Post by Rabbi Neil on Jun 1, 2018 21:45:09 GMT
In the latest Star Wars movie, the man who brings Han Solo into a life of smuggling says an important line. And if you haven’t seen it, I’m only sharing a line that’s in the trailer anyway, so you don’t need to worry about spoilers. Tobias Beckett says to Han Solo “Assume everyone will betray you and you’ll never be disappointed.” The line resonated with me because I was aware that Jewish tradition, at least in part, holds a similar perspective, and I thought it deserved exploration.
We start with the Bible. At the very beginning of Torah, it is clear that God made human beings in the Divine image, and that once all of creation is completed, God sees it as “very good.” This is often taken to mean that the creation of human beings is very good, although that may be a rather forced, and indeed arrogant, reading. When God originally looks out over creation, everything is balanced. There is no violence, there is no killing, there is no deception, in other words, it’s not human life as we know it. Adam and Eve are not really the same as us, indeed that seems to rather be the point of the opening Genesis. So, when God says that creation is very good, that’s because God is looking at Adam and Eve, the half-Divine half-human beings, not at the rest of us who are fully human. Only three chapters later, God is clear to Cain that “If you do what is right will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin crouches at your door – it desires to have you but you must rule over it.” (Gen. 4:7) This gives an important insight into the Bible’s opening perspective on human nature – that we can be good, so long as we control our negative impulses. But it doesn’t seem to have much confidence that we’ll achieve that.
Only two chapters later, things have taken a definite negative turn. “The Eternal saw how great the wickedness of humanity had become on earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. So the Eternal regretted making human beings on the earth, and God’s heart was deeply troubled.” (Gen. 6:5-6). One can hardly read this and think that God views humanity as “very good!” Indeed, the Bible seems to be pointing to a very clear trajectory, from righteousness to wretchedness. Even if God creates us in the most idyllic situation, we are still bound to ruin it with our deceitfulness and violence. The rest of the Bible seems to agree. For example, the prophet Jeremiah says that “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9) Of course, Jeremiah does believe that repentance is possible, but that doesn’t seem to be the underlying assumption. Prophetic literature is usually filled with rebuke for negative acts, not praise for positive ones. Again, the underlying assumption is that we’ll do wrong.
At the end of Torah, Moses makes a similar point. He adjures the people to do good when he is no longer with them, but clearly feels the need not just to explain the rewards for good behaviour but also the punishments for bad behaviour. He understands the temptation to evil, he’s seen it throughout his own life with the people, in particular starting with the Golden Calf, where even God remarked, “How quickly they have turned aside from the way that I commanded them!” (Ex. 32:8)
The Bible, then, seems to agree with Tobias Beckett that we should assume that everyone will betray us. Selfishness, idolatry, violence, all these things the Bible seems to hope won’t be part of our lives, but rather assumes that they will. Those who are blameless are few and far between, and are held up to be examples to the rest of us wretched folk.
Rabbinically, human beings are part divine and part earthly – we are simultaneously lofty and also base. As we read it Sifre Deuteronomy (306), “All creatures which are formed from heaven both their soul and their body are from heaven; and all creatures which are formed from earth, both their soul and body are from earth, with the exception of the human being whose soul is from heaven and whose body is from earth. Therefore, if a person obeys the Torah and does the will of God, behold they are like the creatures above…, but if they do not obey the Torah and do not perform the will of God, they are like the creatures below…” This dichotomy within humanity of body and soul as described in depth in Rabbinic Judaism is different to that as represented in the Bible and it developed into the concept of the yetzer hatov and the yetzer hara. Often translated literally as the good and the evil inclinations, the Rabbis saw them more as the lofty inclination and the animal inclination, or the Divine inclination and the earthly one. One of these is definitely stronger than the other in Rabbinic tradition. In Avot de Rabbi Natan (XVI), we read that “The evil impulse is thirteen years older than the good impulse. It exists from the time of a person’s emergence from his mother’s womb; it grows with him and accompanies him through life. It begins to desecrate the Sabbath, to kill and act immorally, and there is nothing within him to prevent it. After thirteen years the good impulse is born. When he desecrates the Sabbath, it warns him… If he thinks of committing a murder it warns him… If he proposes to act immorally, it warns him…” That’s a very interesting take on bar and bat mitzvah, by the way, that it’s not celebrating coming into adulthood but rather celebrating the birth of the conscience. It’s an odd way to view young children, though, but I digress.
