My Rejected Kiruv Article on the Purpose of Life

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My Rejected Kiruv Article on the Purpose of Life

Foreword                                                                                                                     

I was planning on just posting the article I wrote and leaving it at that. But the more I thought about it, the more I deemed it important to provide the background information about why and for whom I wrote this article, to tell you how it was received, and to share my thoughts on its rejection. I think it’s especially important to provide this context because I’d really like to hear your feedback on the article.

Here's the backstory. A few months ago, I was contacted by two editors from a kiruv (Jewish outreach) organization. After introducing themselves, they told me about their new project:

We are looking for credentialed philosophers to write one or two articles from the following seven themes (or another if you prefer):

Is there a God? Where did the Universe come from? What is the meaning of life? What happens to us after we die? What is consciousness? Is there free will? and What are good and evil?

They specified the following criteria, in this language:

1. Length: 800-1200 words
2. Audience: Mostly millennials but accessible to all who have never studied philosophy
3. Style: Deals directly with the issue in a universal way (no proofs from any scripture), must use examples from contemporary culture
4. Tone: Serious, but fun and a bit sassy (70/20/10)

Despite my personal stance on kiruv and my not being a “credentialed philosopher,” I told them with genuine excitement that this project sounds right up my alley, and that I’d be delighted to write an article or two in July. 

I chose “What is the meaning of life?” as the subject for my first article because it's a topic I’ve addressed on many occasions throughout my high school teaching career, but I hadn’t yet written it up in any form. I welcomed the somewhat restrictive assignment specifications because it would be way too easy to let an article like this to get out of hand if I had the freedom to write it as I saw fit.

Below is the final draft of the article. The only difference between this and the version I submitted is the presence of a single paragraph in brackets towards the end – a paragraph which they liked but felt would be better saved for the sequel. I chose to include that paragraph here because, as you might have inferred from the title of this blog post, a sequel will not likely be forthcoming.

After you read the article, I’ll tell you how it was received. I'll share my own thoughts on the feedback I received and then I'll ask you for your feedback.

The Purpose of Life (According to Maimonides)

Introduction

All religions are expected to answer the question: “What is the purpose of life?” It should come as no surprise that this question is taken up by Maimonides (a.k.a. Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, or Rambam, 1138-1204 C.E.), in his Guide for the Perplexed. [1]

For those who have only heard the “traditional” Jewish answers to this question, Maimonides’s answer might come as a shock. Best to sit down and buckle up!

The Purpose of the Universe

Maimonides’s treatment of this topic takes place in the context of an even larger question: What is the purpose of the universe as a whole?

He begins by challenging the notion that the universe was created for the sake of human beings. He argues that the universe is far too vast to be necessary for the human species, which is like a mere drop in the sea. (See the recent images taken by the Webb telescope released by NASA in July 2022.) And if a person claimed that all the planets, stars, and galaxies in the universe aren’t necessary for humans but nonetheless benefit us, the burden of proof would be on that person to explain how. (If Maimonides were playing chess, this is the first place he’d say, “Check.”)

Next, he refutes the common religious answer to our initial question, namely, that the purpose of man is to serve God. He writes: “Even if the universe existed for man's sake and man existed for the purpose of serving God, as has been mentioned, the question remains: What is the purpose of serving God? God does not become more perfect if all His creatures serve Him and comprehend Him as far as possible, nor would He lose anything if nothing existed beside Him.” In other words, God is perfect and has no needs; therefore, the purpose of the universe and of man cannot possibly be for His sake. (“Check again.”)

At this point, it would seem there is only one move left for the religious individual to make: the universe exists for us, we exist to serve God, and our service of God is not for His sake, but for our sake. Maimonides serves this view up, then smacks it down: “It might perhaps be replied that the service of God is not intended for God's perfection, but for our own perfection; it is good for us and perfects us. But then the question might be repeated: What is the purpose of our perfection?” (“Check yet again.”)

And this is where he drops the M-bomb (short for “Maimonides bomb”). Ready for it? According to Maimonides, life has no purpose. (“Checkmate.” Mic drop.)

The Purpose of Life (or Lack Thereof)

Many of us were taught that each person was given a special mission to accomplish which is their purpose in life, but Maimonides doesn’t buy that. Nor does he buy the other common answers, such as “God created the universe because He wanted to bestow His kindness” or “God created us in order to reward our service,” both of which run into the problems mentioned above.

But before you tip over your king and careen into the nihilistic void, allow me to unpack Maimonides’s nuanced position.

Think about how we relate to the question, “What is the purpose of X?” We ask this question when the utility of an entity is not readily apparent. Consider the following scenario. You see me holding an unfamiliar gadget. You ask me, “What is that for?” and I answer: “Oh, this? This thing has no purpose.” You might reply, “Then what’s the point? What good is it?” In other words, you assume that if it has no purpose, then it is not good.

But that conclusion isn’t necessarily warranted. In truth, there are two possibilities for why (or how) something “has no purpose.” One possibility is that the entity is, indeed, useless. Its existence lacks justification. It is a means to no end whatsoever. The other possibility is that its existence is an end in and of itself. It doesn’t need any purpose outside of itself to justify its own existence because its existence is intrinsically good. 

That is the sense in which Maimonides would say that life has no purpose: because existence is good, in and of itself. 

The Basis in Torah

This view is borne out in the opening chapter of Genesis. The phrase “and God saw that it was good” appears six times in the account of creation. If the Torah had withheld this declaration of goodness until after the creation of man, one might be justified in concluding that man is the purpose of the universe. But that's not what the Torah says. God creates light and deems it "good." He separates the seas and dry land and deems this "good." He creates vegetation and trees and deems them "good." And the luminaries, and the fish, and the birds, and so on.

Maimonides understands this to mean that each and every component of the universe is good simply by virtue of its existence. And when the account of creation ends with “God saw everything that He had made and behold! it was exceedingly good” (Genesis 1:31), this means that the universe has no purpose outside of itself. According to Judaism, existence in accordance with the will and wisdom of the Creator is the only standard by which goodness is measured. [2]

Now we can rephrase the answer to our original question in a more uplifting way. What is the purpose of life? To exist! To live! Life is inherently good! You don’t need any special, personalized mission to imbue your life with value because your life has intrinsic value!

And that is the end of the story … almost.

The Anomaly of Humanity

On Day Six, God creates the land animals and declares them to be good. Then He creates man and woman but does not declare them to be good. Why not? The answer lies in the essential difference between humans and all other phenomena in the universe. What is that difference? Free will.

