Why I named my blog ’“Confessions of a Cowtown Culturalist.” My blog is an attempt at providing observations that are truthful, at least to me. The hope is that writing will also provide clarity. A question that I find myself asking frequently: am I more concerned with the sanctimonious versus the sacred? If I am serious about getting out of my ego, Edging God Out, and finding freedom, I would honestly say “I am forever questioning, under construction, and a work in progress, and what better time to ask this than on Passover. I definitely DO NOT believe I am morally superior in anyway! The beauty of the belief structure that I hold near and dear to my heart is about having more questions than answers. In my studies, I have come across a plethora of interpretations of details, as well as, the big picture. Who is right? Is there even a right?
Sharing, musing, thinking out loud, reading, modifying, studying, and of course, writing has been an interest of mine since the time I decided to pursue a career as a psychotherapist, to teaching for 30 years later, and a litany of other careers in-between. If I am being completely honest, the ideas are still coming together, I am confidant that they will continue to refine and change as i grow on my journey. I also recognize that I am merely scratching the surface. Nelson Henderson said ”the true meaning of life is to plant trees, under whose shade you do not expect to sit.” That is not an uh-huh for me, that is a definite yup! If one were to press me, I would respond with, I write about ages, stages, sages and the development towards a more mature spirituality. I do not apologize for being an advocate of Torah study. For me that began in earnest with the passing of my father five years ago, although, up to that point it was about psychology and teaching. And, I have always been interested in spirituality, and Judaism in particular. Thus the Confession of this Cowtown Culturalist is not an apology for sharing what I am learning about, and relaying in regards to modern day interpretations of the Torah this way. I am not the first, in fact I am part of a multitude of people who write on this intersection of Torah and psychology, and I will certainly not be the last. Is my quest spiritual or a human endeavor? Quoting Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, “We are not human beings having a spiritual experience; we are spiritual beings having a human experience’ and on that sentiment, I highly agree. Life is not purely spiritual; we also need to connect with other people. Nor is it purely secular; the spiritual side of life gives us deeper meaning and purpose and guides our compass. (Spiritual is not only about God, so it can be whatever works for one’s belief system).
My spirituality, my compass, and what I continue to write about, using the blueprint, is the Torah, and there is no way to discuss it without this prolific Rabbi’s perspective. Rabbi Abraham Joshua Heschel, z”l wrote “Torah study is the wellspring of Jewish life, inspiring ideas, beliefs and actions, and shaping the way Jewish people mark time. Torah creates and sustains an awareness of God’s presence in one’s life and provides the framework for joyful celebration of holidays, individual milestones, and communal events. Music, art, food, and customs associated with the Jewish holidays provide tangible manifestations of Jewish culture, as we immerse ourselves in Jewish tradition and practice within an open and pluralistic framework.” Additionally, the story is still being written and the stories do not just belong to the Jewish people, but to all people. It shares a universal value system contained within other faiths and academic traditions.
I have become a believer in the ritualistic aspect of Shabbat and have been consistently working to practice it and understand its importance. Ever since I began, I have noticed a significant difference in the quality of my life. My heartfelt blessing for social media friends and acquaintances that I repeat in a Shabbat posting every week is a wish that everyone finds a habitual practice that helps them become a better version of themself. The Jewish Sabbath begins at sundown on Friday and lasts for 25 hours, until sundown on Saturday. Borrowing an important line from Rabbi Heschel — the meaning of the Sabbath is to celebrate time rather than space. Six days a week people live under the tyranny of things of space; on the Sabbath they try to become attuned to holiness in time. Do you have a habitual practice, a ritual? Other’s habitual practices and rituals are a fascination of mine, and one I hope to write more about. Speaking on marking time, there is no better holiday where this is an essential quality, than with the Festival of Freedom, or as it is more commonly known, Passover.
Passover is celebrated to mark the Exodus or the redemption of the Jews from Egypt and is observed for eight days. It marks the time they moved away from the land where the were slaves of Pharaoh and crossed the Red Sea. Its importance as a Spring festival is also significant, which in Israel coincided with harvest time. Passover is perhaps the most widely observed holiday of the entire year for the Jewish people and many families have long-standing, beloved traditions that have been passed down from generation to generation. The heart of the holiday is telling the story of the Exodus from Egypt, and both old and new traditions are equally welcome in the celebration! The teaching of this story, which is so central to Jewish life and history, can be (and is) customized for all ages, learning levels, and the level of religious observance.
