Rabbi Michael Leo Samuel

Why do people ask me only the easy questions?

Here is a thumbnail sketch. The answer to this question probably depends on how one wants to define the term “ego.” Philosophers, psychologists, theosophists and mystics each have their own perspective on what precisely constitutes the “ego.” According to Plato, which he identified with also identified with Nous (‘Mind’) and Descartes likewise had a similar view, namely, the ego is the personal identity of an individual that can exist independently of the body.

British skeptic David Hume was puzzled as to the nature of his core self, while other philosophers like Hobbes felt uncomfortable with anything that was so mysterious and non-physical.

Some thinkers believe that the ego pertains to the conscious areas of the personality associated with self-control and self-observation.  On the other hand, Sigmund Freud (1856-1939) taught that the ego refers to a certain area of the psyche that stands at the center of the person and involves the individual’s attributes and functions. Without the ego, we would be incapable functioning. One of Freud’s best known quotes, “Where id was there shall ego be”—that situated Freud as the father of modern psychology.  Freud asserts that consciousness is the ego’s awareness and mediation of the unconscious. This awareness in turn lets the ego realistically to allocate a part of the sexual force (libido) for sexual activity and love and productively, as well as sublimate the remainder for meaningful work. Without ever explaining why, Freud contends that reason enables the healthy ego to perceive a close approximation of reality. Thus, science and reason are indispensable for the individual’s salvation.

Another psychologist, Heinz Kohout,  views the ego in a somewhat different light. He argues that the ego [or what he prefers to call "the self"] refers to the principle that gives unity to the mind without which we could not function. According to the French psychologist Piaget, the term egocentric does not denote a sense of self that is differentiated from the world but quite the opposite—the self is NOT separated or distinguished from the world; the ego has no sense healthy sense of separateness apart from the world. Often the word “ego” carries nothing but the most preparative connotations, but the simple truth is we would have no identity were it not for the ego.

According to Jung, the ego is related to a certain body sense; it senses the center of our field of awareness; it is also linked to an awareness of intellectual thinking and is affected by all sorts of feelings. The ego oversees what we do every day. Whether it be driving a car in busy traffic jam, or whether it be eating while listening to the radio, the ego helps us remain connected to the world we live in. It can best be described as a “waking consciousness.” The ego is the self‑awareness that makes us human. Jung also argues that the ego is neither the center nor the master of the personality. In some of his more mature writings, Jung limits the ego to that portion of the psyche available to consciousness.

In mythical literature, the hero is consistent one who is willing shatter through egoic consciousness through his or her ability to pass certain tests and obstacles; by doing so, the hero transcends the limitations of his ego while Jungian psychology teaches that in the evolution of consciousness, the Self is undifferentiated with the ego. The ego exists only as a potential ‑‑this is analogous to the relationship between the mother and its embryo‑‑ it is in a virtual state of oneness and non‑differentiation. As the child emerges, much of its conscious identity is still bound up with its mother. The Mother’s “Self” so to speak still encompasses the child’s psyche until the child develops its own sense of self in early childhood. The ultimate maturity of the ego will depend on whether it can individuate itself in the course of its life.

Jungian psychologist Erich Neumann  thinks  the whole point of the Garden of Eden narrative about the “Fall” in Genesis 3 touches upon this important point. Prior to Adam and Eve’s fall, their identities remained completely undifferentiated from God’s. It is only after the primal sin, they develop a separate sense of who they are. From the expulsion from Paradise, Adam and Eve and their children must learn to develop a healthy sense of self—this was for them—and  still is for us—the beginning of life’s majestic spiritual journey.

One of the more interesting schools of mystical psychology is the area of  “transpersonal” psychology, which teaches that reality is something that lies “beyond”(hence the word “trans”) the individual. For some movements, e.g., those influenced by Buddhism, it is an illusion to think of the ego  possessing any independent ontological  reality. Martin Buber in his I and Thou believes this kind of thinking disrupts the importance of the I and Thou, but we may wish to discuss this issue at another time. Buber may not necessarily be correct in his condemnation of mysticism.

