Showing posts with label Bruce Lee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Bruce Lee. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 6, 2021

Bruce Lee’s Oak and the Success of Evil

Click here for a one-page printer-friendly version of this blog post, and click here for an audio version.



Bruce Lee's Oak and the Success of Evil 

Bruce Lee taught: “The oak tree is mighty, yet it will be destroyed by a mighty wind because it resists the elements; the bamboo bends with the wind, and by bending, survives.” This is the foundation of Jeet Kune Do, Bruce Lee’s approach to martial arts and to life, the motto of which is: “Using no way as way; having no limitation as limitation.” Instead of clinging to a fixed set of techniques and rules, naively believing they will guarantee success in every situation, the true martial artist is fluid “like water,” constantly adapting and responding to the dynamism of combat without any rigidity or imposition of systems.

This afternoon I was thinking about a number of people – people I’ve met, as well as famous figures I haven’t met – who were both rigid and highly successful, and were successful precisely because of their single-minded rigidity! I’m talking about people like Steve Jobs, Douglas MacArthur, Robert Moses, etc.

This led me to notice a nuance in this particular version of Bruce Lee’s statement: “The oak tree is mighty, yet it will be destroyed by a mighty wind because it resists the elements; the bamboo bends with the wind, and by bending, survives.” The oak tree is described as “mighty,” but the bamboo is not. The quality that makes the oak tree mighty is the same quality that guarantees its destruction; the quality that precludes “might” in the bamboo is what guarantees its long life.

This, in turn, led me to an epiphany about tzadikim (righteous people) and resha’im (wicked people). There are many pesukim (verses) in Sefer Tehilim (The Book of Psalms) and Sefer Mishlei (The Book of Proverbs) which compare the short-term success of resha’im with the long-term flourishing of tzadikim. For example: “when the wicked bloom like grass, and all the doers of iniquity blossom, it is to destroy them forever and ever” (Tehilim 92:8) is contrasted with: “A righteous person will flourish like a date palm, and like a cedar in the Lebanon he will grow tall. Planted in the house of Hashem, in the courtyards of our God they will flourish. They will still be fruitful in old age, vigorous and fresh they will be” (ibid. 92:13-15).

The rasha (wicked person) seeks to forcibly impose an artificial, ambitious, self-serving system onto reality with the goal of attaining absolute power and greatness at any cost. A basic tenet of Mishlei and Tehilim is that such an individual is destined to fail for the same reasons that Bruce Lee stated: the more tenaciously the rasha clings to his self-aggrandizing schemes, the more inevitable and more catastrophic will be his downfall. It’s only a matter of time before his plans clash with reality, and reality always wins.

My insight into Bruce Lee’s quotation added a new dimension to my understanding of this phenomenon. I had previously focused on the fact that the "oak tree"-like rasha “will be destroyed by a mighty wind because he resists the elements,” but the “oak tree”-rashais mighty.” In other words, the rasha will attain great success and strength because of his wickedness. Look no further than Hitler, Mussolini, Saddam Hussein, and the other great resha’im throughout history. It is true that reality eventually caught up with them and destroyed them, but see how mighty they became up until their downfall! Thus, when we see resha’im enjoying great success, not only should we view this as a sign of their impending collapse, but we must also recognize that they have purchased a superlative level of success by paying the price of ultimate self-destruction.

This also sheds a new light on the type of success we can expect to see from tzadikim. The tzadik will not be mighty like the rasha. Rather, his success will be his steady flourishing and bamboo-like endurance.

___________________________________________________________________________________
If you've gained from what you've learned here, please consider contributing to my Patreon at www.patreon.com/rabbischneeweiss. Alternatively, if you would like to make a direct contribution to the "Rabbi Schneeweiss Torah Content Fund," my Venmo is @Matt-Schneeweiss, and my Zelle/Chase QuickPay and PayPal are mattschneeweiss at gmail.com. Even a small contribution goes a long way to covering the costs of my podcasts, and will provide me with the financial freedom to produce even more Torah content for you

If you would like to sponsor an article, shiur, or podcast episode, or if you are interested in enlisting my services as a teacher or tutor, you can reach me at rabbischneeweiss at gmail.com. Thank you to my listeners for listening, thank you to my readers for reading, and thank you to my supporters for supporting my efforts to make Torah ideas available and accessible to everyone. 

Be sure to check out my YouTube channel and my podcasts: "The Mishlei Podcast""The Stoic Jew" Podcast"Rambam Bekius" Podcast"Machshavah Lab" Podcast"The Tefilah Podcast"  For the full guide to all of my Torah content, click here

Thursday, July 25, 2019

Bruce Lee: Self-Actualization vs. Self-Image Actualization

The following is an excerpt from Bruce Lee's handwritten notes entitled "The Top Dog and the Underdog." The italics and bold are his (though he used capital letters instead of bold).

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.



Bruce Lee: Self-Actualization vs. Self-Image Actualization

If we examine the two clowns – the top dog and the underdog – that perform the self-torture game on the stage of our fantasy, then we usually find the two characters to be like this:

The Top Dog

The top dog usually is righteous and authoritarian; he knows best. He is sometimes right, but always righteous. The top dog is a bully and works with “you should” and “you should not.” The top dog manipulates with demands and threats of catastrophe, such as, “If you don’t ... then – you won’t be loved, you won’t get to heaven, you will die,” and so on.

The Underdog

The underdog manipulates with being defensive, apologetic, wheedling, playing the crybaby, and such. The underdog has no power. The underdog is Mickey Mouse. The top dog is the super-mouse. And the underdog works like this: “I try my best,” “Look, I try again and again. I can’t help it if I fail.” “I have such good intentions.” So you see the underdog is cunning, and he usually gets the better of the top dog because the underdog is not as primitive as the top dog. So the top dog and underdog strive for control. Like every parent and child, they strive with each other for control. The person is fragmented into controller and controlled. This inner conflict, the struggle between the top dog and underdog, is never complete, because the top dog as well as the underdog fights for his life.

This is the basis for the famous self-torture game. We usually take for granted that the top dog is right, and in many cases, the top dog makes impossible perfectionistic demands. So if you are cursed with perfectionism, then you’re absolutely sunk. This ideal is a yardstick which always gives you the opportunity to browbeat yourself, to berate yourself and others. Since this ideal is an impossibility, you can never live up to it. You are merely in love with this ideal, and there is no end to the self-torture, to the self-nagging, self-castigating. It hides under the mask of “self-improvement.” It never works.

