Shabbat shalom, chag sameah
Shopping on the internet should be fantastic. There’s more choice than could ever be available in a mall or on Fifth Avenue; we can read reviews of every product; and sellers can cater to a very particular consumer base, even though they may be scattered across the globe. Even so, although I will neither confirm nor deny it, it has been alleged that I once spent several hours combing the web for the perfect pair of gloves, and then bought the first ones that I had seen.
This is known as “decision paralysis”. Aesop’s fables already told of the Fox and the Cat, where the fox boasted of the number of escape methods he had at his disposal, compared to the cat’s one. And of course when the hounds came along, while the cat looked down from the tree it had climbed, the fox took so long deciding what to do that he was eaten. Recent studies among consumers buying products have confirmed that the more choices one has, the more likely one is to give up on the endeavor at all, or to make a poor choice. This second result was also found, scarily, amongst doctors: a wider choice of treatment options resulted in less appropriate decisions. (see Switch)
Yet the freedom to choose is exalted in our society. From religious diversity to the number of brands of yogurt on the shelf, the freedom to choose for yourself was the rallying cry of American society against the Soviet model of one approach for all.
And Pesach is the holiday of freedom.
Or is it? The Torah’s standard word for the freedom that a slave has when released from its master’s authority is חופשי – free. But this term is never employed with respect to Israel’s state on leaving Egypt.
The Torah instead recounts God’s instruction to Pharaoh: send forth my people that they may serve me. Serve. Avad. The same word as “eved”. Slave.
This is one reading of the complaint of the wicked child in the haggada: He asks “what is all this service – avoda” to you? The British Chief Rabbi, Lord Sacks, characterises the perspective as: “The only difference is change of master… That is a distinction without a difference. …” (Covenant & Conversation: Exodus, 86) Slavery is slavery. There has been no significant redemption if we have only transistioned from following Pharaoh’s orders to following God’s orders.
Some see the attitude of the wicked child who questions the meaning of freedom if we continue to observe mizvot reflected in the line of Hatikva “am chofshi be’artzenu” – “a people free in our land”. They understand the word “chofesh” to be explicitly secular. Chofesh is the absolute freedom of an enlightened nation, who have thrown off the yoke of religion. There are frum Israelis who go as far as substituting the the word “chofshi” for “dati” – religious, to distance themselves from the idea that the ideal Israeli Jew is one who is free from both political oppression and religious obligation. (ref)
The radical freedom that some secular Zionists, as well as many others, strive for is a tricky concept though. 19th Century political philosopher John Stewart Mill’s great essay “On Liberty” lays out a vision of society founded on the principle of individual freedom – but still permits the law to regulate “social acts” – if our actions intrude on other people’s lives, we should not necessarily have the freedom to do as we wish. His examples of these acceptable regulations include the sometimes-controversial laws around Sunday closing laws and taxation. Taking this principle to its extreme, few acts are entirely free from social consequences other than those which take place entirely inside your own head! Where then will regulation end and freedom begin?
Everyone wants freedom in principle, but defining its parameters and ensuring a safe and livable society for all is tricky, though many philosophers have tried. Bertrand Russell mocked one of these theories of freedom – Hegel’s – as “freedom to obey the police”. Russell was, in effect, making the same critique that the wicked child made of combining freedom with mitzvah – what good is freedom, if it is only to follow orders?
If we turn back to the Tenakh, we do not see that once the Exodus was completed and the people settled the Land of Israel, that they lived in a utopian state with the perfect mix of religion, freedom, and social regulation. By the end of the book of Judges, a time of relative anarchy, there has been a brutal civil war, and the refrain has become:
בַּיָּמִים הָהֵם אֵין מֶלֶךְ בְּיִשְׂרָאֵל אִישׁ הַיָּשָׁר בְּעֵינָיו יַעֲשֶׂה
In those days there was no King in Israel, and each person did what was right in their own eyes. (Judges 17:6, 21:25; cf. 18:1, 19:1)
When, in response to this chaos, the people do ask for a King, that is seen as a rejection of God, the ultimate King. As we read on, we discover that most of the kings are, through the eyes of the Tenakh at least, bad. Among the few “good” Kings, David misuses his military power to steal another man’s wife, and Solomon imposes burdensome taxes, enraging half the Kingdom so much that it secedes after his death.