We are the only creations that have free will and who can choose to disobey God. The Sages express this in the Tamludic dictum: “Everything is in the hands of heaven except for the fear of heaven” (Berachos 33b), which Maimonides explains to be a reference to free will. All other creations in the universe are “programmed” to exist in line with the will and wisdom of the Creator, without any possibility of deviation, and are therefore good “by default.” We humans can deviate. We can choose to live like animals, neglecting our unique capacity for abstract intellection, or we can attempt to live like angels, neglecting our physical and psychological needs. Both paths run contrary to our design, and therefore lead to self-destruction.

Rather, we humans must choose to live in line with the will and wisdom of the Creator. God does not declare man and woman to be good because this goodness isn’t guaranteed. The sociologist, Eric Hoffer, wrote: “Animals can learn, but it is not by learning that they become dogs, cats, or horses. Only man has to learn to become what he is supposed to be.” We must learn what it means to be human, and to consciously align ourselves with that ideal to the greatest extent possible in order to thrive.

[This is where the Torah comes into the picture. Gersonides (a.k.a. Ralbag, 1288-1344 C.E.) defines Torah as “a God-given regimen that brings those who practice it properly to true success.” Perhaps it would be more accurate to translate “true success” as “true human flourishing” – to find fulfillment by living in line with our true nature as truth-seeking beings devoted to seeking knowledge and practicing kindness, righteousness, and justice on earth, in harmony with ourselves and our fellow human beings. How the Torah serves this function is a topic for another article …]

The Purpose of Your Life

And this is where the notion of individual purpose finds its place. According to Maimonides, there is no extrinsic purpose to any individual’s life as an individual. We all share a common mission: to live in a manner which actualizes the human potential inherent in our nature. However, this actualization will play out differently based on our strengths, weaknesses, and individual differences, as determined by nature and nurture.

For example, Moses, Rabbi Akiva, and I belong to the same species and aspire to the same standard of human “goodness,” but since each of us possesses a different set of potentialities and lives in a different set of circumstances, each of us will have a different path of “goodness” to follow.

Here the maxim “know thyself” takes on additional significance: to live a “good life” we must know ourselves as humans, but we must also know ourselves as individuals, so that we can actualize our individual potentialities in accordance with the blueprint of universal human nature. 

Conclusion

Let us conclude with a summary of the main points. What is the purpose of life? According to Maimonides, life has no purpose – not because it is pointless, but because existence in line with the will and wisdom of the Creator is inherently good. This is true for everything in the universe, including for us, but unlike the other creations, we must learn what it means to be human and deliberately choose to live that way in order to live good lives. And because each of us is different, we must acquire enough self-knowledge to actualize our individual human potentialities, thereby making each of our lives worth living.

[1] Although the main ideas presented in this article can be found in Maimonides’s Guide for the Perplexed 3:13, I have incorporated insights and examples gleaned from various other texts and teachers.

[2] Some might object to this entire line of reasoning, saying: “The whole notion of ‘intrinsically good’ is a cop-out! You can’t just say that something is good for no purpose. If a thing is good, then it must be good for something – not in and of itself!” To this objection I would reply by pointing out that ALL value systems, Jewish and non-Jewish, religious and secular, right and wrong, must have at their foundation something which is regarded as an intrinsic good. The alternative is an infinite regression of desire: a series of means with no end. For example, if you ask the average person, “Why is it good to go to school?” they might say, “So I can get a job.” “Why is getting a job good?” “So I can make money.” “Why is money good?” “So I can buy things.” “Why is buying things good?” and so on, until eventually, you will reach something which is regarded as good in and of itself. In some societies, that intrinsic value might be pleasure. In others, it might be accomplishment. In others, it might be status. No one answers these “Why?” questions with infinite “so that”s all the way down; everyone’s answer will have a terminus, and that terminus will be conceived of as an intrinsic good. Mortimer J.Adler observed that one of the most common answers in our society is “happiness,” which is deemed to be intrinsically good. Adler supported this observation by pointing out that it is impossible to complete the sentence: “I want to be happy because _____.” To sum it up: this answer is not a cop-out because everyone will have something which occupies the slot of intrinsic value. According to Maimonides’s understanding of Judaism, that intrinsic value is “existence in line with the will and wisdom of the Creator.”

Afterword

After sending in my rough draft, I received an email from one of the editors (who is a rabbi) saying, “Thank you very much for this excellent article.” I asked a few questions about matters of style, which he answered. The only suggestion he had about the substance of the article was to omit the paragraph about the role of Torah, saying that “a separate piece on ‘What is Judaism?’ would do very well.” I made these cosmetic changes and then submitted my final draft. 

After not hearing back from either of my contacts for a week, I emailed them to ask whether there are other changes I should make. The editor who initially contacted me apologized for the delay (explaining that her response had been sitting in her draft folder), and then went on to say:

Even though we personally enjoyed it, our editor in chief flagged it and shared the piece with the Rosh HaYeshiva and they got back to us and said that they feel the article is "confusing and misleading." Unfortunately the whole approach doesn't work for them.  We do sincerely thank you for your time and effort and will of course be remunerating you for it.

I would have appreciated it if the editor in chief and/or the Rosh HaYeshiva had elaborated on what they meant by “confusing and misleading,” but I wouldn’t expect them to take the time to provide detailed feedback to a total stranger about a piece they decided not to use. Of course, this left me with two options: (1) to speculate about what they might have meant, and (2) to solicit feedback from other people.

My speculations are straightforward: I suspect they deemed the article “misleading” because they fundamentally disagree with what I wrote, and they called it “confusing” because since they couldn’t openly denounce the Rambam for his views, they instead placed the blame on my presentation of his views.

What, exactly, do I think they found so disagreeable? It could be any of several points: that the universe wasn’t created for man, that man doesn’t exist to serve God, that God doesn't need us for anything, that God did not create the universe in order to bestow His kindness to man, that the Torah is “merely” a means of making us good rather than the standard by which goodness is measured, that Olam ha’Ba isn’t mentioned anywhere in the article, that no distinction is made between Jews and non-Jews, that I say nothing about spirituality, etc.