In some of the eastern religious traditions, the Sanskrit term Jîva (“egoic self”) refers to the germ of life or the human soul; this aspect of identity is not destroyed, but continues to exist in an ethereal form. Like a droplet from the ocean, the Jîva is an eternal expression of the Supreme Reality. At its deepest level, it contains a reflection of the unchangeable light of Intelligence.

Judaic Reflections on the Ego

According to several Jewish mystics, our creaturely sense of “Yesh” (i.e. the “Ego” or the “Self”) is what protects our individual identity, without which our perception of the world would dissolve into an abyss of nothingness; without the ego, there could be no possibility of self-conscious beings. Kabbalistic thought tends to incorporate many of the above theories governing the ego. The divine light demands that we feel and experience our separateness from God, but the mystical consciousness realizes that the perception of separateness and the ego is really an illusion (comparable to the Hindu concept of the maya).

The Hebrew etymology for the word for world עוֹלָם (`ôläm = “universe, “eternity,” time,” and “world”) might be related  to the verb עָלַם (a’lam) “be hidden, concealed, secret” (cf. Lam. 3:56). If this theory is correct, then the ego could not exist at all if God didn’t grant us the space to be unique and individual.  There could never be freedom where we not self-conscious of ourselves. If the Divine light were to appear, we would realize that our separateness from God is truly an illusion. If you examine the Hebrew

Yet paradoxically, the key to sublimating our ego, lies through a process of “bittul hayesh” putting the unhealthy ego aside. By doing this, we attain transcendence; the more one gives of oneself to another in the spirit of love and fellowship, keeps the ego healthy and centered. Every act of love requires making space for something Other than oneself. Jewish mystics portrayed the creation of the cosmos as an example of God’s infinite capacity to give. God transcended His own Ego (so to speak) by setting aside God’s own reality so that creation might exist.

This would explain why mystics of all the great religions see God’s creative power as a supreme act of love. Love is what enables us to transcend the boundaries of the ego, and enables us to scale past the walls of the self. It is for this reason, I believe, we become most God‑like only through our capacity to love and put our own selfish interest aside. Of course, this is much easier said than done …

The metrics of this month indicate we are well on the way of passing the 70,000 hit mark this month!!

Martin Buber has always been a great inspiration to me. His views on Jewish mysticism are grounded in the interpersonal realm of the ethical. We meet God when we respect the Other who is before us. Emmanuel Levinas expresses a similar thought in many of his writings as well, but Buber still remains my favorite.

Historically, people have often tried to control God through any kind of magical means at their disposal. The scriptural prohibition against making graven images is predicated upon the belief that man can control God; only in one’s imagination is such an absurd thought possible. Buber touches on this theme in a number of different works, but in the interest of time, I will cite one of my favorite quotes Buber is best known for concerning the danger of gnosis and magic that I think cuts to the heart of our problem today among certain types of hucksters like Rabbi Batzri.

“The two spiritual powers of gnosis and magic, masquerading under the cloak of religion, threaten more than any other powers the insight into the religious reality, into man’s dialogical situation. They do not attack religion from the outside; they penetrate into religion, and once inside it, pretend to be its essence. Because Judaism has always had to hold them at bay and to keep separate from them, its struggle has been largely internal. This struggle has often been misunderstood as a fight against myth. But only an abstract-theological monotheism can do without myth, and may even see it as its enemy; living monotheism needs myth, as all religious life needs it, as the specific form in which its central events can be kept safe and lastingly remembered and incorporated.

