No Shortcuts to Heaven

The Chasidic master Rabbi Mendel of Kotzk once asked his disciples, “Where is G-d?” Puzzled, they replied, “Is it not written that G-d fills the heavens and the earth? Hence, G-d must be everywhere.”

“No,” replied the Rebbe, “G-d is where we let Him in.” While scientists have sought G-d in the design of the universe, historians in the survival of the Jewish people, and spiritualists in mystical experiences, there is a surer way. Just let Him in.

Though He could, G-d does not impose Himself on our consciousness. True, He walks in our garden, but for the most part He allows the children of Adam the deception that they can hide. His existence, at least the proof of it, is not incontrovertible. He can be seen, but only to those who look; He can be heard, but only by those who wish to listen. This ostensible ambiguity about G-d is reflected in the Hebrew word emunah, faith. Jewish emunah does not profess irrefutable evidence or certainty of knowledge, but fidelity despite our lack of assurances.

Indeed, our most fundamental decisions are filled with risk. We marry and have children, though the future is unknown. Commitment, at this level, requires a leap of faith. Perhaps that is why today’s youth admires love, but not marriage. One feels good; one asks that we be good. This is similar to the difference between spirituality and religion. Spirituality is a fleeting encounter with G-d. Religion is how we behave on a daily basis. Spirituality, like love, is an emotion; religion, like marriage, an institution. They are linked, but they are not the same. Sadly enough, we have come to value emotions at the expense of institutions. We value love, not marriage. We seek spirituality, not religion.

This is the current state of the modern soul. Church and synagogue attendance may be down, but interest in the esoteric is alive and well. Each year produces a new metaphysical chic; Buddhism, feng shui, now kabbalah. Organized religion is on the wane, but the search for meaning, especially if it takes exotic forms, is as strong as ever.

One might presume that this bodes well for society. After all, it shows that we are not just materialistic hedonists. We have a soul. We meditate. We commune. We are in touch with higher worlds. We are, after all, children of the spirit in search of light.

Well yes, up to a point. But spirituality is no substitute for religion. It is merely a temporary escape from the burdens and boredoms of everyday life. There is much positive about our search for spirituality, but it also reveals how escapist, shallow and self-indulgent we are. This current cult of spirituality is the attempt to achieve the results of religion without the disciplines, codes and commitments of religion. That is not good news.

Religion is more than spirituality. It poses the question: How do we turn our desire for the Divine into more loving interpersonal relationships? How do we escape not from but into reality? How do we move from soul to society? Spirituality changes our mood, religion wants to change our life.

There are no short cuts to heaven on earth. To discover G-d within the soul is easy. What is hard is bring Him into the world, with all its poverty, inequality and violence and make it a home for His presence by celebrating His image in others. That takes real work, the long, hard, steady work of love in action, loyalty in deed, generosity to those who are different and do not yet share your beliefs. Religion starts in spirituality. What it asks of us next is where the real work of G-d begins.

Peruse this week’s Biblical reading of Kedoshim. It begins with the directive, “You shall be holy,” and then it launches into a litany of ethical laws; respecting parents, elders, charity to the poor, honesty in business, paying employees, not to dabble in the occult, the famous “Love Thy Neighbor,” not to take revenge, and forbidden relationships. Definitely, not the kinds of things one would associate with becoming holy.

The road to holiness may be depicted as a ladder leading to the heavens, but that is only in dreams. In real life, the road runs through the ordinary and everyday things we do. Self-restraint, decency, doing the right thing - these lead us to holiness. You don’t need a guru with a guitar, mantras, incense or flowing robes. You need to be a mentsch, control your passions and behave correctly.

Far be it from me to make light of holy men and miracle workers. I am a great believer. But before we buy red strings and holy water, perhaps we ought to try the bread and butter stuff of Judaism first. Then we will be holy

Historically, people have fought to protect institutions. We put ourselves on the firing line for our marriages, our families, but not for our infatuations. We are all too well aware that the former gives us permanence, the latter is fleeting. Love, like spirituality, may be poetry, while marriage, like religion is the prose. But we cannot spend our lives speaking poetry alone. Marriage is not less beautiful because of its prosaic passages - the shopping, the laundry, the shared routine. Nor is religion less beautiful because of its more mundane moments - the daily prayers, the regular rituals.

Religion is being married, not to another person but to Hashem. A healthy marriage consists of one person inviting a stranger whom they do not know to share their life.  The more you share; your hopes, your fears, your vacations, your food, your money, your time, your talents, your laughter…the more your marriage will feel like love. So too, the more you invite G-d into your life by sharing your hopes and fears during prayer, your free time learning His Torah, your food when you say a brocha, your money by giving tzedakah, and your talents when you serve the community…the more religion will feel spiritual.  G-d has been exiled by much of our culture. But He loves everywhere we let Him in.