Project of IISHJ

Humanism and Reform

Humanistic Judaism, Summer/Autumn 1977, (vol. 5 no. 2, p11-12)

This issue is about Congregation Beth Or. Congregation Beth Or was a Reform Congregation. It is now a humanistic one.

Beth Or is humanistic – because of the special power and integrity of its rabbi, Daniel Friedman – and also because of the unique courage and hutspa of its own members.

Beth Or is also humanistic because Reform Judaism is less than it should be.

The Jewish Reformers of the nineteenth century prided themselves on being the Avant Garde of religious innovation – the rescuers of Jewish identity for the age of science. They saw themselves as bold and radical – eager to remodel the structure of Jewish authority.

The Jewish Reformers of the late twentieth century are tired and cautious. They pride themselves on their return to tradition. Preferring nostalgia to creativity, they have become the promoters of Halachic antiquities. Fearful of Orthodox and Conservative disapproval, they label every surrender to old authority as a concession to the unity of the Jewish people. All the hutspa is gone. All the radical passion is absent. Pleading for the approval of the past, they have no energies left to deal with the future.

What happened?

Not really very much.

From the very beginning the radical image of Reform was more glitter than substance. Using a Protestant model, the early reformers tried to demonstrate that Orthodox Judaism had betrayed the real Jewish past. Reform Judaism was not new at all. It was simply the revival of the original teachings of the great Jewish prophets.

From the very beginning Reform presented itself as ultimately traditional.

And that was silly.

Reform Jewish behavior, as any mildly retarded observer would have noticed, had nothing at all to do with the tradition. Not only would the Talmudic rabbi have found it offensive, the Biblical prophets would have preferred Astarte worship to Abraham Geiger.

The early Reformers were forced to distort the story of the Jewish past in order to kosherize the Jewish present. It never occurred to them that kosherizing was unnecessary. Admitting innovation has greater dignity than depriving heroic figures of the past their real thoughts and feelings.

If the Talmud was essentially irrelevant to the Western urban life-style, then the Torah was even worse. Protestant Biblical piety is a joke among people who want to be winners in a secular world.

In the end, Reform – and, most of all, classical Reform chose the Bible as the ultimate sacred Jewish symbol. The religious energies could no longer be directed to real creativity. It had to be wasted proving the unprovable • demonstrating that the spirit of the Torah was essentially the same as the spirit of humanistic science.

Reform Judaism lacked courage. In the desperate effort of social climbing, classical Reform tried to please the Protestant Establishment. In the guilty response to this desperate effort, the new Reform tries to please traditional Jews.

The net result is humiliation and fiasco. Because, quite frankly, nobody can do Protestantism better than Protestants. And nobody can do traditional Judaism better than traditional Jews.

In both cases, Reform started out as the victim of other people’s initiative — a second-rate imitation of what the imitators could do better. Behind the radical mouth lay the obsequious need to please. Reform sought out its own oppressors.

When the Protestant bourgeoisie lost their clout, Conservative Judaism moved in to terrorize. Once the enormous social snobbery of German Jews was overwhelmed by Russian Jewish success, the social barriers that made Reform seem boldly anti-traditional broke down. Reform Judaism was then able to show its true colors.

It is not true as many latter relics of the old classical Reform have maintained, that the old Reform was truly radical before it was destroyed by the new Reform. The need to apologize is intrinsic to both varieties.

The greatest ‘crime’ of both old and new Reformers is that, in the name of serving tradition, they distort it. Unable to stand up courageously to the hostility of their ancestors, they preferred to do cheap psychotherapy. The search for ‘roots’ became the search for approval.

Humanistic Judaism is an attempt to do what Reform Judaism should have done. Its main concern is not with the past. It looks to the future. Whether the past loves us or hates us is irrelevant to our long-run welfare. Whether the future consequences of our present behavior love or hate us does make a difference.

We ought to understand our past without needing it. To feel that insight is true liberation.

Freedom Service

Humanistic Judaism, Autumn/Winter 1975/6, pages 18-21

OPENING SONG

SHA-LOM LA-RA-HOF V’-LA-KA-ROV

Let the freedom of peace fill the world.

 

OPENING WORDS

Freedom is power.

The power to know oneself.

The power to understand others.

The power to control fear.

The power to pursue life.

 

MEDITATION

Freedom is a magical word… Most people like the sound of the word. Most people say they want to be free.

Can a man be free if he is a prisoner?

Can a prisoner of ignorance be free?

Can a prisoner of fear be free?

Can a prisoner of other men’s opinions be free?

Can a man without power be free?