Israel first confronted gnosis and magic   in its two great neighboring cultures: gnosis, the perception of the knowable mystery, in the Babylonian teaching about the stars whose power holds all earthly destinies in control, a teaching which was later to reach its full development in the Iranian doctrine concerning the world-soul imprisoned in the cosmos; and magic,  the perception of the masterable mystery, in the Egyptian doctrine that death can be conquered and everlasting salvation attained by the performance of prescribed formulas and gestures. The tribes of Jacob could only become Israel by disentangling themselves from both gnosis and magic.  He who imagines that he knows and holds the mystery fast can no longer face it as his “Thou”; and he who thinks that he can conjure and utilize it, is unfit for the venture of true mutuality . . . ” [1]

In another passage, we discover why the principle of the I and Thou offers the best approach to experiencing a spiritual connectedness with the Divine that goes infinitely farther than the banalization of Kabbalah we are witnessing today. While I am not completely sure whether Buber’s argument on gnosis is quite accurate, but I do think his understanding on magic and its relationship to Torah is right on the money. Buber explains further:

“This universal at-onement finds expression in the Jewish concept of yihud, or unification. Yihud is the proclamation of the oneness of God — not the passive acknowledgment of this oneness, a statement of a subject about an object, but an act of meeting, ‘the dynamic form of the divine unity itself.’ It does not take place through creedal profession or magic manipulation, but through the concrete meeting of I and Thou by which the profane is sanctified and the mundane hallowed. It is ‘the continually renewed confirmation of the unity of the Divine in the manifold nature of His manifestations.’ This confirmation must be understood in a quite practical way: it is brought about through man’s remaining true ‘in the face of the monstrous contradictions of life, and especially in the face of . . . the duality of good and evil.’ The unification which thus takes place ‘is brought about not to spite these contradictions, but in a spirit of love and reconciliation . . .’

——

Notes:

[1] Martin Buber and Will Herberg (ed.)  The Writings of Martin Buber (New York: Meridian Books, 1956), 261-262.

[2] Maurice S. Friedman, Martin Buber: The Life of Dialogue (New York: Routledge, 2002), 167.

Here are the controversial passages that have created the controversy this past October.

In the Tanya.  the author attempts to explain why the souls of Jews are different from the gentiles: “The explanation of this matter is according to what the Rabbi Chaim Vital OBM wrote … Every Jew, whether righteous or wicked, has two souls, as it says, ‘And the souls I have made’ — that is, two souls: one soul deriving from the side of the kelipa and the side that is antithetical to holiness… also naturally good character traits that are found in every Jew, such as mercifulness and charitable deeds, stem from it, for in a Jew, the soul of this kelipa derives from kelipat noga which also contains good…But it is not the case concerning Gentile souls, for they stem from other impure kelipot which contain no good…and the second soul of the Jew is surely part of G-d on high…” [1]

And shortly afterward, the author adds, “The kelipot are divided into two levels…the lower level consists of three impure and completely evil kelipot which contain no good whatsoever … from there the souls of the Gentiles are influenced and drawn, as are the bodies and the souls of all impure animals which are forbidden to eat…However, the vital animalistic soul in the Jews, which stems from the kelipa…and the souls of pure animals, beasts, birds, and fish which are permitted to eat…are influenced and drawn from the second level of the klipot…which is called kelipat noga…and the majority of it is evil, combined with a slight amount of good…”[2]

As I have pointed out in earlier posts, it is the nature of oppressed peoples to bolster their self-esteem and image by putting down the Other. While this is certainly not the kind of behavior any moral person ought to endorse, it helps to see this passage from the writer’s perspective. Often, tragic circumstances distort the way one spiritually looks at the world.

