Yonason Goldson
I'm a Talmudic scholar and professional speaker, as well as a former hitchhiker and circumnavigator, applying ancient wisdom to the challenges of the modern world. I've published seven books, including, Proverbial Beauty: Secrets for success and happiness from the wisdom of the ages.
Homepage: http://yonasongoldson.com
Einstein, Relativity, and California’s Marriage Referendum
Posted in Culture on November 11, 2008
I published this in the St. Louis Post-Dispatch in May 2000, immediately after the Reform Movement announced its acceptance of “same-sex union” ceremonies. It only took a few years until the Conservative movement followed suit. In light of the voters’ rejection of gay-marriage rights across the country in last week’s elections, I think it’s worth another look.
It doesn’t require much imagination to envision a time, very soon, when Americans will look back and shake their heads at the archaic values of days not long past. Sociology teachers will try, with little conviction and with little success, to convince high school students how their own parents could have grown up in an age when some individuals refused to accept every other individual’s right to define his own standards and choose his own lifestyle.
Fortunately, the teacher of the future will say with a smile, we have long since entered an enlightened era in which no one dares suggest that there may be a rational basis for such anachronisms as academic standards, heterosexual monogamy, the denial of civil rights to non-human mammals, and legislation prohibiting the distribution of pornography.
Today, while we still live in the present, we may expect attacks against these perceived aberrations primarily from groups on the social fringes. But more and more, as the status quo comes increasingly under assault, stodgy notions such as marriage based on human biology are decried as undemocratic and oppressive. And when the loudest voices crying out against these kinds of positions are precisely those that should be their fiercest supporters, the time may have come to start walking city sidewalks adorned with placards reading The End Is Near.
Neither does it require much imagination to figure how we got here. Looking back on the sexual revolution of the sixties and seventies, it’s easy to understand the homosexual revolution of the nineties and today. Looking over the way politically correct sensitivities have led some high school and college students to worry that it might be “judgmental” for them to condemn Hitler’s Nazis, it’s easy to understand how opponents of legal status for homosexual cohabitation are being branded as homophobic, intolerant, and prejudicial. And, looking back at the history of religion over the past 200 years, it’s easy to understand why the Central Conference of American (Reform) Rabbis has jumped at the chance to embrace and endorse homosexual “union,” a term they prefer over “gay marriage.”
With this latest attempt at bending doctrine to conform with social fashion, Reform rabbis have not only further distanced themselves from Judaism’s 3,300 year old traditions, but have abdicated the most important role to which any religion can lay claim: the obligation to guide civilized people along the road of morals and values through the tempest of changing times and changing ways.
The bedfellows of religion are even stranger than those of politics. And so adherents of traditional Judaism today find more in common with Vatican City than with many of their own brethren. The Pope himself faces increasing pressure to democratize Catholicism, to allow his followers a voice in defining what they believe, to allow religion by referendum. Yet he remains firm, weathering every storm.
And rightly so. For religion has no higher purpose than to warn us when we are about to abandon the path of virtue for the pernicious ways of the seductive world. And it provides no greater comfort than its confirmation that we have taken hold of that part of ourselves which is most noble — but only when we have actually done so, not when we have rewritten the definitions of good and evil every step of the way.
Not every social indulgence has been for the better. The unbridled orgies of the Roman empire eroded the bedrock of that society and hastened the fall of the most powerful civilization the West has ever known. Today we face the same danger once again: the misguided belief that all boundaries should be torn down and all mores should be discarded, that opposition to any personal freedom equals persecution and repression. It may be only a matter of time until even the double yellow line down the middle of the highway becomes seen as another symbol of authoritarianism and discrimination.
No responsible person is calling for the criminalization of homosexual behavior or the denial of homosexuals’ civil rights. But every social action has an inevitable cultural reaction and, as the stream of personal privilege has swollen to a cataract, empowerment and entitlement have become synonyms for selfishness. We don’t care that redefining marriage further undermines the already shaky foundations of the nuclear family, the fading institution that once guaranteed most children the emotional and financial security of stable homes. We don’t care that a child growing up without both a father and a mother suffers a psychological loss from which he or she may never fully recover. In short, we don’t care about our children because we are too obsessed thinking about ourselves.