But if I had to bet money on which sentence they found to be the most objectionable, it would be this: “Many of us were taught that each person was given a special mission to accomplish which is their purpose in life, but Maimonides doesn’t buy that.” Since I was writing for an audience of laypeople, I didn’t refer to this notion by its commonly used Hebrew term “tafkid” or by the related term “tikkun.” I cannot definitively say how, from where, or when this belief originated, but I do know that it was popularized by the Hasidic movement to the point where it can now be described as “mainstream.” For example, here’s an excerpt from the book “The Garden of Emunah” (2006) by Rabbi Shalom Arush, a Breslov Hasid, translated into English by Rabbi Lazer Brody:

Each of us comes to this earth for the express purpose of fulfilling a mission. Longevity depends on the task we have to complete. One’s death – even in a sudden tragedy or accident – is always the result of Hashem’s personal decision. Some live for twenty years and others for one hundred years, but we all eventually leave this earth at the precise moment that Hashem decides. A mind-boggling set of Divine considerations influences the circumstances of a person’s life and longevity – the person’s deeds, former lives, public edicts, and other criteria that defy our understanding.

Some souls come to this earth for a short and specific tikkun, and then return to the upper worlds. Such souls are usually remarkably special people, with little or no evil inclination, gentle, kind, and pleasant. Therefore, don’t be surprised when you hear of young upright people that die suddenly; they’ve simply completed their tikkun – their soul correction and mission on earth. (p.44)

As you can see from just this short excerpt – and certainly from the rest of the book – the notion of a Divinely ordained mission in life is inextricably bound up with many other fundamental doctrines: hashgachah pratis (individual Divine providence), sachar v’onesh (reward and punishment), tzadik v’ra lo (“Why do bad things happen to good people?”), bitachon (trust in God), and more. To question, challenge, or deny the notion of an individual purpose in life is to threaten these foundational beliefs. And that’s essentially what I did by presenting the Rambam’s view in the manner that I did.

Of course, I knew I was doing this when I wrote the article. I knew that their readership would be unlikely to hear this idea from anyone else, and I know how powerful this idea can be. In fact, the first time I heard this answer given in this exact way was at a Q&A with high school students held by my Rosh ha’Yeshiva. I still remember the feeling that reverberated through the room when he said, “life has no purpose,” and then went on to explain the ideas in this article. (You can listen to the recording by clicking here and skipping to 24 minutes; note that my Rosh ha’Yeshiva had laryngitis at the time.) I wanted to replicate that experience as much as I could in my article because I know that it will resonate with others the same way it resonated with me and with all the other students who were present at that Q&A.

This is also why I left the reader “an out” by underscoring that this is the view of Maimonides. I did not claim that this view is unanimous. I included the phrase “according to Maimonides” in the title. I repeatedly stressed throughout the article that this is all “according to Maimonides.” I did this so that if someone felt threatened, they could dismiss it by saying, “That’s just the Rambam's view.”

And this is why I think it is misleading to call my article “misleading.” It would be misleading if I misrepresented the Rambam’s view. To my knowledge, I didn’t do that. I could be wrong, though, which is why I’m sharing this article and the feedback publicly. If I’ve misunderstood the Rambam’s position, then I’d like to know how – especially on such a fundamental issue as the purpose of life. 

To reiterate: I can see how a person might consider this article “misleading” if they felt it would lead the reader astray from (what they maintain is) the truth. But “confusing”? I thought I did a decent job of presenting this idea clearly, which is another reason I’d like feedback. I would especially like to hear feedback from someone who says: “I completely understand what you are saying and you presented these ideas very clearly, but I think you are 100% incorrect.” At least that way I’ll know that the reader isn’t biased by their agreement with what they've read. 

And so, my readers and listeners, what do you think? Do you find this article to be confusing and/or misleading? If so, why? What other thoughts, questions, and critiques do you have? I'm all ears.

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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 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 a day's or a week's worth of content, 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"  Email me if you'd like to be added to my WhatsApp group where I share all of my content and public shiur info. 

Haftaras Re'eh: Torah as Water, Wine, and Milk

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Haftaras Re'eh: Torah as Water, Wine, and Milk

In the haftarah of Re’eh, the navi proclaims: “Ho! Everyone who is thirsty, go to water, even one with no money, go, buy and eat; go and buy wine and milk without money and without price” (Yeshayahu 55:1). Radak (ad loc) explains that water, wine, and milk are all metaphors for Torah and chochmah:

Water is a metaphor for Torah and for chochmah: just as it is impossible for the world [to survive] without water, so too, it is impossible for the world [to survive] without chochmah; and just as one who is thirsty yearns for water, so too, the rational soul yearns for Torah and for chochmah, as it is stated in the prophecy of Amos: "not a famine of bread, nor a thirst for water, but of hearing the word of Hashem” (Amos 8:11) ...

Torah is compared to wine, for just as wine gladdens the heart – as it is stated: “wine gladdens the heart of man” (Tehilim 104:15) – so too, words of Torah, as it is stated: "the statutes of Hashem are upright, gladdening the heart" (ibid. 19:9).

[Torah is compared] to milk, for just as milk sustains the nursing baby and enables it to grow, so too, words of Torah sustain the soul and enable it to grow, for it continues to grow through learning on the level it is at.

To summarize: Torah is like water because it is necessary for survival; Torah is like wine because it gladdens the heart; and Torah is like milk because it promotes growth and development.

According to this interpretation, it follows that there are three different desires that are satisfied through Torah and chochmah. The desire corresponding to water is stated explicitly by the Radak: “just as one who is thirsty yearns for water, so too, the rational soul yearns for Torah and for chochmah.” Aristotle’s Metaphysics opens with the statement: “All men, by nature, desire to know.” This innate desire expresses itself in a number of ways: curiosity, the seeking out of the underlying lawfulness in nature, the need for things to make sense and the irritation or repugnance when things don’t make sense, the drive to ask and answer “What?” and “Why?” When this thirst for chochmah is frustrated, the rational soul suffers. And if the thirst persists for too long without being quenched, there is a risk that the soul will wither and die.

The desire corresponding to wine is evident: the rational soul yearns for that which brings it enjoyment, and chochmah is inherently enjoyable. Rambam explains that ahavas Hashem (love of God) is attained “by comprehending and contemplating His commandments, His creations, and His actions, thereby attaining the ultimate enjoyment through our intellectual apprehension” (Sefer ha’Mitzvos: Aseh #3).

The desire corresponding to milk is the most nuanced of the three: it is the desire for development, or self-actualization. Marcus Aurelius wrote that “Every living organism is fulfilled when it follows the right path for its own nature.” Just as the body is programmed to engage in behaviors which promote its own growth, so too, the rational soul seeks that which promotes its own development and flourishing.