Freedom is the power to know oneself. Without self-insight there is no liberty. To be out of contact with one’s inner feelings and thoughts is to live in the jail of one’s own ignorance. No man can be free if he is the puppet of wants and desires he cannot control. Liberty is an illusion when men do not know why they are driven to do what they do. Lust, hate and envy are human and normal. But they love to hide behind respectable excuses. Freedom is the power to know them intimately, so that they become our servants – and not our masters.

 

SONG

HA-NA-A-VA BA-BA-NOT

A-NA HA-EE-REE PA-NIE-YIKH AY-LIE

Let the beauty of free people shine upon us.

 

MEDITATION

Freedom is the power to understand others. We live in a world of spoken goodwill. Parents, friends, teachers and public leaders – all inform us that our welfare is their special concern, our happiness their special desire. If we are naive, we become the victims of propaganda. We become the prisoners of speech. Genuine goodwill can be easily distinguished from false affection. It passes from the tongue to the hands and feet. It becomes action and behavior. Freedom is the ability to tell the difference between those who really care and those who pretend to. Liberty is the power to see the hate through loving words, the wisdom to see the love shining through dark anger.

Freedom is the power to control fear. When our fears and anxieties overwhelm us, they paralyze our will. We cannot choose between alternatives. We cannot make decisions. As weak and dependent children we seek the protection of a strong father who will assume the burden of our will, who will tell us what to do. Many people crave obedience and slavery. It makes everything more secure, more predictable. Gods and dictators may indeed be bossy. They may be pushy and oppressive. But they love to take responsibility. Rational fear is the fear of losing control. Irrational fear is the fear of being in control. No man can be free who refuses his own power.

 

SONG

A-NEE MA-A-MEEN BE-E-MOO-NA SH’-LAY-MA B’-VEE-AT HA-MA-SHEE-AKH

I believe with all my hope in the ultimate triumph of freedom.

 

MEDITATION

Freedom is the power to love oneself when others don’t. As little children we need the approval of our community – we crave the acceptance of our parents and teachers. As little children we need to please – in order to survive – in order to achieve our self-respect. We cannot love ourselves unless other people love us first.

Many men and women are physical adults. But they remain spiritual children. They possess an insatiable need to please – a fearful desire to win the approval of others – an eternal wish to conform to the expectations of their peers and superiors. They are prisoners of their childhood. Hostility and disapproval terrorize them. Public opinion fills them with dread. Self-respect eludes them. They become the perennial followers – who never create • who never resist. In their drive to win the love of others, they come to hate themselves. They despise their weakness and bear contempt for their continuing surrender. No laws and no police restrict their activity. But they are not free.

Genuine liberty is the careful strength to say no when others say yes – to say yes when others say no.

 

SONG

HA-NA-A-VA BA-BA-NOT

A-NA HA-EE-REE PA-NIE-YIKH AY-LIE

Let the beauty of free people shine upon us.

 

MEDITATION

Freedom is the power to release the past. It is the good humor to give up what cannot be altered – the easiness to surrender what cannot be changed. Countless men and women live in the prison of their past. They are the tortured victims of their memories. They are the martyr slaves of their regrets. The present and the future hold no special challenge to them. They are merely opportune moments to reflect on old pleasure and on old pain. What might have been is an obsession. What could be is scarcely a thought.

The free man learns from the past. But he does not live there. He does not seek to recapture old pain. He works to achieve new pleasure. He does not need to survive on the faded memories of faded happiness. He strives to create new joy. He uses the past to fashion a more interesting future.

 

MEMORIAL TRIBUTE

 

Y’-HEE SHA-LOM TO-VA OO-V’-RA-KHA KHAYN VA-HE-SED OO-V’-RA-KHA-MEEM

Let peace, love and true freedom pervade our lives.

 

CEREMONY

(Barmitsva, Confirmation, Naming)

 

MENORAH CEREMONY

 

Freedom is power

The power to know oneself

The power to understand others

The power to control fear

The power to pursue life.

 

Freedom is light.

The light to see the reality of oneself

The light to see the reality of others

The light to dispel the darkness of fear

The light to reveal the path of life.

 

SONG

 

BA-ROOKH HA-OR BA-O-LAM

BA-ROOKH HA-OR BA-A-DAM

BA-ROOKH HA-OR SHEL KHAY-ROOT

Radiant is the light of the world

Radiant is the light of man.

Radiant is the light of freedom.

 

CLOSING WORDS AND CLOSING SONG

Humanistic Judaism – A Religion

 

Humanistic Judaism, Autumn/Winter 1975-6, (vol. 4 no. 1, p13-17)

In recent years I have encountered a persistent objection to the vocabulary of the Birmingham Temple. Many perceptive and sensitive observers have affirmed the value of the Temple philosophy and program. They readily acknowledge that the group work and fellowship are meaningful experiences. But they counter with the objection, “How can you call your organization a Temple?” Humanism may be a ‘great’ philosophy of life. It may even be the ideological answer to man’s twentieth century needs. Yet, if there is one thing it isn’t, it isn’t a religion. If you’re so concerned about the meticulous use of vocabulary that you abstain from God-language, why then would you not be equally careful with the word ‘religion’?

