The Performance of the Emotions: Getting to Know Your Personality Traits

What if one could put his feelings into words; give his inner-self a chance to speak?

At first Greed grabbed the microphone in his dirty paws, as it emitted a shriek,

And quickly lose interest, his large dull brown eyes searching for the next unearned target

As Ego would stride forward languidly, daring anyone to approach his position at the pulpit,

He would announce “I am pleased to finally give you an opportunity to learn from me, this is surely godsend,

For now on ask me for advice, I surpass all these others, though of course I don’t intend to condescend,”

As Humor giggled at Ego’s straight back and high head, thinking “boy I can see up his nose,”

And broke into a bout of laughter, as Ego looked on with eyes shooting arrows,

“Fine,” said he, “You have your turn,” as he pushed the mike away with disdain,

And Humor joyously announced “with head so high you strongly resemble a crane,”

So off he goes, in another burst of laughter, as Ego swears to reap his vengeance,

While curiously limbering along with a pleasant smile on his face is the youth -Innocence,

Yet His voice was hardly heard, the shortest one there, by far the most petite,

And as the microphone picked up his hum, melodious though offbeat,

Innocence’s eyes open wide and mouth gapes toothily as he exclaims “what’s this!”

And though he attempts to speak, everyone notices that something is amiss,

As Innocence, as is his hallmark, continues to shrink,

Until finally his life comes to an end in a quick flash as short as a wink,

As Competitiveness runs forward and happily declares “Great,”

One more out of the way, only a few left to abate,”

And as he moves away from the microphone, he pushes over Kindness,

Who was bent over the few remains of Innocence’s carcass.

Passion, short and plump, would then run forward, all ablaze,

Screaming loudly, unable to wait for the right words, leaving all in a daze,

And Lust, hearing the sound of a woman’s voice, rushed forward to get a better look,

And announced “If only you were better looking… though I am sure you can cook!”

And as Passion chased Lust with loud screams and a face filled with fierceness,

From the corner stirred a shape, none other then the indistinctive Laziness,

Who glanced momentarily at all those around him, then went back to his slumber,

But quickly awoke again, a great booming noise shaking him and his clutter,

And as all the others retreated, although the sound was still far in the distance,

The gap was filled quickly by the giant form of Indifference,

And as he grabbed the microphone to begin his speech,

It shattered into hundreds of pieces with an ear-wrenching screech,

And as the dolt lumbered away, already forgetting why he came,

Up rose the last of the crew, not looking to point fingers or give blame,

But his voice would never be heard, which is awfully sorry,

Because this last most important figure was none other than Sincerity.

Our Ancestors as Contemporaries

With sunset each Friday evening, Orthodox Jews abandon their weekly endeavors and redirect their thoughts from the secular to the sublime. We enjoy festive meals with family and friends, engage in joyful discussion and debate of a variety of topics, partake of deep, untroubled sleep and awaken rested and content. And yet, during synagogue services the next day, we are confronted by a seemingly pointless ritual that is the centerpiece of the services – the readings from the Pentateuch and Prophets– with their tales of ancient figures and events. Why, we ask ourselves, must we read these tales yet again? It takes a few portions of kugel smothered in chulent before our resentment at this seeming waste of time is finally sedated.

Rabbi Joseph B. Soloveitchik expounded upon the proper relationship that modern Jews should have with their ancestors. To Rabbi Soloveitchik, our ancestors are to be viewed as our contemporaries. Biblical figures, he believed, were not relics of the past. Rather, they should be seen as if living yet among us, their tears still warm to the touch and their passions still pulsating within:

For Jewish boys and girls, Abraham is not a mythical figure but an ever-present inspiration. They live through his tribulations and wanderings. They travel with him from Syria to Palestine. They feel the fear and trembling of Isaac on the Akeida. They escape with Jacob to Haran. They are imprisoned with Joseph in the pit. They rejoice in his ascendancy to high office and fame. They lead the Jews with Moses in the desert of Sinai. They sing with David. They are exalted with the prophets. They laugh with Rabbi Akiva. They meditate with Rambam. These figures are not dead or historical "have-been’s” for the children of the heder or the adults of the halakha, but dynamic, living heroes who visit the Jew from time to time, bringing him comfort, inspiration, and hope.[1]

