Pantheism. I've written about it before: the idea that its not possible for God to be everything... I guess I just want to say more. I read Hillary's post about God and fashion, and, though inspired isn't quite the right way to say it, I guess I wanted to write in here too. I mean, if God is contradictory to fashion, how can God BE fashion? How can God be that nearly self-destructive manner of expression?
The thing that I think Hillary didn't say (and I say "I think" because I haven't actually read hers in its entirety) is that when a dress is made for a person with a near-Barbie figure, people start to hurt themselves to fit in it. I've seen it happen: the two-bites-of-salad-at-lunch-then-"I'm full!"-even-though-you-can-practically-hear-their-stomach-grumbling. I don't get hungry, ever, and when I do, it goes away in approximately 20 seconds, so it doesn't happen to me, though many people think it does... and getting back to the point... how can that be supported by God? How can God sit back, relax in his little bench on the porch and wait for the show to end so He can clap and take a sip of his giant iced tea?
I think that's what most annoys me about high school, and I don't want to sound like one of those stupid books that's like "high school's so hard i don't think i'll survive ahhhhh" because I will, and we all will, and you know what? It's really not all that bad. But it's not all the great either. There are things that happen here... the drugs, and the stress, and the depression because of the stress, and the drugs because of the depression because of the stress... that I can't believe no one Up There would do anything about. I mean... isn't God supposed to protect us or something? I don't get it\. I don't really think I ever will. Just... throwing it out there.
05 June 2007
21 May 2007
Me, Myself, and I
So you said that this last post should be about us. Wow. That's hard to do, believe it or not. I don't even quite know what "about you" means. Does it mean... compare God feelings before to now? Is it an evaluation of the class? See where the confusion comes rushing in?
At the end of Hebrew School yesterday (still crying about that), my acting class did an only okay job of performing Twist of Faith, which became through the class, my least favorite play. Ever. Anyway, I found myself thinking something along the lines of, "After a whole year of classes, why wasn't this better?" I thought maybe it was the teacher's fault? Maybe it was the class' general lack of talent's fault? Maybe it was the fact that we were all distracted? Maybe, just maybe, it was E, all of the above, and no one had a choice, but it was supposed to turn out that way.
Fate? Destiny? Ususally I think that kind of stuff is complete crap. Stupidity. Idiocy. I could keep going, but I think I'm good. Anyway. My point is that before I stopped and thought about it, I never had any trouble with the concept that things didn't happen because they were supposed to. It used to be the same with God, I guess, but then I took this class and stopped and thought and now I have these questions that I'm not quite sure I want to answer for myself, but I don't see any other choice: questions like, do I actually believe God exists in that six-year-old bearded guy up in heaven way? Why would God let the Holocaust happen? Just... why? Who? Where? How? This may sound stupid, but in my head this is causing damage.
So I guess this post became about sort of what this class has meant to me. And I'm not going to only say thank you, though I will say it later, but I hope that you appreciate what you've done: you've made me think. And that's not necessarily pleasant.
But...
thank you.
At the end of Hebrew School yesterday (still crying about that), my acting class did an only okay job of performing Twist of Faith, which became through the class, my least favorite play. Ever. Anyway, I found myself thinking something along the lines of, "After a whole year of classes, why wasn't this better?" I thought maybe it was the teacher's fault? Maybe it was the class' general lack of talent's fault? Maybe it was the fact that we were all distracted? Maybe, just maybe, it was E, all of the above, and no one had a choice, but it was supposed to turn out that way.
Fate? Destiny? Ususally I think that kind of stuff is complete crap. Stupidity. Idiocy. I could keep going, but I think I'm good. Anyway. My point is that before I stopped and thought about it, I never had any trouble with the concept that things didn't happen because they were supposed to. It used to be the same with God, I guess, but then I took this class and stopped and thought and now I have these questions that I'm not quite sure I want to answer for myself, but I don't see any other choice: questions like, do I actually believe God exists in that six-year-old bearded guy up in heaven way? Why would God let the Holocaust happen? Just... why? Who? Where? How? This may sound stupid, but in my head this is causing damage.
So I guess this post became about sort of what this class has meant to me. And I'm not going to only say thank you, though I will say it later, but I hope that you appreciate what you've done: you've made me think. And that's not necessarily pleasant.
But...
thank you.
15 May 2007
Makeup
I think I'm missing something like 3 entries? The only one I actually know the assignment for, or remember any of the information for, was the following. Sorry, Josh :\
My God Poem: [I think that was Hasidism? Unless it was Kabbalah... or if it was Buber?]
A clothesline:
Beliefs hanging, softly
swaying in the gentle
breeze
of faith. Lovingly put up
by an unseen ghost,
but the support for endless amounts
on the connecting line.
It is strong. It is weak.
At any moment it could
break
and
fall.
But it doesn't: it stays
pathetically holding its ground
as it waits for affirmation
of its hope.
The dreams fade over the years,
the harsh sunlight of reality bleaching
its strong naivete and innocence
until it is a watermark on an
impassioned future.
My God Poem: [I think that was Hasidism? Unless it was Kabbalah... or if it was Buber?]
A clothesline:
Beliefs hanging, softly
swaying in the gentle
breeze
of faith. Lovingly put up
by an unseen ghost,
but the support for endless amounts
on the connecting line.
It is strong. It is weak.
At any moment it could
break
and
fall.
But it doesn't: it stays
pathetically holding its ground
as it waits for affirmation
of its hope.
The dreams fade over the years,
the harsh sunlight of reality bleaching
its strong naivete and innocence
until it is a watermark on an
impassioned future.
Renew, Reuse, Recycle
Where is there room for renewal in Judaism for you? Sorry, Josh, but this was the wrong question to ask me. Considering I am a Jew from a Reform background, with two parents who believe in Reform Judaism and go to a Reform temple with a Reform rabbi, and in exactly one week I will be performing an exclusively Reform ceremony with all of my Reform friends, I think there's tons of improvement that could be implemented in my branch / denomination of Judaism.
They could stop Confirmation, for example. It's what I'm freaking out about, because it's happening in 7 days... I mean, I will always be a Jew. Confirmation's point is to show that you will be a Jew forever and ever, etc. I WILL ALWAYS BE A JEW. I don't need some silly ceremony involving white robes and wheat to tell me that. I don't focus on that kind of Judaism, so I don't pledge to be a good Reform Jew for the rest of my life. Also, half the kids in my confirmation class, including me, are only doing this ridiculous waste of time and money and resources because after a fight with their parents, they were still ordered to do this stupid thing. That's not a heartfelt oath, and it's almost better that we were honest with the G-dawg and didn't commit to Reform Judaism if we didn't want to.
