Marvin Olasky spoke at the Discovery Institute yesterday and I had the opportunity to bounce off him a small heresy I've been cultivating. Olasky is the editor of World Magazine, a conservative Christian biweekly that I admire, and provost of King's College, a Christian college headquartered in New York City's Empire State Building. In his speech he made the case strongly that conservatives and especially conservatively inclined religious folks make a strategic error when they retreat from combat and engagement with the world and seek instead to wall themselves off in monasteries, figuratively speaking -- communities isolated from the sin-tainted world.
But the key point about Olasky that prompted me to share my thought with him is that he's a Jew by birth, a Jewish Christian, from a classic sort of Jewish background. His parents were secular, as was he in his youth, and he grew up to be an atheist and a Communist, becoming a Christian only later on in life. My thesis in a nutshell is that far from there being a "God gene," as some exponents of Darwinian evolution would have it; and in contrast to a strictly traditional view, Jewish or Christian or Muslim, that God is waiting for us all to make the choice of a particular religion that's right for absolutely everyone -- rather than either of these, I wonder if God imprints a certain kind of religious preference, one of numerous possible imprints, on each person.
I'm not giving this as my firm belief. Just something that from experience sure does appear to be true. Each religion, and the variations thereon, seems like it has something almost like a "taste" -- or in Hebrew, a taam, which conveys the point better. Adherents of that religion similarly have a taam in common. Just as there are different religions and different variations within each, there are such "tastes" identifiable among believers. A person has a taste for his religion, but not for others. Is this your experience? Please comment below and let me know.
If true, this would be very hard to reconcile with the God-gene thesis, which simple-mindedly treats religiosity as an on- or off-switch kind of deal. You have the gene or you don't, in the same way you may get the "gene" for homosexuality or not. But apart from the fact that DNA (which codes for protein production) doesn't appear to work at all the way it's popularly conceived, people's religious inclinations are way, way too complex and multifarious to be explained this way. There's no such singular thing as "being religious." It's not generic like that. It's not one size fits all. No "up" or "down" genetic predestination here. Imagine a "gene" for Orthodox Judaism, Nusach Ari, with Hirschean leanings -- my own profile -- which I then presumably received from my Swedish and Welsh forebears. Absurdity upon absurdity!
I'll give you an illustration. We have a dear friend from our shul, our synagogue, who's Chinese-American by birth, from Hawaii -- a less stereotypically Jewish background you couldn't imagine. Yet, a convert to Orthodox Judaism, she's someone whose taam couldn't be more that of a Jewish mother, not even if she came from the longest of long lines of Jewish mothers. There's no mistaking this about her. Something similar is true of many of the converts to Judaism that I know. It's not about physiognomy in a way that would be evident from a passport photo. Mien might be a better word, but even that doesn't nearly do it justice. Let's just call it taam.
Many Jewish converts I know or whose stories I've heard, knew from early on in their lives that they were powerfully drawn to things Jewish. By the same token, among born-Jews, many who migrated from secularism to Orthodox as adults, ba'aalei teshuvah, knew as little kids that they wanted to be Orthodox Jews when they grew up. Isn't this peculiar?
Then again, I've know Jews who left Judaism and earnestly, permanently embraced other faiths. In general, I find these people to have a less pronounced Jewish "taste," or none at all, or quite the opposite, no matter how much affection they express for their ethnic roots. They have the taam of their chosen, or appointed, faith.
Judaism is a useful context for making the point I'm trying to make because so much of its appeal baffles many people. They read a translation of a page of Talmud and say "Whoa! That is boring! It's so dry and legal!" But let someone else listen to a gifted rabbi's Torah lecture on the same page of Talmud -- that is, someone with a Jewish soul -- and he's as likely to say, "Wow! I want to spend the rest of my life delving into this stuff! This is how I'm going to experience God. Give me more!" The latter represents my own experience. Rare, I think, is the non-Jew who would respond similarly. If he did, he would be a likely candidate for conversion.
The same holds true, I'm sure, in relationship to other faiths. I may respect another religion, find it substantive, even if wrong on certain key points -- and remain utterly perplexed by what others find appealing about it.
Heliotropism is the tendency of plants to grown toward the sun. It almost seems like each of us is a plant growing toward its sun, where there are many suns in the sky.
I enjoyed meeting Marvin Olasky and he was kind enough not to render judgment on my suggestion. I know it would not qualify as either Jewish or Christian small-o orthodoxy. It sounds like relativism. Yet anyone who knows my writing knows I'm not a relativist. So can spiritual multi-sun heliotropism be reconciled with any traditional faith?
