blogs/rabbi-huberman

A woman who I am currently studying with towards conversion recently posed a question after attending her fiancé's family Seder.

"Rabbi -- there was so much yelling and interrupting at the table -- no one agreed with anyone," she began.

"But when the meal came, everything changed. Everyone started laughing and joking with each other. And at the end of the evening -- after all the singing -- everyone hugged and kissed on the way out the door."

She tilted her head and said, "I don't get it."

To which I replied, "Welcome to Judaism, where arguing is the national pastime."

If there is one characteristic which has kept the Jewish people alive for more than three thousand years, it is our love of debate, discussion, and disagreement, and never more evident than at the Seder table.

It is in our DNA as much as Dayenu.

Two Jews, three opinions.

Indeed, if there were a list of expressions least heard in a Jewish home, this would likely be at the top: "Young man or young woman, go to your room and read your Bible."

It's not something we say our children, in part because Judaism is fundamentally incompatible with developing opinions in a vacuum.

Judaism embraces balance, and respect for all opinions offered L'Shem Shamayim - in the name of Heaven.

In fact, our tradition actually restricts young people from isolating themselves when they study Torah. Sages have asserted that young people who study texts on their own are more prone to drift towards zealotry and fundamentalism.

We have only to look at the rise of radical religious sects across the world to see how the minds of young people can easily be corrupted by single-mindedness.

This is part of the reason that Judaism believes that a person's beliefs must be exposed to the truths of others.

We welcome questions, debates and, yes, even arguments, believing that this is best way for a child develop into a well-rounded human being.

It's why this week's Torah portion, Shemini, is particularly interesting as it tackles some big questions: How do we balance selfie versus selfless? How can we embrace our individual spirituality while maintaining close ties with tradition and community?

The Torah portion begins this week by detailing the rituals which attended the movable synagogue which housed the Ten Commandments.

But then the story segues into an odd incident involving Nadav and Avihu, the sons of Aaron, the head priest.

Nadav and Avihu burst onto the scene and begin performing a series of "alien" rituals. They bring their own fire pans and incense, and they draw upon a flame which came from an outside source.

Nadav and Avihu have obviously gone rogue, and God strikes them down.

Over the centuries, Sages have debated why Nadav and Avihu had to die. Some conclude that the brothers were drunk. Rashi (1040-1105), our most distinguished Biblical commentator, posits that the two brothers began issuing legal rulings in the presence of Moses, their teacher.

Others claim that the two couldn't wait for the older generation to die, so they decided to begin their own religious movement.

But many rabbis studying this incident conclude that, although Nadav and Avihu were no doubt spiritual in nature, they were too focused on their own religious high, and so failed to join spiritual hands with their community.

The rabbis' conclusion may seem counter-intuitive -- after all, these days, virtually every aspect of classic Judaism seems up for review.

But it begs the question, again: How can we nurture individuality within a three-thousand-year-old tradition to which community is so central?

Modern society reinforces the right of each of us to achieve our full potential. We sometimes refer to this as the American Dream.

And yet this week's Torah portion encourages us to take our foot off the gas pedal of individual potential -- at least until they are in harness with the collective wisdom of tradition and practice.

Nadav and Avihu failed to understand the value of the collective. Certainly their sense of individuality should be applauded, but their lack of respect for tradition and communal structure, say our Sages, needs to be examined more closely.

The great eighteenth-century philosopher David Hume noted that there are two ways in which religion can go wrong: through superstition, and through over-enthusiasm.

Hume argued that the enthusiast, entering a state of religious ecstasy, begins to believe that he or she is being inspired directly by God, and then forgets about reason, restraint, and community.

"Rules and regulations, thinks the enthusiast, are for ordinary people, not for us," he said. Such unbridled individuality, he argues, affects the ability of a society to unite towards common good.

Rabbi Jonathan Sacks concurs: "Individual happiness and the survival of civilization depend on striking a delicate balance between the two."

Pursuit of the American Dream is one of our country's most cherished and important values. It encourages us to embrace individual freedom, in order to achieve our personal potential.

But let us never forget the value of community structure, the enriching and redeeming value of Jewish tradition -- as we combine our individual gifts with God to help perfect an imperfect world.

Whether it's the study of Torah, or the adoption of a political view, or the pursuit of our dreams, we need family, community, and tradition to help ground us.

We live in such a frenzied age.

Let us resist the inclination to venture into life alone. In the face of all the influences which surround us, we need community today more than ever.

For ultimately, in spite of an increasing societal focus on me, it is the us --- our friends, family and community, which challenge us most -- and, in the end, make us whole.

Shabbat Shalom v'kol tuv.

Rabbi Irwin Huberman