If the person tries to meet the top dog’s demands of perfectionism, the result is a “nervous breakdown,” or flight into insanity. This is one of the tools of the underdog. Once we recognize the structure of our behavior, which in the case of self-improvement is the split between the top dog and the underdog, and understand how, by listening, we can bring about a reconciliation of these two fighting clowns, then we realize that we cannot deliberately bring about the changes in ourselves or in others.

This is a very decisive point: many people dedicate their lives to actualizing a concept of what they should be like, rather than actualizing themselves. This difference between self-actualizing and self-image actualizing is very important. Most people only live for their image.

Where some people have a self, most people have a void, because they are so busy projecting themselves as this or that. This is again the curse of the ideal. The curse is that you should not be what you are. Every external control, even internalized external control – “you should” – interferes with the healthy working of the organism. There is only one thing that should control the situation. If you understand the situation that you are in, and let the situation that you are in control your actions, then you learn how to cope with life. For example, you don’t drive according to the program, you drive according to the situation (same thing in combat). You drive a different speed when you are tired, when it’s raining, and so forth.

The less confident we are in ourselves, the less we are in touch with ourselves and the world, the more we want to control.

Thursday, July 27, 2017

Bruce Lee: The Emergence of Styles

Last week I relaunched a series of commentary-posts on the section of Bruce Lee's Tao of Jeet Kune Do entitled "Organized Despair" - the entirety of which may be read here. Each post in the series stands on its own, though I will definitely cross-reference posts, and explain the progression. 

As noted before, this is not a "pure" commentary, in which I merely elucidate Bruce Lee's words. Instead, my goal is to explain his teachings and share some examples of how they have influenced my life as a teacher, a learner, and a gamer. 

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.




Bruce Lee: The Emergence of Styles

After discussing the instinct to follow and imitate, Bruce Lee moves on to discuss the natural outcome of this instinct: styles. There are many styles of martial arts: Karate, Aikido, Judo, Jujitsu, Taekwondo, Krav Maga, Boxing, Wrestling, and many more. 

This diversity of styles is present in all crafts and arts: teaching, parenting, painting, dancing, trading, psychoanalysis, and so on. Within each of these crafts there are a multitude of different styles, even if not all of them have specific names, official "canons," or large followings.

As we read and analyze this next excerpt, think about your own crafts and their many styles. For example, if you have spent some time learning talmud, think of the different darchei ha'limud (methodologies of learning). Likewise, think about the different ideologies and approaches within Judaism itself. After all, the Torah, itself, is a craft, and there are clearly a wide variety of styles that have developed over the past few millennia. 

Having said that, we are now ready to read the second paragraph of Organized Despair
Each man belongs to a style which claims to possess truth to the exclusion of all other styles. These styles become institutes with their explanations of the “Way,” dissecting and isolating the harmony of firmness and gentleness, establishing rhythmic forms as the particular state of their techniques.
In my opinion, the best explanation of Bruce Lee's usage of the term "style" was given by Bruce Lee, himself, in the first draft (out of eight) of his essay, Jeet Kune Do: Toward Personal Liberation. Here is his explanation:
Before we look into JKD let's find out what exactly a classical style of martial art is. To begin with, we must realize the absolute fact that man created style. Disregard the many colorful histories of their founders – by a wise, mysterious monk, by special messenger in a dream, in a holy revelation, flooded with golden light, and so forth, and so on. A style should never be the gospel truth, the laws and principles of which can never be violated. Man, the human being, is always more important than any style.

The founder of a style may be exposed to some partial truth, but as time passes by, especially after the founder has passed away, "his" postulates, "his" inclination, "his" concluding formula – we constantly learn, we never conclude – become a law. Creeds are invented, reinforcing ceremonies are prescribed, separative philosophies are formulated, and, finally, the institutions are erected, so what might have started off as some sort of personal fluidity of its founder is now solidified, fixed knowledge – organized and classified response presented in logical order – a preserved cure-all for mass conditioning. In so doing, the well-meaning followers have made this knowledge not only a holy shrine, but a tomb in which the founder's wisdom is buried.

If we honestly look at the reality of combat as it actually is, and not as we would like it to be, I am sure we cannot help but notice that a style tends to bring about adjustment, partiality, denials, condemnations and a lot of justification. In short, the solution being offered is the very cause of the problem, placing limitations and obstacles on our natural growth and consequently obstructing the way to genuine understanding.

Of course, as a direct reaction to "the other truth," another founder or maybe possibly a dissatisfied disciple would "organize" an oppositional approach – as in the case of the soft style versus the hard style, the internal school versus the external school, and so forth – and pretty soon it, too, would become a large organization with its own set laws and its chosen pattern. So begins the long struggle with each style claiming to possess the "truth" to the exclusion of all others. So whereas the human being is total and universal – while a style is a partialized projection of an individual and therefore is blinded by that chosen segment and is therefore never the total – the style has long become more important than its practitioners. Worse still is the fact that these styles often are opposed to each other – because they tend to be separated in thoughts form each other; consequently, styles separate men rather than unite them.
This is why Bruce Lee was opposed to styles - a theme we will explore in the upcoming installments. For now, I'd like to focus on the theme that he dealt with in the excerpt above, namely, the cycle by which styles emerge. According to Bruce Lee, that cycle can be divided into six stages, which I will now summarize:

(1) Insight: A man is exposed to a partial truth - a glimmer of the Total Truth which is the object of his craft. The pursuit of this insight will take him off the beaten path and into unexplored territory.

(2) Development of Style: He begins to develop his own unique style on the basis of that partial truth. This style is highly personalized, since it emanates from his own perception of the Truth.
  • If he remains fluid, this style will continue to develop in a dynamic manner and will lead to further discoveries and insights. 
  • If he becomes enamored by his own discovery, then his style will solidify and his growth will cease. But at least he will have paved a path and taken a step or two towards the Truth.
(3) Followers: Along the way, he attracts followers who latch onto the superficial aspects of his style. Unlike the founder, who remains in a fluid and dynamic pursuit of the Truth, these followers are rigid. They are governed by a single principle: strict imitation of their leader.

(4) Systematization: When the founder dies (or, in some cases, even during his lifetime), the followers take over. They create a rigid doctrine and system out of the follower's final formulations (which only became "final" due to the interruption of his life). They treat these teachings as gospel and regard any deviations as heresy.

(5) Divergence: Inevitably, disputes arise among the followers. Different followers apprehended the teachings of their followers in different ways, and these differences result in different systematizations. Naturally, these systems compete with each other, since each of them claims to possess "the Truth" to the exclusion of the others.

(6) Followers of Followers: Soon, the founders of these movements die and the process repeats itself. The major difference is that this time, the followers are following other followers, and the original, creative founder is absent from the picture altogether. 