The Reform service has definite need of improvement. All that English. All the responsive reading. The way that the kids in the back yell and scream and no one says anything because, well, we're reform, it's not a problem. The way that some people say "a service a month! What a commitment!" The way some people deface the books, because, well, we're Reform, we don't care about that stuff anyway. The way people wear crosses for earring because, well, it looks all punk, and well, we're Reform Jews, we don't care about that stuff. The way non-Jews can go onto the bimah and give the Torah blessing just because they're married to a Jew and raised Jewish kids (I'm all for intermarriage and I don't think they should be discriminated against, but aliyah [sp]? Seriously?). There's room for improvement there.
Then there's Reform Judaism in general: The shield we can hide behind. Do you know how many times I have heard "Oh, well... we're Reform." I hear it when talking about why people aren't kosher, why they don't go to shul, why they don't ever eat Jewfood - brisket or gefilte fish or any of the mile-long list of desserts. I hear it when people don't have a bar mitzvah, or when my aunt, a non-Jew, had an aliyah [sp] at my evil cousin's bar mitzvah. I hear it too much. It has become unacceptable.
Again, I'll try to add more opinionated views to this post if I can, but I'm at work so that could be hard.
They could stop Confirmation, for example. It's what I'm freaking out about, because it's happening in 7 days... I mean, I will always be a Jew. Confirmation's point is to show that you will be a Jew forever and ever, etc. I WILL ALWAYS BE A JEW. I don't need some silly ceremony involving white robes and wheat to tell me that. I don't focus on that kind of Judaism, so I don't pledge to be a good Reform Jew for the rest of my life. Also, half the kids in my confirmation class, including me, are only doing this ridiculous waste of time and money and resources because after a fight with their parents, they were still ordered to do this stupid thing. That's not a heartfelt oath, and it's almost better that we were honest with the G-dawg and didn't commit to Reform Judaism if we didn't want to.
The Reform service has definite need of improvement. All that English. All the responsive reading. The way that the kids in the back yell and scream and no one says anything because, well, we're reform, it's not a problem. The way that some people say "a service a month! What a commitment!" The way some people deface the books, because, well, we're Reform, we don't care about that stuff anyway. The way people wear crosses for earring because, well, it looks all punk, and well, we're Reform Jews, we don't care about that stuff. The way non-Jews can go onto the bimah and give the Torah blessing just because they're married to a Jew and raised Jewish kids (I'm all for intermarriage and I don't think they should be discriminated against, but aliyah [sp]? Seriously?). There's room for improvement there.
Then there's Reform Judaism in general: The shield we can hide behind. Do you know how many times I have heard "Oh, well... we're Reform." I hear it when talking about why people aren't kosher, why they don't go to shul, why they don't ever eat Jewfood - brisket or gefilte fish or any of the mile-long list of desserts. I hear it when people don't have a bar mitzvah, or when my aunt, a non-Jew, had an aliyah [sp] at my evil cousin's bar mitzvah. I hear it too much. It has become unacceptable.
Again, I'll try to add more opinionated views to this post if I can, but I'm at work so that could be hard.
08 May 2007
A Paradoxical Kind of Logic
Poets adore paradoxies. Oxymorons. Two words than cannot resolve themselves with each other. Somehow, that kind of impossibility lets them express the torture happening inside their head, or whatever.
Burning ice.
Dryest rain.
Beggarly riches.
Somehow, Religion and Science don't seem to fit into the depth that the above present for contemplation. Religion and Science are just two different ways of looking at the world. They don't need reconciliation or to hold hands and dance, they just need to peacefully coexist. So why is it that people have such trouble understanding both, and accepting both, equally?
Religion is illogical. It requires blind faith and the total trust that your fate is in someone else's hands. Well, that doesn't make sense. If I press one more key on the keyboard, I'll have made that choice myself. But science requires that we all understand the complexities of things we, as normal common folk might not understand. I can't split atoms in my bedroom, and I can't dissect a human body and discover what's inside whenever I feel like it, so it can be difficult to trust scientists to tell us what's "really" going on. Of course, this is all very literal.
Human beings are logical: Before homo sapiens had the means to figure out the "truth," how was the sky blue? How were we created: how did we get here? These are things we couldn't explain... but a god could. The god of rain explained why there was a sudden shower of water from the sky every once in a while, and the god of the harvest explained why sometimes humans had the bad luck of not getting any food. Then along came our good friend Abe, who said something along the lines of "These are fake, there's only one God." We all saw the light, OMG... fast forward to much, much later in time, when suddenly the Holocaust is going on, and people wonder, as seen in Night [brainwashed by Zev "Crackhead" Shanken, sorry], that how could God exist and let people die? Science is reliable, never unpredictable. There is a composed set of possible reactions. It is stable. That's why it's so popular, I think.
It's hard to reconcile two opposites, but it is possible to see a pendulum effect:
A: Religion
B: Something bad happens. How could God do this?
C: Science
D: Science becomes hard to understand
E/A: Religion
B
C, etc.
It's not hard to see why religion is a fallback. God is there. God will help. Ozone layer? No problem. Afterlife? His pleasure! [I'm not just talking about Judaism here.] However, and this is where personal opinion comes in, I think that steps D and E are becoming longer, and the A step is becoming weaker. Steps B and C are becoming shorter. As humans, logical beings, and with the technology, education and resources available to us, step D is almost non-existent, replaced perhaps with D2: Science becomes annoying. [Well, it does.]
I don't know if any of this made any sense, but my class period is over. TTYL, bbz.
Burning ice.
Dryest rain.
Beggarly riches.
Somehow, Religion and Science don't seem to fit into the depth that the above present for contemplation. Religion and Science are just two different ways of looking at the world. They don't need reconciliation or to hold hands and dance, they just need to peacefully coexist. So why is it that people have such trouble understanding both, and accepting both, equally?
Religion is illogical. It requires blind faith and the total trust that your fate is in someone else's hands. Well, that doesn't make sense. If I press one more key on the keyboard, I'll have made that choice myself. But science requires that we all understand the complexities of things we, as normal common folk might not understand. I can't split atoms in my bedroom, and I can't dissect a human body and discover what's inside whenever I feel like it, so it can be difficult to trust scientists to tell us what's "really" going on. Of course, this is all very literal.
Human beings are logical: Before homo sapiens had the means to figure out the "truth," how was the sky blue? How were we created: how did we get here? These are things we couldn't explain... but a god could. The god of rain explained why there was a sudden shower of water from the sky every once in a while, and the god of the harvest explained why sometimes humans had the bad luck of not getting any food. Then along came our good friend Abe, who said something along the lines of "These are fake, there's only one God." We all saw the light, OMG... fast forward to much, much later in time, when suddenly the Holocaust is going on, and people wonder, as seen in Night [brainwashed by Zev "Crackhead" Shanken, sorry], that how could God exist and let people die? Science is reliable, never unpredictable. There is a composed set of possible reactions. It is stable. That's why it's so popular, I think.