The navi’s mashal doesn’t only pertain to the substance of Torah and chochmah, but also the cost. “Ho! Everyone who is thirsty, go to the water, even one with no money, go, buy and eat; go and buy wine and milk without money and without price” (Yeshayahu 55:1). Not only do Torah and chochmah satisfy these three desires, but they have been given to us for free. The practical implications of this pasuk are clear. When we say our birchos ha’Torah in the morning, it behooves us to pause and feel genuine gratitude to Hashem for making His Torah and His chochmah freely available and accessible to everyone.

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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 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. 

Shavuos 5780: Torah and the Limits of Human Intellect

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Artwork: Mind Unbound, by Jason Felix

Shavuos 5780: Torah and the Limits of the Human Intellect 

The Mysterious Case of the Incomprehensible Haftarah 

The haftarah for Shavuos morning is the infamous first chapter of Sefer Yechezkel. Known as Maaseh Merkavah (the Work of the Chariot), this nevuah (prophecy) is considered to be one of the deepest and most cryptic passages in all of Tanach. Its meaning is so abstruse that there are halachos governing how and to whom it is expounded, as the mishnah in Chagigah 2:1 states: “One may not expound … on Maaseh Merkavah in the presence of [even] one [student], unless he is wise and intuitively understands with his own mind.” 

To appreciate just how incomprehensible this haftarah is, here is an excerpt: 

I looked and saw a stormy wind coming from the north, a great cloud and flashing fire, surrounded by a radiance and within it was something that looked like chashmal within the fire. Within it there were four creature-like shapes. This was how they looked: they had the shape of a human. Each had four faces, and each had four wings. Their feet were straight feet, and the bottoms of their feet were like the bottom of a calf’s hoof, sparkling like burnished bronze. [They had] human hands beneath their wings on their four sides, and the four had faces and wings; their wings were intertwined. They did not turn when they moved; each [could] move in the direction of [any of] its faces. Their faces were shaped like a man’s, with a lion’s face on the right of each of the four of them, an ox’s face on the left of the four of them, and the four of them had an eagle’s face. Their faces and wings were separated above; each had two [wings] linked to one another and two covering their bodies. Each moved in the direction of its faces. They went wherever the spirit drove them, and they did not turn as they moved. (Yechezkel 1:4-12)

Every Shavuos morning, upon the conclusion of this haftarah, someone inevitably makes a joke to the effect of, “Did you get all that?” or “Simple!” or “Crystal clear!” 

This raises a question that I have every Shavuos: If virtually nobody can understand this nevuah, and if even those who can understand it are forbidden to explain it, then why do we read it in public as the haftarah of Shavuos? And I don’t mean to ask: “What is the source?” or “What is the halachic rationale behind the selection of this haftarah?” I mean: “What is the point of reading something that is both intellectually and halachically inexplicable?” 

The Other Merkavah 

A couple centuries prior to Yechezkel’s nevuah, Yeshayahu ha’Navi also had a nevuah which is referred to as “the Merkavah.” Here it is in its entirety: 

In the year of King Uzziah’s death, I saw the Lord sitting upon a high and lofty throne, and its legs filled the Temple. Seraphim were standing above, at His service. Each one had six wings: with two it would cover its face, with two it would cover its legs, and with two it would fly. And one would call to another and say, “Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh [1] is Hashem, Master of Legions; the whole world is filled with His glory.” The doorposts moved many cubits at the sound of the calling, and the Temple became filled with smoke. (Yeshayahu 6:1-4) 

Yechezkel’s vision of the Merkavah is described in great detail over the course of 28 pesukim whereas Yeshayahu’s description is only four pesukim long. Nevertheless, Chazal maintained that Yeshayahu’s nevuah was the greater of the two, as the Gemara in Chagigah 13b states: 

Rava said: Everything that Yechezkel saw was seen by Yeshayah. To what can Yechezkel be compared? To a villager who saw the king [and for whom such a sighting was rare]. And to what can Yeshayah be compared? To a city-dweller who saw the king [and who was accustomed to seeing the king on a more frequent basis]. 

Rashi [2] explains: “a city-dweller who [frequently] sees the king isn’t bewildered and isn’t amazed, and [therefore] doesn’t care to report [what he saw in great detail].” The Radak [3] goes further, explaining the metaphor’s implications about the relative levels of these two neviim: 

In other words, Yechezkel reported the details of these phenomena because it was extremely novel to him … but Yeshayah only described them in general terms, since he was more perfected than Yechezkel and this vision wasn’t as novel to him. 

And yet, despite being the more profound of the two prophetic visions, Yeshayahu’s Merkavah is even more familiar to the average Jew than Yechezkel’s. Why? Because an embellished version of it was incorporated into the daily davening in the berachos of Krias Shema: 

[The angels] all accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another, and grant permission to one another to sanctify the One Who formed them, with tranquility, with clear articulation, and with sweetness. All of them as one proclaim His kedushah and say with awe: “Kadosh, kadosh, kadosh is Hashem, Master of Legions, the whole world is filled with His glory!” (Yeshayahu 6:3). Then the Ofanim [4] and the Chayos ha’Kodesh with great noise raise themselves towards the Seraphim; facing them, they give praise, saying: “Blessed is the glory of Hashem from his place” (Yechezkel 3:12). 

Our question about the haftarah of Shavuos is even stronger if asked about this part of davening: Why did the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah (The Men of the Great Assembly) select one of the most recondite prophetic visions and make it a centerpiece of our daily davening? What did they expect us to understand? What Jew comprehends the distinction between Ofanim, Chayos ha’Kodesh, and Seraphim? Who understands what it means for angels to “accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another” or “grant permission to one another to sanctify”? Who can explain what it means for angels “to praise” or even “to know”? 

I’m not the only one who is bothered by the inclusion of such incomprehensible statements in our davening. Ibn Ezra [5] excoriates ha’Kalir [6] and other paytanim (liturgical poets) for incorporating enigmatic statements, allegories, and sodos (deep ideas) into the prayer service. Ibn Ezra maintains that the language of tefilah should be straightforward. He writes: 

Why don’t we learn from Shlomo [ha’Melech], who was not surpassed by anyone wiser, and yet, his tefilah that he davened is readily coherent; anyone who knows Hebrew can understand it, and it contains no enigmas or metaphors. The same is true of the tefilah of Daniel, [despite the fact that he] was a “solver of riddles” (5:12). They only davened with clear statements, and they were wise men – all the more so regarding the masses of men who daven and are not wise! [7] … 

[Furthermore,] all of [ha’Kalir’s] liturgical poems are filled with aggados and midrashim [which are allegorical and contain statements that are not meant to be taken at face-value], but the Sages said: “no verse departs from its straightforward meaning.” If so, then it is not proper to daven with anything other than pshat (a straightforward meaning), [and it is not proper to daven] with something that contains a sode, or an allegory … 

Granted, Ibn Ezra’s criticisms were only directed at those paytanim who introduced their own compositions into the liturgy. He certainly wouldn’t object to the tefilos and berachos composed by the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah. Yet, in light of his objections to the paytanim for their use of esoteric material, one wonders why one of the most esoteric prophetic visions was made into the centerpiece of the berachos of Krias Shema for every Jew to say. What are we supposed to get out of this? 