It is easy to see the connection between the topic of styles and the previous topic of the instinct to follow and to imitate. It is this instinct which makes this entire "Life-cycle of Styles" possible. 

Elsewhere, Bruce Lee provides an excellent description of the mentality of the follower, whom he refers to as a "secondhand artist": 
The second-hand artist, in blindly following the teacher, accepts his pattern and, as a result, his action and, above all, his thinking becomes mechanical, his responses automatic according to the pattern - and thereby he ceases to expand or to grow. He is a mechanical robot, a product of thousands of years of propaganda and conditioning. The second-hand artist seldom learns to depend upon himself for expression; instead, he faithfully follows an imposed pattern. So what is nurtured is the dependent mind rather than independent inquiry.
This is the problem that Bruce Lee saw in the proliferation of martial art styles. This is what prompted him to develop his own "way" (not "style") of martial art, which he called "Jeet Kune Do" (The Way of the Intercepting Fist). Bruce Lee viewed Jeet Kune Do as the "style without style." He explained: 
I have not invented a "new style," composite, modified or otherwise that is set within distinct form as apart from "this" method or "that" method. On the contrary, I hope to free my followers from clinging to styles, patterns, or molds.
But we will reserve our discussion of Jeet Kune Do for later posts. For now, it is sufficient to understand it as the "style without style" - that is, the approach which emerges from a rejection of all rigid styles and a never-ending pursuit of absolute fluidity.  

In light of all this, Bruce Lee's earlier words ring true with a greater urgency: "The need for a Pointer of the Way echoes." A teacher who succeeds in being a Pointer of the Way will naturally make it difficult for a style to emerge among his followers. And if he is really successful, his followers will not be second-hand artists at all, but will be able to discover their own unique paths.

As I wrote in my last Bruce Lee post, I am thankful to have found a mentor like this at the outset of my teaching career, and I am even more thankful that my rabbeim have shown me by their example how to learn from a master and simultaneously develop one's own unique style.

I hope that I am able to do the same for my own students.

Thursday, July 20, 2017

Bruce Lee: The Instinct to Follow and Imitate

This post is the first (I hope) of a series of commentary-posts on the section of Bruce Lee's Tao of Jeet Kune Do entitled "Organized Despair" - the entirety of which may be viewed here. My plan is to write a paragraph-by-paragraph commentary on the whole thing. 

Note that this will not be a "pure" commentary, in which I merely elucidate Bruce Lee's words. Instead, my goal is to explain his teachings and share some examples of how they have influenced my life as a teacher, a learner, and a gamer. 

Click here for a printer-friendly version of this blog post.



Bruce Lee: The Instinct to Follow and Imitate
- Organized Despair: Paragraph #1

Bruce Lee begins with an introduction to the problem which is the subject of the entire section:
In the long history of martial arts, the instinct to follow and imitate seems to be inherent in most martial artists, instructors and students alike. This is partly due to human tendency and partly because of the steep traditions behind multiple patterns of styles. Consequently, to find a refreshing, original, master teacher is a rarity. The need for a “pointer of the way” echoes.
The two key terms here are "the instinct to follow and imitate" and "a pointer of the way." The former is a disease. The latter is the doctor who holds the cure. 

I should clarify what I mean when I refer to this as a "disease." The instinct to follow and imitate is present in every human being. It is absolutely necessary for our survival and development, and there is nothing intrinsically wrong with that. However, there comes a point in the development of every craftsman when this instinct outlives its benefit. Imitation gives way to stagnation rather than growth. That is the disease.

There are many reasons why we follow and imitate, and I'm sure we can speculate about these reasons at length. However, since our aim here is to gain from the insights of Bruce Lee, it would behoove us to see what he has to say on the subject. Elsewhere in The Tao of Jeet Kune Do he writes: 
There is a powerful craving in most of us to see ourselves as instruments in the hands of others and, thus, free ourselves from responsibility for acts which are prompted by our own questionable inclinations and impulses. Both the strong and the weak grasp at this alibi. The latter hide their malevolence under the virtue of obedience. The strong, too, claim absolution by proclaiming themselves the chosen instruments of a higher power - God, history, fate, nation, or humanity. 
Similarly, we have more faith in what we imitate than in what we originate. We cannot derive a sense of absolute certitude from anything which has its roots in us. The more poignant sense of insecurity comes from standing alone and we are not alone when we imitate. 
In Bruce Lee's opinion, there are three reasons why we desire to surrender ourselves to the instinct to follow and imitate: (1) we believe this will free us from taking responsibility for our actions - particularly, those which are prompted by "our own questionable inclinations and impulses"; (2) it helps us to bolster our self-image in the short run, since "the virtue of obedience" makes an effective cover for the parts of ourselves we wish to deny; (3) we feel that it will provide us with security and certitude, since - according to Bruce Lee - we tend to be insecure and lack faith in whatever we originate. (Why this is the case is a very good question. Something we need to think about.)

I can definitely relate to this experience in my own craft. When I first started teaching I came to class armed with arsenal of classroom management techniques and tricks which I gleaned from several sources: some I had learned in graduate school, others I read in books on classroom teaching, and many I gained from watching my own teachers. When I was faced with my very first class, I desperately clung to those techniques. I placed my trust in them and naively believed they would guarantee my success. And when one set of techniques failed, I fell back on another. My plan A, plan B, and plan C were all based on imitation. 

Of course, I soon realized that I was wrong in my approach. Even worse, since I had taken so much stock in those techniques and blamed them when they failed me, it took me that much longer to face the fact that I was powerless to manage my own class. The image of the Master Teacher I sought to imitate blinded me from recognizing how ineffective I really was. Had I not eventually confronted and accepted my own inadequacies, my development would have been severely stunted. I would have remained in a deadlock of futile imitation and frustration.

How does one escape this craving to follow and imitate? The odds of breaking out on one's own are very slim. Most of us require a teacher to act as a guide. But how can such a teacher help us without becoming yet another authority figure whom we follow and imitate? 

That is the role of the ideal teacher - or, as Bruce Lee calls such a teacher, a "pointer of the way":
A teacher, a good teacher that is, functions as a pointer to truth, but not a giver of truth. He employs a minimum of form to lead his student to the formless. Furthermore, he points out the importance of being able to enter a mold without being imprisoned by it, or to follow the principles without being bound by them.
Similarly:
A teacher is never a giver of truth – he is a guide, a pointer to the truth that each student must find for himself. A good teacher is merely a catalyst.
To the extent that the teacher embodies this ideal, the student will gradually be able to liberate himself from his need to follow and imitate. His teacher will set him on the path of self-knowledge and self-actualization and guide him in discovering the truth of his craft on his own. It was for this reason that Bruce Lee constantly reminded his students: "Always be yourself, express yourself, have faith in yourself, do not go out and look for a successful personality and duplicate it." 

