freedom, religion, Uncategorized

Seder Activity

Here are some statements about freedom.  Hand them out.  Let people trade for one they feel like talking about (not necessarily one they agree with!)


A human being who does whatever s/he wants is a slave to his/her desires.

Freedom is another word for power

It is hard to have a southern overseer; it is worse to have a northern one; but worst of all when you are the slave-driver of yourself.  

Freedom means the freedom to own a gun.

Freedom is granted as a reward for responsibility.

Freedom must be wrested from those with power.

Freedom means the freedom to say whatever you want even if it is cruel, racist, or misogynistic.

The hardest thing is to be free from is our own view of ourselves.

The hardest thing is to be free of our own opinions.

There is no freedom without discipline.

Freedom is being a law to yourself.

Freedom is self-mastery.

Freedom is creating yourself like an artist creates a work of art.

Freedom is being completely unattached — not caring about things or people.

Freedom is the ability to choose what you care about and passionately commit to it.

If people are free to do what they want they will be peaceful, happy, and get along.

True freedom is choosing what project, idea, or person will be our master.

Freedom does not exist and never will.

The most important slavery is mental slavery.  None but ourselves can free our minds.

The most important lack of freedom is poverty.  

Freedom means the freedom to work and love.

Love is slavery.

Work is slavery.

Freedom is worth the price in terms of anxiety.

Freedom is scary.

Slavery is scary.

Somebody should be free to hurt himself/herself if that is what he/she wants.

Consumerism is a form of slavery.

Freedom requires the freedom to buy what you want.

Freedom is a peaceful mind where you don’t hope for anything and don’t fear anything.

We are never free of our parents.

Parents should be free to teach their children things that are untrue.


ACTIVITY: Everybody gets the following sheet:.  For each activity answer they do for their “freedom idea” they get a toy.

If this view of freedom were correct what would that make slavery?


If this view of freedom were correct how can you help other people be free?


If this view of freedom were correct how could you be more free yourself?


What can you do to be more free next year? 🕃🚗


Change your mind 🕃 🏀


Change someone else’s mind 🕃 🐅


Find a textual support for your position in the haggadah 🕃🐲


Ask a question. 🕃 💰


fiction, philosophy, religion

Fathers and Sons


I signed up for Google Life Recorder when i was in high school because I was thinking of becoming a writer and I thought it would be useful to be able to go back and review every moment of my life.  It was.  I was able to write much better things about my first heartbreak when I looked back and relived the first time she and I met, kissed, slept together, fought, broke up.  And I was able to write much better things about the formation of my self-consciousness when I was able to go back and re-experience the first time I went back and looked at my first heartbreak.

I never thought my son of eighteen years would stand before me and ask me for my Lifetape.  But why wouldn’t he?  He wanted to write as I had wanted to write.  He wanted to know himself as I wanted to know myself.  He needed to get clear what hopes, dreams, fears, aspirations, sexual fantasies and religious yearnings within him came from him and which came from his old Pa.

We met in the office a month later.  “There’s a lot I have problems with.” he said.

“Tell” said me.

“I don’t like the way you backstabbed people at work in your 20s.”

“Neither do i, but thanks for bringing it to my attention.”

“You eat too much, masturbate too much, and have fantasies about killing and eating Mom way too much.”

“I’m sorry.  But thoughts come unbidden.”

“Fair enough, Dad.  But I did not like, really did not like the way you forced yourself on Mom and fucked her.”

“Well I get that but you see if that had never happened, where would you be?”

“I see but I don’t like it.”


I took my son to the Hall of Documents to read something his great grandfather had written.   Grandpa Eddie had among his other accomplishments (silver medal track star, mafia lawyer, teller of tales in children’s nursery schools) been the discoverer and translator of a lost manuscript by the Norse poet Snorri Sturluson.  Snorri was the poet of the old gods — Thor and Odin and the Fenr Wolf — although he wrote the eddas at a time when Christianity was supplanting the old religion.  (Snorri, as it happens gave JRR Tolkien the names for his dwarves in The Hobbit).

Grandpa Eddie had translated the following


Man: Allfather. I wish to read your book.  The book of your lives and where you came from and what you are about.

Allfather; Read.

Man: (Having read) Why did you make man to suffer?  From plague and earthquake and war?  Why make a being for pain.