An Answer to Our Second Question … 

I recall an answer to this last question that was given by my Rosh Yeshiva. [8] He said that the Anshei Kneses ha’Gedolah incorporated this description of the angelic host praising Hashem in order to remind us that the human intellect is not supreme. 

The Torah maintains that mankind is the greatest species on earth – the only creature with a tzelem Elokim (truth-seeking intellect capable of grasping abstract concepts). Yet, man’s mind is qualitatively inferior to that of the angels, as David ha’Melech states: “You have made [frail man] but slightly less than the angels, crowning him with soul and splendor” (Tehilim 8:6). 

Even Moshe Rabbeinu, the greatest human being who ever existed, was unable to obtain positive knowledge of Hashem, due to the limitations imposed by his physicality, as it is stated: “[Hashem] said, ‘You will not be able to see My face, for no human can see Me and live’” (Shemos 33:20). In contrast, the Rambam [9] writes about the angels: 

All of these immaterial forms (i.e. angels) are alive and comprehend the Creator, and know Him with a great and exceeding knowledge. And each and every immaterial form [knows the Creator] in accordance with its level, but not in accordance with His [true] greatness. Even the highest level [of angel] is unable to completely grasp the reality of the Creator as it really is, due to its deficient mind. 

But it comprehends and knows more than that which is grasped by the immaterial form beneath it; and likewise for each and every level, until the 10th level. And the 10th level also knows the Creator with a knowledge that human beings - who are comprised of a material body and an immaterial form - are not able to comprehend and know like it. But none [of these beings] knows the Creator as He knows Himself. 

In other words, there is a hierarchy of knowledge: animal intelligence is incapable of grasping abstract concepts; human intelligence can grasp abstract concepts, but cannot obtain positive knowledge of that which is purely immaterial; angelic intelligence can grasp that which is purely immaterial, but not fully; only the Creator truly knows Himself. 

Why is concept relevant to mention in the berachos of Krias Shema? I don’t remember what my Rosh Yeshiva said on this particular point, but I would say as follows. Krias Shema is referred to by Chazal as kabbalas ole malchus shamayim (lit. “acceptance of the yoke of heavenly kingship”), which is an acknowledgment of Hashem’s Oneness. [10] This may be the highest level knowledge we can have of the Creator, but we must not fall into the trap of thinking that it is the highest level of knowledge. By prefacing our kabbalas ole malchus shamayim with an acknowledgment of the kabbalas ole malchus shamayim of the angels, who “all accept upon themselves the yoke of heavenly kingship from one another,” we remind ourselves that as humans, our knowledge is imperfect, and we can’t even grasp what it means for the angels to have knowledge of Hashem and praise Him. 

… Which Answers Our First Question 

I believe that my Rosh Yeshiva’s answer to our second question also answers our first question. What is the point [11] of reading the Maaseh Merkavah, which almost nobody can understand, as the haftarah on Shavuos? To remind us that as much Torah we think we understand, a complete grasp of Torah is entirely beyond us. 

I wrote about this at length in my article, The Limits of Our Understanding of Torah, in which I cited the second paragraph of the Ralbag’s Introduction to Torah [12]: 

It is vital not to lose sight of the fact that it is impossible for us to completely apprehend the chochmah (wisdom) and chaninah (beneficence) which is manifest in the Torah’s existence. Rather, we have very little knowledge of this, and we are exceedingly ignorant – just as we have very little knowledge of the wisdom and beneficence which is manifest in the nature of all existing things; we apprehend very little of the chochmah in their design, as is evident to those anyone who has intensively studied the natural sciences, and who recognizes the gap between our theoretical models of the laws of the universe and their reality … It therefore follows from the fact that the Torah is divine – namely, that it is from Hashem, as is known to all people today – [that its nature will also be incompletely understood], even though it is the absolute truth. 

There is only one human being who completely understood Torah: Moshe Rabbeinu. And even his understanding was restricted by the limitations of his physicality, which prevented him from having positive knowledge Hashem. 

Shavuos is Zman Matan Toraseinu, a celebration of the giving of the Torah. [13] If we were to mistakenly think that our intellect is supreme, and that a full comprehension of the Torah is within our grasp – even theoretically, if not practically – then our view of Torah would be fundamentally flawed. Hashem set up boundaries around Har Sinai, “lest [the people] break through to Hashem to see, and a multitude will fall” (Shemos 19:21). At the event of Matan Torah there was a danger that Bnei Yisrael would overestimate their own abilities, push themselves beyond their limitations, and be irreparably harmed. The same is true in our own acceptance of Torah on a daily basis. 

On the celebration of Matan Torah we remind ourselves of our limited ability to grasp Torah by reading a passage of Torah which nobody but the most delusional and haughty individual could possibly think he or she fully understands. This reminder keeps our ego and our self-knowledge in check, which in turns, helps make us worthy to accept the Torah. 

So next time you hear Maaseh Merkavah being read in shul on Shavuos, and you find that you don't understand a single thing, remind yourself that that is precisely the point.