This concept can be understood in two distinct ways. First, our history could be viewed as defining our nationhood and, indeed, our very identity. A Jew who fails to understand, study and actually savor the history of his people is not truly embodying the Jewish experience. Ancestors are not to be remembered – they are to be internalized. Rabbi Soloveitchik mentions this idea in a different context when he writes that “history becomes part of our present time-awareness. Memory is more than a storehouse; it can become a present-day experience, a part of the “I” awareness.[2]” Understood this way, our ancestors are, in a sense, our contemporaries because our history is a continuum of theirs and our lives are but extensions of theirs.

Ironically, the medieval Catholic Church understood this concept very well and it represented the philosophical foundation for its condemnation of contemporary Jews as “Christ-killers.” The powerful historical bonds between Jews throughout the ages, the identification of contemporary Jews with their ancestors, were sufficient to attribute to them responsibility – indeed, culpability – for the historic crime of deicide.

A similar idea underscores the play Six Characters in Search of An Author by Luigi Pirandello. The play revolves around the contrast between actors and the characters they seek to portray in the play. The humans live entirely within the present, viewing it as their sole reality. They therefore have little relationship with their past and, indeed, seek to disassociate themselves from it. As one of the characters says “your own reality, the one you breathe and feel today within yourself… like that of yesterday…is destined to reveal itself as an illusion tomorrow.[3]” Characters, in contrast, are essentially drawn and recreated from their pasts; it is the past that defines and motivates them. Like the characters in the play, the contemporary Jew must also view himself as a recreation and embodiment of his ancestral history.

However, there is also another approach with which we can better relate to our ancestors. Rather than viewing our ancestors as our contemporaries who live within us, we can instead view them as partners in the quest for a common goal, a quest that transcends time. As noted by Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel “…through my ownership of space, I am a rival of all other beings; through my living in time, I am a contemporary of all other beings.[4]” Time, to Heschel, did not necessarily operate as a linear continuum. Rather, if time is equated with the steps taken in pursuit of a common goal, then all participants in the quest exist within a shared time. In this sense, our ancestors exist as our contemporaries and partners in the quest to achieve God's will for the betterment of the world.

A similar idea appears in the book The Alchemist, by Paulo Coelho. The protagonist, Santiago, seeks to achieve the betterment of the world, realizing that each soul must contribute to that end, regardless of the time in which he lived[5]. It is only through efforts united through time that this noble goal can be achieved.

Thus, the next time we find ourselves listening to the weekly reading of the Pentateuch and Prophets, we should feel a unique bond rather than a distance between us and our ancestors. Our faces should burn with embarrassment at Adam’s nudity, and our hands should rise alongside Abraham’s at the binding of Isaac. Our hearts should race at Isaac’s first sight of Rebecca, and our blood should boil with anger at our ancient enemies. With this in mind, chulent and kugel will be forgotten as we excitedly flip to the next week’s reading, breathless with anticipation.

~

I thought this would be appropriate for the upcoming holiday of Purim. Instead of celebrating an event, we should experience it first hand.

---

[1] from "Sacred and Profane," page 23 (also found in Shiurei HaRav, page 165)

[2] Reflections of the Rav, Abraham Besdin, p. 200-201

[3] p. 55

[4] The Sabbath, p. 99

[5] As Santiago says “it is we who nourish the Soul of the World, and the world we live in will be either better or worse, depending on whether we become better or worse." The “Soul of the World” in the book means “the purpose of the world.” pp. 150-151

Egel HaZahav and Religious Philosophy

Appropriately, at the apex of our history as a religion, Moshe, our greatest teacher, also rose to the zenith of the Sinai mountain. There we waited hopefully and expectantly. Yet, as time passed, we grew despondent. Where had our leader gone? Where was the iconoclast who fought against the doubts of Pharaoh and of his own people, who raised them from the dirges of slavery into the fullness of Freedom – where had he gone? Yet, rather then cry, rather then bemoan their fate, the people celebrate ecstatically with the creation of idols. What could possibly have motivated this polarization between extremes?