Thankfully, I met just such a "pointer of the way" in graduate school: a humble and gifted educator by the name of Rabbi Dr. Chaim Feuerman. Dr. Feuerman always encouraged me to think outside of the box and to follow and develop my own intuition. And then I "met" Bruce Lee - the "pointer of the way" par excellence. Together, with the help of my living mentor and the living words of my late mentor, I was able to develop my own style of teaching and classroom management, and find success.

At graduation, in my speech, I ended with words of gratitude for both of them:
Lastly, I would like to thank my teachers – all of them – for showing me what it means to be a teacher. I would like to give a special thanks to Dr. Feuerman, for acting as my mentor during my time at Azrieli while simultaneously letting me take charge of my own learning. Dr. Feuerman always encouraged me to follow my intuition and to think outside of the box. His contribution to my development as a teacher can be summed up in the words of my other mentor, Bruce Lee, who said: “Absorb what is useful, reject what is useless, and add what is specifically your own.” Thank you, Bruce Lee; and thank you, Dr. Feuerman.
Bruce Lee's entire style of Jeet Kune Do can be summed up in the quotation I chose. This will become evident as we proceed through the rest of Organized Despair, בג"ה

Thursday, July 21, 2016

Bruce Lee: Organized Despair

Originally posted in May, 2012. 

The following is a lengthy excerpt from Tao of Jeet Kune Do, by Bruce Lee. I am posting this now because, as the end of the school year draws close, I've been reflecting on my teaching practices. I view Bruce Lee as one of my mentors, and I owe much of my success as a teacher to his ideas. Although Bruce Lee wrote what he wrote about martial arts, every single statement in this excerpt also applies to the art of teaching - and, I think, to the art of learning. 

I have chosen to include the entire chapter, even though I don't necessarily understand or agree with every statement therein. I chose to do this because I have found that every time I read Bruce Lee's writings, different statements jump out at me, and my understanding of what he says changes. I'd rather include more than less. Read with an open mind, and take Bruce Lee's advice: "Absorb what is useful, reject what is useless, add what is specifically your own."

Bear in mind that these were written as sequential statements - not as a flowing essay. It helps to pause briefly after every statement, to let it sink in. The italics are his.



Organized Despair

In the long history of martial arts, the instinct to follow and imitate seems to be inherent in most martial artists, instructors and students alike. This is partly due to human tendency and partly because of the steep traditions behind multiple patterns of styles. Consequently, to find a refreshing, original, master teacher is a rarity. The need for a “pointer of the way” echoes.

Each man belongs to a style which claims to possess truth to the exclusion of all other styles. These styles become institutes with their explanations of the “Way,” dissecting and isolating the harmony of firmness and gentleness, establishing rhythmic forms as the particular state of their techniques.

Instead of facing combat in its suchness, then, most systems of martial art accumulate a “fancy mess” that distorts and cramps their practitioners and distracts them from the actual reality of combat, which is simple and direct. Instead of going immediately to the heart of things, flowery forms (organized despair) and artificial techniques are ritualistically practiced to simulate actual combat. Thus, instead of “being” in combat these practitioners are “doing” something “about” combat.

Worse still, super mental power and spiritual this and spiritual that are desperately incorporated until these practitioners drift further and further into mystery and abstraction. All such things are futile attempts to arrest and fix the ever-changing movements in combat and to dissect and analyze them like a corpse.

When you get down to it, real combat is not fixed and is very much “alive.” The fancy mess (a form of paralysis) solidifies and conditions what was once fluid, and when you look at it realistically, it is nothing but a blind devotion to the systematic uselessness of practicing routines or stunts that lead nowhere.

When real feeling occurs, such as anger or fear, can the stylist express himself with the classical method, or is he merely listening to his own screams and yells? Is he a living, expressive human being or merely a patternized mechanical robot? Is he an entity capable of flowing with external circumstances, or is he resisting with his set of chosen patterns? Is his chosen pattern forming a screen between him and the opponent and preventing a “total” and “fresh” relationship?

Stylists, instead of looking directly into the fact, cling to forms (theories) and go on entangling themselves further and further, finally putting themselves into an inextricable snare.

They do not see it in its suchness because their indoctrination is crooked and twisted. Discipline must conform to the nature of things in their suchness.

Maturity does not mean to become a captive of conceptualization. It is the realization of what lies in our innermost selves.

When there is freedom from mechanical conditioning, there is simplicity. Life is a relationship to the whole.

The man who is clear and simple does not choose. What is, is. Action based on an idea is obviously the action of choice and such action is not liberating. On the contrary, it creates further resistance, further conflict. Assume pliable awareness.

Relationship is understanding. It is a process of self-revelation. Relationship is the mirror in which you discover yourself – to be is to be related.

Set patterns, incapable of adaptability, of pliability, only offer a better cage. Truth is outside of all parameters.

Forms are vain repetitions which offer an orderly and beautiful escape from self-knowledge with an alive opponent.

Accumulation is self-enclosing resistance and flowery techniques strengthen the resistance.

The classical man is just a bundle of routine, ideas, and tradition. When he acts, he is translating every living moment in terms of the old.

Knowledge is fixed in time, whereas knowing is continual. Knowledge comes from a source, from an accumulation, from a conclusion, while knowing is a movement.

The additive process is merely a cultivation of memory which becomes mechanical. Learning is never cumulative; it is a movement of knowing which has no beginning and no end.

In martial arts cultivation, there must be a sense of freedom. A conditioned mind is never a free mind. Conditioning limits a person within the framework of a particular system.

To express yourself in freedom, you must die to everything of yesterday. From the “old”, you derive security; from the “new”, you gain the flow.

To realize freedom, the mind has to learn to look at life, which is a vast movement without the bondage of time, for freedom lies beyond the field of consciousness. Watch, but don’t stop and interpret, “I am free” – then you’re living in a memory of something that has gone. To understand and live now, everything of yesterday must die.

Freedom from knowing is death; then, you are living. Die inwardly of “pro” and “con.” There is no such thing as doing right or wrong when there is freedom.

When one is not expressing himself, he is not free. Thus, he begins to struggle and the struggle breeds methodical routine. Soon, he is doing his methodical routine as response rather than responding to what is.

The fighter is to always be single-minded with one object in view – to fight, looking neither backward nor sideways. He must get rid of obstructions to his forward movement, emotionally, physically, or intellectually.

One can function freely and totally if he is “beyond system.” The man who is really serious, with the urge to find out what truth is, has no style at all. He lives only in what is.