There are numerous reference sources regarding to the Passover, too many for a brief article such as this. Therefore, I decided to just look at one ritual associated with the holiday and mention the common symbolism behind this practice. It also demonstrates how I view the intersection of psychology and Torah as it attempts to mesh together modern day life with the practical, and while this might not be a common to all people of faith, there is a good deal of old fashion wisdom for those seeking a a mature spirituality.
It makes good sense not to leave for a long car trip ride without checking the tires, making sure there is plenty of gas, and directions to one’s destination. in like fashion, preparation is everything when it comes to ritual, and the ritual celebration of Passover is exemplifies this. Ironically, leaving Egypt, the Israelites were not so prepared and when they left Egypt, they got out so fast there was no time for bread to rise. Observant Jews begin their preparation for Passover by getting rid of everything in the house that is chametz — leavened. Traditional practice aside, there really is something for everyone – from the least observant to the most. I am focusing on the traditional (Orthodox) and it doesn’t require one who is unfamiliar to see how subtracting some of the ritual elements doesn’t decrease the value of the rituals.
Cleaning for Passover is a big adventure in most Orthodox homes. It typically starts a week or two before the actual holiday. Everything ranging from, cleaning out cabinets, countertops, bedrooms, going through dresser drawers, looking through books that may commonly be used in the areas where there might be food present, even at tables while the kids are, you know, eating dinner, etc., and closets, pantries — all that kind of stuff is really gone through extensively to make sure that, within the spirit of the law and the letter of the law, that there is no leavened material in the house. Upon study some of the symbolism and the interpretations, what started out as a short blog post turned out to be quite long.
Passover carries with it a particular set of dietary laws, known by even the least observant, which is the forbidding of “chametz” (leavened bread), and the commandment to specifically eat “matzah” (unleavened bread). These laws are so important to the very observant, ultra orthodox, that one cannot even keep the chametz in their house, they must destroy it (usually with fire), and they must verbally nullify their ownership of any crumbs or food they missed. For some, I found that the punishment of eating of leavened bread is the same as that of idolatry, and that it is so bad that one might get the worst punishment imaginable.
One answer (and I say this with complete confidence that there are other interpretations and customs, and feel free to add your own) is that one must realize the utter importance of the historical account of Passover, the birth of the Jews as a people. The only reason for believing as a Jew, and perhaps a reason why Jews don’t proselytize, is because the Jews alone experienced a once-in-eternity showing of God’s might and control of the world. It is in their national and collective memory, part and parcel of what makes Jews a religious and an ethnic group. It was a rational and empirical proof for God’s existence, a series of events that beyond a shadow of a doubt proved that God exists, and interacts with the world, as opposed to Epicureanism and others who believed that a god created the world and then went away.
The reason for the prohibition of chametz is to remember for seven days what happened in Egypt during that time, how they went out of Egypt quickly and quietly, only having enough time to prepare bread that was unleavened, and carried it on their backs while traveling in the desert.
The Torah takes that experience very seriously. The Oral Torah states – “In each and every generation a person is obligated to see himself as if he had come out of Egypt. For it is written: “And you shall tell your son that day, it is on account of what God did for me when I came out of Egypt.”
Therefore, a Jew who knows better but who refuses to do that, to live out that national memory, goes against the very first commandment of the 10 Commandments [“I am the Lord, your God, who took you out of the land of Egypt, out of the house of bondage.”] That comes directly from the written Torah. The command is to believe in a personal God, a divine provider, who showed that ability openly to the Nation of Israel. The very next Commandment is “You shall not have any gods before me.” This is the relationship between the remembering of the story of the Exodus and the forbidding of idolatry. The denial of the Jewish concept of God is the same as the acceptance of some other god.
Another aspect to this is the symbolism of chametz and matzah in rabbinic literature. Chametz is equated symbolically to the “evil inclination”, the drive within all man to be animalistic and self-centered. Chametz is “puffy”, symbolizing pride and feelings of self-importance, when really it is just full of hot air. Earlier in this essay, I mentioned sanctimonious to describe this. Being a mainstay of physical sustenance, it also symbolizes materialism. Conversely, matzah is equated to the “good inclination”, the drive in man to strive towards being good and take their rightful place above animals, intellectually and spiritually. Matzah is unassuming, unrisen and uninfluenced by outside sources that “sours” it and will eventually make it stale. Instead, it takes the flour, and it takes the water, the physical and spiritual, and makes a compromise without compromising itself. The path to become like matzah is difficult and steep, so much so that even a small slip-up can undo years of work on oneself. Yikes!!!