The question is a significant one. If we are going to designate our philosophy and institution as religious, then we must be as precise and accurate with the phrases we employ as we expect the theologian to be with the words he uses. After all, there is something called the ethics of words. One has a moral obligation to be faithful to the historic meaning of ordinary words.

Now to discover the authentic significance of ‘religion’ we must clarify the unique characteristics of the religious experience. It will not do to either arbitrarily pick a definition that is convenient to one’s vested interest or to cite those qualities of the experience that it shares with other human possibilities. A proper definition must rely on what is peculiar to the event under analysis. Nor will selecting a vague phrase that makes ‘religion’ the sura total of everything promote understanding. To define religion as ‘the pursuit of fulfillment’ or ‘the pursuit of salvation’ or ‘the act of relating to the universe as a whole’ is to consign the term to the limbo of words that have lots of prestige but refer to nothing in particular. For after all, what human activity from psychiatry to politics is not concerned with human fulfillment? And what human procedure does not involve relating to the universe ‘as a whole’?

Initially we must do away with the verbal debris; we must clarify what religion is not. Many liberals are fond of designating the religious experience as the moral dimension of human life, as the ethical commitment of the individual. However, while it is certainly true that all historic religions have been vitally concerned with social right and wrong, it is also true that there are hosts of activities, normally designated as religious, that have nothing at all to do with ethical propriety. Lighting candles and celebrating spring festivals are part of piety and morally neutral. Moreover, large numbers of sincere and sensitive people think of themselves and are regarded by others as both ethical and nonreligious.

Many popular definers prefer to associate religion with the act of faith as opposed to the procedures of empirical reasoning. Religion is viewed as a unique approach to questions of truth. While this definition may be attractive by its simplicity, it will not “hold water”. Certainly the act of reasoning through observable evidence is common to parts of all sacred scriptures; and the procedure of intuitive trust in the truthfulness of self-proclaimed authorities is as common to the daily procedures of politics and business as it is to those endeavors that are normally regarded as religious.

As for the persistent attempts to identify religion with the worship of God, they may be appropriate within the narrow framework of Western culture but invalid universally. The Confucian ethical tradition and the Buddhist Nirvana are religiously as significant as God and yet are quite distinct from the normal notion of deity. Nor will the Julian Huxley definition of the religious experience as the apprehension of the sacred quite do. To simply describe the sacred as that which is able to arouse awe, wonder, and reverence is to identify its consequences but not to clarify the nature of its constituent parts. Without analysis the definition simply substitutes one mystery for another.

A proper view of religion requires an honest confrontation with certain historical realities. Too often clerical liberals choose to designate what is ’unpleasant’ about traditional religious practice as secondary and peripheral. They refuse to confront the possibility that what they stand for may in any way be ‘less religious’ than what the traditionalists proclaim.

In a culture where to be ‘more religious’ is to be more respectable, the refusal is understandable although it is hardly conducive to an objective study of religion.

What are the historical realities which our study cannot ignore? Six facts are most significant.

(1) In almost every culture religious institutions are the most conservative. It is historically demonstrable that ecclesiastical procedures change more slowly than other social patterns. Ideas which are regarded as radical and revolutionary within the framework of church and synagogue are usually regarded as commonplace in other areas of human behavior. While most institutions resist change, organized religion has been the most supportive of the status quo. Intrinsic to established ‘priesthoods’ is the notion that change may be necessary but not desirable.

(2) Religious teachers and prophets persistently refuse to admit that their ideas are new. If they do, the indispensable sacred character of their revelations disappear. From Moses to Bahaullah the religious radical must always demonstrate that he is, in reality, the most genuine of conservatives. Moses pleaded the endorsement of Abraham; Jesus insisted that he was but the fulfiller of old prophecies. Mohammed posed as the reviver of pure monotheism; and Luther claimed that he desired only to restore the pristine and authentic Christianity. As for Confucius, he denied originality and attributed all his wisdom to old emperors. Even the Jewish Reformers vehemently affirmed that they were guilty of no basic novelty but were simply recapturing the true message of the true Prophets. No historic religious ‘genius’ has ever desired to claim a new idea. Change is made to appear an illusion. ‘New’ concepts are either old ones long forgotten or old ones reinterpreted. Novelty is historically irreligious.

(3) In ordinary English the word ‘religious’ is usually equivalent to the Yiddish ‘frumm’. Both adjectives are tied up with the notion of ritualism. An individual is judged as ‘more religious’ or ‘less religious’ by the degree of his ritual behavior. The liberal may protest that this usage is narrow and primitive. But he still has to explain why even sophisticated speakers? then they relax with the word ‘religious’ and are non-defensive, choose to associate it with repetitive ceremonies.