In the introduction to his contemporary history, Modern Times, historian Paul Johnson offers the stirring observation that Albert Einstein, when he published his theory of relativity, unwittingly let loose the floodgates of social relativism. If the rules of the physical universe are variable, the reasoning goes, why not the rules of the moral and social universes as well? But not all rules are fluid. An apple that ripens on the branch will fall to the earth. And a society that cuts itself off from absolute definitions of right and wrong will eventually fall off the edge of the world.
Parshas Vayeira — Of Trials and Banners
Posted in Philosophy, Weekly Parsha on November 10, 2008
The sages tell us that the Almighty tested our father Abraham with ten distinct trials. But why? Since G-d knows the future, He knew that Avrohom would pass each test. What then was G-d’s purpose in testing him?
As with everything else G-d does, trials are for us, not for Himself. Interestingly, the Hebrew word for test, nisoyon, shares its grammatical root with the word neis, which is commonly translated as “miracle,” but which literally means “banner.”
A banner is that which rises above the confusion below to rally people to a common destination point. Similarly, the Almighty occasionally reveals Himself through open miracles when we need reminding that the confusion of the material world is not a true representation of spiritual reality.
Finally, when G-d places obstacles in our path that try our resolve, our patience, or our ability, He does so not so that He can find out whether or not we will succeed but so that we can set our sights above all the impediments to personal growth and fulfill our true potential. It is based upon this understanding that the sages tell us that G-d never gives a person any test he is unable to pass. The test itself is the banner that draws our attention to how much we are able to achieve.
And what of those external challenges that are clearly beyond our ability? What of incurable diseases, personal tragedies, and global crises over which we have no control?
In fact, the trials G-d gives us never require us to overcome those obstacles that are indeed insurmountable. Sometimes, as difficult as it may be for us to hear, G-d’s tests may require us to accept the inevitability of unpleasant eventualities. Just as Avrohom could not change the famine that drove him from the land, the untimely death of his wife Sarah, or the seeming illogic of G-d’s command that he sacrifice his son, similarly we cannot fathon the logic or reason behind many of the circumstances that throw our own lives into disarray. Nevertheless, we can learn from Avrohom how to find the inner strength to persevere through trust born from logic: by recognizing that the Creator of the complex and unfathomable world in which human beings live most ceraintly has sound reasons, even for that which defies human understanding.
Tests are not easy. But the effort required to pass them transforms us from insigificant creatures of mere flesh and blood into truly heroic spiritual beings.
Teaching the Fallacy of Moral Relativism
Posted in Education and Parenting, Philosophy on November 9, 2008
Where are they now? It might make a good follow-up story, but in the meantime …
Parshas Lech Lecha — Spiritual Deficiency
Posted in Weekly Parsha on November 6, 2008
In contemporary jargon, Lot had issues.
The nephew of our patriarch Abraham, Lot left his homeland for parts unknown; he played along with Avrohom’s ruse of claiming Sarah was his sister to protect her from the Egyptians. He risked his life to protect his guests from the mob that wanted to abuse them (although, perversely, sought to accomplish this by handing his daughters over to the same mob).
Lot is identified by scripture as a tzaddik, a righteous man — but he is a defective tzaddik, righteous only in comparison with the corrupt inhabitants of Sodom and Gomorrah. He is a conflicted personality, drawn to Avrohom’s spirituality but simultaneously overburdened by the demands of living a spiritual life.
Nowhere is this inner conflict more evident than in Lot’s separation from Avrohom in this week’s Torah portion. According to Rashi’s commentary, the quarrel between Lot’s and Avrohom’s herdsmen centered around the grazing of their animals. Lot’s herdsmen reasoned that they could graze their animals anywhere they wished: since G-d had promised the Land of Israel to Avrohom’s descendents, and since Avrohom was presumably too old to have children, clearly the land would be inherited by Lot. Avrohom’s herdsmen argued that, since the Land was not Avrohom’s yet, they had no right to graze except on lands that were ownerless.