Erich Fromm, a Jewish psychoanalyst and philosopher of the early 20^th century, describes an unceasing aspect of the human condition:

“Man – of all ages and cultures – is confronted with the solution of one and the same question: the question of how to overcome separateness, how to achieve union, how to transcend one's own individual life and find at-onement.” [1]

Fromm discusses the various ways in which Man over the ages has tried to deal with this dilemma:

“One way of achieving this aim lies in all kinds of Orgiastic States . . . As long as these orgiastic states are a matter of common practice in a tribe, they do not produce anxiety or guilt. To act in this way is right, and even virtuous, because it is a way shared by all . . .”
“Also in contemporary Western Society the union with the groups is the prevalent way of overcoming separateness. It is a union in which the individual self disappears to a large extent and where the aim is to belong to the herd.”

Rav Soloveitchik echoes similar sentiments:

“Pragmatic expositions of the essence of the religious act . . . behold in religion a refuge of repose for man, who is shattered b the numerous, discordant forces of the secular world; religion offers happiness and comfort. In such a spirit William James speaks of the religion of the happy-minded” that serves him as a model of the religious attitude.” [2]

Man turns to religion to avoid the “discordant forces” and to be comforted instead.

Bnei Yisrael became reliant on Moshe not for the sake of his message, but for the comfort he provided them. His absence allowed the discordant forces to rise up from where they were concealed. Thus, the people immediately turned to any other source to fill this void.

Yet this is an egregious outlook of the religious orientation. As Rabbi Soloveitchik says:
“The religious experience, however, is beyond granting man a hedonic status or spiritual complacency. To the contrary, the religious experience is fraught with pitfalls and continual challenges. God, if man finds Him, does not relieve the God-seeker of his imperatives but imposes new ones.”

Man strives not for comfort, but for following the true course. The people in the desert, who had such a utilitarian approach to religion, could not be given the Luchot under such auspices, as it would be a complete misrepresentation of the Law. The Law is followed for its own sake, for the righteous way of life it provides, rather then serving a personal utilitarian purpose of superficial comfort. Moshe now climbs to the peak of the mountain again, this time to retrieve the Law for a people prepared with the proper mindset.

[1] The Art of Loving, pp. 8-12
[2] Shiurei HaRav, pp. 4-5

The Literary Approach to the Bible as a Response to Biblical Criticism

Bible criticism (also known as the “Documentary Hypothesis”) has been among the greatest intellectual threats to Judaism in modern times – indeed, not only to Judaism, but to all Biblically-based religions. Though its earliest proponents, like Julius Wellhausen, may have been motivated by anti-Semitic sentiments, the Bible critics of the modern era cannot be accused of such base motivations. And the success of the Bible criticism movement is unquestionable; it has so thoroughly pervaded the halls of academia as to have become a new form of intellectual dogma that most secular scholars are unwilling to even question.

A number of Jewish scholars, including Rabbi David Tzvi Hoffman, Umberto Cassuto and Rabbi J.H. Hertz, have offered responses to Bible criticism; yet no real systematic approach has been offered. Of course, the most basic, and indeed most consistent, response is that the assumptions that the scholars work with is far different than the ones that the religious person does (therefore it is aptly named the Documentary Hypothesis, and not fact). Meaning, if one believes that the text was written divinely then many of the problems that arise are thoroughly diminished, since an omniscient being can definitely be expected to have the capability to juggle a few different writing styles and ideas at the same time. Yet to some, this answer is not completely satisfying.

Recently scholarship has taken a turn away from disjointing the text to uniting it. Many scholars have begun to champion the literary approach to the bible, showing that verbal tools and structures are used by a competent author (or more appropriately – Author) throughout many texts, creating parallels and highlighting certain unifying themes. This approach treats the text holistically, as Meir Sternberg, a literary scholar, says:

“If the Bible is ideologically singular – and I believe so – then its singularity lies in the world view projected, together with the rhetoric devised to bring it home. And as long as we adhere to the text’s self-definition as religious literature with… singularities, we need not even submit to the dictate of identifying ourselves as religious or secular readers.”[1]

Though these scholars take the approach as a tool to better understand the message of the text, and not as a system to respond to biblical criticism, we will show how the holistic interpretation of the text (in Sternberg’s words “ideological singularity” and “rhetoric devices”) in vogue amongst modern scholarship can serve both purposes.