(4) The annual cycle of seasons, as well as the life cycle of human growth and decay are universal concerns of all organized religions. Spring and puberty may have no apparent ethical dimension but they are certainly more characteristic of historic religious interest than social action. We may deplore the religious obsession with Barmitsva. But then, after all, we have to explain it.

(5) Despite Whitehead’s popular definition of religion as that, which man does with his solitude, most religious activities have to do with group action. In most cultures sacred events are not separable from either family loyalty or national patriotism. The very word ‘religio’ is a Roman term for the sum of public ceremonies that express the allegiance of the citizen to the state. Even the ancestor cult which defines the popular religion of most of the Eastern world is an act of group loyalty that diminishes the significance of the isolated individual and enhances the importance of family continuity. Historic religion started with the group and is not easily separable from it.

(6) The notion of the saint or the holy man permeates most religious cultures. This revered individual achieves his status not only because of his impeccable ritual and moral behavior but also because he is able to enjoy the summit of the religious experience. To be able to transcend this messy world of space-time change and to unite mystically with what is beyond change, space and time is his special forte. The mystic experience has almost universally been regarded as the supreme religious event and the entree into the supernatural.

Any adequate theory about the nature of the religious experience and its unique characteristics must be able to explain these six facts. It must find the common cord that binds these disparate events together. While many factors can account for some of them, only one theory takes care of all of them. And this theory is inseparable from the initial concern of historic philosophy.

It is interesting to note that the origin of philosophic inquiry and metaphysics lies in a disdain for the sensible world of continual change and, in a persistent love of what is eternal and beyond decay. Plato was adored by later theologians because of his ‘religious’ temperament. He detested the world of impermanence and asserted that wisdom was only concerned with entities that never change. The chaotic world of space-time events which modern science investigates was anathema to his pursuit of knowledge. If the Greeks were unable to develop the rudiments of a real empiricism, herein lay their problem. Whatever they searched for had to be deathless and eternal.

In fact, the search for the deathless is the psychic origin of the religious experience. The human individual is a unique animal. He alone is fully aware of his personal separateness from other members of his species and conscious of the temporary nature of his own existence. He fears death and needs to believe that dying is an illusion. In his anxiety he probes the world for persons and forces which enjoy the blessing of immortality. With these he seeks to identify and find the thrill of being part of something ‘bigger than me.’ The religious experience is universally an act of feeling ‘at one with’ what seems to possess the aura of eternity.

If we take this definition, and test it by the evidence, it works superbly. It explains the essentially conservative nature of historic religion. Change, experiment, and mere opinion are in spirit nonreligious. Only eternal truths will do. All seeming change is pure illusion; and even the most radical steps must be covered up by the cloak of ‘reinterpretation.’ The definition also clarifies why all new truths must be labelled as old. The religious temperament requires the solace of age, and venerability. Even if the good word is humanly new, it turns out to be ‘divinely old.

The theory explains the religious power of ritual. Traditional ceremony is not significant because of its ethical symbolism; that excuse is a sop for the modern intellect. Ritual acts derive their psychic punch from the fact that they are meticulously identical and repetitive. In a world of continual and frightening change they give to human behavior the feeling of eternity. Their power is not symbolic; it is intrinsic to the ceremony itself. New observances that are labelled as new may be aesthetically charming, but they lack the religious dimension. As for the seasons and life-cycle events, what greater evidence is required to substantiate the thesis? Societies may undergo revolutions and violent social upheaval; they may experience the overthrow of every existing value and idea. But the explosion is powerless to alter the relentless sequence of spring, summer, fall, winter – birth, puberty, maturity, and death. Nothing is more ‘eternal’ than the seasons. Their continual repetition is an ultimate ‘security’.

Moreover, the group character of most religious observance reflects the human desire for permanence. The family and the nation have always been inseparable from the major religious experiences of any culture, simply because they suggest the immortality the individual does not. And the mystic experience is equally explained by this need to defeat change and death. The ecstasy of the ‘saint’ is rationalized as an encounter with the changeless. To ‘transcend’ the world of space and time may be informationally absurd; but as an exclamation of victory over the fear of death it has emotional significance.

If then the unique character of the religious experience is the act of identifying with what appears to be ‘permanent’, a proper understanding of humanism requires the following observations.

(1) The religious temperament and the pursuit of knowledge through empirical procedures are incompatible. Humanism is committed to the techniques of modern science; and all proper statements within the framework are tentative, subject to the refutation of future evidence. Empiricism cannot tolerate eternal truths about man and the universe. The conditional character of all knowledge with an infinite capacity for adjustment is its special power and glory. Whenever the religious need and the pursuit of truth come together there is disaster. The Greeks prove that point magnificently: they could never end up being interested in what was tentative and conditional.