The Tanya’s Myopia Is Not Unique

Now in fairness to the Tanya, the Tanya’s perspective is by no means unique. Many other Kabbalists  have historically followed this line of reasoning for the reasons mentioned above. In the writings of Rabbi Tzadok HaCohen of Lublin he writes a similarly:

“Concerning what is explained in Yevamot, ‘You are called men,’ and not the other nations, [the meaning is] that the Gentiles were deprived of the title ‘men’ only where Israel were called ‘men,’ because in comparison to Israel, who are the primary form of man in the Divine Chariot, it is irrelevant to call any of the Gentiles ‘men’; at most, they are like animals in the form of men. Taken as themselves, however, all the children of Noah are considered men…and when the Messiah comes…they too will recognize and admit that there are none called ‘man’ except Israel…anyway, in comparison to Israel even now they are in the category of animals…”[3]Rabbi Abraham Isaac Kook wrote: “The dissimilarity between the Jewish soul, in all its independence, inner desires, longings, character and standing vis-à-vis the soul of all the Gentiles–on all of their levels–is greater and deeper than the difference between the soul of a man and the soul of an animal, for the difference in the latter case is one of quantity, while the difference in the first case is one of essential quality.”[4]

Or take for example, the writings of the famous Maharal of Prague (ca. 16^th century):

“Even though it says ‘Beloved is man,’ this does not include all human beings, for the Sages explain ‘You are called men and the nations are not called men’ — The completeness of the Creation, which is given to man in particular, is given to the Jews and not to the other nations… . . . The principal form of man does not appear in the nations. In any case, this image does exist amongst the rest of the nations, but it is worthless, and therefore he did not say ‘beloved are Israel who were created in G-d’s image.’ [5]

Wisdom of the Delphic Oracle: Know thyself!

So, how do we get past the problems and trauma of the past?  Always consider the source and the circumstances that influenced the writer’s spiritual shortsightedness regarding the outsider. Every faith in the history of religion has formulated similar attitudes toward people(s) who were not “members of the tribe.” This is not just a “Jewish” problem as anti-Semites love to argue; it is a human problem that transcends individual faiths. Islam, Christianity, Hinduism, even Buddhism has struggled with its treatment of the Other at one time of its history or another. There will probably always be atavistic forces within a faith because human evolution is morally challenging.  Even Judaism has its shadow aspects that require purging.

Psychologist Carl G. Jung offers an important insight about our “shadow” nature that requires conscious management at all times. He writes:

“It is a frightening thought that man also has a shadow side to him, consisting not just of little weaknesses- and foibles, but of a positively demonic dynamism. The individual seldom knows anything of this; to him, as an individual, it is incredible that he should ever in any circumstances go beyond himself. But let these harmless creatures form a mass, and there emerges a raging monster; and each individual is only one tiny cell in the monster’s body, so that for better or worse he must accompany it on its bloody rampages and even assist it to the utmost. Having a dark suspicion of these grim possibilities, man turns a blind eye to the shadow-side of human nature. Blindly he strives against the salutary dogma of original sin, which is yet so prodigiously true. Yes, he even hesitates to admit the conflict of which he is so painfully aware.” [4]

Jung’s comments apply not just to the individual, but it could apply to a society’s group psychology as well. To eradicate anti-Semitism, we must understand its psychological origins. Only then, can a collective take the necessary steps to cleanse its soul. But this insight is not limited only to anti-Semitism, it also applies to any ideology that artificially distinguishes between groups of people based on an inflated view of the self.

The British synagogue in question would be wise to understand that persecuted peoples don’t always develop the most refine type of theology. Fortunately, in  nearly all denominations of Judaism (with the notable exceptions of the Haredi, Hassidic, and Lubavitch movements), the spirit of universalism continues to affirm the finest teachings of the prophets and the Sages. Unfortunately, it behooves us to recognize that the great medieval rabbis were men of their age–and European society at that time was anything but tolerant toward people who did not subscribe to their belief system.

If I could offer some practical advice to the British synagogue, I think it is important to be truthful about the texts of our tradition. No rabbi has ever been infallible in his theology; and this is reality is probably never going to change. Despite the hype and fascination with Jewish mysticism, modern Jewish ethics demands that we view Kabbalistic texts with a critical eye. With respect to inspiration, we must take the embers of the past–and not perpetuate its ashes.

[1] Tanya, chapter 1 (page 5b).