It's hard to reconcile two opposites, but it is possible to see a pendulum effect:
A: Religion
B: Something bad happens. How could God do this?
C: Science
D: Science becomes hard to understand
E/A: Religion
B
C, etc.
It's not hard to see why religion is a fallback. God is there. God will help. Ozone layer? No problem. Afterlife? His pleasure! [I'm not just talking about Judaism here.] However, and this is where personal opinion comes in, I think that steps D and E are becoming longer, and the A step is becoming weaker. Steps B and C are becoming shorter. As humans, logical beings, and with the technology, education and resources available to us, step D is almost non-existent, replaced perhaps with D2: Science becomes annoying. [Well, it does.]
I don't know if any of this made any sense, but my class period is over. TTYL, bbz.
03 May 2007
This Week...
Right. So I have no idea what this weeks assignment was, but as I missed last week and therefore have two missing, I figured I'd write something about our favorite guy: Heschel. Can I just say that I love him? a lot?
About his theory that God IS the light, which is one that struck me especially: this is one of the first Jewish philosophers we've read about this year that doesn't require God to be a transcendent and omnipotent overseer. The fact that God is the reason we look is different than God being what we're looking for. Of course, that begs the question, what ARE we looking for? Personally, I think it's less an understanding of our light, but a deeper appreciation of the light. I think this relates to Josh's fantabulous square / circle masterpiece. I can try to recreate it here:
Sorry, Josh, but I think I may have actually surpassed your skill. Anyway.
The fact that God isn't just in us, but that we are in God, as I interpret this, is also new. Illuminated, one might say [ha ha]. Again, a sign not of transcendence but of being among us. God is wherever we invite him in. Does that mean we can invite him into ourselves? Does that mean we can invite him into someone else? Is God inviting us in, too?
If God is inviting us in, that poses a problem. Not only where we are being invited into, but why? Could God learn from us? This is getting off-topic, I know, but it is true that Abraham gave God a piece of his mind on Sodom and Gemorrah Night. Maybe it's a two-way street and God needs to accept us like we have to for Him.
Back to Heschel, though, I found it shocking that it was so poetic. It seems remarkably informal, in a way, to be a text of philosophy. It seems like Heschel sat down one day and literally put his own feelings on paper, and they sort of just happened to be about God. I mean... light? the literal poems scattered throughout our text? Rarely do we see any text these days that lets its hair down - or pages, I guess. Such an "informal" style actually seems beneficial. I mean, Judaism doesn't use a four-hour midnight mass every December 24-5, it's a relatively quick service that is, for a majority of the time, personal. Silent. So for people who are so interested in praying to God by themselves, in a community [Paradox? Not really.], it would stand to reason that a book designed in such a relatable style would work.
Well, in any case, it worked for me. I've been writing poetry since I was young, and only recently I've lost my inspiration, and a person with such amazing ideas and theories about the very nature of our beliefs is admirable. It's a tough subject, and if God didn't inspire him, maybe his Light did. But if what that square / circle masterpiece and what I think AJH was trying to say is true, then the Light and God are one and the same. Same with God and... a butterfly. Or a dragonfly. Or a dragon! God is, just like I am and we all are. It's an existence that needs no defense and no reason, it's just a fact of life. Of course our lives are remarkably shorter than God's, obvs, but the point is that God is a reason to keep on looking, to keep on praying. Maybe it's humans themselves who make miracles happen, but without a reason - God - nothing would ever happen at all.
Am I making any sense?
Didn't think so.
Anyway, my period's almost over, and I'll try to do the real post soon, because this was basically stream-of-consciousness, but I just wanted to have something up. And this doesn't nearly accurately express how much I fell in love with AJH.
About his theory that God IS the light, which is one that struck me especially: this is one of the first Jewish philosophers we've read about this year that doesn't require God to be a transcendent and omnipotent overseer. The fact that God is the reason we look is different than God being what we're looking for. Of course, that begs the question, what ARE we looking for? Personally, I think it's less an understanding of our light, but a deeper appreciation of the light. I think this relates to Josh's fantabulous square / circle masterpiece. I can try to recreate it here:
Sorry, Josh, but I think I may have actually surpassed your skill. Anyway.
The fact that God isn't just in us, but that we are in God, as I interpret this, is also new. Illuminated, one might say [ha ha]. Again, a sign not of transcendence but of being among us. God is wherever we invite him in. Does that mean we can invite him into ourselves? Does that mean we can invite him into someone else? Is God inviting us in, too?
If God is inviting us in, that poses a problem. Not only where we are being invited into, but why? Could God learn from us? This is getting off-topic, I know, but it is true that Abraham gave God a piece of his mind on Sodom and Gemorrah Night. Maybe it's a two-way street and God needs to accept us like we have to for Him.
Back to Heschel, though, I found it shocking that it was so poetic. It seems remarkably informal, in a way, to be a text of philosophy. It seems like Heschel sat down one day and literally put his own feelings on paper, and they sort of just happened to be about God. I mean... light? the literal poems scattered throughout our text? Rarely do we see any text these days that lets its hair down - or pages, I guess. Such an "informal" style actually seems beneficial. I mean, Judaism doesn't use a four-hour midnight mass every December 24-5, it's a relatively quick service that is, for a majority of the time, personal. Silent. So for people who are so interested in praying to God by themselves, in a community [Paradox? Not really.], it would stand to reason that a book designed in such a relatable style would work.
Well, in any case, it worked for me. I've been writing poetry since I was young, and only recently I've lost my inspiration, and a person with such amazing ideas and theories about the very nature of our beliefs is admirable. It's a tough subject, and if God didn't inspire him, maybe his Light did. But if what that square / circle masterpiece and what I think AJH was trying to say is true, then the Light and God are one and the same. Same with God and... a butterfly. Or a dragonfly. Or a dragon! God is, just like I am and we all are. It's an existence that needs no defense and no reason, it's just a fact of life. Of course our lives are remarkably shorter than God's, obvs, but the point is that God is a reason to keep on looking, to keep on praying. Maybe it's humans themselves who make miracles happen, but without a reason - God - nothing would ever happen at all.
Am I making any sense?
Didn't think so.
Anyway, my period's almost over, and I'll try to do the real post soon, because this was basically stream-of-consciousness, but I just wanted to have something up. And this doesn't nearly accurately express how much I fell in love with AJH.