Possibly so. Over Shabbat I was reading Rav Hirsch on the Noah narrative in Genesis where, as the rabbis understand, God after the Flood seeded the peoples of the earth each with its distinctive affinity for a homeland. Hirsch writes about how the Midrash (on Genesis 9:7) notes the way certain landscapes, unique to different countries, appear hateful to foreigners, yet natives love them intensely and feel displaced in any other geographical context. That sounds like Judaism to me. And like Catholicism, and Evangelical Protestantism, and so on.
Maybe God makes us this way to keep humanity safely divided into discrete peoples and nations. The Tower of Babel story, which comes shortly after, shows the danger of a world state with a world-spanning ideology. We would abuse its power, tyrannizing each other. In politics, federalism is much safer. Though I believe there is indeed a single religious community whose understanding comes closest to the truth about God's wisdom, it's likely that humanity still isn't ready for a truly universal religion, either.
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I appreciate Matt Schneeweis' time and effort in his thoughtful presentation of Maimonedes' concepts in the context of DK's post. It was, at least to me, rational and educational.
I can't resist offering a high-five to Baruch S on his reaction to DK. I basically agree nor do I think all that much of his blogs. However, I have never met him so the best I can offer is that perhaps he is a better thinker and speaker than is evident, at least to me, from his writings.
Science and Buddhism assert that no event has a single cause; everything is an expression of the network of interdependencies called the universe. The nature vs. nurture controversy is resolved by recognizing that nature and nurture are mutually interactive. Each effects the other. All beliefs have multiple causes--as does everything. Trying to figure out exactly how many angels can dance on the head of a pin--as was attempted in earlier times--is like trying to know the intentions of God. Skip the ideologies and concentrate on treating all human beings with compassion and respect. What more guidence do you need?
David,
I definitely appreciate the distinction between (1) attempting to clarify ideas which resonate with human experience, regardless of whether or not they are true, and (2) merely “throwing quotations back and forth at each other.” Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik begins his book, The Lonely Man of Faith, with the following disclaimer: “Theory is not my concern at the moment . . . whatever I am going to say here has been derived not from philosophical dialectics, abstract speculation, or detached impersonal reflections, but from actual situations and experiences with which I have been confronted.”
When an idea fails to register in one’s mind as a reality – that is, when it doesn’t meet James’s standard of a “live” idea – then that failure should be taken as a symptomatic of a deficiency. Either the individual lacks sufficient clarity of understanding to make the idea real to his mind, or the idea doesn’t register as a reality in his mind because it is false. Unfortunately, people tend to draw conclusions about the truth of an idea on the sole basis of whether it “seems” or “feels” right. According to the Oral Tradition, the verse, “Do not stray after your heart and after your eyes” (Numbers 15:39) is a Biblical commandment prohibiting us from engaging in this type of speculative musing. This type of analysis – if it can even be called analysis – ultimately boils down to the following principle: “What feels true is true, and what feels false is false” (see Maimonides’ Laws of Idolatry 2:3). We need not look far to see how dangerous this type of thinking can be.
It may be that you were “writing less about theology than about experience,” but to me, this was not clear from your article. First you raised the question, “So can spiritual multi-sun heliotropism be reconciled with any traditional faith?” You then took a (hesitant) stance by answering, “Possibly so,” and then proceeded to cite Rav Hirsch, the Midrash Rabbah, and the story of the Tower of Babel to support your point. I inferred from all this that you were discussing theology, and that your endeavor was to demonstrate that your spiritual heliotropism hypothesis can be reconciled with Torah.
Having said that, let’s return to a discussion of whether or not your theory of spiritual heliotropism is true. You said that you don’t know whether Maimonides’ explanation settles the matter. Maimonides, according to my understanding, would argue that this taam of which you speak is nothing more than a psychological or physiological phenomenon. People are predisposed to be drawn to different beliefs, practices, and lifestyles due to their natural dispositions and/or upbringing, not by divine decree or spiritual predilection. According to Maimonides, to say that the non-physical soul – as opposed to the physical body or psyche – is drawn to a certain path would constitute a denial of free will.
What makes you favor your explanation over that of Maimonides?