[1] The word “kadosh” is typically translated as “holy,” which is an anathema to me. Seeing as how ק.ד.ש. means “separate” and in relation to Hashem it means “separate from physicality,” I prefer to translate “kadosh” as “transcendent” – but if I translated “kadosh, kadosh, kadosh” as “transcendent, transcendent, transcendent,” then I’d get weird looks from people in shul.
[2] Rabbeinu Shlomo ben Yitzchak (Rashi), Commentary on Chagiga 13b
[3] Rabbeinu David Kimchi (Radak), Commentary on Sefer Yeshayahu 6:1
[4] “Ofanim,” “Chayos ha’Kodesh,” and “Seraphim” are types of angels. See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah 2:7 for a comprehensive list and ranking.
[5] Rabbeinu Avraham ibn Ezra, Commentary on Sefer Koheles 5:1
[6] From Wikipedia: “Eleazar ben Kalir, also known as Eleazar HaKalir, Eleazar ben Killir or Eleazar Kalir (c. 570 – c. 640) was a Byzantine Jew and a Hebrew poet whose classical liturgical verses, known as piyut, have continued to be sung through the centuries during significant religious services.”
[7] I expect someone to object to my reading of the Ibn Ezra on the grounds that he’s referring specifically to using metaphors like referring to Hashem as a lion (based on Hoshea 11:10) or fire (based on Devarim 4:24). Yes, one can argue that his critique is limited to a specific kind of metaphor-usage. Nevertheless, one can also argue that this objection stems from the sort of nitpicking which misses the main point. That’s my argument.
[8] Regrettably, I do not recall where, when, or in what context I heard this explanation. I hope I am conveying it accurately, but it is entirely possible that I am not. Take it with a grain of salt.
[9] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Mishneh Torah: Sefer ha’Mada, Hilchos Yesodei ha’Torah
[10] See Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Sefer ha’Mitzvos: Mitzvas Aseh #2. Incidentally, if anyone tries to claim that kabbalas ole malchus shamayim refers to the acceptance of mitzvos, this line from tefilah is a good disproof. The angels most definitely know God’s Oneness, but they do not “accept” His mitzvos.
[11 Again I will remind you that I am NOT answering the question, “What is the halachic rationale for this reading?” I am answering the practical question, “What are we supposed to get out of it?”
[12]Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershon (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on Sefer Bereishis: Introduction to Torah
[13] Among other things. See my article Shavuos is NOT About Matan Torah for other views.

Bears, Veils, and the Bubble of Judaism

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Artwork: Savage Punch, by Wesley Burt

Bears, Veils, and the Bubble of Judaism

Introduction

I recently listened to a two-part episode of the NPR podcast Invisibilia on the topic of Reality. Here is NPR's summary:

How is it that two neighbors can look out their window at the exact same thing, and see something completely different? This is a question many people in America are asking now. We explore it by visiting a small community in Minnesota, called Eagle's Nest Township, that has a unique experience with the reality divide: some of the people in the town believe that wild black bears are gentle animals you can feed with your hands, and others think they are dangerous killers. This divide leads to conflict and, ultimately, a tragic death. So, is there a "real" truth about the bear, or is each side constructing its own reality? In part two we look at attempts to escape these self-made constructs. We follow one man's epic experiment to break out of his reality bubble. And one woman's epic-in-its-own-way experiment to break out of her species bubble!

To fully appreciate this blog post I recommend listening to Part 1 of that podcast. Alternatively, here is a link to the full transcript. I will now summarize the main points.

Bears: Peaceful or Dangerous?

The overarching question addressed by the podcast, as formulated by the podcasters, is: "So what is it that makes two people look out the window at the exact same thing and see something completely different? What's in their head that's causing that?"

One of the central subjects of this podcast is Lynn Rogers - a bear biologist who "sees himself as a slayer of myths." Rogers firmly believes that the notion that black bears are dangerous is completely false, and is largely the result of decades of propaganda. "The whole way we think about black bears is a lie - that our culture created a concept of bears as fierce predators so hunters can feel brave." Rogers says, "I think of bears as the modern dragon. In medieval times, people believed in dragons to prove their courage ... Now we know there's no such thing as a dragon, and they needed something to play that role."

Rogers really lives by this theory. He began by approaching black bears when they wandered into town; he then started moving towards them in the wild; then he started making "making friends" by establishing bonds of familiarity with specific bears; then he began feeding them from his hand; eventually he allowed them to "kiss him" by feeding them food (e.g. pecans) from his own mouth and letting them lick his face. Rogers soon gathered a following of like-minded individuals who accepted his theory, emulated his ways, and participated in these intimate interactions with wild bears. The more people he won over to his theory, the more people became convinced of his view.

Lynn Rogers "kissing" a bear

Meanwhile, a large number of scientists and organizations voiced strong opposition to the message preached by Rogers, and warned his followers that they were courting death. The podcasters report that the consensus among bear experts was: "Yes, wild black bears are for the most part timid creatures. And despite their large numbers, have only killed around 70 people in North America since 1900, but still. They're wild, unpredictable animals with the power to do enormous harm. I mean, they have actually killed 70 people in North America since 1900."

The podcasters raised the question: What is the reality here? According to Rogers, the reality is that black bears are not dangerous, and it is only our prejudices, our fear, and our actions which create the perception of danger and provoke the bears to attack. Rogers supports his claim by pointing to the many peaceful bear encounters he has had, and he dismisses the instances of injury as flukes which came about because of human error. According to his detractors, the reality is that black bears are extremely dangerous. The cases of injury and bear attacks are the norm, and the peaceful interactions touted by Rogers are the flukes; they got lucky, but their luck is bound to run out.

After stating this question, the podcasters refer us to Emily Balcetis, a psychologist "who studies perception." The following explanation is offered:

There's so much more information out in the world than we can handle at any given point in time ... A lot of what is coming into our system isn't perfectly clear to us. It's ambiguous. So ambiguous that basically we just have to guess what's going on ... And here's the point of all this: most of the time as we walk through the world, that is what we're actually looking at, not just the thing in front of us but also the concepts in our heads ... Each side is literally seeing something different unfold ... So even though it feels like we're seeing reality, none of us is.

The podcasters take this one step further, citing another psychologist named Richard Nisbett:

INTERVIEWER: Nisbett studies reasoning and errors in reasoning. And in our conversation, he told us something that helped me see the story differently. He says this need we have to find the right or the wrong of whatever we're looking at - that's just a cultural habit baked into the logic system handed down to us from the Greeks.

NISBETT: At the base of Western reasoning are some principles like A is A and not A, and both A and not A can't be the case.

INTERVIEWER: So either black bears are dangerous or they're not dangerous. They can't be both dangerous and not dangerous at the same time because that's a contradiction. And we're contradiction phobic.

NISBETT: Right.

INTERVIEWER: But Nisbett says this isn't the only way to look at the world. For instance, in Chinese philosophy and in much of East Asian cultures today...

NISBETT: The assumption is that if there is contradiction, both may be right or both may be wrong and each side should move toward the middle.

So who is correct: Rogers, or the majority of bear experts? The podcasters do not explicitly take a stance - perhaps because by doing so they would be giving in to this "Greek/Western prejudice."

The Allegory of the Veils

At first I balked at the notion proposed by Balcetis and Nisbett. To me, it sounded as though they were denying objective truth/reality and giving into a worldview of subjectivism and relativism and all of its evils and stupidities. 