[2] Tanya, end of chapter 6.

[3] “Poked Akarim” page 19, column 3, he wrote: ”

[4] “Orot,” Orot Yisrael chapter 5, article 10 (p. 156).

[5] Derech Hayim on Avot, chapter 3, mishnah 17.

[6] “On the Psychology of the Unconscious” (1912). In Collected Writings,  Vol. 7: Two Essays on Analytical Psychology, p. 35.

William James likens the materialistic scientist of his age (but the analogy would apply no less to many of the scientists of our present day as well), to the cat of our parable. James explains further, “‘Here is the universe,’ he says to himself. All of its phenomena are determined and defined by the laws of nature. There are no longer any mysteries or secrets; a few questions here and there may still remain unanswered, but ultimately we know what lies behind it all, because we know the fundamental laws of physics.” But not all humanistic scientists share this kind of attitude; there are those who view science as never-ending search, and who believe that the universe has a great many aspects of which we are still unaware, or which at least have not yet been formulated scientifically.”

James’ idea is thought-provoking. Yes, the universe is like a library full of knowledge and consciousness is the key to self-knowledge.  The mysteries that suffuse the universe–especially from a Maimonidean perspective–seems to strongly suggest us that the universe does not necessarily revolve around puny humanity. Of course many Jewish thinkers like Saadia Gaon and Nachmanides see the cosmos as an essentially anthropocentric enterprise, but personally, I find Maimonides’ attitude much more intriguing and realistic. Could there be parallel earths? Several scientists and quantum scholars seem to think this is a distinct possibility–even though there is no empirical evidence that this is so.

Einstein may have had James’ parable in mind when he wrote, “The human mind is not capable of grasping the Universe. We are like a little child entering a huge library. The walls are covered to the ceilings with books in many different tongues. The child knows that someone must have written these books. It does not know who or how. It does not understand the languages in which they are written. But the child notes a definite plan in the arrangement of the books – a mysterious order which it does not comprehend, but only dimly suspects.”[2]

The human child may not have a real grasp of the library is either, but at least he realizes or senses that the library contains more information than he can possibly imagine. Unlike the cat, the human child realizes that each book tells a story—whether he understands that particular story may not be so clear to the young person at his age, but he knows that as his mastery of language and ideas improve, eventually he will be able to enjoy any book he desires to read. The cat, on the other hand, will always remain a cat.

Einstein’s advice for laypeople and commoners is especially relevant today:

“The most beautiful experience we can have is the mysterious. It is the fundamental emotion which stands at the cradle of true art and true science. Whoever does not know it and can no longer wonder, no longer marvel, is as good as dead, and his eyes are dimmed. It was the experience of mystery–even if mixed with fear—that engendered religion. A knowledge of the existence of something we cannot penetrate, our perceptions of the profoundest reason and the most radiant beauty, which only in their most primitive forms are accessible to our  minds—it is this knowledge and this emotion that constitute true religiosity; in this sense, and in this alone, I am a deeply religious man.” [3]

[2]  Albert Einstein, Ideas and Opinions.

[2] Albert Einstein, The World as I See It (New York: Philosophical Library, 1934), 15.

While this may sound like a new deconstructive reading of the text, it actually has antecedents in Rashi’s commentary (12th century). Strangely, the entire book seems to be empty of metaphors depicting human or Divine compassion.[3]  This would seem to substantiate Rashi’s view that the entire book is a parable about pastoral care as an antidote to the mind-numbing and senseless suffering people often experience. From a pastoral perspective, Job stresses how empathy and tenderness are essential ingredients in healing the heart of the sufferer. The general attitude espoused by Job’s friends was “Woe to the wicked, and woe to his neighbors!” Or, “Stay away from an evil person; otherwise, you may end up like him.” Job experiences this kind of rejection  firsthand. One might wonder: “Why does Job put up with such friends?” The Talmud notes that human beings need friendship in order to live. Death itself is preferable to not having any friends at all—even if they are happen to be schlemiels, much like the friends  of Job.[4]

More to follow…

[2] Rashi explains that the book of Job teaches us two important things: (1) that we may learn from it a response to those who condemn God’s attribute of justice (2)  Job also serves to instruct us that no person ought to be blamed for words that he utters because of personal pain (Rashi’s commentary to TB Bava Batra 15a).

