The Commentator

People adore simplification and for the obvious reason; it makes matters less complex.  In our daily tasks we strive for this route-of-least-complication, with hopes that the job will get done faster.  And usually, this is the case.  In other areas too, we gravitate towards the most straightforward, albeit effortless path.  However, too often we apply this method in dealing with matters of great profundity, namely, the tendency to bifurcate complex matters into easily digestible tidbits – in the hopes that this might elucidate matters and, similarly, simplify them. Unfortunately, however, when we choose this path, we run the risk of oversimplification and in so doing incur the hefty liability of overlooking complexities, an indiscretion that tends to backfire and even further complicate matters.  Let me explain.

In matters of theology and belief, this path of oversimplification, which masquerades as clarification, is frequently transformed into blanket black-and-white declarations and practices. These declarations are usually uttered by a person of at least mild prominence and are subsequently accepted, at least in practice, point-blank by that leader’s admiring followers.  These followers accept the leader’s views because, well, it’s easy.  It’s far easier to consent to another’s conclusions than to take the time and effort to engage in one’s own evaluation.  This method not only saves precious time, but also satisfies our lazy tendencies.

Regrettably, when we follow such a path we essentially shirk our God-given responsibility and end-up thrusting that Divine bequest of intellect, along with it the mighty power of free will, onto another person.  We insult our own sensibilities and consequently ignore our own individuality by accepting another’s assessment as right for ourselves.  There is seldom, if ever, a one-size-fits-all approach in matters of faith and spirituality.  Instead, we ought to each evaluate for ourselves, with the help of classical sources, the complexities on both sides of the matter.

The discussion of popular culture and Judaism is not new; be it the 2nd century Jew considering an evening of entertainment at Caesarea’s amphitheater, the 12th century Spanish nobleman accepting an invitation to a wine party, or the 19th century Lithuanian Yeshiva student flirting with the purchase of the latest novel, we are not alone in our deliberations.  In fact, the Midrash and Talmud record a handful of comments and discussions surrounding this matter.

In Avoda Zara 18b there is a lengthy discussion surrounding attending events at stadiums, circuses and theaters – the era’s temples of popular culture.  In this text, all comments uniformly denounce engagement in popular culture and two primary reasons to this approach emerge.  The first is that these were traditionally places of idolatry and the second because these activities constitute bitul Torah.  In Tractate Derech Eretz, perek HaNichnas: 5, a more favorable approach to popular culture surfaces: “One who steals from many people, what ought he to do?  He ought to go and dig pits, ditches and cisterns (as water holes for public use) and repair roads and theaters, afterwards he shall be forgiven.”  Evidently, this approach views popular culture favorably, as funding theater renovations constitutes sufficient public good so as to warrant forgiveness for theft.

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