02 April 2007
Unnecessary
I know we weren't assigned a blog this week, but I need to ask something to this religious blog anyway. I was discussing with my mom a conversation she'd had with our old rabbi, that you can't be a Jew without believing in God. This seems like an extremely logical conclusion, I mean... Judaism... religion... etc. But recently, I've been thinking. It's not that so much shit has been happening to me lately, and not as much as happens to my friends, but still. I guess I should stop stalling, but it sounds so sacreligious, and blasphemous, and wrong. I'm not sure, and probably haven't been for a while, that there really is a God. Or not in the way I've always been taught to think. I think God is necessary, as something to believe in, as a reason [I took that one from Ingrid's blog] to study and learn and pray and do good, but is there really a big man upstairs who looks at the blueprints of our lives and takes the Holy Pencil and Eraser and edits every once in a while? Is there really someone looking down, nodding his head on his big armchair, enjoying the show? Is there really someone who created the Earth, through evolution or not?
The thing is, I'm a Jew. I'm a Jew because I'm Jewish, I like kugel, I come out with random Yiddish sometimes. I have curly hair and I pinch pennies. I eat a lot, I cerlebrate Passover, and fast on Yom Kippur, and fall asleep during Rosh Hashana services. I cry at the mere mention of the Holocaust and get offended when someone jokes about my Jewishness, unless they're Jewish. I think everyone is an anti-Semite if they're mean to me [sort of]. I go to Temple, though not as much as others. My family is extremely important, I get okay grades, my family has a patriarch, though not with a beard and a large gut. Our seders are loud. Our get-togethers are chaotic. We eat dessert like it's going out of style. You get it. I'm a Jew. But I'm thinking it's the religious part that's suffering somehow, and I think I, like everyone else, needs something to believe in. I mean, I will always believe there are things out of my power, but recently I've found that I find it hard to believe in something I don't understand. I know God isn't supposed to be understood, but fairness comes in again. I can't feel that God can know everything about us, and that we're just wandering around with blindfolds on, waiting for them to be taken off, but having our hands tied behind our backs so we can't take the blindfold off, even if we wanted to! If that's what God thinks is best for us, I think he has to reevaluate the situation.
Then again, I've never thought it was fair that I got my screenname when I was nine, and my brother got his a year later, when he was six. I've never thought it was fair that just because my brother runs faster that I can't get the best free samples at the supermarket, just because I have a knee problem. Come to think of it, I've never thought that I had a knee problem and my brother didn't was fair. So why did all that happen?
I'm confused about this, but it's not something I feel comfortable going to my own Rabbi about, and I'm not sure I would even if I did feel comfortable. I feel better about my jewschool people, be they fellow students or even you, Josh. So if you're looking at this blog, looking at this post, please say something, anything. I don't want to just drift.
The thing is, I'm a Jew. I'm a Jew because I'm Jewish, I like kugel, I come out with random Yiddish sometimes. I have curly hair and I pinch pennies. I eat a lot, I cerlebrate Passover, and fast on Yom Kippur, and fall asleep during Rosh Hashana services. I cry at the mere mention of the Holocaust and get offended when someone jokes about my Jewishness, unless they're Jewish. I think everyone is an anti-Semite if they're mean to me [sort of]. I go to Temple, though not as much as others. My family is extremely important, I get okay grades, my family has a patriarch, though not with a beard and a large gut. Our seders are loud. Our get-togethers are chaotic. We eat dessert like it's going out of style. You get it. I'm a Jew. But I'm thinking it's the religious part that's suffering somehow, and I think I, like everyone else, needs something to believe in. I mean, I will always believe there are things out of my power, but recently I've found that I find it hard to believe in something I don't understand. I know God isn't supposed to be understood, but fairness comes in again. I can't feel that God can know everything about us, and that we're just wandering around with blindfolds on, waiting for them to be taken off, but having our hands tied behind our backs so we can't take the blindfold off, even if we wanted to! If that's what God thinks is best for us, I think he has to reevaluate the situation.
Then again, I've never thought it was fair that I got my screenname when I was nine, and my brother got his a year later, when he was six. I've never thought it was fair that just because my brother runs faster that I can't get the best free samples at the supermarket, just because I have a knee problem. Come to think of it, I've never thought that I had a knee problem and my brother didn't was fair. So why did all that happen?
I'm confused about this, but it's not something I feel comfortable going to my own Rabbi about, and I'm not sure I would even if I did feel comfortable. I feel better about my jewschool people, be they fellow students or even you, Josh. So if you're looking at this blog, looking at this post, please say something, anything. I don't want to just drift.
26 March 2007
This was just a moment...
Left side. 2nd or 3rd one down, I forgot my book at home. Understanding.
I think we were supposed to pick a facet of the refracted God image [the diamond thing] and explain it, but I could be wrong. I'll do my best. I know this is 2 in one day, but I need to do this because it's my only free moment this week. And I only have 10 minutes, so I'll try and add later, but if I don't...
There is a moment. For me it ususally happens on a test. Last year, during Geometry, it happened on every single test, as I was writing the proof for some square or rectangle or whatever we had to prove existed. Or didn't. Or should, or shouldn't. [I didn't like Geometry.] Anyway, the moment came. God, it was like sex. Suddenly, even though I hadn't understood anything about what square shouldn't exist or whatever before, suddenly I did. I felt it, I understood it, I put all the proverbial pieces together and the proverbial image was pasted together inside its proverbial frame. This facet of God, understanding, is just that. Knowledge, unexplainable and probably undeserved. That moment, when I understand, is definitely a blessing from God. I understand this much more than I do Spinoza. I can't think of another way to say this.
This is a short one, I know. But it's a facet I need, I crave, I depend upon.
I think we were supposed to pick a facet of the refracted God image [the diamond thing] and explain it, but I could be wrong. I'll do my best. I know this is 2 in one day, but I need to do this because it's my only free moment this week. And I only have 10 minutes, so I'll try and add later, but if I don't...
There is a moment. For me it ususally happens on a test. Last year, during Geometry, it happened on every single test, as I was writing the proof for some square or rectangle or whatever we had to prove existed. Or didn't. Or should, or shouldn't. [I didn't like Geometry.] Anyway, the moment came. God, it was like sex. Suddenly, even though I hadn't understood anything about what square shouldn't exist or whatever before, suddenly I did. I felt it, I understood it, I put all the proverbial pieces together and the proverbial image was pasted together inside its proverbial frame. This facet of God, understanding, is just that. Knowledge, unexplainable and probably undeserved. That moment, when I understand, is definitely a blessing from God. I understand this much more than I do Spinoza. I can't think of another way to say this.