(2) Humanism is a total philosophy of life, which does not allow the religious temperament to invade every area of its discipline. However, there is one aspect of living where religion is indispensable. If man has a need to transcend his temporariness and identify with something or someone more permanent than the individual ‘I’, this need cannot be ignored. Within the framework of humanism, two ways of satisfaction exist. By asserting that every man is composed of the same matter – energy – that all other events in the universe derive from, humanistic teaching affirms that each of us shares an intimate bond, a basic identity, with any conceivable happening in this universe. Stars and flowers are material brothers to our nature. And by proclaiming that before and beyond the individuality of any person, each of us shares an essential oneness with all men, humanism proclaims that all of us individually share in the immortality of mankind as a whole. In fact, the very basis of ethical behavior lies in this religious experience. If every person can only feel himself as an individual, the social character of morality is impossible. Ethical behavior is only feasible when men sense that the essential nature that binds them together is more significant than the individual differences that separate them.

(3) Humanism is more than a religion. There are certain areas of its discipline which provide the religious experience. But there are many involvements where the religious temperament is either irrelevant or harmful. In opposition to the temper of much traditional philosophy where the mood of ‘eternity’ pervades, humanism affirms the value of conditional knowledge and change. Therefore, the humanist never regards the description ‘less religious’ as a threat. He rather views it as a compliment. He is aware of the fact that the balanced life requires much more. While he resists the invasion of all life by the religious temperament, he, at the same time, affirms the value of the religious experience in the simple rehearsal of nature’s seasons and in the image of immortality in mankind’s survival.

Rationality

 

 

Humanistic Judaism, Winter/Spring 1974, pages 4-7

A former humanist confided to me that he had repented. Most of his life he had believed that the best way to handle human problems was through the use of rational thinking. He had frowned on all forms of emotionalism and preferred to confront the realities of the world with cold objectivity. Mind over heart had been his credo and he pursued it relentlessly. The result of such consistency, he confessed, was a dramatic absence of any sense of personal fulfillment. Since the most important things in life cannot be trapped by logic, the purely rational approach to the solution of problems had proved a fiasco. He regretted that he had not seen the light sooner.

The accusation of this new “penitent” has become a familiar assault. A recent letter from a troubled rabbi denounces the pretensions of scientific humanists. The age of science, he asserts, has sponsored the two most devastating wars in human history as well as Auschwitz. If rational thinking can produce results no better than these horrors, it has abdicated the right to be the arbiter of human decision. Perhaps the simple and intuitive commitment is morally superior to the sophisticated emptiness of logical solutions. The world may need less faith in reason and more faith in love.

A local Christian cleric pleaded that a philosophy of life that starts from a dispassionate view of people and nature can only produce human automatons, insensitive to emotional reality. Feeling, not logic, gives meaning to existence. The coldness of rational thinkers chills the operations of human society, and substitutes the superficial for the profound. Reason places a premium on the trivial events that can easily be described over those profound realities which can only be felt, but never described.

A university psychiatrist, who provided an able challenge at a recent debate, contended that most human reasoning is a defensive game. Rationality does not determine our decisions; it simply finds respectable excuses for the devious tyranny of certain feelings and desires we are afraid to re v e a l. Under the cool exterior of impeccable human logic lurk the irrational thoughts and visions of our childhood fears and fantasies. Most rationality is only rationalization. The social role of reason has rarely been the pursuit of truth. While reason pretends to reveal reality, it usually only succeeds in hiding it.

A writer of science textbooks, who lives in the Ann Arbor area, mocked the value of reason for answering ultimate human questions. He pointed out that an empirical psychology can reveal the life goals that people do have; it cannot disclose the goals they should have. Rationality only measures efficiency. If one chooses to exterminate Jews, there is a reasonable way to go about doing it. And if one chooses to suffer, there is a rational program for effective masochism. Reason is morally neutral.

Even two businessmen who are well known in the Detroit commercial world for their unfailing success, pooh-poohed the relevance of reason. Most decisions in life, they disclosed, preclude rational investigation. There isn’t enough time in any given day to adequately research the basic facts which are relevant to the most trivial of decisions. Most individuals who claim to be reasonable, actually determine their actions by personal hunches, sudden intuitions, and a quick perusal of limited evidence. Life is too short for rationality. The pressure of decisions makes a mockery out of any extended claim to patient objectivity.

While the roster of objectors and objections to rationality continues indefinitely (for there is nothing more fashionable in the current religious and literary circles than to denounce the adequacy of reason) it may be wise to pause and evaluate the familiar criticism we have just recalled.

