but there is a lot of confusion as the "gale of creative destruction" works its toll.
Both the common law and the economy are able to evolve only because of a complex backdrop of institutions. The common law requires a complex set of courts, litigants, parties, legislatures, prior case law, and rules that require general deference but some flexibility when it comes to previous decisions. The economy requires a complex backdrop of property, contract, and tort law, as well as corporate law and bankruptcy law. It also requires risk takers and risk avoiders, financial capital, human capital, and plain old ingenuity. Without all of these institutions, it would be impossible to evolve --- that is, to move from one state to another while still maintaining some continuity with the past.
Jewish law and Jewish practices have a hard time evolving. And perhaps one reason is the lack of institutions that make this possible.
In the Orthodox world, the tendency is not to evolve. The decision rules of halacha are backwards looking. Once prior generations have decided an issue, it is difficult if not impossible to reverse that. There are some modifications in the interstices, but things tend to be pretty static. Of course, this leads to its own problems. In America, Orthodoxy is often out of sync with the broader society, sometimes for better and sometimes for worse. This dissonance leads to problems that Orthodoxy must address, and how to deal with the modern world is one key area that separates Modern Orthodoxy from hareidi Orthodoxy.
In the non-Orthodox world, the goal is to evolve, at least where appropriate. As we reach new understandings of things like Bible criticism, science, feminism, and egalitarianism, we tend to modify or want to modify some rules and practices and beliefs. (Ben Z's marriage discussion is one example of this.) But we lack the institutions to allow this to evolve, as opposed to simply changing into radically decentralized individual decisionmaking.
I think this problem is most acute in the Reform world. With its emphasis on individualism and autonomy, Reform in effect encourages people to make their own decisions. As a result, longstanding practices not only get changed, but they get changed into numerous different things. And this problem will only grow worse over time. It is hard to maintain a community and community standards when everyone in theory is encouraged to do whatever he or she finds meaningful. And this in turn makes it hard for new dominant practices to emerge and to reach new equilibria. As Ben Z noted, there are a lot of people doing a lot of thinking and coming up with a lot of new wedding ceremonies.
The Conservative movement tries to address this problem with the Rabbinical Assembly and to a lesser extent with other central organizations. The problem here is more practical and sociological. Few Conservative Jews pay attention to this. When deciding whether to eat peanut butter during Passover, Conservative Jews weigh many different considerations, but reviewing the RA's teshuvah on this issue is probably not high on the list. Thus, despite some institutional structure leading to centralized decisionmaking, and thus possibly to new equilibria, these institutions might not have sufficient power, or even social pressure, to produce new practices.
The result of all of this is that over time, Orthodoxy may grow more out of sync with the rest of the world, while Reform and Conservative Judaism may grow out of sync with traditional Judaism with themselves.
Of course, it is not clear that this is a problem. It may be that the lack of a single equilibrium is on balance beneficial. Different communities can have different standards, and people will go where they are most comfortable. But it has costs too, as Ben's example illustrates. There is not a single (or even a small set) of egalitarian wedding ceremonies that have commanded universal acceptance. So Ben, his wife, and lots of other people spend a lot of time thinking about and inventing such ceremonies.
If this is a problem, the solution for Reform and Conservative Jews is to devise some institutional structures that can provide a counterbalance to the decentralizing and centrifugal forces already in operation. (See Ben - I can use physics terms too.) I am not sure what these institutions are, though. They do not have to be central organizations of rabbis (although that may be part of it), and they will need to have broader popular appeal.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
The Evolution or Non-Evolution of Jewish Practices and Law
Thursday, June 19, 2008
Doing The Right Thing
What matters most to me about Judaism (and religion in general) is how -- or, regrettably, in some cases, whether -- it empowers people to "do the right thing." Making better people and making people better is more important to me than abstract philosophical inquiry and speculation. To put it another way, I am much more interested in Jewish values than Jewish metaphysics.
One way to think about how Judaism makes me, or anyone, a better person, is to describe how Jewish values and practice operate as a sort of two-step process: 1) helping people to understand what the "right thing" is, and 2) helping people to actually DO the right thing once they know what it is.
When we think about the first step -- figuring out "right and wrong" -- Jewish law and wisdom is obviously encyclopedic and, in my opinion, Jewish values are remarkably subtle and penetrating. But there is a further distinction with regard to this first step that I find useful.