This is a short one, I know. But it's a facet I need, I crave, I depend upon.
Everything and Nothing
God is everything. It's something I've learned since before I knew I was learning it. "There is a little bit of God in everyone, even in robbers," my mother would tell me. [I used to be very afraid of robbers.] Yeah... that was sweet. And it was a nice little sugarspun idea, but the cupcake sort of wore away by the time I knew that there were fully bad people in the world. Pantheism seems too farfetched, too sweet and cute and perfect for me, the jaded teenager, I guess.
Spinoza, evidentally, lives in a little fantasyland, where the worst thing that can happen to you is falling into a big bad molasses swamp, and the point of life is to get to a castle made of peppermint candies and cake. That's what I thought when I first re-heard of pantheism a few years ago. Of course, I didn't know it had a name, I didn't know Spinoza was even involved. But that idea, that God is everywhere - that God is everything - was too ideal, too perfect for me.
That was the prologue. The first question for this [last week's] assignment was: Why do you think the Rabbinical community excommunicated Spinoza? I thought it was obvious at first: his ideas countered theirs and maybe they didn't like that. He was stating that God was not the creator, to copy a quote I used in some other post down there, but instead actually was the creation. Well! How can we worship something we... wait, something we are? I can't worship myself, it goes against Judaism, but that's what Spinoza was claiming. Our existence is God, and our being is God, so therefore, according to my, perhaps twisted, logic, I am God. [I do not think I am God.]
So why excommunicate him? Because they thought he was a little smudge on their perfect drawing? Well that just ruins my entire image of the LEADERS OF THE JEWISH COMMUNITY FOR DECADES! No, I think it was something larger. This is me being a pop psychologist, but maybe they agreed with him and the idea that I just stated, that they could be facets of God themselves, was terrifying. Impossible. Chaotic. I could keep going. It would be impossible to be God without disrespecting God, and it would be impossible to worship God and be God, so Spinoza presented them with a paradoxical situation that the Rabbis could not reconcile. Whether excommunication was the right choice, I do not know. Frankly, for a group that "hates to conform," though that is under some debate in my mind @themoment, excommunication seems pretty goyish.
Part II was How can pantheism be meaningful to you [ergo, me]? Well, I don't know. I don't actually agree with it all that much so I don't find it all that meaningful. I believe God is everywhere, but the idea of God being everything, also, seems impossible. It is an incredibly humbling thought. I mean, God is everything, so God is as much of a mouse as he is Oprah. They seem completely different, one on a different plane of existence, but apparently they would not be. I think that's an incredibly cool idea, really, but it also makes me think: then, humans are demigods. We should be more powerful. What would life be like if I could smite those who bothered me? Not that I would, but God knows [lolol] that I sometimes want to.
The idea also brings up questions: Was God Hitler? Was God the Nazis? Is God Hezbollah? Is God the Bio teacher I think should die? Is God my history test, and if so, why did I fail? Little everyday problems, or global genocides, are all God. I can't reconcile myself with a God who kills Jews, or who fails hardworking students. I can't do it. So it means something to me, but in a way, if I subscribe to pantheism, I subscribe to the ending of my own faith. I don't like that it's that way, but for me, it is. So I'm sorry that I wasn't able to adequately answer that question. It wouldn't be possible for me to find that meaningful in a positive way.
Spinoza, evidentally, lives in a little fantasyland, where the worst thing that can happen to you is falling into a big bad molasses swamp, and the point of life is to get to a castle made of peppermint candies and cake. That's what I thought when I first re-heard of pantheism a few years ago. Of course, I didn't know it had a name, I didn't know Spinoza was even involved. But that idea, that God is everywhere - that God is everything - was too ideal, too perfect for me.
That was the prologue. The first question for this [last week's] assignment was: Why do you think the Rabbinical community excommunicated Spinoza? I thought it was obvious at first: his ideas countered theirs and maybe they didn't like that. He was stating that God was not the creator, to copy a quote I used in some other post down there, but instead actually was the creation. Well! How can we worship something we... wait, something we are? I can't worship myself, it goes against Judaism, but that's what Spinoza was claiming. Our existence is God, and our being is God, so therefore, according to my, perhaps twisted, logic, I am God. [I do not think I am God.]
So why excommunicate him? Because they thought he was a little smudge on their perfect drawing? Well that just ruins my entire image of the LEADERS OF THE JEWISH COMMUNITY FOR DECADES! No, I think it was something larger. This is me being a pop psychologist, but maybe they agreed with him and the idea that I just stated, that they could be facets of God themselves, was terrifying. Impossible. Chaotic. I could keep going. It would be impossible to be God without disrespecting God, and it would be impossible to worship God and be God, so Spinoza presented them with a paradoxical situation that the Rabbis could not reconcile. Whether excommunication was the right choice, I do not know. Frankly, for a group that "hates to conform," though that is under some debate in my mind @themoment, excommunication seems pretty goyish.
Part II was How can pantheism be meaningful to you [ergo, me]? Well, I don't know. I don't actually agree with it all that much so I don't find it all that meaningful. I believe God is everywhere, but the idea of God being everything, also, seems impossible. It is an incredibly humbling thought. I mean, God is everything, so God is as much of a mouse as he is Oprah. They seem completely different, one on a different plane of existence, but apparently they would not be. I think that's an incredibly cool idea, really, but it also makes me think: then, humans are demigods. We should be more powerful. What would life be like if I could smite those who bothered me? Not that I would, but God knows [lolol] that I sometimes want to.
The idea also brings up questions: Was God Hitler? Was God the Nazis? Is God Hezbollah? Is God the Bio teacher I think should die? Is God my history test, and if so, why did I fail? Little everyday problems, or global genocides, are all God. I can't reconcile myself with a God who kills Jews, or who fails hardworking students. I can't do it. So it means something to me, but in a way, if I subscribe to pantheism, I subscribe to the ending of my own faith. I don't like that it's that way, but for me, it is. So I'm sorry that I wasn't able to adequately answer that question. It wouldn't be possible for me to find that meaningful in a positive way.
12 March 2007
Advance
For once, I'm not doing this at the last minute. Everyone should be proud of me.
For the assignment:
1. God is not material.
2. God is not tangible.
3. God is not mortal.
4. God is not predictable.
5. God is not definable.
We learned on Sunday that God can only be discribed in negatives, like I put above. We learned some other stuff, but what I really want to say is that I don't completely agree. I think what was meant was that God cannot be consistently definable in positives. However, in the story of Sodom and Gemorrah, God is vengeful. Same with Jonah. For my #4, God is not predictable, but He [gender issues ignored] is unpredictable, at least in stories like last week's carob trees and city walls. God is intangible, undefinable, immortal. He is many things. In many parts of the Torah, and the Passover seder, we hear that God is kind. It can be argued that God is selfish, to want himself to be the only god the Jews will worship, but maybe he is truthful, because the others are false. He is, like humans, inconsistent.