Hi Matt, so would you compare someone's strong attraction to a religion other than Orthodox Judaism to a condition like alcoholism or homosexuality where he's simply been given a challenge from God to overcome a negative proclivity, and that's it? If it's a proper analogy, then it seems you'd have to admit there's at least one difference in need of explaining. That is the *specificity* of the innumerable spiritual attractions people experience to different faiths. You have many cases of people born into a certain very specific non-Jewish tradition, who never feel entirely at home in it, who then search the world of spirituality until finally they discover some totally unrelated but equally specific non-Jewish faith tradition, foreign to their roots, that makes their heart sing in a way no other faith does. This is not uncommon. But I don't think you have alcoholics who search the world of spirits until, after years of feeling unrooted, they at last discover the particular brand of gin that makes their heart sing as no other inebriating beverage does, and so they realize: "I've come home! I will never consume another brand of alcohol as long as I live." Alcoholism isn't specific that way, nor from all accounts is homosexuality. Ditto other addictive and otherwise negative habitual behaviors. How do you think we can make sense of this difference in the way these attractions are experienced?
Hi Matt, so would you compare someone's strong attraction to a religion other than Orthodox Judaism to a condition like alcoholism or homosexuality where he's simply been given a challenge from God to overcome a negative proclivity, and that's it?
On a basic level, I agree with your summary. However, I would like to make two qualifications, which will also address the objection you raised.
(1) “a condition like alcoholism or homosexuality”: If it’s alright with you, I suggest that we dispense with the rhetorically charged examples you mentioned (i.e. alcoholism and homosexuality), unless they are critical to your position. Not only do I find such examples unnecessarily inflammatory – not to me, but to the practitioners of other religions – but their specificity is misleading and lends itself to a misunderstanding of my position.
Instead, let’s stick to more general predispositions which draw people to or away from different religions. Here are a few examples: asceticism and hedonism, subservience and rebelliousness, scientism and mysticism, objectivism and relativism, the need for love, the need for security, love of philosophy, the need to follow a leader, the desire to control one’s own destiny, the desire for self-improvement, and the like. These are the types of predispositions which I maintain are responsible for the attraction to and repulsion from the various religions. These predispositions result from a combination of nature and nurture. In some instances, those who have them are consciously aware of them. More often than not, they operate on an unconscious level.
(2) “If it’s a proper analogy, then it seems you’d have to admit there’s at least one difference in need of explaining”: The answer to the question you pose at the end is that not all natural dispositions or acquired predilections are the same, neither in their intensity nor in their specificity, as you mentioned in your comment. For example, some people are naturally predisposed to be universally athletic. They are gifted with strength, agility, stamina, hand-eye coordination, and many other excellences which are advantageous in a wide range of sports. Other people are naturally predisposed to excel in specific sports. Tiger Woods is a natural golfer, but is probably not too talented in gymnastics, hockey, or bowling. Likewise, there is a wide range within sexual dispositions. Some men have a strong sexual attraction to any and all women; some are exclusively drawn to women who are blond, or thin, or pouty-lipped, but would be turned off by women with other physical characteristics; still other men are only attracted to a specific type of look and personality.
I maintain that the same is true when it comes to religion. You have many cases of people born into a certain very specific non-Jewish tradition, who never feel entirely at home in it, who then search the world of spirituality until finally they discover some totally unrelated but equally specific non-Jewish faith tradition, foreign to their roots, that makes their heart sing in a way no other faith does. You also have many cases of people who are born into a very specific ethnic group who search for a spouse within their group, until they finally discover someone who belongs to some totally unrelated but equally specific ethnic group, with whom they fall in love. Likewise, there are many cases of people who find that they have a natural knack for specific skills and techniques (carpentry, music, mathematics) to which they were never previously exposed, but which are a perfect match for them.
These dispositions might manifest produce specific results, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t predispositions. The same is true for the examples of religious predispositions I listed above. For example, a person who is predisposed towards the mystical might be equally at home with any mystically inclined religion, or he might be drawn to a specific brand of mysticism. The same is true for the other predispositions. Someone searching for a religion of rituals and restrictions might be equally happy as a religious Jew or a religious Muslim, whereas another person might have a more specific predilection. This specificity can be determined by unconscious factors or shaped by specific causes in one’s upbringing.
To sum it up, my response to your question is that predispositions vary in their specificity and intensity. Some predispositions are very specific, other predispositions are general, and others can be both. The only way to explain the difference – and to thereby fully answer your question – is to investigate the nature and causes of each predisposition. Unfortunately, this investigation is beyond my present knowledge.
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