Yom Kippur and the Lessons of Religious Optimism

Jewish tradition has never denied that God is the creator of evil. The Bible itself attests to this: “I make peace and create evil.”^[1] The sages never lived in a psychological vacuum denying the realities of life. There was no attempt to cover up all the terrible things that could befall man. They tried only to understand where evil belonged in the scheme of the divine creation.

All religions and philosophies are confronted with the question of how to relate to “existence.” Should one oppose “existence” and ideally opt for “non-existence,” or should one view “being” as good and “non-being” as the opposite?

The great rabbinical schools of Beit Shamai and Beit Hillel confronted exactly this question. In a most unusual debate, which lasted two and a half years, they discussed whether it is better for humans to have been created or not to have been created. (Eruvin 13b) Their conclusion is startling: It is better for humans not to have been created; but now that they have been created, let them examine their deeds. This would seem to be a very pessimistic view! But is it really?

Arthur Schopenhauer, a prominent nineteenth-century German philosopher, and author of The World as Will and Idea, could perhaps be regarded as Europe’s greatest pessimist. In his works, Schopenhauer has not one good word to say in favor of “existence.” From his younger days, he viewed the world as an ongoing disaster and lived in constant fear that things would only deteriorate. Danger is rampant, so he decides to sleep with a weapon under his pillow and refuses to have the barber shave him with a knife, lest he cut his throat. The only one he has faith in is his dog; as for Man, there is no one to trust. Life is an ongoing deceit, harsh and cruel.

How is it, then, that some people live joyfully and see everything in a sanguine light? Why are there optimists in this world, who deny the truth and ignore the fact that this life is really a catastrophe? Can they not see reality?

Well, argues Schopenhauer, the aggressively optimistic philosophers of the Western world have fallen prey to vulgar buoyancy that is rooted in the Jewish tradition! Jewish traditional optimism reflects a “self-congratulatory human egoism, which is blind to all except our [own] all too frail human goals and aspirations.”^[2]

Yes, believe it or not, Jews are guilty of bringing some optimism into the world.

Is it indeed true that Judaism is blind to the tragic? Nobody can deny that Judaism adopts an optimistic view of life, but is this optimism vulgar and self-destructive, and are we unable, as a result of this shortsightedness, to cope in the face of disaster?

Rabbi Shimon said: “In the hour that God was about to create Adam, the angels of service were divided. Some said, ‘Let him not be created.’ Others said, ‘Let him be created.’ Love said, ‘Let him be created, for he will do loving deeds.’ But Truth said, ‘Let him not be created, for he will be all falsity.’ Righteousness said, ‘Let him be created, for he will do righteous deeds.’ Peace said, ‘Let him not be created, because he will be full of strife.’ What did the Holy One Blessed be He do? He seized hold of Truth and cast it to the earth [where it broke into pieces], as it says: ‘You cast truth to the ground.’ (Daniel 8:12)” (Bereshit Rabbah 8:5)

Virtually no midrash should be taken literally. Every midrash, however, should be taken seriously. When midrashim speak about the origin of mankind, they are trying to give us insight into the human condition. No doubt this is the case with this midrash as well. It is, however, clearly disturbing, because it makes the point that truth needs to be “thrown to the ground” before we could be created. It appears that not even God can create human beings unless a compromise is made in which truth pays the price. There is no “all is well” attitude when mankind comes on the scene. For humans to exist, one has to remove all romantically optimistic views about human existence. Not even the good Lord has the power, so to speak, to indiscriminately silence all opposition. To create humanity is to take a risk, and the pessimists have a point.

Meshech Chochma (Bereshit 1:31) explains that while all creatures were blessed with the pronouncement: “And God saw that it was good,” this is not so with mankind. Not even God could “see” (in anthropomorphic terms) what humans would become, whether they would be good or bad. God’s “seeing,” says Meshech Chochma, implies determinism, i.e., that all creatures will follow their unchanging nature.