The Bible certainly fails to clearly lay out a model for the ideal society based on freedom.
A society based on freedom may not even make any sense, if we consider that almost any freedom can be understood as impeding another freedom. For example, the freedom from gun violence is an affront to the freedom to bear arms – and vice versa.
Freedom alone, therefore, will not help us attain a better life or a better society. We need something more. If God had only freed us, would it really have been enough?
Just as the Torah does not refer to leaving Egypt as “hofesh”, so too rabbinic sources use a different word, with, perhaps, a significantly different meaning. The mishnah, repeated in the haggada and reflected in our liturgy for pesah, use a different word as the counterpart to slavery: me’avdut le … herut.
The term herut does not appear in the Bible at all. Other forms of the same word, such as “horin”, do appear a few times in chronologically later books of the Tenakh, but “benay horin” are not just free people; they are nobles.
To be a noble, you do need to be free. In certain societies, such as amongst the cavaliers of colonial Virginia, considered freedom from labour to be so intimately associated with nobility that some even underwent some hardship so as to avoid having to earn a living, which, would, despite giving them the resources to live a more comfortable life, de facto lower their status. (Fischer, Albion’s Seed, “The South of England to Virginia”)
Just being free – even from having to work at all – does not automatically make you noble. It is a necessary condition, but not a sufficient one. We still need a fuller description of what makes a life of herut.
The rabbinic tradition has a predictable solution. In pirke avot, we find a midrash that tells us to understand the description of the tablets, not as harut – being engraved, but as “herut”, teaching us that only one who is engaged with the Torah is a “ben horin” – which I would now translate as nobly free. (Avot 6:2)
Once one has the hofesh – pure freedom to choose, one must, according to this text, choose the Torah and God’s commands in order to be raised up to the state of herut – noble freedom. This is all very well, but presents a very exclusivist perspective: we cannot be truly noble unless we spend our time studying Torah? How much time? How much do we have to understand? What about non-Jews?
I would never want to discourage the study of Torah, but this doesn’t seem to fit an understanding of herut as an aspiration for all. Furthermore, we already have a holiday for receiving, accepting, and studying Torah. Zman matan toratenu – the time of the giving of the Torah is Shavuot; zman herutenu can’t be exactly the same thing!
In Deuteronomy (30:19), Moshe implores the Israelites who are about to enter the Land without him: I have put before you life and death, blessing and curse: uvaharta bahayim! choose life! The Israelites’ hofesh is guaranteed, for the moment at least. They will be “am hofshi be’artzenu” – a nation free in our land – but will they continue to be benei horin – nobly free – without Moshe’s leadership? They have the freedom to choose – Moshe is reminding them to choose well.
Moshe makes it sound easy: choose life. duh. And the following verse explains how to do it: לְאַהֲבָה אֶת-יְהוָה אֱלֹהֶיךָ לִשְׁמֹעַ בְּקֹלוֹ וּלְדָבְקָה-בוֹ: Love God, listen to God’s voice, and hold fast to God. Working out what that consists of is less easy.
In our lives, we can confidently say that in terms of absolute freedom of choice, we are richer than ever. At pesah, though, zman herutenu, we need to consider how to best use that freedom, how to become nobly free. This is where, if we are not careful, decision paralysis can kick in. We can put off the decision for “later”. We can say: I don’t need to decide what my life’s priorities are, after all, I can do anything I want. I’m not going to choose an approach to religion, or politics, or business, because this is America, and all the options are open to me.
Even if we grant that one clear way to make our free choice and achieve noble freedom is through choosing Torah, we proudly affirm that there are seventy faces to the Torah, and these sometimes conflict. Decisions must still be made, and no-one is going to make them for us.
The more hofesh we have, the greater the potential for herut, but the harder it can be to find it.
Those of us privileged to spend Pesah at this retreat, sometimes reflect that we are granted the freedom that the holiday emphasises. We take the week off work; we don’t cook or clean; we are free from our everyday concerns. But that is a description of hofesh. This pesah, may we use the hofesh we have here at Ramah, to make some decisions that we have left in paralysis, and, through making these choices wisely, may God bring us into herut.
Shabbat shalom, hag sameach.