Maybe this means something. In the Renaissance, people believed they were special because they were created in God's image. [The Sistine Chapel's ceiling shows that - Adam reaches for God.] Well, the Hebrew Bible says that too, right in Genesis, and we are unpredictable, and inconsistent, just like God. I don't know if it's complete blasphemy to contradict Maimonides, but something tells me that it's our job as Jews. I think I posted something about that before. And I do, because I was created in God's image, and that makes, as the Renaissancians believed, me very special.
I have another contradiction for you. If, for example, you say "God is not kind," wouldn't that contradict tons of examples of extreme kindness in just the Torah alone?
The final one, which I thought of at 7:45 [too early] in the morning, and I'm not sure if this makes sense AT ALL, so just bear with me, is if you say "God is God." That's definitely a positive, but you can't do that. Saying "God is not human" doesn't cover all the options - maybe God is a seal if you go by that. You can keep on adding things until, basically, you say "God is not anything on Earth." But God is everywhere, right? So how can you say that? I guess my point is that defining God in any way just seems sort of... silly. Much like my musical philosophy, actually, I believe that if you believe God exists, He [g.i.i.] exists for you, and if he doesn't, defining Him won't bring you any closer to believing.
For the assignment:
1. God is not material.
2. God is not tangible.
3. God is not mortal.
4. God is not predictable.
5. God is not definable.
We learned on Sunday that God can only be discribed in negatives, like I put above. We learned some other stuff, but what I really want to say is that I don't completely agree. I think what was meant was that God cannot be consistently definable in positives. However, in the story of Sodom and Gemorrah, God is vengeful. Same with Jonah. For my #4, God is not predictable, but He [gender issues ignored] is unpredictable, at least in stories like last week's carob trees and city walls. God is intangible, undefinable, immortal. He is many things. In many parts of the Torah, and the Passover seder, we hear that God is kind. It can be argued that God is selfish, to want himself to be the only god the Jews will worship, but maybe he is truthful, because the others are false. He is, like humans, inconsistent.
Maybe this means something. In the Renaissance, people believed they were special because they were created in God's image. [The Sistine Chapel's ceiling shows that - Adam reaches for God.] Well, the Hebrew Bible says that too, right in Genesis, and we are unpredictable, and inconsistent, just like God. I don't know if it's complete blasphemy to contradict Maimonides, but something tells me that it's our job as Jews. I think I posted something about that before. And I do, because I was created in God's image, and that makes, as the Renaissancians believed, me very special.
I have another contradiction for you. If, for example, you say "God is not kind," wouldn't that contradict tons of examples of extreme kindness in just the Torah alone?
The final one, which I thought of at 7:45 [too early] in the morning, and I'm not sure if this makes sense AT ALL, so just bear with me, is if you say "God is God." That's definitely a positive, but you can't do that. Saying "God is not human" doesn't cover all the options - maybe God is a seal if you go by that. You can keep on adding things until, basically, you say "God is not anything on Earth." But God is everywhere, right? So how can you say that? I guess my point is that defining God in any way just seems sort of... silly. Much like my musical philosophy, actually, I believe that if you believe God exists, He [g.i.i.] exists for you, and if he doesn't, defining Him won't bring you any closer to believing.
08 March 2007
Victory over Defeat
This is a side note: I'm going to be quite honest. Working up the energy to go to school, much less come home and do homework, today, was hard. Doing this post was something I had to do. It won't be my best.
Compare the king image of God to the Shekhina [sp?] and also the God portrayed in the story of [again, sp?] Tamur B'achnai.
Defeat is a funny thing. I know from experience that it makes you crawl up in a corner, literally or figuratively, and wish that you'd never even tried to enter whatever contest, again, l. or f., in the first place. You fight and you fight, hard, and nothing comes of it. One must wonder, then, why God is very okay with the idea that his rule, in the story we read [Tamur B'achnai? the one with the carob trees and the walls, etc.] does not win. As a competitive person myself, this would be devastating. Mind-shattering, earth-shaking, chaos-inducing! If God is supposed to rule, let God rule! But something changes.
I guess understanding this concept is hard for me. Coincidentally, we're learning in my history class about the Renaissance and how the humanity of Jesus Christ, as the Christian Messiah, was more important than his divinity. I get why it was important, I do, but I still don't really understand it, just as I don't really understand how the humanity God created could be more powerful than the Creator. [cite: quote from my temple's prayer book: "He is God who made them all, the Creator, not the Creation." This doesn't have anything to do with anything, it's just so I don't get punished for possible plagiarism.]
Another thing I want to point out in my difficulty in understanding this concept is that God is king. In every history class I've ever taken, people who disobey kings are punished, not commended. Though I don't like it about myself, I'm a submissive person, and especially when it comes to authority. The idea of challenging God is so pro-confrontational it makes me scared just thinking about it.
I'm not honestly sure where I'm going with this, or even if I was going anywhere in the first place. Perhaps, in a weird contrary mood, the Jews decided, like the 1776 Americans, that they'd had enough of living under kings, and they wanted something new. Maybe they should have written a Declaration of Independence and fought a war for their religious autonomy, except that they had it, which is what confuses me so much. God gave humans free will, and so why would anyone argue? He [need I give me gender apology again?] gave us an opportunity to choose whether we wanted to follow His rule or not. By arguing with him, wouldn't that say that you didn't want to follow him?
I know I sound very discouraging towards Rabbi Yehoshua [or was it Eliezer? I left my folder somewhere.] but I actually love that about Judaism, and at the risk of offense, it's something people usually imagine old Jewish ladies doing. We fight in a what could be considered unnecessary battle, but we fight, because it's what we believe. It's stubborn, but still, very admirable.
Now that I've babbled in a stupid way for a while, I'll finish. I'll, by my own choice, go to sleep. Then, I'll, by my own choice, wake up. Maybe I'll argue it with God for a while. Just because I can. Because our God, at least this week, is one that accepts criticism, that gives out a free comment card with your free will and doesn't throw it away when he sees something rated as "1 : Poor." Because we're Jews, and we were chosen, and that's just too cool to pass up.
Compare the king image of God to the Shekhina [sp?] and also the God portrayed in the story of [again, sp?] Tamur B'achnai.