Upon further consideration I realized that perhaps they were making a more subtle point: not that there is no objective reality, but that we delude ourselves about the objectivity of our own perception of objective reality. We harbor an exaggerated sense of our own objectivity which, ironically, impairs our ability to perceive objective reality. In other words, reality is objective, but our perception of it is not as objective as we'd like to think. 

It was then that I recalled the Rambam's [1] mashal (allegory) of the veils, in the seventh chapter of Shemoneh Perakim:

In many places in the midrash and the aggadah, including some passages quoted in the Talmud, it is stated that some prophets "see" (i.e. know) God from behind many veils and others who "see" Him from behind fewer veils. The difference depends on the extent of their closeness to God and the level of their prophecy. Thus, it is said that Moshe saw God behind one clear and shining - namely, transparent - veil. This is what is meant by the expression that "he [Moshe] looked through the bright aspaklaria." The term "aspaklaria" refers to a lens made from a shining material like diamond or crystal.  

The intent of this statement is that, as explained in Chapter 2, there are intellectual perfections and psychological perfections. Conversely, there are intellectual imperfections (e.g. foolishness, naïveté, difficulty in understanding) and psychological imperfections (e.g. gluttony, pride, anger, wrath, brashness, the love for money, and the like). Indeed, there are many of these, and we have mentioned the way to distinguish them in Chapter 4. 

All these imperfections are the veils that separate between man and God. This was alluded to in the prophet’s statement, "It is your avonos (iniquities) that separate between you and your God" (Yeshayahu 59:2). "Your avonos" - namely, the aforementioned imperfections, are the veils that separate between us and Him. 

Hashem is the true Reality (with an uppercase "R"). The only way we know Him is through knowledge of the reality (with a lowercase "r") that He created - a knowledge we obtain through our study of the Torah and our study of the world. The point of the Rambam's mashal is that our perception of this reality - and therefore, of the true Reality - is colored, distorted, and blocked by the "veils" of our intellectual and psychological imperfections. 

Like Balcetis and Nisbett, the Rambam is not denying objective reality, nor is he denying our ability to perceive objective reality. Rather, he is saying that our perception of objective reality will always be tainted by our imperfections and limitations. Even Moshe Rabbeinu, who comprehended reality to the greatest extent possible for a human being, nevertheless had a veil which clouded his perception of Hashem, simply by virtue of the fact that Moshe was a physical being.

Judaism's Approach to the Veils

We have discussed the nature and purpose of Torah many times. According to the Ralbag [2], Torah is "a God-given regimen that brings those who practice it properly to true success." By "true success" the Ralbag [3] means "knowing and comprehending Hashem (via knowing and comprehending reality) to the extent that is humanly possible." 

Before hearing this podcast, if you had asked me to explain in the terminology of the Veil Allegory what the Torah (i.e. Judaism) is doing, I would have answered: "The Torah helps us remove as many veils as possible, thereby bringing us closer and closer to an accurate and complete comprehension of reality." But after listening to this podcast, I think I have a slightly different understanding. 

Let's take another look at the quotation from Emily Balcetis, with a different emphasis than last time: 

There's so much more information out in the world than we can handle at any given point in time ... A lot of what is coming into our system isn't perfectly clear to us. It's ambiguous. So ambiguous that basically we just have to guess what's going on ... And here's the point of all this: most of the time as we walk through the world, that is what we're actually looking at, not just the thing in front of us but also the concepts in our heads ... Each side is literally seeing something different unfold ... So even though it feels like we're seeing reality, none of us is.

This led me to the following realization: It is true that the Torah's ultimate goal is to remove the veils, but one of the ways the Torah does this is by imposing its own set of veils - veils which block out certain aspects of reality, but guide us towards a life which, in the long run, enables us to have a clearer picture of reality. (If this point isn't quite clear yet, then bear with me while I develop it.)

Bubbles and Judaism

This thought was further crystallized when I listened to Part 2 of the podcast, which dealt with the phenomenon of informational "bubbles." Here is an excerpt from an interview with Max Hawkins, a Google employee who lives in San Francisco: 

HAWKINS: I was lying on my bed, and I was looking up at the ceiling. I just started thinking about these loops that we get into, about how, like, the structure of your life completely determines what happens in it. 

INTERVIEWER: You work at Company X, which is Y miles from your home. You must commute from where you live to where you work, which puts you on a path that limits your exposure to people outside that path. 

HAWKINS: The people inside the bubble get closer to you, and the people outside get further away. 

INTERVIEWER: It was a beautiful bubble. But still... 

HAWKINS: There's something about that that just made me feel trapped, like I was reading a story that I'd read before or I was playing out someone else's script.

Hawkins and the podcasters viewed these bubbles as an intrinsically bad thing. Without a doubt there are downsides to living in a bubble. The person in the bubble has an extremely limited - and therefore, distorted - view of reality, which the bubble itself inhibits that person from recognizing and overcoming.

Upon hearing this I thought about the fact that the Torah is definitely set up to create a bubble. Think about it:

• We aren't allowed to do certain actions (e.g. the 365 Torah prohibitions, and all of the Rabbinic restrictions which reinforce those prohibitions). 
• We aren't allowed to say certain types of speech (e.g. gossip, harmful speech, heretical speech).
• We aren't allowed to be involved in certain types of relationships (sexually, and by extension, romantically - and sometimes even socially). 
• We aren't allowed to hold certain beliefs or involve ourselves in certain types of thoughts (e.g. believing in other gods, denying the fundamentals of Torah, giving in to our curiosity by idly musing about idolatrous belief systems).
• When the Torah system is fully functioning in Eretz Yisrael, we aren't even exposed to certain practices or people (e.g. all vestiges of avodah zarah - idolatry - are destroyed and those who worship avodah zarah are barred from the country, the Seven Nations and Amalek are wiped out, all types of sorcery, divination, and occult practices are abolished).

These restrictions contribute to a bubble which is far more limited than that of the Google employee living in San Francisco. But the Torah-bubble is not a bad thing. Why not? Because the Torah is trying to limit our exposure to phenomena that strengthen our "veils" in order to carve out a life that is conducive to removing them. Instead of abandoning us to wander aimlessly in the sea of myriad particulars and leaving us with the impossible task of figuring out how to make sense out of the ambiguity on our own, Hashem gave us a regimen which expediently moves us away from avenues of life that would obscure our perception of reality and places us firmly in a "bubble" of routines, restrictions, and practices which promote our life and development as truth-seekers. 