Avot de Rabbi Natan continues just to make the point clear by saying that “when a person excites their passions and sets out to indulge in immorality, all their limbs obey them, because the evil impulse rules over the … organs. When they set out to perform a meritorious act, all their limbs begin to suffer through them, because the evil impulse within them rules over them all and the good impulse is only like a prisoner in jail, as it is said (Eccl. 4:14), “For out of prison he came forth to be a king” – that refers to the good impulse.” Rabbinic tradition, therefore, appreciates that it’s possible for a person to choose good, it’s just very difficult. Indeed, in an extraordinary passage in Talmud (Chagigah 16a), it acknowledges that sometimes a person totally loses the fight against the evil inclination, in which case it recommends a particular course of action – “If a man sees that his evil impulse is gaining the mastery over him, let him go to a place where he is unknown, put on black clothes and do what his heart desires; but let him not profane the Name [of God] publicly.” This isn’t saying that secret sins are permissible, but is rather acknowledging that if you’re going to sin, at least do it where no-one knows you!
Tobias Beckett presumes that people will fail. According to Jewish tradition, Beckett is probably right – human beings tend to be rather selfish and tend to act basely towards each other, following their animal or selfish instincts. They can transcend that, it’s just very difficult. If that’s the case, how should we respond? Should we assume the worst or the best of people? Just because according to Jewish tradition they’re likely to let us down, should we expect it? Our original Star Wars quotation was specifically about betrayal – assume that everyone will betray you and you’ll never be disappointed. Jewish tradition aside, and just thinking psychologically, I don’t think that’s healthy. Even if every partner a person has had up until the present day has betrayed them, if a person goes into a relationship believing they will be betrayed, they’re likely to subconsciously create a situation in which they are. Or they are more likely to betray the other person simply to save themselves from the pain of betrayal that they expect to come later. Expect betrayal, and you likely create betrayal, either from the other person or even from yourself. Of course, I’m talking from a position of privilege, from not living in the cutthroat criminal underworld that is portrayed in the movie. Ours isn’t a community in which betrayal is the norm, although we obviously acknowledge that such societies, or communities, exist. So we could just say that the opening quotation isn’t real in our community but we acknowledge that it may be elsewhere, but that would leave one very large question still hanging – What does it say about our tradition in that it assumes the worst of us? Sure, it may not assume betrayal but it certainly expects our animal, selfish instincts to take over. It may hope that we will be strong, but it rather assumes that most of the time we won’t, and will therefore have to atone for our wrongdoings.
It is difficult to look at much of what happened in the last century and reflect positively on human nature. But maybe that’s the point. To revisit that quotation from Avot de Rabbi Natan, the yetzer hara, the evil inclination, the part within us that leads us to selfishness and violence, has a head start. When we look back through human history, it’s a history of violence and of cruelty. We’re playing catch-up. In Star Wars, Tobias Beckett looks at the world around him and sees everything negative, and assumes that the future will be the same. The way I read it, Judaism says, “No, that’s certainly very possible, but it’s not set in stone.” In a similar way, while for forty years Star Wars has constantly flitted with the idea of destiny, many times people misread what the destiny of other people will be, and it becomes their downfall. So, the message of Judaism – Biblical or Rabbinic – seems to be to hope for the good within people but to not be surprised when people act immorally. But within that tradition, there are two enormously differing paths. While the message of the Bible may be of descent from glory and closeness with God to debasement, the message of Rabbinic Judaism is the opposite – of a potential rise from debasement to Messianic fulfillment and return to closeness with God. As Maimonides said, “I believe in the Messiah, even though he may tarry.” The Messianic Age isn’t immediately upon us, that much is clear. There is much work to be done, and we cannot afford to be cynical. We have the choice to either work for a better future where people can all trust one another, or we accept the norm, where pain and anguish reign. When put like that, I’m not sure it’s much of a choice at all. So what does it mean for our tradition to expect the worst? It depends on which aspect of our tradition we want to focus on. Tobias Beckett’s perspective seems much closer to that of Torah, a negative perspective that assumes the worst of people while nonetheless trying to encourage them to do their best, against all hope. Rabbinic Judaism, thankfully, reverses that. It still acknowledges human moral frailty but refuses to use that as a predictor of future human behaviour. It assumes a world where that immorality will be overcome.
So, may we all work towards that kind of world. May we learn from our tradition not to be too disappointed if others do not live up to their best possible selves. May we not be overcome with cynicism or despair, and instead may we acknowledge the reality of those around us and work towards that which may currently almost seem unreal – a time of mutual human flourishing and peace. May we hold in our hearts a vision of a world where anger, violence and pain are no more, however far away it may seem today. May we help to bring about that world, and let us say, Amen.
