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Growing Pains

Ayol Samuels

Issue date: 9/4/07 Section: Kol HaMevaser
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We are inquisitive beings.  Not only are we members of the human race, whose sheer consciousness creates a critical frame of mind, but we are also Orthodox Jews, whose sacred text, the Talmud, is replete with questions.  Finally, we are students in a college, a place that encourages questions and critical thinking in a range of disciplines.  To be sure, many of the questions we ask have great utility.  It is through these questions, and the conflict they produce, that progress and development occur.  Let us look at a couple of examples.

This idea of advancement via challenging questions is part and parcel of the scientific method, whether used in biology, history, psychology, or any other area.  Very simply, hypotheses are posited, facts are gathered to support the hypotheses, and a theory is proposed that provides an overarching explanation. Most of the time, contradictory facts are later encountered that raise serious problems with the theory and require it to be tweaked.  Sometimes, enough contradictory evidence is compiled to make necessary a scientific revolution.  Finally, a new theory is created that gives us a better, more all-encompassing understanding of the world.   It is the questions that produce progress, reevaluation always proving necessary in order to move forward.

This type of learning and developing by challenging preconceived notions is done subconsciously throughout childhood.  According to Jean Piaget, one of the most influential developmental psychologists, children create abstractions about the world based on the limited experiences they have.  They use these abstractions to understand new events and act in situations that they have never encountered.  Just like the scientific method, as these children  encounter more and more situations, many questions are raised about their current “theory.” These ideas about the world must be continuously sharpened until enough divergences are present to necessitate a “revolution.”  The child creates a new way of looking at the world based on all the newly acquired information, entering a new stage of development and having a much better understanding of the world.

It seems that this powerful tool of questioning and reevaluating previous assumptions could be a huge asset when trying to grow religiously and spiritually, which is presumably a main goal for many of us as Orthodox Jews.  If the previous two examples are any indication, then addressing conflicts between our experiences and reasoning, on the one hand, and our religious beliefs, actions and feelings, on the other, has the capacity to bring us to a completely new level of understanding of and relationship with God.

Of course, I am working with the belief  that, in addition to tradition, our senses and reason are ways of arriving closer to the truth (all equal leaps of faith), and, while our experiences and reason might be slightly less relevant in terms of halakha, they have much to add in terms of religious thought, theology, and axiology.  Therefore, our beliefs, whether based on tradition or not, are subject to the scrutiny of our senses and reason.  It is when we are able to synthesize and mesh these two that we can get ever closer to the truth and to a more intricate relationship with the Almighty.  After all, how can you passionately love, fear, or worship One whom you do not know well?  So, to better understand our relationship with God and better perform our part, we must ask questions based on our senses and experiences.  These questions, which Rabbi Norman Lamm calls “methodological doubt,” are not a necessary evil but a springboard from which to grow. 

To give a concrete and familiar demonstration, let us say that we were told in kindergarten that anything God does is good and that He is also in control of everything that happens.  Eventually, one comes to the realization that there is, in fact, evil in the world and that there are even some commandments, by God himself, that do not seem “good.”  Only by grappling with the realization that what we took in kindergarten at face value is not so, can we establish a deeper and more complex relationship with God.  Likewise, one might have originally thought that his practice of Judaism was completely of his own volition and later realize that most people affiliate with the culture and religion that they are born into.  To understand his mode of service to God, a reevaluation of his original notion of freewill might be necessary.  Just as maturing people create more complex relationships with each other and with the surrounding world by changing previous assumptions and asking new questions, so should they mature in their relationship with God and their service to Him.

Obviously, there are serious dangers inherent in reevaluation and questioning that, rather than foster religious growth, can destroy or stifle it.  First, to sincerely ask some of the serious questions facing today’s religious man, one must be willing to accept an answer that will lead him down a different path. Hence, one may abandon his faith as a result.  More often, though, one might discover that he cannot find satisfactory answers to his questions but will still desire to continue on the path of torah u’mitzvot.  And, while Rabbi Lamm, in his especially enlightening piece, “Faith and Doubt,” builds off William James and says that it is perfectly legitimate to keep doubt in the cognitive realm while leaving the “functional faith,” the realm of performance, unscathed, it is hard to believe that one’s commitment and fervor will remain the same.  It is for this reason that Rav Nachman Bratzlaver, in his story, “the Wise Man and the Simpleton,” poignantly commends the simpleton for his emuna temima, his simple faith, while rebuking the wise man for spending so much time “searching” and neglecting his relationship with God. 

Although this is a very serious concern, I imagine that God understands man’s desire to know Him and that He would sympathize with and even expect the possible pitfalls on this quest.  If the prevalent paradigm of man and wife can truly be used to understand our relationship with God, then wouldn’t a couple desire the deepest and most developed relationship possible? Wouldn’t a spouse be willing to risk the setbacks to hopefully ultimately attain much greater closeness?  So too in the relationship between man and God; when there are no questions asked and no reevaluation permitted, there is little room for religious growth.  If one thinks, however, that the relationship with God is and should be a simple one, then it is a relationship that has no paradigm in human relationships and we are a lot further from the Almighty than we thought.

While the questions one asks in his relationship with God and with Judaism are very personal and the main onus in addressing them lies on the individual, there should still be some sort of  public forum for them. As religious believers and thinkers, a solid basis and foundation is required, and one of the very important ways to achieve this is by addressing difficult questions.  I am not sure whether the best place for this is in a chaburah, in shiurim, or elsewhere but I ask our new Dean of RIETS, Rabbi Yona Reiss, that the rich system of belief, Jewish philosophy, and the relationship with God somehow be addressed in our amazing Yeshiva education. 


Ayol Samuels is a staff writer for Kol Hamevaser
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