I need to be an extremist
I feel I need to be an extremist. I am surprised by that because everything I have learned and value about Mussar teaches me to seek the middle path, shevil ha’zahav, the golden mean, in every trait.
Rambam says (Hilchot De’ot 1:5):
This path is the path of the wise. Every person whose traits are intermediate and equally balanced can be called ‘a wise person.’
But Rambam himself acknowledges that there are times when we need to act in ways that deviate from the middle way:
The pious of the early generations would bend their temperaments from the intermediate path towards [either of] the two extremes. For some traits they would veer towards the one extreme, for others, towards the other extreme. This is referred to as [behavior] ‘beyond the measure of the law.’
He calls bending toward the extreme not wise, but “pious.” Sometimes, a situation calls on us to abandon balance at the centre. And right now, I feel the need to be an extremist because what I see coming at me daily from the world out there is itself extremist, only in ways that I feel that I need to counter. My values are shaped by the legacy of Jewish values, and to defend them – within myself and in the world – against the onslaught, the world is demanding that I be an extremist.
If the world is going to be so unkind to the stranger, I need to be extremely kind to the stranger.
Because compassion is denigrated as weakness, I need to be extremely compassionate.
Because the world is as grim and dour as our politicians, I need to seek out joy.
If what I see around me is deceitful, I need to be scrupulous with the truth.
Because some leaders strut their arrogance, I need to strive to be as humble as Moses.
And so on. In this I feel I have no choice. It is not an exaggeration to say that every single value that the Jewish tradition has endorsed for millennia is being trampled before our eyes, and if we believe in the truth and significance of building a world infused with Jewish values, we need to defend them to the extreme, beyond the measure of the law, in piety, and starting in our own lives.
What we call “Jewish values” are better understood as the ideals that the Torah and our rabbis have identified as worthy to pursue in our own individual human lives. Think of being charitable not as a value but as a prescribed aspiration.
And why is it prescribed and why should we follow the prescription? I am influenced by the rabbis who, 1600 years ago, said:
The commandments were only given in order that people would be refined through them, because what does the Holy Blessed One care if one slaughters [an animal] from the front of the neck or if one slaughters from the back of the neck? We must say that the commandments were only given so that people would be refined through them.
In other words, it is in my interests to pursue Torah ideals because that process will have the effect of refining me, working down the negative and enhancing the positive.
An example: joy.
What a joyless world it appears to be. It’s all bad news. War after war. Politics is just transactional and morally deplorable. Being a convicted felon is no bar on public office, nor is profiting from that office. People have hundreds of online “friends” but few relationships and we are the loneliest generation. Public discourse is dead; it’s mostly divisive haranguing now. I don’t need to go on – you are living this reality, just like me.
I’m in danger of having the joy wrung out of my life. And if I want to prevent that from happening, extreme measures are called for. But first, I need to understand joy, which I equate to the Hebrew word gila [גילה]. Joy is not the same as happiness. In The Shabbat Effect I drew a clear distinction between the two:
Happiness is that transient feeling of uplift and ebullience that comes from fulfilling or experiencing something that you really want and like.
Joy is also a feeling of expansive and positive uplift, but it is very different from happiness because it is sparked not by getting something you desire, but by experiences that actually transcend anything you might personally want.
Happiness is an inner experience at the level of our personal self, with its wants and desires, while joy penetrates us more deeply, transcending our personal selves to touch us at the deeper, more spiritual, more eternal level of the soul.
Happiness gratifies the ego; joy transcends it.
Happiness makes you smile; joy makes you cry.
I’ve become an extremist in opening myself to joy. But how do I do that? My “effort” in that direction has meant taking steps to unencumber my heart. Turn off the phone. Slow down. Spend time in nature. Look for beauty. Connect with people. Savor the flavors of food and drink.
The world as we receive it dehumanizes us, and my search for joy is an attempt to undo the damage. The more extremely joyless the world appears, the more I reach for the antidote, extreme pursuit of joy.
A final anecdote. I travel around with a major league joy-generator: my dog, Dr. Pepper. He happens to be very cute and has the sweetest disposition. Anytime we go for a walk, people stop in their tracks. He doesn’t make them happy but joyful. He awakens their hearts and gives them a moment of transcendence that penetrates whatever happens to be on their mind at the moment.
Take a look:
What brings you joy?
Alan
Alan, thank you for writing this. I have followed your reflections on Mussar and Jewish values for some time, and I have always appreciated your emphasis on humility, balance, and the work we must do on ourselves. I have not often seen you address the political moment directly, and I am grateful that you did so here.
Your point about the need for “extreme” commitment to Jewish values really resonated with me. The challenge, as I see it, is that the Mussar path does not call us to be passive in the face of wrongdoing. I personally have not been passive and it sometimes gets me into trouble. But it’s “good trouble” as someone once said. Compassion, truth, humility, and care for the stranger are not just personal virtues. . . they are obligations.
I often think about the idea that evil requires permission. It does not always arrive dramatically. Sometimes it advances when ordinary people rationalize, look away, or decide that their other interests matter more than their moral commitments.
This raises a difficult question for me: how can someone who proudly identifies as Jewish reconcile that identity with supporting actions and policies that appear to violate so many of the values our tradition has spent thousands of years teaching us? The Torah’s repeated commands to care for the stranger, pursue justice, avoid cruelty, and exercise humility are not optional ideals.
At the same time, Mussar reminds me that the work begins within. It is not enough to condemn what we see in others. We must continually ask whether our own words and actions reflect the values we claim to defend.
Perhaps the most radical response to a world that seems increasingly angry and divided is exactly what you describe: to become more compassionate, more truthful, more humble, and more committed to human dignity.
Thank you for reminding us that joy itself can be an act of resistance.
(Love Dr. Pepper!)
Danny and I loved this post Alan. So relevant and such a great reminder of true Jewish values. We look forward to reading your next one. Joy is so important to each day and our animals can give us that on a daily basis. Look forward to seeing you when you come our way again!