If you want to understand the truth in martial arts, to see any opponent clearly, you must throw away the notion of styles or schools, prejudices, likes and dislikes, and so forth. Then, your mind will cease all conflict and come to rest. In this silence, you will see totally and freshly.

If any style teaches you a method of fighting, then you might be able to fight according to the limit of that method, but that is not actually fighting.

If you meet the unconventional attack, such as one delivered with broken rhythm, with your chosen patterns of rhythmical classical blocks, your defense and counterattack will always be lacking pliability and aliveness.

If you follow the classical pattern, you are understanding the routine, the tradition, the shadow – you are not understanding yourself.

How can one respond to the totality with partial, fragmentary pattern?

Mere repetition of rhythmic, calculated movements robs combat movement of its “aliveness” and “isness” – its reality.

Accumulation of forms, just one more modification of conditioning, becomes an anchor that holds and ties down; it leads only one way – down.

Form is the cultivation of resistance; it is the exclusive drilling of a pattern of choice moves. Instead of creating resistance, enter straight into the movement as it arises; do not condemn or condone – choiceless awareness leads to reconciliation with the opponent in a total understanding of what is.

Once conditioned in a partialized method, once isolated in an enclosing pattern, the practitioner faces his opponent through a screen of resistance – he is “performing” his stylized blocks and listening to his own screaming and not seeing what the opponent is really doing.

We are those kata, we are those classical blocks and thrusts, so heavily conditioned are we by them.

To fit in with an opponent one needs direct perception. There is no direct perception where there is a resistance, a “this is the only way” attitude.

Having totality means being capable of following “what is,” because “what is” is constantly moving and constantly changing. If one is anchored to a particular view, one will not be able to follow the swift movement of “what is.”

Whatever one’s opinion of hooking and swinging as part of one’s style, there cannot be the least argument to acquiring perfect defenses against it. Indeed, nearly all natural fighters use it. As for the martial artist, it adds versatility to his attack. He must be able to hit from wherever his hand is.

But in classical styles, system becomes more important than the man! The classical man functions with the pattern of a style!

How can there be methods and systems to arrive at something that is living? To that which is static, fixed, dead, there can be a way, a definite path, but not to that which is living. Do not reduce reality to a static thing and then invent methods to reach it.

Truth is relationship with the opponent; constantly moving, living, never static.

Truth has no path. Truth is living and, therefore, changing. It has no resting place, no form, no organized institution, no philosophy. When you see that, you will understand that this living thing is also what you are. You cannot express and be alive through static, put-together form, through stylized movement.

Classical forms dully your creativity, condition and freeze your sense of freedom. You no longer “be,” but merely “do,” without sensitivity.

Just as yellow leaves may be gold coins to stop the crying children, thus, the so-called secret moves and contorted postures appease the unknowledgeable martial artists.

This does not mean to do nothing at all, but only to have no deliberate mind in whatever one does. Do not have a mind that selects or rejects. To be without deliberate mind is to hang no thoughts.

Acceptance, denial and conviction prevent understanding. Let your mind move together with another’s in understanding with sensitivity. Then, there is a possibility of real communication. To understand one another, there must be a state of choiceless awareness where there is no sense of comparison or condemnation, no waiting for a further development of discussion in order to agree or disagree. Above all, don’t start from a conclusion.

Understand the freedom from the conformity of styles. Free yourself by observing closely what you normally practice. Do not condemn or approve; merely observe.

When you are uninfluenced, when you die to the conditioning of classical responses, then you will know awareness and see things totally fresh, totally new.

Awareness is without choice, without demand, without anxiety; in that state of mind, there is perception. Perception alone will resolve all our problems.

Understanding requires not just a moment of perception, but a continuous awareness, a continuous state of inquiry without conclusion.

To understand combat, one must approach it in a very simple and direct response.

Understanding comes about through feeling, from moment to moment in the mirror of relationship.

Understanding oneself happens through a process of relationship and not through isolation.

To know oneself is to study oneself in action with another person.

To understand the actual requires awareness, an alert and totally free mind.

Effort within the mind further limits the mind, because effort implies struggle towards a goal and when you have a goal, a purpose, an end in view, you have placed a limit on the mind.

This evening I see something totally new and that newness is experienced by the mind, but tomorrow that experience becomes mechanical if I try to repeat the sensation, the pleasure of it. The description is never real. What is real is seeing the truth instantaneously, because truth has no tomorrow.

We shall find the truth when we examine the problem. The problem is never apart from the answer. The problem is the answer – understanding the problem dissolves the problem.

Observe what is with undivided awareness.

True thusness is without defiling thought; it cannot be known through conception and thought.

Thinking is not freedom – all thought is partial; it can never be total. Thought is the response of memory and memory is always partial, because memory is the result of experience. So, thought is the reaction of a mind conditioned by experienced.

Know the emptiness and tranquility of your mind. Be empty; have no style or form for the opponent to work on.

The mind is originally without activity; the way is always without thought.

Insight is realizing that one’s original nature is not created.

There will be calmness, tranquility, when one is free from external objects and is not perturbed. Being tranquil means not having any illusions or delusions of thusness.

There is no thought, only thusness – what is. Thusness does not move, but its motion and function are inexhaustible.

To meditate means to realize the imperturbability of one’s original nature. Surely, meditation can never be a process of concentration, because the highest form of thinking is negation. Negation is a state in which there is neither the positive, nor its reaction as the negative. It is a state of complete emptiness.

Concentration is a form of exclusion and where there is exclusion, there is a thinker who excludes. It is the thinker, the excluder, the one who concentrates, who creates contradiction because he forms a center from which there is distraction.

There is a state of action without the actor, a state of experiencing without the experience or the experience. It is a state bound and weighted down by the classical mess.

Classical concentration that focuses on one thing and excludes all others, and awareness, which is total and excludes nothing, are states of the mind that can be understood only by objective, non-prejudiced observation.

Awareness has no frontier; it is a giving of your whole being, without exclusion.

Concentration is a narrowing down of the mind. But we are concerned with the process of living and to concentrate exclusively on any particular aspect of life, belittles life.

The “moment” has not yesterday or tomorrow. It is not the result of thought and, therefore, has not time.

When, in a split second, your life is threatened, do you say, “Let me make sure my hand is on my hip, and my style is ‘the’ style”? When your life is in danger, do you argue about the method you will adhere to while saving yourself? Why the duality?

A so-called martial artist is the result of three thousand years of propaganda and conditioning.

Why do individuals depend on thousands of years of propaganda? They may preach “softness” as the ideal to “firmness,” but when “what is” hits, what happens? Ideals, principles, the “what should be” leads to hypocrisy.