Elsewhere Rashi adds on the verse in Job 42:7, “For you did not comfort me with your ‘verbal defense’ as did my servant, Job.” His only sin consisted of saying ‘He destroys both the innocent with the wicked…’ (Job 9:23). And whatever else Job said came from his suffering which weighed heavily upon him and forced him to speak thusly. But you [the friends], on the other hand, were wrongful to accuse him of being wicked. In the end, it is you who are now silent and defeated before him. Instead of attacking him, you should have comforted him as Elihu did. As if Job didn’t have enough suffering, you added guilt to your sins by angering him.

[3] The absence of human compassion is most conspicuously present in the Jobian tale. For example, the word hesed (loving-kindness) appears only three times in the entire Jobian narrative and only when Job implores his friends for help. Likewise, the Hebrew word for nechama, (“comfort”), appears only seven times in the entire book. Only twice does Job ever receive nechama from his friends–the first occurs at the very beginning of Job 2:11. At this stage, Job’s friends express no verbal criticism of him. The second instance appears at the very end of the Jobian narrative (42:11)—after Job is finally vindicated.

[4] TB Taanit 23a;  TB Bava Batra, 16a.

G. K. Chesterton (1874–1936), “Introduction to the Book of Job”:

The modern habit of saying “Every man has a different philosophy; this is my philosophy and it suits me”—the habit of saying this is mere weak-mindedness. A cosmic philosophy is not constructed to fit a man; a cosmic philosophy is constructed to fit a cosmos. A man can no more possess a private religion than he can possess a private sun and moon.

Any comments?

Genesis 4:8: “Cain said to his brother Abel; Cain rose up against his brother Abel, and killed him.”

The biblical narrator does not disclose what was actually spoken between the two brothers. Ibn Ezra suggested that Cain spoke to his brother about the words YHWH had said to him. However, one might argue that it is doubtful Cain would have told his brother everything God disclosed to him, namely, the divine reprimand. Abel’s silence is striking. The Jerusalem Targum offers a moving Midrashic paraphrase of the narrative:

And it was when they went out to the field, Cain answered and said to Abel his brother, “There is neither justice nor is the world accountable to an Ultimate Judge, nor is there another world [beyond this one]; neither is there a good reward given to the just, nor will vengeance be exacted of the wicked. Nor was the world created in goodness, nor is the world conducted with goodness. Therefore this is the [real] reason why your sacrifice was accepted with good will, and mine was not accepted with good will [The universe is a capricious reality, and God is indifferent to the welfare of humankind --MS].” Abel replied to Cain, “There is justice, and there is a Judge: there is another world, and a good reward is given to the just, and vengeance taken of the wicked. The world was created with goodness and it is governed with. But ultimately, everything goes according to the quality of the deeds. Because my works were superior to yours, my offering was accepted with good will, and yours was not accepted with good will.” And as they two disputed on the field and Cain arose against Abel his brother, and killed him.

Midrashic interpretation adds a nuance that does not appear in the original biblical story that is suggestive. The absence of brotherly concern and empathy on the part of Abel toward his brother’s failure only made Cain feel more resentful toward his successful brother. Instead of de-hostilizing his angry and resentful brother, Abel’s self-righteous attitude only added more fuel to the fire. Whereas at first Cain felt anger at God, now he directs his anger toward God via his brother, who has now given him an excuse to “even the score.” So long as Abel lived, Cain thought he would live the most marginal kind of existence. Once Abel was dead, Cain thought that his low self-esteem would cease.