Lot did nothing to put a stop to his herdsmen’s thievery. And so Avrohom dissolved their relationship. Certainly, he had known of Lot’s shortcomings for many years. Yet Avrohom seems to have concluded that, if he had not instilled in Lot a basic respect for the property of others after so many years, he would never succeed in changing him. And if Avrohom could not change Lot, then there was the very real possibility that Lot might eventually change him. He saw no choice other than a parting of the ways.
Avrohom allowed Lot to choose which direction he would go, and Lot chose the Jordan valley, because “he saw that it was well watered … and Lot journeyed from the east.” Here, Rashi makes two curious comments. First, he explains that “well watered” means that it was fed by streams. Why is this important? Second, he observes that Lot traveled away from “Kadmono Shel Olam — the Ancient One of the Universe.” In this, Rashi connects the word kedem, meaning east, with kadmon, meaning ancient. But why?
Back in the Torah’s narrative of Creation, Rashi explains that, although all the vegetation of the earth had be created on the third day, nothing had actually sprouted forth even midway through day six, since no rain had yet fallen on the earth. And why not? Because there was no man to pray for rain. G-d’s blessing depends upon the merit of human beings, for whom the earth and everything in it was brought into existence.
Conversely, it is the condition of man to experience his dependence upon the Almighty. When man believes himself to be independent and self-sufficient, he grows arrogant and becomes corrupt. Only when he recognizes that his livelihood comes from above in proportion to his merit will man remain conscious of his spiritual purpose and tread the straight path that G-d has laid out before him.
And so, Rashi explains, Lot chose the Jordan valley because it was well-watered, because it was fed by streams and not dependent upon rainfall. Lot did not want to pray for rain because he did not want to feel dependent upon the Almighty or upon his own merit. Although Lot was not a wicked person by any means, neither did he seek to achieve any great spiritual stature, but sought to live out his life in comfort, without either responsibility or significant accomplishment. In this, explains HaRav Dovid Feinstein, Lot traveled away from the Ancient One of the Universe, the Master of the World who conceived the design of creation before the existence of time itself, with the intention that mankind could earn the priceless reward of spiritual pleasure in the World to Come.
The sages themselves conceived a way for us to remember this lesson daily. They composed a blessing for us to recite after consuming even a minimal helping of food or the simplest drink: We express appreciation to G-d, borei nafashos v’chesronan — who created souls and their deficiencies.
Why should we thank the Almighty for fashioning us to be deficient? Because our deficiencies remind us constantly that we are all works-in-progress, never complete or completed until the last moment of our lives, and that life is only worth living when we strive for spiritual accomplishment in every way we can.
Welcome to 15th Century Spain: a post-mortem
Posted in Culture, Philosophy, Politics on November 4, 2008
All right, I’ll say it — I have hope. And here’s why:
On March 31st, 1492, the Jews of Spain learned that they had three months before their lives would be turned unimaginably upside down. They had been ordered to choose between either leaving their country and their homes or conversion to Christianity. The Edict of Expulsion had set the date for July 31st.
However, when King Ferdnand learned that Tisha B’Av, the Jews’ national day of mourning, would arrive two days later, he extended the deadline to August 2nd, believing that this would break the heart and the spirit of the Jews.
In fact, his decree had the opposite effect, giving the Jews hope that the Almighty was indeed running the world, that their expulsion was not caused by the whim of yet another capricious ruler but part of the master plan designed and directed by the Master of the World.
With that in mind, the following post means something very different today from what it meant yesterday. Don’t miss it.
Here’s the punch line: Obama’s extraordinary rise from an unknown and undistinguished local politician to capture the White House in four short years defies natural explanation. Moreover, the single moment that marks his arrival on the national scene was his speech at the Democratic National Convention, on July 27, 2004. According to the Hebrew calendar, it was Tisha B’Av.