We start with the Bible. At the very beginning of Torah, it is clear that God made human beings in the Divine image, and that once all of creation is completed, God sees it as “very good.” This is often taken to mean that the creation of human beings is very good, although that may be a rather forced, and indeed arrogant, reading. When God originally looks out over creation, everything is balanced. There is no violence, there is no killing, there is no deception, in other words, it’s not human life as we know it. Adam and Eve are not really the same as us, indeed that seems to rather be the point of the opening Genesis. So, when God says that creation is very good, that’s because God is looking at Adam and Eve, the half-Divine half-human beings, not at the rest of us who are fully human. Only three chapters later, God is clear to Cain that “If you do what is right will you not be accepted? But if you do not do what is right, sin crouches at your door – it desires to have you but you must rule over it.” (Gen. 4:7) This gives an important insight into the Bible’s opening perspective on human nature – that we can be good, so long as we control our negative impulses. But it doesn’t seem to have much confidence that we’ll achieve that.
Only two chapters later, things have taken a definite negative turn. “The Eternal saw how great the wickedness of humanity had become on earth, and that every inclination of the thoughts of the human heart was only evil all the time. So the Eternal regretted making human beings on the earth, and God’s heart was deeply troubled.” (Gen. 6:5-6). One can hardly read this and think that God views humanity as “very good!” Indeed, the Bible seems to be pointing to a very clear trajectory, from righteousness to wretchedness. Even if God creates us in the most idyllic situation, we are still bound to ruin it with our deceitfulness and violence. The rest of the Bible seems to agree. For example, the prophet Jeremiah says that “The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” (Jer. 17:9) Of course, Jeremiah does believe that repentance is possible, but that doesn’t seem to be the underlying assumption. Prophetic literature is usually filled with rebuke for negative acts, not praise for positive ones. Again, the underlying assumption is that we’ll do wrong.
At the end of Torah, Moses makes a similar point. He adjures the people to do good when he is no longer with them, but clearly feels the need not just to explain the rewards for good behaviour but also the punishments for bad behaviour. He understands the temptation to evil, he’s seen it throughout his own life with the people, in particular starting with the Golden Calf, where even God remarked, “How quickly they have turned aside from the way that I commanded them!” (Ex. 32:8)
The Bible, then, seems to agree with Tobias Beckett that we should assume that everyone will betray us. Selfishness, idolatry, violence, all these things the Bible seems to hope won’t be part of our lives, but rather assumes that they will. Those who are blameless are few and far between, and are held up to be examples to the rest of us wretched folk.
Rabbinically, human beings are part divine and part earthly – we are simultaneously lofty and also base. As we read it Sifre Deuteronomy (306), “All creatures which are formed from heaven both their soul and their body are from heaven; and all creatures which are formed from earth, both their soul and body are from earth, with the exception of the human being whose soul is from heaven and whose body is from earth. Therefore, if a person obeys the Torah and does the will of God, behold they are like the creatures above…, but if they do not obey the Torah and do not perform the will of God, they are like the creatures below…” This dichotomy within humanity of body and soul as described in depth in Rabbinic Judaism is different to that as represented in the Bible and it developed into the concept of the yetzer hatov and the yetzer hara. Often translated literally as the good and the evil inclinations, the Rabbis saw them more as the lofty inclination and the animal inclination, or the Divine inclination and the earthly one. One of these is definitely stronger than the other in Rabbinic tradition. In Avot de Rabbi Natan (XVI), we read that “The evil impulse is thirteen years older than the good impulse. It exists from the time of a person’s emergence from his mother’s womb; it grows with him and accompanies him through life. It begins to desecrate the Sabbath, to kill and act immorally, and there is nothing within him to prevent it. After thirteen years the good impulse is born. When he desecrates the Sabbath, it warns him… If he thinks of committing a murder it warns him… If he proposes to act immorally, it warns him…” That’s a very interesting take on bar and bat mitzvah, by the way, that it’s not celebrating coming into adulthood but rather celebrating the birth of the conscience. It’s an odd way to view young children, though, but I digress.