Defeat is a funny thing. I know from experience that it makes you crawl up in a corner, literally or figuratively, and wish that you'd never even tried to enter whatever contest, again, l. or f., in the first place. You fight and you fight, hard, and nothing comes of it. One must wonder, then, why God is very okay with the idea that his rule, in the story we read [Tamur B'achnai? the one with the carob trees and the walls, etc.] does not win. As a competitive person myself, this would be devastating. Mind-shattering, earth-shaking, chaos-inducing! If God is supposed to rule, let God rule! But something changes.
I guess understanding this concept is hard for me. Coincidentally, we're learning in my history class about the Renaissance and how the humanity of Jesus Christ, as the Christian Messiah, was more important than his divinity. I get why it was important, I do, but I still don't really understand it, just as I don't really understand how the humanity God created could be more powerful than the Creator. [cite: quote from my temple's prayer book: "He is God who made them all, the Creator, not the Creation." This doesn't have anything to do with anything, it's just so I don't get punished for possible plagiarism.]
Another thing I want to point out in my difficulty in understanding this concept is that God is king. In every history class I've ever taken, people who disobey kings are punished, not commended. Though I don't like it about myself, I'm a submissive person, and especially when it comes to authority. The idea of challenging God is so pro-confrontational it makes me scared just thinking about it.
I'm not honestly sure where I'm going with this, or even if I was going anywhere in the first place. Perhaps, in a weird contrary mood, the Jews decided, like the 1776 Americans, that they'd had enough of living under kings, and they wanted something new. Maybe they should have written a Declaration of Independence and fought a war for their religious autonomy, except that they had it, which is what confuses me so much. God gave humans free will, and so why would anyone argue? He [need I give me gender apology again?] gave us an opportunity to choose whether we wanted to follow His rule or not. By arguing with him, wouldn't that say that you didn't want to follow him?
I know I sound very discouraging towards Rabbi Yehoshua [or was it Eliezer? I left my folder somewhere.] but I actually love that about Judaism, and at the risk of offense, it's something people usually imagine old Jewish ladies doing. We fight in a what could be considered unnecessary battle, but we fight, because it's what we believe. It's stubborn, but still, very admirable.
Now that I've babbled in a stupid way for a while, I'll finish. I'll, by my own choice, go to sleep. Then, I'll, by my own choice, wake up. Maybe I'll argue it with God for a while. Just because I can. Because our God, at least this week, is one that accepts criticism, that gives out a free comment card with your free will and doesn't throw it away when he sees something rated as "1 : Poor." Because we're Jews, and we were chosen, and that's just too cool to pass up.
02 March 2007
Memory
Apparently, it's something I don't have. I knew I forgot something this week. In fact, I actually thought about the questions today. Anyway...
1. What does it mean to have a walking God? It means a lot of things. To me, it presents a conundrum: I never quite believed in intelligent design. I mean, yes, I believe God created the world, but I've always had a hybrid theory, that God caused evolution or something. The ocular evidence provided by bones was more than my faith, I guess, when I invented this theory. But to have a walking God means that God actually did create us in His [again, gender issues aside] image and that his purpose may have been more selfish than, if you will, humanitarian. If he walked among us, also, it seems to imply, and this is definitely going to seem blasphemous, that it's possible for a human form. Perhaps this is endorsement for Christianity, even if I don't believe it myself? In addition, a walking God would mean that it [He] has a distinct form. We're supposed to be talking about images of God - mine has always been the fire-brimstone-clouds-and-lightning version of God, as opposed to the walking dude in some garden. I have to say, this question made me rething a lot of what I assumed I believed in fully before.
2. How do you feel about God as a king? I guess I've always sort of assumed that's how it was. If God is omnipotent, it's also feasible to imagine Him lording over all, sort of watching his subjects [with eyes? haha] from above. I don't really see if this would be a problem, but I'm not sure I like it. I'm an independent person about some things, and though I've always believed it to be true, the idea of a God who knows and sees all is sort of like my opinion about the Patriot Act: our free will and our choices are ours, so why are you intruding? I guess I'd have to meet this king to form a true opinion, or at least one that makes sense (:\) but I accept it, as I accept [but do not endorse] other things.
[P.S. Sorry, Josh, I had tonsss of work this week and I completely forgot this was due by Thursday :\]
1. What does it mean to have a walking God? It means a lot of things. To me, it presents a conundrum: I never quite believed in intelligent design. I mean, yes, I believe God created the world, but I've always had a hybrid theory, that God caused evolution or something. The ocular evidence provided by bones was more than my faith, I guess, when I invented this theory. But to have a walking God means that God actually did create us in His [again, gender issues aside] image and that his purpose may have been more selfish than, if you will, humanitarian. If he walked among us, also, it seems to imply, and this is definitely going to seem blasphemous, that it's possible for a human form. Perhaps this is endorsement for Christianity, even if I don't believe it myself? In addition, a walking God would mean that it [He] has a distinct form. We're supposed to be talking about images of God - mine has always been the fire-brimstone-clouds-and-lightning version of God, as opposed to the walking dude in some garden. I have to say, this question made me rething a lot of what I assumed I believed in fully before.
2. How do you feel about God as a king? I guess I've always sort of assumed that's how it was. If God is omnipotent, it's also feasible to imagine Him lording over all, sort of watching his subjects [with eyes? haha] from above. I don't really see if this would be a problem, but I'm not sure I like it. I'm an independent person about some things, and though I've always believed it to be true, the idea of a God who knows and sees all is sort of like my opinion about the Patriot Act: our free will and our choices are ours, so why are you intruding? I guess I'd have to meet this king to form a true opinion, or at least one that makes sense (:\) but I accept it, as I accept [but do not endorse] other things.
[P.S. Sorry, Josh, I had tonsss of work this week and I completely forgot this was due by Thursday :\]
14 February 2007
And now...
And now for the actual assignment, now that I've found it from it's small piece of paper which fell out of my notebook:
The image of God as described in Genesis 1 is much different than the one I described in my first post. God is a benevolent creator, not a harsh and terrifying ruler. In some ways, and I hope this isn't blasphemous, God seems to be a tiny bit selfish. ::hopes world doesn't fall down:: Everyone knows that man was created in God's image [a possible argument for the masculinity of God, but that's for another time], but why would God start to create the world if not for himself? Maybe he was just bored. But still, he would be creating for himself.
Part II was our personal struggle with God. This one might seem pretty stupid. As I said last post, I'm an apologetic person. I want everyone to be happy, and when they're not, I get upset, even though I'm not an extremely happy person either. Another part to this prologue is that I'm very into the whole everything-needs-to-be-fair thing. Maybe it's because I'm a Libra, maybe it's because I have a younger brother, maybe it's because I'm me. Take your pick.
