Sinful Thoughts: Comments on Sin, Failure, Free Will, and Related Topics Based on David Bashevkin’s new book Sin•a•gogue: Sin and Failure in Jewish Thought Sinful Thoughts: Comments on Sin, Failure, Free Will, and Related Topics Based on David Bashevkin’s new book Sin•a•gogue: Sin and Failure in Jewish Thought (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2019) By Rabbi Yitzchok Oratz A Bashevkin-inspired Bio Blurb:[1] Rabbi Yitzchok Oratz is Rabbi of the Monmouth Torah Links community in Marlboro, NJ. His writings can be found in various rabbinic and popular journals, including Hakira, Ohr Yisroel, Nehoroy, Nitay Ne’emanim, and on Aish, Times of Israel, Torah Links, Seforim Blog, and elsewhere. His writings are rejected as often as they are accepted, and the four books he is currently working on will likely never see the light of day. “I’d rather laugh[2] with the sinners than cry with the saints; the sinners are much more fun.”[3] Fortunate is the man who follows not the advice of the wicked, nor stood in the path of the sinners, nor sat in the session of the scorners. (Psalms 1:1) One who hopes is always happy [and] without pain . hope keeps one alive . even one who has minimal good deeds . has hope . one who hopes, even if he enters Hell, he will be taken out . his hope is his purity, literally the Mikvah [4] of Yisroel . and this is the secret of repentance . (Ramchal, Derush ha-Kivuy) [5] Rabbi David Bashevkin is a man deeply steeped in sin. The study of sin, that is. His recent book, Sin•a•gogue: Sin and Failure in Jewish Thought, is his second foray into the murky waters of sin, the first being his Hebrew B-Rogez Rahem Tizkor, which appeared in 2015. Throughout the book he ably serves as a “choti umachti,” as he walks us along the paths of sinners and allows us to listen in to their scorn sessions, plumbs their thoughts and analyzes their intentions, all with goal of detecting the sometimes deeply concealed sweet smell and seeds of holiness that can be found even among the sinners of Israel.[6] As sin and failure are topics with which I am all too familiar, I took the opportunity to offer a review of sorts of the Hebrew book for readers of the Seforim Blog. The ensuing years have only honed my expertise, bringing me back to offer some comments on themes discussed in the new book.[7] While the topics of the two books are fundamentally the same, the new volume does include a great deal of entirely new material; the same will be true of this review. Furthermore, the change of language, in both the book and the review, demands a new style and structure for even the repeated material, and opens up the discussion to those who do not feel entirely at home in traditional rabbinic language and literature. An Open Discussion of Sin Overall, I found the book to be enjoyable, informative, thought-provoking,[8] and even inspiring at times. But should this discussion of sin be taking place at all? From a traditional Jewish perspective, the answer is far from simple. The most controversial idea in the book (chapter 4), is the radical theology of the Hasidic court of Izbica in general, and Reb Tzadok ha-Kohen of Lublin in particular,[9], that sin is sometimes inevitable and always the will of God.[10] This concept does not apply only to someone who is sick (p. 42), coerced (p. 39), or in a compromising situation (note 124), nor is it the case only for someone who is faced with the necessity of choosing the lesser of two evils (p. 41); all this is standard Talmudic discussion. Rather, Izbica theology teaches that the seemingly free-willed choice to sin, motivated solely by one’s internal desires, is also the will of God – “All is in the hands of heaven, including the fear of heaven.”[11] This, of course, seems to be in direct contradiction to the concept of free will, the “fundamental concept and pillar” that is the underpinning of the totality of the Torah (Rambam, Hilchos Teshuva 5:3). But is this really a problem? Long before the radical statements of Izbica, Rambam (Hilchos Teshuva 5:5) noted that our free will is seemingly contradicted by the existence of an all-knowing God, and Chovos Halevavos[12] raised the problem of free will being controverted by the many verses that indicate that God is in complete control of every action that takes place.