The “Auschwitz argument”, in particular, is one of the oldest and most durable in the antirationalist arsenal. Among Jews it carries an emotional charge which no other assault can equal. Rabbis galore always thrust the challenge of the concentration camps into the face of the humanists with a fanfare denunciation of the sins of science. ” If a people as scientific as the Germans have succumbed to such barbarism, then how can one praise the supreme value of empirical thinking? ” The implication of the complaint is that in the twentieth century, whether we speak of Germany or America, we are living in the age of science.

But no view of the twentieth century is farther from reality. While it is true that empirical thinking dominates our research in the areas of physics and chemistry, it is false to assert that this procedure characterizes the ordinary approach to the study of human motivation and social behavior. The most sophisticated aeronautical engineer who can describe in detail the intricate operations of the jet plane motor, has only the most primitive conception of the nature of the human brain and nervous system. The most talented physicist whose discoveries have revolutionized our notions of interstellar space, has only the vaguest conception of the social causes of war, economic depression, and bigotry. The reasons for these deficiencies do not lie in their unwillingness to receive available information. The difficulty arises from the fact that very little scientific information is really available.

One may plead that human society does not easily lend itself to the controlled experiments which empiricism demands. But this observation only begs the question. It still remains a fact, that in the areas most intimately concerned with the values and behavior of men, scientific information has never replaced the inherited prejudices, intuitions, and tribal myths which control contemporary political behavior. In the crucial disciplines which purport to explain human nature, no age of science can even be detected. To combine a barely liberated empirical physics with a primitive sociology and to label this bizarre mixture as the natural expression of a scientific world is to win arguments by inventing straw men.

Perhaps our problem does not even start with the difficulty of investigating human behavior. Perhaps, it begins with the terrified reluctance that most people express when someone sets out to probe and analyze their inmost thoughts and feelings. No one is emotionally threatened when the researcher intends to study the electrical operation of a computer. But when the investigator seeks to correlate the e le critical system of the human brain with the emergence of certain ideas and feelings, he is accused of demeaning man. It is wiser to leave that realm of darkness in darkness, where ignorance can poetically be disguised by the clever brandying about of such informative terms as “soul”, “personhood”, and ” I-Thou”.

Auschwitz is no more an expression of the age of science than Albert Einstein is an expression of Jewish piety. Aggressive tribal nationalism is not the result of an insightful and sober analysis of the human psyche through empirical responsibility, it most likely is a self-righteous and self-pity in attempt to keep the reality of one’s weakness and fears from conscious confrontation. Hitlerite hysteria, not a scientific psychology, produced it.

If the nature of science has been misconstrued, so has the role of feeling. The contention that the most important things in life are both indescribable and detected only through emotion leads only to confusion. Man’s strongest feelings are not aroused by vague and nebulous notions which defy conception. Hostility, anger, and love are not responses to emptiness. If the object of their intensity cannot be described, it is hardly because it is indescribable. It is more likely because its concept is too frightening, too threatening, or socially too embarrassing to verbalize. A perfect parallel presents itself in ancient Jewish practice. Graven images of Yahweh were not prohibited because Yahweh had no face. They were forbidden because the face of Yahweh was so terrifyingly radiant that to gaze on it was to die.

The human unconscious is filled with all kinds of objects like the imagined faces of Yahweh. They are scarily specific or benevolently detailed, and like father and mother awaken the strongest emotions. On the conscious level we feel the pleasure or pain of the feeling but have conveniently forgotten the object. In fact, we prefer only dim recollections. The less specific and the less describable we pretend the source of our feelings to be, the less likely will we have to truly confront it. And then we crown our deception by pleading mystery.

There are presently many events in the universe which defy easy description. Their status is not due to some inherent inconceivability; it is rather due to the primitive character of our language, which is not sufficiently precise. The task of the sensible philosopher is not to plead an incurable verbal helplessness (a rationalization for fear), but to improve and refine our language by the creation of new words. To substitute worship for analysis is to inhibit self-insight.

The university psychiatrist is correct in his assertion that most “rationality” is only rationalization. While the fantasy ideas and opinions that populate our subconscious actually control our emotional responses and determine our personal behavior, we exhaust ourselves with naive self-deception, in justifying their consequences. Intellectual conversation so often turns sour and meaningless, simply because it is the most guilty of this pretension.

But to assert that human behavior is chiefly under the control of irrational ideas, and that most so-called rational conversation is pure sham, in no way invalidates the value of reason. It only implies that it is harder to be reasonable than we imagined. Logic without self-insight is a child’s game that condemns us to repeat the suffering of the past – and rational thinking means, first of all, self-insight. Unless we are aware of the true nature of our subconscious visions, we cannot change them. The goal of life is not to wallow in self-pity and meekly accept the tyranny of irrational ideas. It is to risk their discovery, and, if possible, transform them.

