The Commentator

“When an individual appears in the presence of others, there will usually be some reason for him to mobilize his activity so that it will convey an impression to others which is in his best interests to convey.”[1] 

            This insight of social psychologist Erving Goffman subtly undermines many cherished and intuitive views about our religious lives.  We often assume that the actions of others, especially those from a different segment of the religious spectrum, are driven by a need to socially conform.  However, when examining ourselves, we believe that we are motivated by internal convictions.  If Goffman is correct, and people’s actions in a public context are almost always designed to gain social advantages, then our religious motivations are suspect. 

            Orthodox Jews ideally strive to serve God, observe His commandments, and learn His Torah in a frame of mind characterized as lishma (for their own sake).  Although this word can be interpreted in various ways[2], all these interpretations share a common element of selflessness.  Someone acting lishma is not concerned for personal benefit, and certainly should not be worried at all about societal repercussions.  Yet the communal nature of Orthodox Judaism ensures that most of our religious observance occurs in public, making it very tempting to “fake it.”  Under these conditions, the ideal of lishma actions is difficult to realize.    

            It is not only this elevated standard that is compromised by our seeming domination by external social forces.  Even if our motivations are not totally lishma, we want our religious growth to at least be, for the lack of a better term, real.  Real religious growth is minimally the product of internal conviction and a desire to do the right thing, even if these aspirations are not entirely pure.  Most of us would agree that, on the face of it, actions done for the approval of friends, Rabbis, or community are nothing but social conformity.  In a close knit community such as ours, these types of influences play an extremely powerful role in creating and supporting religious commitment.  An unfortunate side effect is the loss of religious authenticity.        

            The mussar methodology of the Novardock yeshiva represented a radical and noble attempt to rise above this troubling aspect of the human condition.  Among other practices, Novardockers periodically submitted themselves to public humiliation.  The idea was that enough embarrassment could remove a person’s need to socially conform.  Once stripped of their last shred of social dignity, the student would subsequently be free to act based only on pure considerations of justice and truth, without any fear of communal repercussions.  I am not in a position to say how successful this approach was in late 19^th or early 20^th century Lithuania, but I have a feeling that most 21st century people would be uncomfortable with putting these practices into effect in their own religious lives. 

            A more temperate approach to this challenge is found in the rabbinic statement that: “A person should always engage in Torah and good deeds, even if not for their own sake, for this will lead to engagement for its own sake .”[3]  The Rambam interprets this statement as it relates to Talmud Torah in his introduction to the 10^th Perek of Sanhedrin.  There, the Rambam describes how people in various stages of life display impure motivations.  Teachers bribe young children into learning with candy, while older students learn for money.  At an even more advanced stage, personal honor and respect become the primary motivations for study.  The Rambam concludes that “all this is deplorable.  However, it is necessary, in view of the weakness of the human mind.” Needless to say, those who reach a certain stage of enlightenment will realize that the ultimate goal of learning Torah is to understand the truth.    

In the Rambam’s description, ulterior motivations are to be tolerated until they are eventually shed as part of a process of increasing religious maturity.  Non- Lishma developments have value, as they are part of a framework that holds out the promise of eventually sprouting into full-fledged commitment to truth for its own sake.  Yet, this approach only provides a partial solution to our problem.  It is obvious from the Rambam’s writings that he did not expect many people to achieve complete detachment from the most powerful urges of the human psyche.  How should those of us who do not expect to transcend social influences in the near future, treat them in the interim?  It seems to me that the combination of intense introspection and the making of intelligent choices can convert these intrusive pressures into catalysts of religious growth. 

            In the context of an article on Pesach, Rav Avraham Yitzchak Kook provides a fascinating definition of freedom:

The difference between a slave and a free person is not merely a matter of social position, that due to circumstances this one is enslaved to another, and this one is not enslaved. We can find an enlightened slave whose spirit is free, and a free man with the mentality of a slave. True freedom is that uplifted spirit by which the individual - as well as the nation as a whole - is inspired to remain faithful to his inner essence, to the spiritual attribute of the Divine image within him. It is that quality which enables us to feel that our life has value and meaning.[4]

Taking an approach similar to Rav Kook’s, I would argue that we shouldn’t lose confidence because of the societal forces that impact our behavior.  The more significant task is ensuring that the social structures we are part of influence us in a way that allows us to “remain faithful to our inner essence.”  Staying true to our real selves first requires that we continuously examine and clarify what our deepest values and goals as servants of G-d are.  Authentic religious growth can only be pursued once there is a sense of the desired direction.[5] 

Knowledge of what drives us is another indispensable part of the effort to achieve authenticity in our avoda.  Some people are influenced most powerfully by their friends. Others are more inclined to seek the approval of authority figures or the opposite sex.  Each individual needs to identify which of these or other factors is most significant for them.  Once armed with a general conception of our goals and an understanding of which forces really determine our behavior, we can begin making informed social choices that will advance religious growth.  These choices will take different forms for different people.  For some, it will mean eliminating exposure to some negative influences entirely.  In other situations, additional sources of inspiration are necessary to counterbalance conflicting messages.  Alternatively,  increased exposure to a spiritually challenging environment may solidify religious growth.  Most importantly, choosing the right spiritual community can enable a person to achieve their goals in a manner far beyond what would be possible as an atomized individual. 

While it is impossible to completely stop external influences from having their impact, there is no reason to sit passively and let them do so.  In whatever form, we already make choices about which chevreh to associate with, how to structure our family lives, which educational and cultural institutions to patronize, and which authority figures to listen to.  We can take a proactive approach to making these choices, and do so with our ultimate religious goals and beliefs in mind.  Taking this active and introspective stance, the oved hashem can transform the social forces that hold us captive into tools used to sculpt a religious identity. 

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