My great aunt Martha died in about 2001. [In fact I had a very awkward conversation with my cousin to find that out.] I didn't really know her that well, only that she was an amazing person and we used to have Passover at her house every year, before we had it at mine. When we were waiting for the funeral to start [late, because we're Jews], I remember my older cousins having to quiet me down - I didn't quite understand why everyone was crying and I was trying to cheer them up. It didn't hit me until the next year at the tombstone dedication that my great-aunt had actually died.
On that dedication day, everyone pretended to be happy (we were supposedt o be "over it") but Icouldn't help but think about God. [Let me interject here that normally I wouldn't be, but Martha's husband was an uberJew, so we'd heard him rant about why God let her die, etc.] Surprisingly, I wasn't upset with god for "letting" Martha die - in fact, I considered, and still do consider, immortality a punishment. Instead, I found myself thinking about the fairness of this whole situation. My great-aunt had died. The rest of us will, eventually, die. But God won't. I don't want God to die, I guess, I just had a problem with his immortality for a few days after that. Why does God make us go through these flaming hoops when he gets to sit on the bleachers and watch?
In some ways I guess I never answered my question, put a bandaid on my wounded faith, and let it heal, but I still think sometimes, that all of this is not very fair.
The image of God as described in Genesis 1 is much different than the one I described in my first post. God is a benevolent creator, not a harsh and terrifying ruler. In some ways, and I hope this isn't blasphemous, God seems to be a tiny bit selfish. ::hopes world doesn't fall down:: Everyone knows that man was created in God's image [a possible argument for the masculinity of God, but that's for another time], but why would God start to create the world if not for himself? Maybe he was just bored. But still, he would be creating for himself.
Part II was our personal struggle with God. This one might seem pretty stupid. As I said last post, I'm an apologetic person. I want everyone to be happy, and when they're not, I get upset, even though I'm not an extremely happy person either. Another part to this prologue is that I'm very into the whole everything-needs-to-be-fair thing. Maybe it's because I'm a Libra, maybe it's because I have a younger brother, maybe it's because I'm me. Take your pick.
My great aunt Martha died in about 2001. [In fact I had a very awkward conversation with my cousin to find that out.] I didn't really know her that well, only that she was an amazing person and we used to have Passover at her house every year, before we had it at mine. When we were waiting for the funeral to start [late, because we're Jews], I remember my older cousins having to quiet me down - I didn't quite understand why everyone was crying and I was trying to cheer them up. It didn't hit me until the next year at the tombstone dedication that my great-aunt had actually died.
On that dedication day, everyone pretended to be happy (we were supposedt o be "over it") but Icouldn't help but think about God. [Let me interject here that normally I wouldn't be, but Martha's husband was an uberJew, so we'd heard him rant about why God let her die, etc.] Surprisingly, I wasn't upset with god for "letting" Martha die - in fact, I considered, and still do consider, immortality a punishment. Instead, I found myself thinking about the fairness of this whole situation. My great-aunt had died. The rest of us will, eventually, die. But God won't. I don't want God to die, I guess, I just had a problem with his immortality for a few days after that. Why does God make us go through these flaming hoops when he gets to sit on the bleachers and watch?
In some ways I guess I never answered my question, put a bandaid on my wounded faith, and let it heal, but I still think sometimes, that all of this is not very fair.
Number 1
I remember the first time I wrote "God" on a piece of paper. I was passing a note in 7th grade math class and forgot to put a dash between the G and the d. I felt horrible for the entire day, like I'd desecrated something.
I'm starting off with this for one reason only: I'm probably the only one in our class who was brought up as a Reform Jew. I did all the holiday stuff and I went to Temple on Friday nights, not Saturday mornings, and even then only 2x a month. I kept kosher, but not when my family went out to dinner. For that, I've always felt a strange and probably unnecessary need to "apologize" to God. Ironically enough, the rules I decided to follow to "apologize" aren't even closely adhered to by my Rabbi or my hebrew school teachers.
Most people who know me are aware that I apologize a lot. Too much, probably. To me, God is the one recipient of my apologies who doesn't reject them or accept them. However, because in my little 1st grade Hebrew School we learned about how God incurs his wrath on x, y, and z, I am always a little afraid that what I am doing is going to anger God. So, I follow certain rules that seem to smooth things over between me and the Guy Up There.
I think it's unfortunate that for me and many others, Judaism is all about rules. I've always considered God and Judaism synonomous, and therefore all the rules that God gave to Jews the very personification of God himself (herself? Another interesting question, but for now, I'm using he for the sake of convenience.). My image of God is not dissimilar to a textbook - facts and rules to learn and obey.
Leviticus (part iii of our assignment) obviously speaks of rules. Jeremiah (part i) speaks of the rule of God through a man on earth. In both of these sources, God is a rulemaker, with his subjects far below him. This image of fear is one that I know well.
Chapter 8 of Proverbs is the only one that does not invoke fear. Instead, I am forced, as an overanalytical person, to wonder if God is working through Wisdom, as he was through Jeremiah, to warn us.
"Nothing is so much to be feared as fear." -Henry David Thoreau
p.s. I have no idea if I did this right or not. But read and enjoy.
I'm starting off with this for one reason only: I'm probably the only one in our class who was brought up as a Reform Jew. I did all the holiday stuff and I went to Temple on Friday nights, not Saturday mornings, and even then only 2x a month. I kept kosher, but not when my family went out to dinner. For that, I've always felt a strange and probably unnecessary need to "apologize" to God. Ironically enough, the rules I decided to follow to "apologize" aren't even closely adhered to by my Rabbi or my hebrew school teachers.
Most people who know me are aware that I apologize a lot. Too much, probably. To me, God is the one recipient of my apologies who doesn't reject them or accept them. However, because in my little 1st grade Hebrew School we learned about how God incurs his wrath on x, y, and z, I am always a little afraid that what I am doing is going to anger God. So, I follow certain rules that seem to smooth things over between me and the Guy Up There.
I think it's unfortunate that for me and many others, Judaism is all about rules. I've always considered God and Judaism synonomous, and therefore all the rules that God gave to Jews the very personification of God himself (herself? Another interesting question, but for now, I'm using he for the sake of convenience.). My image of God is not dissimilar to a textbook - facts and rules to learn and obey.
Leviticus (part iii of our assignment) obviously speaks of rules. Jeremiah (part i) speaks of the rule of God through a man on earth. In both of these sources, God is a rulemaker, with his subjects far below him. This image of fear is one that I know well.
Chapter 8 of Proverbs is the only one that does not invoke fear. Instead, I am forced, as an overanalytical person, to wonder if God is working through Wisdom, as he was through Jeremiah, to warn us.
"Nothing is so much to be feared as fear." -Henry David Thoreau
p.s. I have no idea if I did this right or not. But read and enjoy.
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