The rational goal of life is happiness, the science writer from Ann Arbor notwithstanding. While it is possible to plan a world in which pain will be maximized and pleasure will be minimized, the reverse seems more reasonable, given the ordinary meaning of the word. To pursue pain and self-destruction with logical efficiency may be rational in the narrow sense of effectiveness. It is irrational in the broader sense of conforming to universal desires. Although the rational categories of truth and falsity apply only to ideas and cannot be attached to desires, the pursuit of suffering for the sake of suffering is unreasonable by association. It defies what rational thinking has historically been used to achieve.

However, the need to be reasonable is an aspiration, not a reality. It is not only challenged by fantasies deep-rooted in the human psyche: it is also frustrated by the urgent demands of time. If daily decisions must be made quickly, as our businessmen confirm, life is too short for rationality. Intuitive hunches and risky plunges are far more characteristic of the chaos of normal living.

Up to a point. For many intuitions are often more than they seem. They may be the inarticulate common-sensical observations of years of practical experience (e.g., quick-thinking successful entrepreneurs with no formal education) or they may be sensible evaluations, the evidence for which has long since been forgotten. They do not defy rational thinking; they are simply primitive expressions of it.

Sometimes, doing lengthy, detailed and painstaking research is a sign of being irrational. If the purpose of study is to control action, study which prevents action is absurd. When our happiness at a given moment depends upon our willingness to make quick and risky decisions, delay, for the sake of analysis, is unreasonable. Rationality does not imply an exhaustive survey of all facts relevant to a particular problem. (If we had to do that, we would never take any action.) It rather implies the desire to confront as much of the available evidence in the time limits of a given situation. Only the gods claimed to be omniscient; human beings have to settle for intelligence.

The sensitive rational humanist sticks to reason, not because he is a ga-ga gung-ho devotee of logical order. He just isn’t aware of any alternative procedure that is better suited to reduce human suffering and enhance human pleasure. He does not presume, in some pollyannish fashion that it is easy to be reasonable. He understands the perils of self-deception and arid justifying, while affirming the riskiness of all decisions. Although he knows that he does not yet live in an age of science, he hopes that man’s self-understanding will grow. If he rejects the notion that he must choose between being either “cold” or “warm”, he does so with the knowledge that passion and objectivity are not mutually exclusive. They are indispensable partners in the work of human happiness.

Once Upon a Time 

Humanistic Judaism, Fall 1973, pages 5-6

 A brother dies. A child is traumatized. 

 What do you say? How do you explain death? Do you tell the child that death is unreal – that somewhere up in the sky her brother lives with lonely angels – that God, for some mysterious reason known only to God, has taken him away to live in a better world, free of care and pain? 

 Or do you tell the child that death is real – that her brother is now only a corpse in the ground – that he lives and breathes no more – and that she will never see him again? 

 The answer is quite simple. You tell her the truth. 

 The truth is that her brother is dead. 

 Now don’t get me wrong. I do not wish to affirm that telling the truth is some kind of absolute ethical principle which you never violate – regardless of consequences. A rational moral system is always based on the consequences of action. If, in the long run, lying to the child would make her a happier more fulfilled human being, would enable her to deal more effectively with the problems of life, I would recommend lying. 

 But fantasies about the afterlife do not help the child cope with the reality and meaning of her brother’s absence. 

 They do not help her cope with her own anger and her own sense of loss. Why would a good God, if there is one, take her brother away to live with angels when she needed him? 

 They do not help her cope with her own fear of dying. Going to Heaven to stay with God is a cold comfort if it means leaving behind the security of your home and your family. 

 They do not help her deal with her own sense of guilt. Why should her brother, who was such a good person, die while she survives? 

 They do not help her cope with her growing sense of the truth. Even little children – in a scientific age – know that the earth is not flat, that there is no Heaven up there. That plants and animals live, die and disintegrate. Even in a child’s mind the discrepancy is apparent and the answer unconvincing. 

 Children know what dying is. They see it around themselves all the time – even in the truncated nature of our urban environment. They do not need to be told that what they perceive is a fantasy. They need the reassurance that what they perceive is not horrible. 

 An obvious truth has to be proclaimed. 

 The quality of an answer does not depend on what you say. It depends on how you say it. 

 Most parents, when they discuss death are so up-tight, uncomfortable and unaccepting of reality, that no matter what they say, they end up doing the wrong thing. 

 When we speak our message it is not only with words. It is primarily our face and our body. Children learn more from our eyes than from our mouth. If they see fear in our eyes when we discuss death, they will assume that death is a fearful thing – no matter what ideology we proclaim. If they see serenity in our eyes, they will receive the communication that death is a natural and normal event. 

 Parents cannot help children accept death unless they themselves have first accepted death. 