Only mankind is endowed with free will. He is the great unknown. Hence, the absolute truth, reflected in the existence of God, will have to be compromised, since our very purpose is to be free agents with the ability to deny or ignore God. And so pessimism is born. We may go wrong and indeed we may become a “disaster,” as posited by Schopenhauer. The midrash knows that truth is cast to the ground, and all devout Jews know that truth is difficult to bear. But what is the effect of this knowledge? Can it be anything other than despair as Schopenhauer would have it? There is only one possible response. It is as if the midrash has anticipated Schopenhauer: “Then the angels of service said to God, ‘Lord of the Universe, how can You despise Your seal [the truth]?’ And God responded, ‘Let Truth arise from the earth, as it says: Truth springs from the earth. (Tehillim 85:12)’”

The Jewish concept of teshuvah — “returning” — is a protest against Schopenhauer and all dedicated pessimists. To be given the opportunity to do teshuvah is an enormous privilege. It is a joy to be able to say I am sorry, to take responsibility for our deeds, to start over. In fact, it is one of the great gifts that Judaism has given mankind: the knowledge that we can change; that if we have not acted rightly, we can turn over a new leaf and start again. This is the ultimate expression of religious optimism. Judaism teaches us that there is no karma that traps us, and no original sin that stands in our way. We are free to re-engage with God and with our fellow man. Whatever obstacles there may be, all that is required is the will to change our ways and the effort to work hard at it.

Certainly, the truth will have to rise from the earth in “broken pieces,” but there is a purpose: so that we will labor to rediscover it, fragment by fragment, without ever seeing the full picture. The truth will not be truth for us unless we discover it by way of our own effort. Paradoxically, it is our potential to stray that creates a realistic optimism. The Jew clings to life, despite Schopenhauer, because he or she knows that since God was prepared to cast the truth to the ground, there must be a Divine plan beyond mankind’s comprehension. That is the foundation of balanced optimism as taught by Jewish tradition.

This, then, is the underlying motive of Judaism. It is a warning not to yield to total pessimism as long as the truth springs from the ground. It is an admonition to endure truth and to choose life. It is a plea to endure, for it is only defiant endurance that reveals the fact that truth, however broken, remains the seal of God.

Questions to Ponder from the DCA Think Tank

1. The philosopher Schopenhauer had a particular antipathy for Judaism and its worldliness. The truly religious individual, Schopenhauer thought, abhors life and resists the will to live; asceticism is the mark of the true religious life. Do you think that Schopenhauer, without intending it, managed to pay Judaism its deepest compliment? Did he hit on one of Judaism’s deepest truths?
2. Contemporary psychologists (e.g. Martin Seligman) speak of the importance of optimism in human flourishing. Pessimism can have a debilitating effect on well-being even though pessimists, so say researchers, often have a more truthful view of themselves than optimists. Then again, there are realistic optimists, who may enjoy the best of both worlds.  Do you agree with Rabbi Cardozo that in the concept of teshuvah (returning) Judaism has succeeded in “bottling” a uniquely powerful formula for affirming life while retaining a truthful sense of one’s own shortcomings and fallibility?
3. According to the midrash quoted by Rabbi Cardozo there appear to be two kinds of truth, the heavenly and the earthly. The earthly variety requires effort and we never see the full picture. How do you understand this image of Truth being cast to the earth from where it sprouts anew? Are there kinds of truth which can be acquired only through human effort and experience? If we acknowledge that “we never see the full picture”, that at best we see “fragments” of the whole, how does this affect the way we understand the world? How does it affect our approach to political disagreement, for example? How does it affect our approach to personal disagreements and to our personal relationships in general?
4. Rabbi Cardozo speaks of the opportunity to do teshuvah as a “privilege”, a “joy”, a “gift”. The Day of Atonement, Yom Kippur, is the day of the Jewish year given over to the ritual enactment of teshuvah. Its liturgy is replete with expressions of collective self-reproach and self-abasement (the repeated ashamnu’s and al heit’s with their accompanying breast-beating) albeit tempered by a unwavering trust in God’s desire to forgive. We are not accustomed to think of it as a joyful day. Yet some Hassidic masters cautioned against dwelling too much on negative introspection. Rabbi Yitzhak Meir of Gur argued that excessive reflection on one’s sins will pull one down into a state of negativity from which teshuvah will not even be possible. Better to rush through the “al heit’s” and to focus instead, and joyfully, on the mitzvot one is resolved to do. Which of these versions of Yom Kippur speaks to you? Is joyfulness part of your Yom Kippur emotional palette? 

^[1].    Yeshayahu 45:7.

^[2].    Works, R.B. Haldane and J. Kemp trans., London, Kegan Paul, Trench: Trubner and Co., 1909, vol. III, pp. 305ff, 446ff