But before we begin, a quick disclaimer must be stated. All discussions on biblical criticism are shrouded with warning signs and flashing red lights, the danger lurking in the distance. Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, on the topic of writing a book on taamey ha-mitzvot, says:

“…There are worries to be weighed. Might I not cause harm instead of helping?”

And in the continuation:

“And suppose my attempt fails? Will not those who would gladly do away with the cause for which I am living use my abortive efforts to strangle this cause entirely? “See here,” they would gloat, “some entirely new attempts to rehabilitate Judaism – total failures!””[2]

In other words, there is always a danger that the approaches offered and discussed do not appeal to the reader, and in response the reader abandons his faith entirely, or even minutely. Thus the disclaimer is as follows: this is an introduction and preliminary discussion only. This article does not offer all the approaches in existence, nor does the author believe that all viable approaches have already been thought of. Moreover, the author admits openly that this approach is not an overarching theory, solving all problems. Yet it is a start.

To demonstrate how a literary approach to the Biblical text can serve both as a refutation of Bible critics, as well as to enhance the message of the text, let us begin with Genesis, the first Book of the Bible, and the story of Yosef. Yosef’s story dominates the end of the Book of Genesis (Chapters 37-50). The flow of this story is, however, curiously interrupted by the story of Yehudah and his daughter-in-law, Tamar (Genesis 38), which seems to be entirely out of place and disconnected from the story’s context. Indeed, E.A. Speiser, in the Anchor Bible’s Book of Genesis, describes this story as “a completely independent unit,” having “no connection with the drama of Joseph.”[3] Yet, through a number of verbal parallels, we can clearly demonstrate that the Yehudah and Tamar story should be linked to the larger Yosef story:

1. When describing Yosef’s separation from his brothers, the Bible uses the verb “hurad”; when Yehudah separates from the brothers, the same verb is used: “vayered”.

2. In the climax of both narratives, the uncommon expressions “haker nah” and “vayaker” are used. In Yosef’s story, the terms are used when the brothers show their father Yosef’s garment which they had doused in blood and ask him to identify it. “haker nah?” they ask him, and the text recounts that their father does indeed identify it: “vayaker.” Similarly, in the Yehudah and Tamar story, as Tamar is being led to execution, she sends Yehudah’s possessions to him and asks him to identify them: “haker nah.” Yehudah, in his redeeming moment, acknowledges them - “Vayaker” – as well as his own guilt. Both Yehudah’s and Yosef’s garments are the object that must be identified - “Vayaker”.

3. While the Yehudah and Tamar story fits nicely with the story that immediately preceded it on account of verbal parallels, it also fits well with the next account thematically. As modern scholar, Robert Alter, notes: “When we return from the Judah to the Joseph story (Genesis 39), we move in pointed contrast from a tale of exposure through sexual continence to a tale of seeming defeat and ultimate triumph through sexual continence – Joseph and Potiphar’s wife.”[4]

Indeed by skimming through the entire Yosef narrative (Genesis 37-Genesis 50) we see that the text is constantly comparing and contrasting the various brothers, specifically Yosef, Yehudah and Reuven, with Reuven’s personality serving primarily as a foil for that of Yehudah[5]. In other words, a key theme underlying the Yosef narrative is to compare and contrast Yosef and Yehudah. Both leave the land – “hurad” and “vayered”. Both have trials and tribulations over a woman. The story ends with Yehudah rectifying his earlier sin of throwing Rachel’s son, Yosef, into a pit by now offering to be thrown into a pit (jail) himself, this time to rescue Rachel’s other son, Binyamin[6]. In a sense, the story represents Yehudah’s transition to family leader; from the sin of throwing Yosef into the pit he learns to admit his failures (by Tamar - “tzadka mimeni”) and finally is willing to sacrifice his own life to rectify his earlier mistakes. Thus, by placing the Yehudah and Tamar story in the midst of the Yosef story the two are harmoniously linked, enabling us to easily identify the theme that runs throughout the end of Genesis; the similarities and differences between the two family leaders – Yosef and Yehudah.