[13] Neither source offers a resolution, demanding that we live with this paradox. Why, then, can’t we deal with Izbicean though similarly, why is it considered uniquely controversial? [14] The obvious answer is that both before and after noting the paradox between predetermination and free will, Rambam hammers home the idea that, resolution or not, free will is real: However, this is known without any doubt: That man’s actions are in his own hands and The Holy One, blessed be He, does not lead him in a particular direction or decree that he do anything. This matter is known, not only as a tradition of faith, but also, through clear proofs from the words of wisdom (Hilchos Teshuva 5:5). Chovos Halevavos, too, stresses that the proper path requires us to act with confidence in our freedom to make our own choices. And because free will is real, sin, with all its consequences, is very real as well: Accordingly, it is the sinner, himself, who causes his own loss. Therefore, it is proper for a person to cry and mourn for his sins and for what he has done to his soul . since free choice is in our hands and with our own decision we committed all these wrongs, it is proper for us to repent (Hilchos Teshuva 5:2). “Consequently, the prophets taught that a person is judged for his deeds, according to his deeds – whether good or bad. This is a fundamental principle on which is dependent all the words of prophecy.” (5:5) And as long as one has not repented he is “hated by God, disgusting, far removed, and abominable . separated from God, the Lord of Israel . .” (7:6 – 7) . Compare this with the Izbica/Rav Tzadok attitude toward sin as (correctly) presented in Rabbi Bashevkin’s book; the Izbica approach recognizes “the powerful religious energy present in sins and the potential to challenge such energy into greatness, ultimately result[ing] in the redemption” (p. 102, based on Divrei Halomot # 3). In the Izbica worldview, sinning doesn’t make one “hated, disgusting, and far removed” from God, because “wherever a Jew may fall, he falls into the lap of God” (p. 48, from Pri Tzadik, Naso 15). Rambam’s message to sinners is to “cry and mourn,” and hope that their misdeeds do not prevent them from ever returning (6:4), while Rav Tzadok urges sinners never to despair “in any circumstance” (p. 100, from Divrei Sofrim 16). The contrast couldn’t be starker. Based on the above, the real challenge of Izbica is neither philosophical (determinism vs. free will), nor historical (“How did the adherents of Izbica prevent their deterministic notion of sin from developing into an antinomian concept of Judaism?” [p. 47]). Instead, the question is practical: How do we go about “incorporating the theologically and oftentimes radical aspects of Izbica Hasidut into the contemporary Jewish community” without “under[mining] the ideals that we are working towards” (p. 48)? In truth, the real question is not how we go about incorporating aspects of Izbica, but whether we need to reassess or fine-tune the aspects that have already been absorbed into our modern theology. The relatively recent phenomenon of neo-Chassidus (of which Rabbi Bashevkin is described as an avid follower is not primarily influenced by Izbica, [15] but its understanding of sin and failure certainly have Izbician overtones.[16] Every discussion of the neo-Chassidus movement, pro and against, raises some form of the question of whether it leads to “perver[sion] of Chassidic concepts of joy, prayer . to the detriment of halachic observance,” and whether the idea that one always “falls into the lap of God” is mere “sugarcoating” the reality that our connection and relationship to Him can be broken “through destructive habits and the like,” no matter how deeply spiritual one “feels.” [17] In other words, while historically Izbica theology was not detrimental to the strict halachic observance of Izbica Chasidim, [18] the jury is still out on whether the same can be said regarding its contemporary application. [19] Rabbi Bashevkin himself clearlyunderstands that Izbica thought is frequently misunderstood, misinterpreted and misapplied, and has a fascinating discussion on where and why its application goes wrong (pp. 50 – 52). The proper application of Izbica theology, according to Bashevkin, has us look at religious life as having a floor and a ceiling, the floor being the way “we deal with failure and those still mired in sin,” and the ceiling being the “ideals and values we reach towards.” Izbician theology can offer a message of “comfort and optimism,” helping to cushion the floor of Jewish life for those still mired in sin, without altering the ultimate ideals – “The floor was carpeted, but the ceiling remained in place” (pp. 46 – 50 and here. While this certainly does seem to be a proper application of Izbician thought, it leaves plenty of room for the devil in the details. How comfortable should the cushions be? If every time a Jew sins he falls onto the lush carpet of the Bashevkian Izbician floor, what incentive is there ever to get up, or not to fall again? Maybe the floor needs to be carpeted, but how much more plush than commercial grade is called for?[20] An even more fundamental question is if Bashevkin himself does justice in applying his principle.