It’s difficult not to take note of obvious historical parallels, even at the risk of being accused of hyperbole or fear-mongering:
In retrospect, historians have come to view what we call World War I and World War II not as two separate wars but as a single global conflict with a twenty-year armistice in the middle. The political and economic causes of WWII grew directly out of WWI, and WWI began in the summer of 1914 — on Tisha B’Av.
Two decades later, under the leadership of a charismatic leader with no credentials who had never accomplished anything of significance, a crushed and humiliated German state grew in six short years into the most powerful military force in the world. The next half-decade would see the devastation of Europe, the deaths of tens of millions, and the extermination of a third of the Jewish population of the world.
This is not to suggest by any means that Barak Obama is likely to perpetrate atrocities or has an agenda of either injustice or persecution. He may indeed be a well-intentioned man who sincerely believes that he can bring peace and prosperity to a troubled country and a troubled world. But consider the lessons history has taught again and again: that the diplomacy of naivete will be perceived, correctly, as weakness, that those who seek peace are easily manipulated by those who have no desire for peace, that Utopian visions inevitably disintegrate into social and political chaos. Then consider Hegel’s observation that the great lesson of history is that no one ever learns from it.
No one on earth knows what this presidency will bring, or what might have happened had the election gone the other way. Palgei mayim lev melech b’yad HaShem, says King Solomon — Like streams of water is the heart of the king in the hands of the Almighty. Our ultimate consolation comes from our conviction that all human events are guided by the King who reigns over kings, and that rulers who appear to wield supreme power are nothing more than pawns moved from square to square by Divine decree.
The Talmud recounts how the sages could not contain their astonishment when Rabbi Akiva laughed upon seeing the ruins of the Temple and Jerusalem. But he explained that, since the prophecy of utter devastation has already come true, then we should rejoice at how much closer are we to the Ultimate Redemption.
You have comforted us, Akiva, they replied. You have comforted us.
Why people vote
Doonesbury gets it right … for a change.
The head vs. the heart
Posted in Politics on November 2, 2008
Jewish philosophical writings address at no end the perpetual battle between the head and the heart, between the intellect and the emotions, between reason and intuition. Mesillas Yesharim explains that, until the two have been reconciled, we must always suspect our own decisions and subject them to sincere and constant re-evaluation, since waves of emotion easily carry us away toward the rocky shoals of self-destruction, and reason foresakes us when we distort it through the popular art of rationalization.
But which is the most dangerous? On that, the Torah is clear: [So] you will not turn aside after your hearts and after your eyes, which seduce you to chase after them. Explains Rashi: the eyes see, the heart desires, and the legs run to do evil.
The most frustrating aspect of an election that began as the most engaging in a generation is that it has become a caricature of irrational exuberance. Even the most rational of people have been seduced by a heady elixir of charisma, rhetoric, and impossible promises. For those whose minds have not become completely befuddled, it’s worth reading Charles Krauthammer, probably the most astute columnist in the business, who offers a concise primer on both candidates’ national security and domestic policy credentials and a clear picture of what we can expect from either in the white house.
Hard core liberals don’t care about the facts. Neither do hard core conservatives. The former would vote for Louis Farrakan if he were on the Democratic ticket, and the latter would vote for David Duke if he were the Republican nominee. But to those few thinking people who can swing either way, please do your homework and choose according to your head and not your heart. There may well be more than you imagine hanging on this election.
A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Global Warming Debate
Posted in Culture, Science and Nature on October 30, 2008
The first October snowfall in London since 1922 set the backdrop for a House of Commons debate over sweeping global warming legislation. But it’s probably just a coincidence.
Election 2008: a study in learning disabilities
Posted in Politics on October 30, 2008
Anecdotal evidence is always suspect, but my wife has made an interesting observation from her perspective as a special education teacher:
Students with autism support McCain; students with ADHD support Obama.