Thus, while Bible Criticism declares a multiplicity of texts from the fact that the flow of the story is immediately broken, we see that verbal cues from the text itself suggest that this was entirely intentional.

Modern scholars also use another feature of the Biblical text - “Doublets” or repetitive sequences - to suggest the existence of multiple Biblical authors. These are common features of the Bible, particularly in its various discussions of the Law. What are we to make of these repetitions? Robert Alter offers the following theory:

“Thinking in somewhat more concrete historical terms, various commentators have attributed the repetitive features of biblical narrative to its oral origins, to the background of folklore from which it draws, and to the composite nature of the text that has been transmitted to us. The last of these three explanations is the least interesting… under scrutiny most instances of repetition prove to be quite purposeful, and this would include the repetition not only of relatively brief statements but… of whole episodes.”[7]

Repetition is thus a purposeful tool, not necessarily a reflection of multiple authors. This can be done in a number of ways. Repetition of an event can be done to highlight differences between them. For instance, Robert Alter says:

“In II Kings 1, King Ahaziah sends a captain with his company three times to Elijah. The first two times, in identical verses, fire descends from the heavens and consumes the whole military contingent. The third time, the exact repetition is interrupted just as Elijah is about to perform his incendiary trick once more, when the third captain pleads for mercy and Elijah is prompted by an angel to grant the plea.”[8]

After Elijah grants the captain his plea and allows him to survive, Elijah is commanded by God to accompany the captain. While the first two captains attempted to bring Elijah with them on their terms, Elijah now accompanies the captain - not by his command, but by the command of God. Thus, the repetition serves to create a contrast between the first two captains and the last, highlighting and emphasizing Elijah’s transition from one who is pursued to one who leads, answering only to God.

Another use of repetition is to create complimentary accounts, two distinct messages that are conveyed by means of the same text. Robert Alter says:

“Just such a technique of placing two parallel accounts in dynamically complementary sequence is splendidly evident at the very beginning of the Hebrew Bible. There are, of course, two different creation stories. The first… begins with Genesis 1:1 and concludes with the report of the primeval Sabbath (Gen. 2:1-3)… The second version of the creation story… would then begin…. In the second half of Genesis 2:4… going on to the creation of man, the vegetable world, the animal kingdom, and woman, in that order, and after the completion of creation proper at the end of Chapter 2, moving directly into the story of the serpent and the banishment from Eden.”[9]

He continues to explain the “problems,” and explains how they are in fact quite intentional:

“Now, it is obvious enough that the two accounts are complementary rather than overlapping, each giving a different kind of information about how the world came into being.” The first account “is concerned with the cosmic plan of creation and so begins appropriately with the primordial abyss whose surface is rippled by the wind from (or spirit of) God.” The second account “is interested in man as a cultivator of his environment and as a moral agent, and so he begins with a comment on the original lack of vegetation and irrigation and ends with an elaborate report of the creation of woman.”

The two creation accounts, says Alter, are purposely contrasted. They consistently avoid addressing the same topics. Rather, they each serve a distinctive purpose, focusing on completely different aspects of creation.

Later, Alter explains the purpose of these complementary accounts. They give “divergent perspectives” that are “achieved through the combined versions in the broader vision of creation, man, and God. God is both transcendent and immanent… both magisterial in His omnipotence and actively, emphatically involved with His creation. The world is orderly, coherent, beautifully patterned, and at the same time it is a shifting tangle of resources and topography, both a mainstay and a baffling challenge to man. Humankind is the divinely appointed master of creation, and an internally divided rebel against the divine scheme, destined to scrabble a painful living from the soil that has been blighted because of man.”[10]

Alter’s analysis bears a striking resemblance to that of Rabbi J.B. Soloveitchik in his book Lonely Man of Faith:

“We all know that the Bible offers two accounts of the creation of man. We are also aware of the theory suggested by Bible critics attributing these two accounts to two different traditions and sources. Of course, since we do unreservedly accept the unity and integrity of the Scriptures and their divine character, we reject the hypothesis which is based, like much Biblical criticism, on literary categories invented by modern man, ignoring completely the eidetic-noetic content of the Biblical story. It is, of course, true that the two accounts of the creation of man differ considerably. This incongruity was not discovered by the Bible critics. Our sages of old were aware of it. However, the answer lies not in an alleged dual tradition but in dual man, not in an imaginary contradiction between two versions but in a real contradiction in the nature of man. The two accounts deal with two Adams, two men, two fathers of mankind, two types, two representatives of humanity, and it is no wonder that they are not identical.”[11] (Emphasis mine)

Rabbi Soloveitchik takes the same track as Alter, arguing that the repetitive text is intentional, the purpose being to highlight and demonstrate two different (in this case paradoxical) aspects of man, history and the world.

These are but a few of the many examples of recent scholarship’s use of literary and verbal tools to unify texts that were previously held to be of differing authorship[12]. Moreover, as we have shown, a focus on these literary and verbal tools not only serves to unify the text, but also offers deep insight into the theme and message of the text itself, the desired goal in the study of Tanach.[13][14]

---

[1] Meir Sternberg, The Poetics of Biblical Narrative, p. 37, Bloomington (1987)

[2] Nineteen Letters, Letter Nineteen, Page 333 in the Feldheim edition

[3] Alter p. 3

[4] The Art of Biblical Narrative p. 10

[5]Further thematic parallels: Reuven and Yehudah are contrasted three times: At Mechirat Yosef they give differing suggestions regarding what to do with Yosef; when trying to convince Yaacov to allow Binyamin to return with the brothers to Mitzrayim so as to receive enough food to survive the famine Reuven offers his two sons in lieu of Binyamin and is rejected, while Yehudah offers only himself as compensation and is accepted; Yosef cries twice in the story – the first time this happens Reuven separates himself from the brothers by blaming them for the troubles while the second time Yosef cries Yehudah separates himself from his brothers and accepts full guilt upon himself. This is how Reuven serves as a foil for Yehudah, and is another indication of Yehudah’s clear role in the “Yosef narratives.” See DvarTorahProject.blogspot.com on Parshat Mikeitz for more on this parallel.

[6] The connection between Yehudah and Binyamin also plays out throughout Tanach: Jerusalem is split between them; Shaul is from Binyamin while David is from Yehudah; Mordechai is a fusion of the two etc. The point of this footnote as well as the one above is to further demonstrate the veracity of the literary parallels above by the fact that the themes play out throughout Genesis specifically as well as Tanach as a whole.

[7] Alter p. 88

[8] Alter p. 90

[9] Alter p. 141

[10] Alter p. 147

[11] Lonely Man of Faith p. 9-10, See also p. 7 for his cryptic remarks on biblical criticism in general.

[12] Though these scholars may believe in variant authors, they nonetheless support a holistic approach to the bible.

[13] For other reading see David Sykes’ dissertation “Patterns in Genesis” as well as Bruce T. Dahlberg The Unity of Genesis, Literary Interpretations of Biblical Narratives Volume II (Abingdon 1982), Jed H. Abraham A Literary Solution to the Name Variations of Esau’s wives, Torah u-madda journal volume 7 (1997)

[14] I have not touched on Chiastic structures and other such holistic tools due to limited space availability. However, the chiastic structure is another tool utilized by the literary approach to the bible which is predicated on the belief of a holistic text. Indeed many Jewish scholars use these and other literary tools. See Rabbi Elchanan Samet’s Iyunim BeParshat HaShavuah, as well as Rabbi Menachem Liebtag’s website www.Tanach.org