[Note: I am NOT saying that this is the ONLY purpose of halacha. I'm just pointing out ONE of the benefits of the Torah's bubble-forming restrictions, in light of the Allegory of the Veils and these two podcasts.]

Consider the last example in the bullet points above. Does the Torah's ban on avodah zarah in Eretz Yisrael create a bubble? Yes. Is the Jew in Eretz Yisrael being deprived of exposure to the worldview of the oveid avodah zarah (idolater), which would be eye-opening because of how drastically different it is from his own? Yes. But do these restrictions harm him? Absolutely not. To the contrary - allowing avodah zarah into the country would only create the potential for people to become attracted to its ideas, it's practices, and its worldview, thereby increasing and solidifying the veils of Eretz Yisrael's inhabitants. 

The same goes for all of the other experiences and phenomena which are prohibited by Judaism: by preventing us from experiencing particular aspects of reality which would generate intellectual and psychological imperfections, the Torah increases our chances of developing a clearer perception of reality than we would have, if left to our own devices. 

My chavrusa made the analogy to people who experience trauma (e.g. veterans with PTSD, victims of abuse, those who suffer from depression). In all of these cases, there are certain areas of reality which these individuals should not be exposed or think about, since this would contributed to a warped and harmful view of reality for them. In some cases, these areas of reality can be cautiously approached with the proper therapeutic tools; in other cases, they should be completely avoided. In these cases, attempting to "strip away the veils" in an effort to "expose these people to reality" would lead to severe setbacks in their ability to perceive truth. Likewise, it would be foolish to "unveil" these areas of reality with the allegedly noble goal of "breaking these people out of their bubbles." 

The Torah recognizes that all human beings - not just those who suffer from trauma - are in a similarly precarious situation vis a vis our ability to perceive reality. Yes, our ability to perceive reality is that fragile, and such caution is warranted.

The Limits of Bubble Diversity as a Liberating Path

There's another point here that is worth mentioning. In Part 2 of the podcast the Google employee who yearned to escape his bubble came up with a creative solution: he designed an app that would send him to random public events throughout San Francisco. Every Friday night his app would accept an invitation on Facebook to a random event hosted by random people in a random location (in or around San Francisco). He would go there, surrender himself to the new experience, and usually walk away with a fresh new view on reality.

Thrusting oneself into a diverse range of bubbles definitely has its advantages. Yet, when I heard this Google employee speak about his desire to sample other people's bubbles, I sensed an underlying belief on his part that by increasing the diversity of his experiences, he could break free from the very phenomenon of "bubbles" altogether. In other words, it seemed as though he believed that the more bubble-hopping he did, the closer he came to the ideal of "The Unbubbled Human" - a true citizen of the world who could look at reality objectively, unlike the vast majority of his brethren. 

In my opinion, this approach is fueled by a fantasy, and is ultimately futile.

Yes, there is an ideal of "the objective human intellect," as acknowledged by the Rambam in his Allegory of the Veils. Moshe Rabbeinu came as close to embodying this ideal as humanly possible. The fantasy is that this ideal can be reached through exposure to a diversity of experience. This approach fails for at least three reasons.

The first reason why this method won't work is because the number of bubbles is virtually limitless. Each country has its own bubble. Each city has its own bubble. Each religion has its own bubble. Each sect has its own bubble. Each culture has its own bubble. Each time period has its own bubble. Each family has its own bubble. Each person has his or her own bubble. And so on. And even if man lived forever it would still be impossible to experience all of the bubbles, since the world is constantly changing. Thus, the pursuit of new bubbles to experience is infinite - not in a good way, but in a Koheles way.

Secondly, there is the problem of breadth of experience vs. depth of experience. The person who spends five years visiting 500 communities will gain from exposure to a wide variety of experiences, but the person who spends five years immersed in the lifestyle of a single community will gain a depth of experience that no bubble-jumper will ever be able to grasp. To think that the bubble sampler can "get the gist" of these new cultures is to cheapen them and to degrade the value they have to offer - a crime that no diversity-advocate would ever want to commit.

Lastly, there is illusory bubble of bubble-transcendence. (Yes, you read that right.) This is best explained by way of analogy to the impact of the Internet on mankind's knowledge. At the dawn of the Information Age there were optimistic people who believed that the ability for ALL people to access ALL information and connect to ALL places in the world would lead to a truly global community with a global consciousness. This connectivity and collaboration would cause truth to rise to the top. What actually happened is that people formed their own bubbles online, despite their unfettered access to nearly limitless amounts of information. The difference between the pre-Internet Age bubble dwellers and the Internet Age bubble dwellers is that the latter think they have transcended their bubbles, and are oblivious to the fact that they are just as bubbled as the next guy. Similarly, the bubble-jumper is prone to think that he or she has transcended the phenomenon of bubbles entirely. In truth, human beings are predisposed to create our own bubble wherever we goes, regardless of how much information we are exposed to.  

For these three reasons (and probably more) the Torah takes a different approach to bubbles. Rather than attempting to dissolve bubbles by encouraging diversity of exposure, the Torah imposes its own bubble in the form of a regimen designed to equip people with the qualities and skills that will enable them to see past their bubbles. Instead of fighting against the human tendency to form bubbles, the Torah harnesses this tendency and gives it form and structure through halacha. 

Concluding Thoughts

As is the case with many of these personal "Aha!"-moment blog posts, I don't know whether other people will find this idea to be as eye-opening as I did. Perhaps these points are obvious, and I just didn't notice them until now. Perhaps I experienced a "click" upon reading this because of where I'm at in my own learning. 

But as Rabbeinu Bachya ibn Paquda pointed out, if those who doubt the value of their insights chose not to share them because of excuses like this, we'd lose out on a LOT of knowledge. I'd rather err on the side of sharing rather than keep things to myself. After all, this is why I started this blog in the first place.

For me, there are two major takeaways from this NPR podcast:

1. Judaism's goal is to remove veils, but often imposes its own veils towards that end.
2. Judaism deals with the human need to create bubbles (and the futility of trying to escape them) by imposing its own bubble which gives us the best odds of thinking outside of our bubbles.

These two points led to even more insights which I discussed with my chavrusas, but for the sake of the unity of this post, I will save those for another time.

[1] Rabbeinu Moshe ben Maimon (Rambam / Maimonides), Commentary on the Mishnah: Introduction to Avos (a.k.a. Shemoneh Perakim), Chapter 7

[2] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonides), Commentary on the Torah: Introduction

[3] Rabbeinu Levi ben Gershom (Ralbag / Gersonieds), Commentary on Sefer Iyov, Chapter 34