Why might this be so? If I might be allowed the privilege of a sweeping overgeneralization that does a disservice to those afflicted with these conditions but serves to cast light on the political arena, autism is the condition of too much focus on too narrow a field, where ADHD is the condition of too much diffusion in an attempt to focus everywhere at once.
Stated this way, a correlation between the respective conditions and candidates readily suggests itself. A campaign slogan of change, characterized by promises to improve everything by lowering taxes, stimulating the economy, achieving world peace through unconditional diplomacy, implementing universal health care, and raising school standards through education reform — this is fertile ground for both hyperactivity and attention deficit. It typifies the politics of distraction, overloading the prospective voter with rapidly shifting images to create the illusion that everything can be accomplished at once, without allowing him the time to contemplate the impracticality of all that has been promised, the 4 trillion dollar price tag and, most notably, the absence of any specifics as to how all this will be accomplished or whether its advocates are competent to accomplish it.
On the other hand, the focus on competency, on experience, on character, and on credibility, even in the absence of wild promises of utopian prosperity — this is the essence of a democratic republic, where the electorate ought to chose leaders not based upon promises, rhetoric, identity, or personal advantage, but on the credentials of prospective leaders to lead successfully, to set realistic goals, and to possess the qualities and the experience to get the job done well and right.
But hyperactivity creates a lot more noise, much the way that rattling a piggy bank containing only a single coin makes a lot more noise than shaking a bank stuffed to the limit with money.
What will you have to show for your efforts, America, when you break open your piggy bank on Wednesday morning?
Parshas Noach — 40 Days and 40 Nights
Posted in Weekly Parsha on October 30, 2008
For 40 days and 40 nights the rain fell upon the earth.
So what?
The Torah tells us that the Almighty opened the “well-springs of the deep,” from which most of the water came forth to inudate the world. And Rashi calculates that the water remained upon the earth for exactly one solar year. If so, of what significance is it that the rain fell for 40 days and nights?
The number 40 appears in Jewish tradition with curious frequency. Moses ascended Sinai and remained there for 40 days and nights, not once but twice to receive each set of tablets. According to the commentaries, he ascended one additional time in between, also for 40 days and nights, to petition HaShem to forgive the Jewish people for the sin of the golden calf.
The Jews wandered in the desert for 40 years, and the spies sent to investigate the land traveled its length and breadth for a period of 40 days. It is also taught that one should study Talmud until the age of 40 before engaging in the study of kabbalistic teachings. Our greatest kings, David and Solomon, each ruled for 40 years, as did the greatest of our judges, Deborah.
What is the significance of the number 40, and how does it relate to the Great Flood?
The Talmud tells us that the neshoma, or soul, enters an embryo 40 days after conception. Until then (although life has certainly begun), the incipient baby is a soulless golem, an arrangement of organic matter that can barely be called a human being. On the fortieth day, the insertion of the soul transforms this lump of developing flesh into the world’s most extraordinary creation: a future Man, fashioned b’tzelem Elokim, in the image of G-d.
It would appear, therefore, that the number 40 signifies not physical birth but spiritual birth, the process through which homo sapiens becomes human, a populace becomes a nation, a leader brings his people to a new level, and a scholar acquires the spiritual maturity to begin investigating the mystical secrets of the universe.
In the same way, the 40 days and nights of rain may have signified the process through which the Almighty restored the spiritual equilibrium of the world, suspending one complete cycle of creation for a full calendar year, immersing the earth in the purifying mikveh waters of the Flood. And, just like the waters of any kosher mikveh must originate with a volume of 40 sa’ah of naturally flowing water, so too did the Flood require an accumulation of rainwater over a period of 40 days.
With the corruption of the first ten generations of man washed away, human beings could return to their ultimate task of perfecting the world, physically diminished but with renewed spiritual potential. And the persistant sign of the Flood — the rainbow — reminds us that such potential remains with us even until today, every moment of our lives.
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