 Very often the fantasies that parents sing for children are not intended to help children. They are intended to help the parents – who are too embarrassed to admit that the bobe miese is for them. 

 How then, should humanist parents answer the questions of children who have lost brothers and sisters? 

 They must first confront their own feelings about the loss of their own child. They cannot expect their other child to accept its reality if they don’t. They can only communicate what they truly feel. The eyes always betray the mouth. 

 They must tell the truth. Fantasies about the afterlife are, in the long run, neither helpful nor believable. 

 They must avoid pseudo-humanist answers. Telling a child that death is like sleep is dangerous. The child will imagine her brother trapped in a box under the earth. What if he should wake up? 

 They must inform their child (what their child already knows) that life comes to an end. Death is the absence of life. There is no sleeping, feeling, pain or pleasure. Her brother’s body, which has either been buried or burned, is not her brother anymore. Her brother ceased to exist when he died. He does not survive, in some crippled way, in a cemetery or in some urn of ashes. 

 They must assure her that she is healthy and that most young people do not die. 

 They must assure her that they are healthy and that they will not leave her. They must tell her that she is a good girl and that they are happy that she is well and alive. 

 Knowing the right things to say to humanist children will cease to be a problem when humanist parents deal with the child’s fears – without exclusively dealing with their own. 

JUSTICE – MEMORIAL

Celebration (1988) 

We have two kinds of memories. We have memories of people who always demanded and never gave, who complained and never achieved, who chose to be known by who they were and not by what they did, who preferred pity to respect. We also have memories of people who trained their talents and shared them, who took the blame and worked to change the world, who presented their deeds first and their needs second, who chose to defy destiny and to pursue dignity. These people did the hard work of justice. We honor them.

Brukha Adama B’firya 

The Humanist Haggadah (1976)

(sung to the tune of “Adir Hu”) 

 

B’ROO-KHA A-DA-MA B’-FIR-YA OO-V’-TOO-VA. (2x) 

B’ROO-KHA A-DA-MA B’-KHOL OD TIF-AR-TA. 

Blessed is the earth in its fruitfulness and goodness. 

Blessed is the earth in its beauty.

Yvarekh Adam 

Celebration (1988) 

to the tune of L’shana Tova 

 

Y’-VA-RAYKH A-DAM E-MET. 

Y’VA-RAYKH A-DAM BEE-NA. 

Y’-VA-RAYKH A-DAM DAY-A. 

Let us praise truth, understanding, and wisdom. 

Tsreekheem Anakhnoo

Celebration (1988) 

(sung to the tune of “Avinu Malkeinu”) 

TS’-REE-KHEEM A-NAKH-NOO
L’-TA-HAYR LIB-BAY-NOO
KEE AYN BA-NOO MA-A-SEEM
T’-HEE EE-MA-NOO TSE-DA-KA VA-HE-SED
V’-YO-SHEE-AY-NOO. 

We look for the right thing to do. (2x)
The right thing to do is to love one another.
That is the right thing to do.  

 Click here for a link to a video performance.

Naeh HaOr

Meditation Services for Humanistic Jews (1976) 

(sung to the tune of “Erev shel Shoshanim”)  

NA-E HA-OR BA-A-DAM. 

NA-E HA-OR MIK-KOL KO-KHA-VEEM 

NA-E HA-OR MIK-KOL O-LA-MEEM 

NA-E HA-OR SHEL A-DAM. 

 

The light of mankind is beautiful. 

It is more beautiful than the light of the sun 

It is more beautiful than the light of the stars.

Haemet Yotsayt 

Meditation Services for Humanistic Jews (1976) 

HA-E-MET YO-TSAYT LO MIN HA-PE 

A-VAL MIN HA-YA-DIE-YEM. 

Truth goes forth from the hands 

Not from the mouth 

 

Barukh Ha-Or Ba-Olam  

Celebration (1988) 

(sung to traditional Ashkenazi blessing melody)

 

BA-ROOKH HA-OR BA-O-LAM.
BA-ROOKH HA-OR BA-A-DAM.
BA-ROOKH HA-OR BA-SHAH-BAT {SUKKOT, KHANUKA, PEYSAKH}. 

Radiant is the light of the world.
Radiant is the light within people.
Radiant is the light of Shabbat/Sukkot/Hanukkah, Pesakh.

Note on sources: The Jewish Humanist  was the monthly newsletter of The Birmingham Temple. The periodical Humanistic Judaism was the quarterly journal of the Society for Humanistic Judaism. The Center for New Thinking was Wine’s adult learning program beyond Humanistic Judaism. Selections from Wine’s books are appropriately cited.
All texts, photos, audio and video are © by the Literary Estate of Sherwin Wine, whose custodian is the International Institute for Secular Humanistic Judaism – North American Section. All rights reserved.