Lonely Voice of Reason - Explained

The title of this blog is at first glance a bit (or more then a bit) arrogant and overly ambitious. However, I hope a thorough and comprehensive explanation will make the title slightly more tolerable.
The title has many facets to it, each of which should be addressed in turn. Firstly, let us explore the meaning of ‘Reason’.
Reason vs. peer pressure: I have always detested all forms of peer pressure. Whether the result be a harmless change in preference or a reshaping of ones viewpoint on any given issue, both are equally abhorrent. It reflects a wholly skewed outlook on life, where “how should I live” is logically equivalent to “how can I fit in”. Modern orthodox circles are plagued by this phenomenon. It fills the Yeshiva high-school, the motivating force behind drugs, alcohol, cheating, promiscuity, and even prevents proper growth, intelligence and thoughtfulness, ridiculed as ‘uncool’. It is the motivating factor behind the choice of Israel Yeshivot, and remains the main feature of the year in Israel, each Talmid trying to fit into a chosen mold. It permeates throughout the adult population as well. Parents do not decide even the most personal decision based on “what’s right for my kid” but rather on “what’s smiled upon by the neighbor next door”. Reason here is thus meant as the antithesis of peer pressure, thought and deliberation serving as the basis for each and every facet of life, as opposed to the mindless robotic existence that is a life of peer pressure.
Reason vs. foolishness: The world is filled with foolishness. By foolishness I do not mean opinions which are not “right” or “objectively true”. Rather I mean foolishness in the real sense of the word – stupidity. This includes people who simply act based on instinct or because they “feel like it”. We each know many people who simply “don’t care”, who do what they please. Foolishness also includes childishness. By this I mean a lack of vision, an inability to see outside of the moment and into the future. Infants cannot think ahead of time, they live entirely in the moment and act accordingly, free from the consequences. If only this were local to children! How many people do we all know who do not live for the future, who do not care or realize that there are consequences? Similarly, this lack of vision includes not realizing that life is a constant process. Each step of the past contributes to who you are in the present, and the present shapes who you will be in the future. Reason here means the effort to live a life based on logical analyses and rational thought, as opposed to a primitive existence requiring no thought or justification, but simply based on the most recent whim.
Reason vs. close-mindedness: If there is one thing I despise and disrespect, it is close-mindedness. Close-mindedness = simple-mindedness is the motto by which one must live his life. To dogmatically reject certain fields and studies is to admit defeat. If you are right, then prove it. There is nothing that reason cannot solve. While in previous generation the Right was stereotypically viewed as the close-minded, in our generation this is not true. The ‘liberal’ left are inclined to listen to the right no more then they are inclined to listen to the left. This is true in the political arena as well as the religious. Charedi and extreme Zionist factions will not enter conversations with the left, but neither will the less religious or high class liberal left engage in conversation with the right. This is true outside of the world of Judaism as well. Conservatives will never even contemplate voting for a Liberal, nor will the inverse be true either. It is for this reason that the title includes a picture of the Tower of Babel. We live in a world where everyone speaks but no one is willing to listen. Charedi’s walk in the street screaming ‘Shabbat!’ at the passing car while the driver turns up his volume so that his existence is known to the Charedi a block over. The Yeshiva world is unwilling to communicate with the University, scholarly research is deemed Kfira and worthless. The failure to entertain other possibilities, to actively engage in dialect with the various groups, leaves all worse off as a result. Reason is thus the willingness to contemplate all opinions, thoughts and claims, and to grow from the endeavor.
We shall move to the other half of the title, and explain the meaning of ‘lonely voice’:
Firstly, the voice of reason is a lonely one because of its rareness. Reason is rare, as the saying on the title bar reads “common sense is not that common”. Most people fit into one or more of the categories listed above, such as childishness, close-mindedness etc. Thus, the voice of reason is lonely by the sheer statistics, outnumbered by those who would live out their lives opposed to or indifferent to the pursuit of reason.
Secondly, the voice of reason is lonely because of the very pursuit. The more one contemplates, the more individualized he becomes. He formulates an outlook on the world, and even attains a better understanding of each of his various traits and characteristics. The constant study of oneself and the world automatically leads to a sense of loneliness. It is to this category that Rav Soloveitchik refers to in Lonely Man of Faith (though with an existential twist which we will hopefully discuss at a later point).
There is one last potential meaning, that which caused the readers original dislike for the title, namely, that I am the only voice of reason. Though each of us subconsciously believes that he is always right, on the conscious plane I have no more claim to truth then anyone else. Rather, I hope for an open forum, where we can pursue reason together, and perhaps become less lonely in the process.

Welcome