Since Passover is about the spiritual birth of a nation, it is especially appropriate for the Torah to make sure that the “infant” nation stay away from spirtual harm, represented by chometz. Just like a parent must be especially vigilant to make sure a baby stays away from all sicknesses and harmful objects, so too is the Torah commanding the Jewish people (and this certainly applies to non-Jews alike) to be especially vigilant for their infantile spiritual fragility. I merely mention it like this to drive home the point, that this is not advice for those who have a different belief system, or no belief system at all. Our common values makes us human.
The difference in the spellings of words, chometz and chametz, can be a little confusing. Words matter and are of supreme importance. Among many sources, the fight between the good and evil inclinations can be seen in the etymology of the words “chometz” and “matzah”. From “Journal of a Rabbi”, by the late Chief Rabbi of the British Commonwealth, Lord Immanuel Jakobovits: “Chametz literally means “oppressive” as “the oppressor” and chometz “the violent man”. Thus the two different meanings. In the immediate sense, therefore, chametz refers to the violence done to the dough by the process of fermentation which oppresses it and turns it sour. But in the figurative sense the enjoyment of freedom demands the removal and destruction of all oppression which sours human society. Often the attainment and preservation of liberty requires action in haste before the grain of order goes to seed and ferments into violence and oppression.”
“Matzah means not only “unleavened bread” but also ‘“strife.’” Just as lechem, “bread” means “to fight”, “war” – referring to the struggle in earning a living, so matzah, replacing bread on Passover, characterizes the same fight for sustenance. Only bread is a universal quest (“war” – fight between nations), while matzah involves a struggle limited to one people (“strife” – fight between individuals). Matzah is also connected with matzatz – “to squeeze”, “to suck out”, perhaps a hint at the leaven which is “squeezed out” and eliminated. Matzah, then, commonly known as the “bread of affliction“, symbolizes struggle combined with poverty, hardship deprived of wealth, as the essential ingredient of salvation.” To some other faiths, that may seem familiar.
Perhaps in addition to that, matzah also represents to struggle within one’s spiritually. That struggle is the point of existence, and one must always strive to rid himself of the “chometz,” the violent man, in one’s life.
So, now it’s time for a metaphor and bringing this into a modern day perspective.
Jewish scholars who spoke of the teachings of the Oral Torah said, “Master of the Universe! It’s obvious to You that we want to do what You want done. So what is holding us back? The yeast in the dough!” (Talmud)
What is so terrible about chametz (bread) that once a year, religious Jews must search, burn and destroy any trace of it in their possession?
Because yeast makes a little dough into a big loaf of hot air. And that pretty much describes the fundamental gameplay of all that imprisons people. The metaphor of gameplay is fascinating. When playing a game, players [of computer video games] seek challenge, mastery and reward, all packed in entailing and motivating activities. From this stems the importance of gameplay as a crucial game design cornerstone, and game mechanics as tools that the player has to interact with in order to carry out gameplay activities.
It’s like the yeast that takes a person’s healthy need to earn an honest living and blows it up into a desperate need for recognition and yet more recognition.
Or, like the yeast that mixes in when a person is about to do a beautiful mitzvah, a commandment, or a kind act, out of the sincerity of their heart, saying, “Yes! Do it! People will say that person is such a Tzadik, a righteous person, a mensch.
Or the yeast that appears when a person is studying the wisdom of Torah and it whispers, “Soon you will be wiser than anyone else!” That’s sanctimonious!
It is that yeast that ties every thought, every word, every deed a person does to their ego, Edging God Out, as though their existence is somehow invalidated if they do not occupy more and more space every day—with nothing but hot air. Forgetting who the real source of their success, or at least doesn’t see the everyday miracles.
We are its (the egos) prisoner. It is the taskmaster. It has stolen our life from us, rendering us just another subject in an oppressive world we must satisfy and please.
On Passover, Jewish people are empowered to break their chains of bondage. To do the commandments, or an act of loving kindness (chesed) only because it connects them to their God. To learn Torah wisdom only to become one with divine wisdom. To be oneself. To escape bondage to anything in this world. To be free.
And a Jewish person begins by ritually eradicating a physical manifestation of that ego from their world. By enacting the ritual, by retelling the story, the Jewish people are empowered to set themselves free.
Confessions of a Cowtown Culturalist 
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