Allfather: Good question.  When the giants stormed Valhalla and caused much rapine and suffering and pain they wished for something that would wipe away their gigantic guilt.  The only thing I could do was to create a world where they could suffer.  For their vainglory they learned to be low.  For their brutality they learned fragilty.  For their egotism they learned love.

Man: Okay, but why did you make giants lusty for storming Valhalla

Allfather: What kind of question is that?

Man: What do you mean?

Allfather: Who would even think to make a world without giants?


My son said “I think you wrote that.”

I said “I did not, but you are close.”

My son: Who?

I said: You.

You wrote it without paying attention to it but it is in your handwriting. You are writing so many things that you don’t even understand yet.  Brilliant things. Wonderful things. I’m so proud of you.  I’d do a milion more brutal shameful things to give you something to be ashamed of and something to write about.

My son: But how did I write it?  Why isn’t it in my Google Life Record?

I said: That old thing?  You are rewriting the rules of your language every moment to make your past tell the story you want to tell.

literary theory, philosophy

What’s the Point of Telling Stories? Bad Fiction, Good Fiction, Lies Holy and Unholy

If you tell a story to convince people something is true then the point is to get people to believe whatever you are telling them.  If the story is not true and you know it, then you are lying.  If you don’t care about the truth of the story but are telling it anyway in order to get people to believe it you are engaging in what Harry Frankfort calls “bullsh***” — talk without caring about the truth value of what you are communicating.  If you think it’s true but it’s not you are spreading untruth.  Your moral culpability depends upon how hard you work in general to make sure that what you tell is true.  If you are equally likely to tell false stories that make your political or religious party look bad as ones that make it look good then you seem fine; if it turns out to slant in the direction of your political interests you have something to answer for.

Plato advocated the “pia fraus” or holy lie in order to keep his ideal republic going.  In his set-up, a few morally righteous people — The Guardians — know that their society’s castes are a human invention, but they tell a lie in order to get the lower classes to play along.  Lies that claimed to be pious ran rampant in the ancient world.  Every empire and indeed every city state had a fake tale about how it was founded by divine beings.  The pia fraus might be a good idea but impractical for several reasons.  One is that in our current pluralistic, wired globe people are more likely to be able to see through the noble lies.    This can have the opposite of the intended effect: once the sheep know the shepherd is willing to lie for their own good, they will be less likely to believe their shepherds.  Another problem is that in real life it places a huge temptation in the hands of the lying elite to misuse their power.  For an interesting discussion of a contemporary example of  the pia fraus see “Changing the Immutable: How Orthodox Judaism Rewrites Its History”.

This all applies to stories whose point is to convince people to believe things.   What about a story that is not intended to get people to believe things?  When we listen to a story (or watch a movie or play a video game) we engage some of the faculties of our soul that are engaged in real life, but our rational faculties know that they are engaged with something that is not true.  It is a bit like dreaming.  It is a rare person who eats the pillow while dreaming believing it is a marshmallow.  It is a rare person who actually falls in love with Sherlock Holmes and moves to London hoping to marry him.

When it’s working well this kind of dry run can help build up our capabilities.  We can see if we solve the puzzle before Sherlock Holmes does or if we recognize the self-deception of Emma before she does.  We can practice our wisdom or our cleverness or our courage without dealing with the consequences, or rather without feeling the full consequences.  We can actually feel shame if we sympathize with a character’s poor behavior or rationalization for example, but the shame doesn’t hurt as much as the shame we feel for misbehaving or rationalizing in real life.

At its best fiction can challenge our redoubtable capacity for self-deception.  The cunning writer can play to our hopes and fears, teach us how those hopes and fears lead us to selfish behavior, and trick us into identifying with a character who ultimately is flawed. This can teach us to watch ourselves more carefully, and to pay attention to life.  At its best fiction can also enlarge our perspective and teach us that everybody has his story, and that these stories fit together into an intricate web of cause and effect, self-justification and blame, narrowing and expanding of perspective that is beyond anybody’s ability to see in real life, unfolding as quickly as real life does.  At its worst of course it can encourage our wish to dwell in a world of egocentric fantasy, where the little guy always gets the girl, and the moral hero proves he has the right stuff by wasting those who dared disrespect him in a hail of bullets.

There is also a deeper sense in which collections of stories can be part of the founding of a certain mode of experience — call it a culture in the sense in which a code of laws may found a city..  In this sense certain archetypes, and patterns of significance may be set up within which human beings cultivate themselves.  This is rooted in a fundamental aspect of all talk which is that it makes a decision about what is worth paying attention to.  The storyteller in the deepest sense is making it that these sort of things are to be paid attention to and worth caring about.