Because one does not want to be disturbed, to be made uncertain, he establishes a pattern of conduct, of thought, a pattern of relationships to man. He then becomes a slave to the pattern and takes the pattern to be the real thing.

Agreeing to certain patterns of movement to secure the participants within the governed rules might be good for sports like boxing or basketball, but the success of Jeet Kune Do lies in its freedom, both to use technique and to dispense with it.

The second-hand artist blindly following his sensei or sifu accepts his pattern. As a result, his action, and more importantly, his thinking become mechanical. His response becomes automatic, according to set patterns, making him narrow and limited.

Self-expression is total, immediate, without conception of time, and you can only express that if you are free, physically and mentally, from fragmentation.

Tuesday, June 14, 2016

Bruce Lee: On the Three Stages of Art (and No-Mindedness)

This morning I realized that since I didn't post anything in 2011, the blog missed out on my whole "Bruce Lee phase." Thankfully, I had written several Facebook notes and posts on the topic, which I would now like to transfer to the blog. Here is the first in the series - in a slightly different form than it appeared on Facebook.


Bruce Lee: On the Three Stages of Art (and No-Mindedness)

Here is of my favorite Bruce Lee quotes of all time:
Before I studied the art, a punch to me was just a punch, a kick was just a kick.
After I'd studied the art, a punch was no longer a punch, a kick no longer a kick.
Now that I understand the art, a punch is just a punch, a kick is just a kick. 
At first glance this might sound like Eastern/Zen mumbo jumbo. Thankfully, by the time I encountered this quote, I had read enough of Bruce Lee's writings to know that he is a thinker, and my emunas chachamim propelled me forward in my reading and eventually led to a more lucid passage which unlocked the meaning of this more cryptic one.

In an unpublished article written in 1964 - which was posthumously published in Artist of Life (1999) - Bruce Lee identifies the "three stages in the cultivation of gung ku" (a.k.a. "Kung Fu"). In truth, these are the three stages of cultivating any art, skill, and craft. As you read about these three stages, think about the arts which you have cultivated. I think you'll find that he is correct. Personally, I've seen myself go through cycles of these stages in Gemara (specifically, my training in the Brisker Derech), Mishlei, teaching, writing, and Magic: the Gathering - but I highly recommend finding your own examples: 
There are three stages in the cultivation of gung fu: namely, the primitive stage, the stage of art, and the stage of artlessness.

The primitive stage is the stage of original ignorance in which a person knows nothing of the art of combat. In a fight he simply blocks and strikes instinctively without concern as for what is right and wrong. Of course, he might not be so-called scientific, but he is, nevertheless, being himself.

The second stage, the stage of art, begins when a person starts his training. He is taught the different ways of blocking and striking, the various ways of kicking, of standing, of moving, of breathing, of thinking. Unquestionably he is gaining a scientific knowledge of combat, but unfortunately his original self and sense of freedom are lost, and his action no longer flows by itself. His mind tends to freeze at different movements for calculation and analysis. Even worse, he might be "intellectually bound" and maintaining himself outside the actual reality.

The third stage, the stage of artlessness, occurs when, after years of serious and hard practice, he realizes that, after all, gung fu is nothing special and instead of trying to impose his mind on the art, he adjusts himself to the opponent like water pressing on an earthen wall, it flows through the slightest crack. There is nothing to "try" to do but be purposeless and formless like water. Nothingness prevails; he no longer is confined. 
Here is the same idea expressed in a more descriptive language: 
To state it in terms of gung fu, the genuine beginner knows nothing of the way of blocking and striking, and much less about his concern for himself. When an opponent tries to strike him, he “instinctively” parries it. This is all he can do. But as soon as his training starts, he is taught how to defend and attack, where to keep the mind, and many other technical tricks – which makes his mind “stop” at various junctures. For this reason whenever he tries to strike the opponent he feels unusually hampered (he has lost altogether the original sense of innocence and freedom). But as months and years go by, as his training acquires fuller maturity, his bodily attitude and his way of managing the technique toward no-mindedness comes to resemble the state of mind he had at the very beginning of his training when he knew nothing, when he was altogether ignorant of the art. The beginning and the end thus turn into next-door neighbors. In the musical scale, one may start with the lowest pitch and gradually ascend to the highest. When the highest is reached, one finds it is located next to the lowest.

In a similar way, when the highest stage is reached ... a gung fu man turns into a kind of simpleton ... Intellectual calculations are lost and a state of no-mindedness prevails. When the ultimate perfection is attained, the body and limbs perform by themselves what is assigned to them with no interference from the mind. The technical skill is so automatic it is completely divorced from conscious efforts. 
Now you'll be able to appreciate the pithiness and clarity of the initially a cryptic statement: 
Before I studied the art (the primitive stage), a punch to me was just a punch, a kick was just a kick.
After I'd studied the art (the stage of art), a punch was no longer a punch, a kick no longer a kick.
Now that I understand the art (the stage of artlessness), a punch is just a punch, a kick is just a kick. 
But one must exercise caution and patience if he wishes to advance. As my Mishlei rebbi constantly reminded us, one must never attempt to skip steps. The beginner will only enter the second stage once he begins to realize the limitations of his "primitive way" and naturally seeks out training as a means of enhancing his abilities and sharpening his skills. If he is forced into the rigorous training without seeing it as a way of expanding his capacities - that is, if he still believes in his heart that the primitive way can lead him to victory - then he will view the training as an obstacle to his success, and will resist it and abhor it. 

Likewise, the transition from the second to the third stage cannot be forced, but must come about naturally and gradually. One cannot simply quit in the middle of training and say, "I want to be free, so I'm going to stop thinking about how to implement my techniques, and instead, just 'be' myself." Rather, he must continue to diligently apply himself to his training of technique until one day, it dawns on him that he is no longer "thinking about" his method, but is simply thinking and simply doing. Only then will he experience what Bruce Lee describes: 
I'm moving and not moving at all. I'm like the moon underneath the waves that ever go on rolling and rocking. It is not, "I am doing this," but rather, an inner realization that "this is happening through me," or "it is doing this for me." The consciousness of self is the greatest hindrance to the proper execution of all physical action. 
This is what Bruce Lee refers to as "wu-hsin" (the state of "no-mindedness")*. The great mistake is to believe that one can attain this state without the use of mind, intellect, and reason. Those who labor under this error have effectively surrendered themselves to the clutches of their primitive emotions and imagination, and will inevitably end up in the realm of mysticism, deluding themselves into believing they have achieved some form of "enlightenment."

