The heart of Judaism is Tikkun Olam. This is the idea that we are personally responsible for mending a broken world. This philosophy asks what actions are most likely to do the most good for the greatest number of people. Many religions share related ideals—non-violence, stewardship, guardianship, and compassion. All of these can channel our energy toward good.
Our beliefs are learned, but there is a particular kind of learning whereby many of our ideals originate. In the 1930s, the behavioral scientist Konrad Lorenz conducted his famous geese experiments. He discovered that newly hatched goslings would faithfully follow the first living creature they encountered until they became independent. Normally, this would be their mom, but he found that if his face was seen first, they would happily follow him instead. He called this type of learning “imprinting.” Just as goslings imprint on the first being they see, so too do humans imprint on ideals and heroes they encounter in their formative years.
When I was eight years old, I imprinted upon Superman, a person of incredible abilities who was dedicated to helping those in need, foiling evil plans, and serving the cause of justice. I often watched the black and white series made in the 1950s. Superman was created by two Jewish immigrants in the 1930s, Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster. They drew from Jewish sources such as Samson and the 16th-century stories of the Golem, a being made of mud and brought to life by Kabbalistic magic to protect oppressed Jews in the Prague ghetto.
At the beginning of every Superman TV show, the announcer tells us that he was not just an immigrant, he was an alien (from another planet). He had amazing powers, “Faster than a speeding bullet!” “Able to leap tall buildings in a single bound!” But more importantly was what he chose to do with these abilities. Superman fought for “truth, justice, and the American Way.”
A few years later, in my adolescent years, I imprinted on the Hippies. It seemed that these colorful folks were having a good time. But more than that, they were embracing deep meaning in their lives and changing society in valuable ways. They evolved out of the rebellious, anti-authority, creative beatniks. They reacted to the violent, questionable wars, such as Vietnam, by embracing peace and brotherly love. They countered the materialism of the culture by opening to Buddhism, and Hinduism. Even the Kabbalistic mysticism and the communalism of Hasidism were incorporated into the movement. All this combined with space travel and new sciences, expanded ideas of human potential and awakened a sense of interconnectedness with the cosmos. The hippies embraced peace, love, and understanding; ecology, social justice, and “power to the people.”
Here is a poster that hung in my home. It was created in 1966 by Lorraine Schneider, the daughter of a Jewish Immigrant who fled the Ukrainian Pogroms, the same as my grandparents. Worried that her son might get drafted into the Vietnam War, she penned the words “War is not healthy for children and other living things,” over an image of a sunflower, the Ukrainian symbol representing life, hope, and resilience. Her simple artwork captured the idea that all of life is fragile in the face of war.
We were the future. With the superpowers of our minds, our spiritual vision, and our love for each other, we could do anything. We were full of hope and optimism for the dawning of the Age of Aquarius. My parents even took me to see the musical “Hair”, a celebration of hippy culture. These lyrics from the musical Hair put it well.
Harmony and understanding
Sympathy and trust abounding
No more falsehoods or derisions
Golden living dreams of visions
Mystic crystal revelation
And the mind’s true liberation
Aquarius! Aquarius!
So, what went wrong? Our generation is waning in power now. Our masters and leaders are old and dying. Many of us will be following them soon. It feels like we have failed. I imagine that every generation, as they age, in some ways has to face their failings.
However, it is not just our generation that is declining. The American experiment is faltering, and the Earth systems are in peril. Traditional sources of meaning are slipping away. Religious values often seem hypocritical, and science is being rejected. It is not so much that our society hasn’t reached nirvana yet, but more that we seem to be rapidly going in the wrong direction.
The internet and the political and economic worlds have changed society. Instead of “Truth”, we have the “truthiness” (does a statement feel true?). The rule of law is giving way to presidential tweets. The American way has become an ethical embarrassment as it reflects values of violence, greed, vengeance, racism, and, at times, antisemitism. At least the current owner of the Superman franchise, DC Comics, had the sense to change that last part of Superman’s motto from “the American Way” to “a Better Tomorrow.”
The Hippie values have fared no better. Some of us have altogether given up on them, while others have used them only for personal gain. The technical wizards were supposed to bring about the new age, but it seems that the hippies’ values have been subverted by greed. Google was going to be a force for good: “Do no evil.” Apple aimed to democratize computing: “The power to be your best.” And Facebook was supposed to give people “the power to share and make the world more open and connected.” Instead, these companies have become powerful forces in consumerism. What happened to “power to the people”?
In a world lacking meaning we become hedonistic, pessimistic, and materialistic. For some, it leads to depression or hopelessness. In the absence of positive emotions, we become susceptible to being motivated by hate and fear. These negative drives inevitably hijack our life energy.
How can we keep our positive values in the face of such losses and setbacks? How can we avoid despair or pull ourselves out of depression when we become overwhelmed with the weight of darkness, chaos, and evil? I don’t have the answers. These Holy Days exist for you to seek your answers. But I will offer some questions you might find useful.
1. Were my values real, or were they just an illusion? The truth is that the words and images that form our values just serve as signposts to deeper truths. As the world changes, our ways of seeking truth need to be updated and refreshed. As we mature and our knowledge of the world grows, is it possible to deepen our wisdom and understanding?
2. Is there enough joy in my life? Rebbe Nachman said, “Although a difficult time is upon us, our joy must fill the air.” This was his instruction to counter life’s difficulties. Do you spend time in community? Do you sing or dance? Do you laugh at yourself?
3. Am I humble? Both Superman and the hippies got many things right, but not everything. Can I recognize that my perceptions and maps of reality are limited and full of errors? The future is always full of surprises.
4. Can I lengthen my time horizon? Perhaps it was a bit naïve to expect my generation to repair the world. Perhaps the world is far more broken than we can imagine, and it will take much longer to repair. Martin Luther King Jr. said that “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” This may be true; however, the upward curve is certainly not without its big dips. There have always been setbacks. Maybe such hindrances can serve as a wake-up call. Is it possible to sow seeds that will sprout in the future?
6. How is my relationship with the divine doing? Many of us are uncomfortable with traditional concepts of God as a person on a throne. Yet we feel awe at the creation, we have a sense of connection to the whole, and sense an intelligence and maybe even a guiding hand at times. Our tradition warns us not to get trapped by limited concepts of God, but rather to cultivate direct experience. There are many paths to achieve this: meditation, prayer, and stillness. Rebbe Nachman prescribed an hour in nature every day.
Rabbi Hanan used to tell a story.
A young man, proud of his education and certain of his reason, came to the rabbi of his town.
“Rabbi,” he said, “I must be honest. I am an atheist. How can I believe in God when all I’ve ever been told is that God is a stern old man in the sky, ready to punish me for the smallest mistake?”
The rabbi smiled gently. “Tell me more about this god you reject.”
The man grew heated. “This god listens only to prayers said in exactly the right words. He has no compassion for doubt or weakness. He creates suffering just to test and judge people.”
The rabbi laughed softly and placed a hand on the man’s shoulder. “My son, I do not believe in that god either.”
The young man paused, startled. “But… you are a rabbi. If you do not believe in him, then what God is there?”
The rabbi’s eyes shone. “I know that God is bigger than my mind can comprehend. Yet, I can sense a compassionate presence breathing life into every soul, a force boundless and hidden in the depths of all things; a source of life who cries with us in sorrow and rejoices with us in joy. My son, beliefs can be very useful, but don’t let them blind you to the experience of holiness within and all around you.”