9 Comments

Mari, thanks for a thoughtful essay on purity. Some people struggle with choices like the lesser of two evils, or the greater of two goods.

I noticed that on your Seder plate you have an orange. So do we.

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Yes! I have always laughed at the idea that it would be so weird or impossible to put an orange on the Seder plate or a woman on the bimah. You can just do it! It’s easy!

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I think you’ve hit on something crucial here. When I was younger and religious, I held fast to purity for purity’s sake—and because of my nature and personality, it was fairly easy. Then I started to see the world differently, and those rules caused me a great deal of inner conflict. Then, somehow, I’ve let go of all those rules. But now I’m coming back around to an appreciation for a moderate version of “purity.” Parameters for personal conduct can be freeing and anchoring, just as parameters in any venture actually can be helpful for making progress. But now I believe the rules of purity one follows should be chosen, not imposed. “Everything is permissible; not everything is beneficial.” What doesn’t benefit one person may benefit another.

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I agree with all of this. Living in Switzerland has demonstrated to me so many times that rules actually make us freer, because they provide us with the limitations we need to remove anxiety (of course, it helps that everyone else us following them too!). And we have more meaningful lives when we strive to become better. But we need to be the ones to decide the best way to do that.

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Love this article! It makes me think about the reading we're doing in English class- and the thousands of angry parents, both of the 18th and 21st century, complaining about what novels their kids are reading. Purity indeed- pure stupidity!

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I would love to hear about the reading you’re doing! And I am going to talk briefly about the book-banning--which I agree is pure stupidity--in next week’s post.

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Thank you again for giving me food for thought, food of which all may partake! I have no arguments.

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I laughed at the guy who sold his soul--great start for a movie.

"(AA claims a long-term success rate of 33 percent, but they only report data from people who remain in the program, not those who start the program but drop out.)"

Then again, NOTHING works if you stop doing it, right?

I've thought about this issue a lot in my usual unorganized fashion. It's the "conflict" between Jewish mystics (or mystics in general) and normative Judaism which seeks to direct behavior.

The mitzvot keep a people together by giving them something concrete they can do regularly and together. And if that's all they ever do, at least the community hasn't dissolved, and they've done some good things for themselves and others.

If God had simply said: "Be pure and holy, my people..." they would've rightly answered, or asked, back: "But how do we do that?" The mitzvot answer that question in very detailed ways.

But I believe the mitzvot are supposed to lead us to--for lack of a better expressions--a higher state of consciousness. A state where the normal lines between purity and impurity don't exist.

So if following the mitzvot leads someone to be cruel or small-minded to others, it may be worse than not following the mitzvot at all.

The mitzvot are designed to help you become a "better person." If they don't do that for you, then fine, but if they lead you in the opposite direction, it would be better not to follow them. I'm sure almost every rabbi would disagree with me, or might say, "then they aren't really doing the mitzvot despite what they think."

Switching gears...

In tai chi, we teach from outside in. That is, in the beginning, we offer relatively precise instructions on where to face, where to put your feet, where to put your hands. But over time, following those instructions, you change and, eventually, become tai chi yourself and are always "in principle" whether doing the form or not.

I think Wittgenstein had a good image for this. It might come from the Tractatus; I can't remember. He uses the image of a ladder going up to a roof. You climb the ladder (i.e., do the mitzvot, or the form), but once you reach the roof, you don't need the ladder any more.

Boddhisatvas, as I understand it, have reached "the doors" of enlightenment, but purposely don't enter in order to come back down to help others on the path. And Jewish mystics are supposed to have families and participate in all the worldly events of the community.

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Thank you so much for sharing these thoughts! I think that following the mitzvot is a lot like exercising: you may not feel like it all the time, but your steady commitment is what helps you to improve. And thank you for bringing up the social aspect of the mitzvot, which I hadn’t thought about, and which are a crucial aspect of their meaning and effectiveness.

Your point about tai chi is making me think about an open rehearsal for a modern dance troupe I attended last night. The choreographer was there fine-tuning the combinations. The dancers would watch him and then practice the slightly altered way of moving. The whole process was almost wordless. I’m such a verbal person that I found it almost impossible to understand how they could learn how to move so quickly just by watching. But of ourselves they have those ways of moving in their bodies--from the inside out, as you would say.

Anyway, thanks again for such a thought-provoking comment!

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