On one level, Jewish values identify ethical behavior in a variety of contexts that most people (read: most people I know, or know of, including non-Jews) would immediately identify as "ethically charged." That is, in situations where wide agreement prevails that there "is" an "ought to" -- sometimes very easy to identify, sometimes not so easy, and sometimes very difficult.
But on another level, Judaism expands the universe of normative ethics into contexts that I do not believe most people would find to be obviously a matter of ethics at all. By way of example, this might include being cheerful, not smoking, or observing kashrut. (I find the line between "ritual" and "ethical" mitzvot blurry at best.) So, Jewish values not only help provide the right "choice" in moral dilemmas (or where no dilemma presents itself -- people are rarely "torn" about whether to commit wanton murder); they also define the landscape of ethical human action to include many things that might not so obviously have a moral component. Insofar as we find these Jewish values important and worthwhile, this is a very good thing. Indeed, the farther we move away from the obviously ethical -- that is, those questions of human action where there is vast agreement of a moral component and vast agreement of the "right answer" -- the more important these values become as an agent for positive change in people and in the world.
Turning to the second step, Jewish practice provides a rigorous web for reinforcing and living these values. Jewish prayer is replete with admonitions that are designed not so much to teach us what the right thing is as to help us actually do it, if by no more subtle a method than putting certain obligations in the forefront of our mind. I agree wholeheartedly with non-religionists that one does not need God or religion, neither as a conceptual nor a practical matter, to know right from wrong or to do right and not wrong. But I also point out that it helps me a lot to regularly pray, "to honor father and mother," "to visit the sick," "to make peace where there is strife," "keep my tongue from evil and my lips from lies," "let me be humble in the presence of all," and so on.
In addition, the Jewish synagogue and the Jewish community obviously provide a communal structure for living Jewish values -- of tzedakah, of tikkun olam, of acts of loving kindness. Again, while these religious institutions are by no means the unique agent of reinforcing positive values and putting them into action, they have been doing quite a good job of this for quite a long time. And because these institutions are so integrated into the daily lives of their members, as individuals and as families, they can be more effective than most other civic and charitable organizations that promote similar values. (Naturally, as has been discussed elsewhere on this blog, there are also lots of other reasons for Jews to live a Jewish life and, correspondingly, affiliate with a synagogue.)
At the intersection of these two "steps" -- which are much more intertwined than this discussion implies -- is sensitivity. Speaking very personally, I see this process of moral education and reinforcement as a process of making me more sensitive to people and to doing the right thing. I can't possibly overstate the importance of this type of sensitivity. I know too many people who spend a lot of time thinking and debating about moral philosophy and political philosophy, but are not all that kind, or loving, or generous. They sometimes appear to be more interested in ideas than anything else. Of course, far more common, are people who simply do not have these values in the forefront of their mind or their behavior. This doesn't mean they are bad or evil people; in most cases, thankfully, it is quite to the contrary. But my personal experience has taught me that I become a better person -- a better husband, a better father, a better friend, a better boss, a better teacher -- when I keep these values vitally present in my mind and in my heart.
Finally, I want to stress that my discussion here is obviously personal, and furthermore focused on personal ethics -- that is, how I conduct myself in my interpersonal relationships (not merely with friends and intimates, but with all other people). I have completely ignored a set of questions raised in other threads about how to demonstrate or "prove" that these Jewish values are good, and on what basis they might be "enforced" on others. ("How do we convince the would-be murderer that he's wrong and we're right, and on what moral authority do we restrain or punish him?") As has been debated in these other threads, I believe questions of how governments or other rule-making authorities -- who can promulgate and enforce values as laws -- function ethically or morally ("legitimately" might be more apt) is a different (albeit related) matter. Questions of how these governments relate ethically or morally to each other on the international stage is still another step removed. I plan to address these matters in a future post.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
Mix and Match
One issue that often arises in liberal Judaism (and arose in an earlier comment) is why should a Jew be limited to just Jewish practices and idea. Lots of people have good ideas. And if the mitzvot are not literally commanded by God, then why not adopt these other good ideas too. Christmas and Easter are pleasant, even for Jews, and especially if one is not too literal. But why stop there? Celebrate Kwanzaa, meditate with the Buddhists, get married with Sufi wedding rituals, adopt a Kantian ethic (or Aristotelian, or Ayn-Randian), study Talmud, and be a citizen of the world.