To the contrary: the only way one can attain wu-hsin is by rigorously training and applying one's mind to the art, thinking through each aspect of each move and governing every step with the faculty of reason. It is only after one has attained technical mastery through the powers intellect that the intellect can let go. Once the techniques become second nature, the intellect is no longer needed for their execution. The mind can then be free to respond to the reality at hand, as Bruce Lee writes: 
Absence of thought as doctrine means not to be carried away by thought in the process of thought, not to be defiled by external objects, to be in thought yet devoid of thought. 
To the extent that one has mastered the stage of art and is practicing his craft at the stage of artlessness, one can practice his craft in the freedom from thinking about results: 
Approach Jeet Kune Do with the idea of mastering the will. Forget about winning and losing; forget about pride and pain. Let your opponent graze your skin and you smash into his flesh; let him smash into your flesh and you fracture his bones; let him fracture your bones and you take his life! Do not be concerned with your escaping safely – lay your life before him!

The great mistake is to anticipate the outcome of the engagement; you ought not to be thinking of whether it ends in victory or in defeat. Let nature take its course, and your tools will strike at the right moment. 
If a beginner attempts to "let nature take its course," he will probably lose. How could it be said of him that "[his] tools will strike at the right moment" when he has no tools? And even if he does have a few tools, how will they "strike at the right moment" if these tools haven't been trained? Likewise, the Second Stage practitioner cannot "let nature take his course." His set of tools is still incomplete and his use of them is unskilled. His greatest chances of victory lie in the conscious, methodical, thinking-driven application of the techniques he has learned.

Only after rigorous (and restrictive) training can one be both free and successful in one's art. 


* I suspect that if I had encountered these ideas even one year ago, I would have immediately dismissed them, saying, "No mind?! That's BAD! Intellect GOOD, no-intellect BAD!" I would have hastily judged these ideas based on the superficial meaning of the terminology. Thank God, I have become a slower and more open-minded thinker.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

Bruce Lee: On Lefum Tzaara Agra

Originally published in July 2013.

This picture of Bruce Lee learning Pirkei Avos may or may not be Photoshopped.
Bruce Lee: On Lefum Tzaara Agra

Pirkei Avos concludes with an oft-quoted teaching of Ben Hei Hei: לפום צערא אגרא (lefum tazaara agra). Although some like to translate this as "according to the effort is the reward," a Hebrew speaker will readily note that this is a poor rendition. צערא (tzaara) is the Aramaic translation of the Hebrew word צער (tzaar) which means "pain" or "suffering." A more accurate translation of Bein Hei Hei's statement would be: "according to the pain is the reward" or "according to the suffering is the reward."

I've heard this statement thrown around quite often, usually as a way of saying, "All that matters is how hard you try!" or "No pain, no gain!" (which, funnily enough, the Wikipedia article traces back to our mishnah). While there may be some truth in these common sayings, I don't think this is what Ben Hei Hei was getting at.

My rabbeim taught me that whenever I learn anything, I should always try to arrive at my own understanding first, and only afterwards consult the meforshim (commentaries). In that spirit, I wanted to share my own pre-meforshim understanding of lefum tzaara agra. My idea was inspired by a quotation from my Jeet Kune Do rebbi: Bruce Lee.

Bruce Lee taught: 
People have to grow by skillful frustrations – otherwise, they have no incentive to develop their own means and ways of coping with the world. 
We all have habits. The Rambam would call these "deos" or "character dispositions." Collectively, we refer to these habits as "our personality." By and large, these habits dictate our decision-making. When we find ourselves in unfamiliar situations, our habits influence the direction our minds go in deciding how to act. 

In order to perfect ourselves in any area of life, we must be willing to alter these habits. In order to change our habits, we must act contrary to them. Forcing ourselves to go against our habits may be painful and frustrating, but it is absolutely necessary for the sake of our development. The Rambam writes about this at length in the first and second chapters of Hilchos Deos.

The most painful habits to break are the ones which are rooted in what we value most. The more attached we are, the more painful it is to act against our habits. For example: dieting can be torturous for those who are accustomed to eating whatever they want, whenever they want; controlling one's temper can be extremely difficult for someone who is accustomed to unrestrained "venting"; keeping halacha can feel especially oppressive for those who were brought up living a non-halachic life. 

This is where Torah and mitzvos enter the picture. There is no area of our lives about which the Torah has nothing to say, whether in the derech ha'am or the derech ha'yachid. In every area of our lives, the Torah guides us away from our default habits and develops us in accordance with its objectives

So far, we have set forth three premises: (1) we are dominated by our habits; (2) acting contrary to our habits is painful; (3) the Torah compels us to act contrary to our habits for the sake of our development. Put it all together and we arrive at the following truth: Every major breakthrough in our Torah development will necessarily be accompanied by pain and frustration.

Think about it: how would it be possible to have a real breakthrough which doesn't run contrary to our habits, emotions, and personality? If someone claims to have had a breakthrough in Torah which is so in line with his or her present way of living and thinking that it doesn't cause any conflict, then I would seriously question the authenticity of this "breakthrough." 


The Rav writes about this phenomenon in "Footnote 4" of Halakhic Man:
Religion is not, at the outset, a refuge of grace and mercy for the despondent and desperate, an enchanted stream for crushed spirits, but a raging clamorous torrent of man’s consciousness with all its crises, pangs, and torments.Yes, it is true that during the third Sabbath meal at dusk, as the day of rest declines and man’s soul yearns for its Creator and is afraid to depart from that realm of holiness whose name is Sabbath, into the dark and frightening, secular workaday week, we sing the psalm, “The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters” (Ps. 23), etc., etc., and we believe with our entire hearts in the ultimate destination of the religious man, not the path leading to that destination. For the path that eventually will lead to the “green pastures” and to the “still waters” is not the royal road, but a narrow, twisting footway that threads its course along the steep mountain slope, as the terrible abyss yawns at the traveler’s feet.
Let us reexamine this idea in light of the aforementioned statement of Bruce Lee, which I will reiterate here: "People have to grow by skillful frustrations – otherwise, they have no incentive to develop their own means and ways of coping with the world." To borrow his terminology: the Torah spreads a 613-part layer of "skillful frustrations" over our lives, but instead of leaving us directionless to "develop our own means and ways of coping with the world" the "skillful frustrations" of Torah guide us towards human perfection in accordance with the wisdom of the Creator. 

This, I believe, is the meaning of lefum tzaara agra. Any* time we experience pain as a result of our progress in Torah, we can rest assured that the Torah regimen is doing its job: breaking our attachment to our detrimental habits and our default, emotional, fantasy-based view of reality and instilling within us beneficial habits while guiding us to a truer view of reality. 