Is Secularism Thin?

I just read Michael Walzer’s “The Paradox of Liberation”.  The paradox of the title is that national liberation movements that were secular in character found themselves challenged and subverted by fundamentalist religious movements in three instances Walzer discusses: Algeria, Israel and India.  In each case the European-educated elite who threw off colonialism were motivated by secular ideals of justice, equal rights, and emancipation but thirty years into the project they found themselves threatened by tribal, orthodox religious parties: the ultra-orthodox in Israel, the Islamists in Algeria and the BJP in India.

Walzer is himself a man of the enlightenment left so he is troubled and thinks that the issue may be that secularism is too thin, so the fundamentalists step into the breach.  You can imagine what he means: that secularism ducks the big questions, that it doesn’t sacralize fundamental relationships, that nobody is willing to die for it.  In a fight between a movement whose members are willing to die for it and one whose members are not willing to die for it, you would be wise to put your money on the former. (Unless the latter have much, much more money in which case it’s anybody’s game.)


On the other hand do we really know what a religion is?   Sure we all have a sense of the family resemblance of the big Abrahamic faiths — if there’s a man in a beard or an unusual hat talking about a creator deity and giving rules for how to keep that deity happy and promising a reward after death for making him happy, and it is all linked to books purporting to tell amazing stories of the ancient middle east, then it’s a religion.  But surely that’s a shallow and essentialist way of looking at things — especially the hat part.   Essentialist because it assumes what’s worth arguing about, which is whether you can motivate people without appeal to forged ancient books and anthropomorphic creators.  Shallow because it avoids the personal question.  If religion is anything it is how each of us answers the question “How should I live?”  “Given that I must die what is important?”  “What do I owe to my fellow?”  If religion is whatever answers these questions, then it’s at least an open question whether the Abrahamic faiths as they currently stand are even religions, much less whether they are the only religions (compare Marxism, nationalism, consumerism, progress, art, the family etc. etc.)

If that is the case then how do we understand Walzer’s paradox — a thin secularism unable to do battle with a robust orthodoxy?

A step towards understanding the paradox is imagining how it would be to solve it.  One attempt to solve it would be to deck out secularism with its substitute for religious culture.  Have ceremonies of commitment to reason perhaps or gather in the Temple of Understanding to celebrate the birthday of Charles Darwin.  Whenever people try this it seems to fail though and to feel (Walzer’s apt word) like kitsch.

What does the failure teach us?  There is something wrong with reifying “culture”.  Secularists look at the vibrant faith of the orthodox and want to know what they have to fight it. It looks like — nothing.  It looks like secularists have no culture, at least not the kind that enchants the heart and draws people together into a communal embrace.  It looks like there is no reformed Jewish substitute for the Hasidic rebbe’s table, and no story from secular India as captivating as the Ramayana.

But this is a mistake.

Culture is easy to spot far away and long ago — but the culture we are making right now is invisible.  Every decision we make, every thing we say in an effort to be memorable, or persuasive, or beautiful — the way we make love to our lovers and kiss our children — that is our culture.

Is it thin?  God forbid that it should be thin.  Every second we are are enacting our culture.   If our children love us, if our fellow citizens trust us, if anything we say is worth listening to or worth repeating then we have a culture.

Is it secular?

Walzer says memorably that the only thing it makes sense to call “secular” is a government.  If it doesn’t make sense to call an individual or a marriage or a family or a corporation secular it doesn’t make sense to call it religious either.  Surely each of these institutions that we secrete by living — much as a caterpillar builds its cocoon — is a mixture of an axis of faith and an axis of reason.  Yet “faith” and “reason” are loaded terms.  To be even clearer we could say: there are things we are in a position to explain to our fellows, things we are in a position to explain to ourselves, and things we are not (yet) in a position to explain to anybody, but we live by them all the same.

The enlightenment fantasy may be said then to be that there is nothing about us we cannot explain to everybody.  This is clearly false.  Yet the idea that there is a shadow side to ourselves and our relationships — call if faith or myth — can be frightening.  It can make us feel vulnerable.

If secularism — whatever that is — is able to look at its own vulnerability squarely there is nothing thin about it.

The only thing thin about it is its fear of being thin.