Avot de Rabbi Natan continues just to make the point clear by saying that “when a person excites their passions and sets out to indulge in immorality, all their limbs obey them, because the evil impulse rules over the … organs. When they set out to perform a meritorious act, all their limbs begin to suffer through them, because the evil impulse within them rules over them all and the good impulse is only like a prisoner in jail, as it is said (Eccl. 4:14), “For out of prison he came forth to be a king” – that refers to the good impulse.” Rabbinic tradition, therefore, appreciates that it’s possible for a person to choose good, it’s just very difficult. Indeed, in an extraordinary passage in Talmud (Chagigah 16a), it acknowledges that sometimes a person totally loses the fight against the evil inclination, in which case it recommends a particular course of action – “If a man sees that his evil impulse is gaining the mastery over him, let him go to a place where he is unknown, put on black clothes and do what his heart desires; but let him not profane the Name [of God] publicly.” This isn’t saying that secret sins are permissible, but is rather acknowledging that if you’re going to sin, at least do it where no-one knows you!
Tobias Beckett presumes that people will fail. According to Jewish tradition, Beckett is probably right – human beings tend to be rather selfish and tend to act basely towards each other, following their animal or selfish instincts. They can transcend that, it’s just very difficult. If that’s the case, how should we respond? Should we assume the worst or the best of people? Just because according to Jewish tradition they’re likely to let us down, should we expect it? Our original Star Wars quotation was specifically about betrayal – assume that everyone will betray you and you’ll never be disappointed. Jewish tradition aside, and just thinking psychologically, I don’t think that’s healthy. Even if every partner a person has had up until the present day has betrayed them, if a person goes into a relationship believing they will be betrayed, they’re likely to subconsciously create a situation in which they are. Or they are more likely to betray the other person simply to save themselves from the pain of betrayal that they expect to come later. Expect betrayal, and you likely create betrayal, either from the other person or even from yourself. Of course, I’m talking from a position of privilege, from not living in the cutthroat criminal underworld that is portrayed in the movie. Ours isn’t a community in which betrayal is the norm, although we obviously acknowledge that such societies, or communities, exist. So we could just say that the opening quotation isn’t real in our community but we acknowledge that it may be elsewhere, but that would leave one very large question still hanging – What does it say about our tradition in that it assumes the worst of us? Sure, it may not assume betrayal but it certainly expects our animal, selfish instincts to take over. It may hope that we will be strong, but it rather assumes that most of the time we won’t, and will therefore have to atone for our wrongdoings.
It is difficult to look at much of what happened in the last century and reflect positively on human nature. But maybe that’s the point. To revisit that quotation from Avot de Rabbi Natan, the yetzer hara, the evil inclination, the part within us that leads us to selfishness and violence, has a head start. When we look back through human history, it’s a history of violence and of cruelty. We’re playing catch-up. In Star Wars, Tobias Beckett looks at the world around him and sees everything negative, and assumes that the future will be the same. The way I read it, Judaism says, “No, that’s certainly very possible, but it’s not set in stone.” In a similar way, while for forty years Star Wars has constantly flitted with the idea of destiny, many times people misread what the destiny of other people will be, and it becomes their downfall. So, the message of Judaism – Biblical or Rabbinic – seems to be to hope for the good within people but to not be surprised when people act immorally. But within that tradition, there are two enormously differing paths. While the message of the Bible may be of descent from glory and closeness with God to debasement, the message of Rabbinic Judaism is the opposite – of a potential rise from debasement to Messianic fulfillment and return to closeness with God. As Maimonides said, “I believe in the Messiah, even though he may tarry.” The Messianic Age isn’t immediately upon us, that much is clear. There is much work to be done, and we cannot afford to be cynical. We have the choice to either work for a better future where people can all trust one another, or we accept the norm, where pain and anguish reign. When put like that, I’m not sure it’s much of a choice at all. So what does it mean for our tradition to expect the worst? It depends on which aspect of our tradition we want to focus on. Tobias Beckett’s perspective seems much closer to that of Torah, a negative perspective that assumes the worst of people while nonetheless trying to encourage them to do their best, against all hope. Rabbinic Judaism, thankfully, reverses that. It still acknowledges human moral frailty but refuses to use that as a predictor of future human behaviour. It assumes a world where that immorality will be overcome.
So, may we all work towards that kind of world. May we learn from our tradition not to be too disappointed if others do not live up to their best possible selves. May we not be overcome with cynicism or despair, and instead may we acknowledge the reality of those around us and work towards that which may currently almost seem unreal – a time of mutual human flourishing and peace. May we hold in our hearts a vision of a world where anger, violence and pain are no more, however far away it may seem today. May we help to bring about that world, and let us say, Amen.