There are many responses to this question, lots of them unpersuasive. But there are at least three that I have found compelling, and one reason for actually adopting at least some non-Jewish practices or beliefs.
First, it is not so easy to mix and match like this. There is not that much play in the joints. Beliefs and rituals and holidays do not exist in isolation; they are part of a larger coherent (or at least largely coherent) system. And many practices work well together, but do not work well with other practices, even though those other practices work well together. Ice cream is good and sauerkraut is good, but ice cream and sauerkraut together are not good. You are better off just picking one.
In Judaism, there is a tight linkage, for example, between the Torah, the holidays, and the Jewish people. The story of Passover is told in the Torah. It is about the Jewish people being liberated from slavery. The actual commandments to celebrate Passover are in the Torah. We eat matzah on Passover, as commanded in the Torah, to remind us of our Jewish ancestors (not just someone in general) who did the same thing.
In Christianity, Easter celebrates the death and resurrection of Jesus. Jesus died for everyone's sins, and by adopting Jesus as our personal savior, we can be saved.
These are two very different belief systems, and while they don't literally contradict each other, they just don't fit together all that well. They reflect different ideas of redemption, different views of the relative importance of this world and the next world, and different fundamental approaches to behavior and belief. Jews look to Jewish history or myths or culture and use these to reflect broader universal themes. Christians look to universal themes themselves, and Jesus is a model of universal values. The question "What would Jesus do?" has no real analogue in Judaism. Jews look to laws and rules; Christians to broader ideas of love and sacrifice. Much can be said about all this, but my purpose here is not to discuss the particulars in any detail, although I do have to concede that bunnies and chocolate and candy beat the heck out of plagues and bitter herbs and matzah. My purpose here is simply to note that these two belief systems and these two holidays reflect different ways of thinking about, and participating in, life. Not really contradictory ways, but ice cream and sauerkraut are not contradictory either. They just don't blend well.
The second reason for avoiding a free-for-all mix-and-match is that Jewish practices are after all Jewish practices. They are ours. I love my wife and kids, and I like my house a lot. Other people have wonderful wives, kids, and houses. But mine are mine, and theirs are theirs. I can appreciate theirs, but I do not want to marry their wives, adopt their kids, and move into their house. (Well, actually, some houses are a closer call.) Part of the reason is that the value of my relationship with, and love for, my wife and kids is based on my prior experiences with them. My wife and kids are really and actually part of me. And as I build and expand on those relationships and experiences, they becomes even more a part of me. And to a lesser degree, my relationship with my house, a physical object, works the same way. It is a special place because of the specialness that my family and I have created here. Other houses might be great, but ours is special to us.
The same is true of Judaism. The value of Passover, to continue the analogy, is my decades of experience with Passovers. And my family's and community's experience, and my ancestors' experience, and my descendants' expected experiences. I am linked to all of this, and it is part of who I am. And Easter is simply not. So as much as I like the bunnies and chocolate, I'll stick with the bitter herbs and matzah.
The third reason is closely related to the second: it helps builds communities. My family, Jewish friends, and members of my synagogue celebrate Passover. We can invite them over, share stories, discuss what went right and wrong with the seder, offer suggestions on how to make it more meaningful, and in the process grow closer. If they doing something else, this would be lost.
The bottom line is that we do not write on a blank slate. We have strong connections specifically to Jewish practices and ideas. It is not all that easy, and often not very desirable, to sever that connection and link up with some other practices or ideas.
But none of these arguments completely preclude other ideas or practices from influencing or being incorporated into Judaism. There are many non-Jewish practices or ideas that complement Judaism nicely or even warrant modifications to Jewish practices or idea, and Judaism has always been influenced by such ideas and practices. The Passover seder is based on a Greek symposium. Maimonides drew heavily on Muslim Arab philosophers and Aristotle. And today, American Jews have elevated the importance of the otherwise minor rabbinic holiday of Channukah, largely oblivious to the irony of partially assimilating with a holiday that celebrates zealously not assimilating.
It is not clear what exactly distinguishes practices that should be adopted from practices that should not. But a few factors come to mind. The new practices that were incorporated into Judaism occurred gradually, were adopted by entire communities not just individuals, and did not conflict with existing ideas of Judaism. (Maimonides' view did sharply conflict, but he eventually won the battle.) This is a far cry from individuals simply picking the practices or beliefs that they find appealing from all of the world's religious and secular culture.
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