According to this reading of our mishnah in Avos, lefum tzaara agra is not a prescriptive statement, but a descriptive statement. Ben Hei Hei isn't telling us, "You'd better power through the pain, because the more pain you endure, the more reward you'll get!" Rather, he's providing us with a useful perspective for monitoring our own development, saying, "If you are experiencing pain and frustration in your relationship with Torah, this isn't necessarily a bad thing! To the contrary, it is indicative of progress: the more pain you are experiencing, the more progress you are (potentially) making." This perspective can provide a much-needed jolt of motivation during those "spiritual crises, pangs, and torments" of which the Rav spoke.


This is how I imagine Bruce Lee would say, "Nice pshat!"
Well, that was my pre-meforshim interpretation of lefum tzaara agra. Do any meforshim learn this way? ... Not exactly. I have yet to see any meforshim on Avos itself who take even a remotely similar approach. The only leads I have found are the Meiri and the Rambam. The Meiri interprets agra (reward) here not as "reward" (as conventionally understood). Instead, he writes that agra refers to "the outcome [of our involvement in Torah], namely, the apprehension of the truth." Check out the rest of his commentary there. It's possible he's taking a similar approach, but I'm doubtful.

I am more optimistic about the Rambam. The Rambam brings down lefum tzaara agra in the sixth chapter of the Shemoneh Perakim in the context of chasid vs. kovesh es yitzro. Frankly, I don't have enough energy tonight to summarize his views and explain why I think my idea is on the same train of thought as his. Perhaps I'll do that in another post.

For now, let me know what you think of this idea. Specifically, let me know whether you think it is a good pshat, or whether it might be more of a drash, or whether it doesn't amount to either.


* Of course, this assumes that we are keeping Torah in the correct manner. It is certainly possible for a person to experience pain, conflict, and frustration based on a misunderstanding of Torah; this tzaara would not yield agra.

Thursday, July 16, 2015

Haftarah of Mattos/Masei: Becoming Hevel

Originally posted in July 2013.



Haftarah of Mattos/Masei: Becoming Hevel

What happens to you if you worship avodah zarah? I’m not talking about the halachic penalty for avodah zarah, nor am I talking about your fate in Olam ha’Ba. I’m not even asking about the hashgachic consequences of avodah zarah in Olam ha’Zeh, as far as reward and punishment are concerned. I am asking an existential question: What happens to you – to the very essence of who you are, in this world – if you worship avodah zarah?

Yirmiyahu ha’Navi provides an answer in this week’s haftarah:

כֹּה אָמַר ה' מַה מָּצְאוּ אֲבוֹתֵיכֶם בִּי עָוֶל כִּי רָחֲקוּ מֵעָלָי וַיֵּלְכוּ אַחֲרֵי הַהֶבֶל וַיֶּהְבָּלוּ
Thus said Hashem: What wrong did your forefathers find in Me, that they distanced themselves from Me, and they went after the hevel and they became hevel? [1]
I’d like to focus on two questions:
  1. What does the Navi mean by “hevel” in this context? It is clear from the rest of the perek that he is referring to avodah zarah, but what idea about avodah zarah does he intend to convey by characterizing it as “hevel”?
  2. Furthermore, what does he mean by “they became hevel”? I can understand how a person can chase after hevel, but what does it mean for a person to become hevel
Metzudas David defines “hevel” as “davar she’ein bo mamash” meaning “that which has no substance” or “that which has no reality.” [2] Elsewhere he explains that this use of the term “hevel” was borrowed from the literal denotation of “hevel” translates to “breath” or “air,” neither of which have any tangible substance. [3]

To my mind, this is the perfect description of avodah zarah. The entire belief system of the oved avodah zarah – comprised of false gods, supernatural beings, and mystical forces – has no existence in reality. It is hevel: nothingness, emptiness, and non-existence. This answers our first question.

In order to answer our second one, we must ask an even more basic question: What is avodah zarah? “Avodah zarah” is commonly translated as “idolatry” or "idol-worship." In truth, idol-worship is merely a particular form of avodah zarah, but not its very definition.

Essentially, avodah zarah is a derech: a certain way of relating to reality. One of best definitions of the derech avodah zarah I've heard is the one given by my rebbi. He defined avodah zarah as “relating to the products of your psyche as reality.” Unlike the Torah system, whose veracity can be demonstrated rationally, the oveid avodah zarah’s belief system rests on nothing but his own wishes, fears, and other emotions. He believes that his avodah zarah is true because he feels it is true, not because he has verified it with his mind.

According to Torah, the essence of the human being is his tzelem Elokim – the truth-seeking part of him which enables him to comprehend reality. The oveid avodah zarah lives in a manner contrary to his tzelem Elokim. He ignores the voice of his rational intellect and instead relies on his irrational imagination to tell him what exists and what doesn't exist. The Rambam explains that a person who abuses his imaginative faculty in this manner is not living as a human being, but as an animal. [4]

Now we are in a position to understand what Yirmiyahu meant when he said that those who go after avodah zarah will “become hevel.” Bruce Lee said, “As you think, so shall you become,” and that is exactly what happens here. By embracing a derech of hevel – an unthinking, subjective, imagination-driven way of determining what is real – the oveid avodah zarah has ceased to exist as a tzelem Elokim and has chosen to live as an animal. Thus, he has therefore become hevel (“non-existent” as a human being). [4]

The Torah is a system which was designed each individual’s existence as a tzelem Elokim. Avodah zarah undermines the Torah’s goal on a fundamental level. It is for this reason that Chazal said that believing in avodah zarah is equal to denying the entire Torah, and affirming the truth of Torah involves denying avodah zarah in its entirety. [5] This is also the reason why a Jew who worships avodah zarah is halachically treated as a non-Jew in almost all matters. [6] His worldview is antithetical to that of the Torah, and the Torah reclassifies him accordingly.

I hope that this understanding of avodah zarah helps you to understand why the Torah and all of the Neviim make such a big deal about it. As the month of Av approaches, it would behoove us to reflect on the fact that avodah zarah was one of the sins for which the Beis ha’Mikdash was destroyed, and that while “idol worship” has been greatly diminished since then, the derech of avodah zarah is alive and well.



[1] Sefer Yirmiyahu 2:5
[2] Rav David Altschuler (Metzudas David), Commentary on Sefer Yirmiyahu 2:5 

[3] ibid. Commentary on Sefer Koheles 1:2
[4] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah, Chagigah 2:1  

[5] Talmud Bavli Nedarim 25a, Kiddushin 40b, Shevuos 29a, Horiyos 8a,Chullin 5a; see also Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides) Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Avodah Zarah 2:4 
[6] ibid. 2:5