A Kinder and Gentler Religion
When God’s kindness is demonstrated through acts of human courage and dignity, we can continue to believe, despite it all. Even when God is silent.
In 2013, I gave a sermon about the film, “Life of Pi,” which had just come out, and it has great relevance to our situation today. If you want to hear the full sermon, you’ll find it below. (Click here to download it.)
What follows is an edited and adapted text. Religion will have a crucial role to play during the next four years. I see this essay as a roadmap to religious meaning for the skeptic, the cynic, the exhausted, the hopeless, the non-believer. All of us are facing great challenges right now, and for many, that translates to a crisis of faith. There is a way to believe, even when God appears silent. Welcome to the religion of “Life of Pi,” which corresponds to the Hebrew expression “Af-al-pi,” which means, “Despite it all.”
Late in 2012, a film came out, Life of Pi, based on a bestselling book (which has since become a play), that drew lots of attention and an Oscar nomination for Best Picture. It was also the most overtly religious film of that year. The protagonist, after all, is a Hindu who adopts both Christianity and Islam in his childhood, and, when challenged to select one, Pi quotes Gandhi in saying "All religions are true.1”
All except Judaism, evidently, which is nowhere to be found on his quest. At least on the surface.
The story is a complex one, and in the end, it’s really hard to say what has transpired. For most of the film, we are witness to a world where faith and kindness miraculously prevail, as Pi survives a horrible shipwreck and floats across the Pacific with the only other survivor, a ferocious Bengal tiger, whom Pi befriends and tames. But at the film’s end, insurance agents demand a more believable account, and Pi is compelled to provide a much harsher version of what happened. We are then challenged to choose which truth to accept: the brutal but more believable story, or the one with the tiger - the one that leads to God - the one that Pi calls the “better story.”
The message of Life of Pi is that a life imbued with meaning and purpose, a life where kindness prevails, where the storm is defeated and death is vanquished, that is, in truth, a better story than a life devoid of meaning, a life of randomness, chaos and coincidence – a life without God - even if that latter version of events appears to be more factually correct.
We choose the story that we wish to accept as the means to organize our lives. And like Pascal2, Pi believes it is best to place our wager on God. In some cases, as with Don Quixote3, the choice is really not a choice at all, but a descent into madness, albeit a madness marked by beauty, dignity, and chivalrous love. The message of Life of Pi is that the world is better off with the God story, whether or not it is true.
For Jews, the choice is much more difficult – because we are big on reason. For us, it’s not a matter of faith or reason. We have faith IN reason. You don’t win about one quarter of the Nobel Prizes in chemistry, physics, economics and medicine if you don’t believe in reason. The more factual story needs to be the better story, even with all its horrors. We accept the awfulness of this world and the eclipse of God4, and we believe - in spite of it.
We continue to struggle with that God, the one who allowed Jonah to be thrown to the waves, who allowed 6 million to die in the Holocaust, who allowed 20 children to die in Newtown, 1,200 in the Gaza Envelope on Oct. 7, who allowed the Boston bombers to shatter lives at the finish line, who allowed 1127 people to die in a decrepit Bangladesh clothing factory, who allowed Moore, Oklahoma to be flattened by a twister. We accept the reality of all that.
And we look for signs of the better story in how God’s kindness emerges in these storms, through acts of human courage and dignity. We saw it in those exhausted runners in Boston, who ran toward the explosion to assist the injured on Patriots Day. We saw it in hordes of volunteers who poured into Long Island and New Jersey after the flood waters of Superstorm Sandy receded. We see it every day in our own communities. We see it at every shiva. We see it while we wipe every tear. That is OUR better story. It is the story we tell – and the story we write – even when God seems so far away.
Allied troops discovered a poem written on the walls of a basement in Cologne at the end of the war:5
I believe in the sun even when it is not shining.
I believe in love even when feeling it not.
I believe in God even when God is silent.
There is no greater statement about how Jews - and others - believe. It’s been immortalized in music.
And here’s the amazing thing: Life of Pi is telling us the exact same thing – this film about a Hindu who converts to Christianity and Islam is actually a very Jewish story.
The ship that sinks in the Pacific – Pi’s ship – the name of the ship is the “Tsimtsum.” Next time you see the film, look for the name – you have to be ready, and stop the tape. But it’s there. And it tells a story.
Tsimtsum6 is a theological concept created by Rabbi Isaac Luria, also called the Ari, arguably the greatest of the Kabbalists of 16th century Safed. He was troubled by the existence of evil in the world and asked the Jewish question – how could God be present in the face of such a dire reality? Is there a place for God - and all faith - in such a world? His world was not that different from that of Don Quixote – but rather than choosing madness as the solution, he chose Tsimtsum. In order to create a finite world, the Ari theorized that God had to voluntarily contract, create space, pull back – LEAN OUT, as it were, like a parent, to allow the universe to grow. God became hidden and evil became possible. But so did good. So did choice. So did reason.
Our quest, then, mirrors the Kabbalistic quest, and it has been the prevailing Jewish theology since the Ari: to restore God’s presence to the world, to heal the world, or as Jews say in the Aleinu prayer, “l’ta-ken olam b’malchut shaddai,” “to repair the world as a place for divinity to reign.” Tikkun Olam – that oft-used concept that is now a pillar of progressive Judaism, comes from this verse.
So this is how the Jewish story goes. The Tsimsum is sunk, and Pi’s life is thrown into chaos, and whatever happens next, whether or not there is a tiger, there is a lion – that is, an ari, which in Hebrew means lion - in other words, Pi’s vision reflects the world of the Ari, where God has become hidden. Pi then becomes the instrument of God’s goodness - and in maintaining his humanity, despite the calamities he faces in either of his accounts, he is the author of the better story – he brings God back into the world.
In a world of Tzimtzum, the hidden God becomes manifest through human love.
Jewish and Gentle, Despite it all
For Isaac Luria’s God, Tsimtsum is the ultimate act of God modeling for us an example of how important it is to pull back – not to disengage, but to engage with deference, not to run and hide, but to give space to the other, not to give away, but to give way, to share, accept, include, to love unconditionally, without demands, to forge a covenant of peace with others and with ourselves.
I am a proponent of what I’ve often called “Jewish and Gentle.” And I believe that is Judaism’s true nature as well as Judaism’s better story.
The defining battle taking place in the Jewish world right now is not between orthodox and progressive, because the same war rages within each of the movements too. It is the battle between justice and love, strictness and acceptance, exclusivity and inclusivity, between keeping out and welcoming in.
This is in fact the defining battle in religion today. It rages within Islam and Christianity, and in other religions too.
This is Judaism’s better story: Despite the torture, despite the pogroms, despite Pharaoh, Nebuchadnezzar, Haman, Titus, Hadrian, Torquemada, the Czars, Stalin, Hitler, Ahmadinijad – and now Hamas - despite them all, and despite the horrible reality they perpetrated, despite it all, our real story is that we have never abandoned our basic human capacity for kindness.
Being “Jewish and Gentle” makes me an “Af al pi” Jew – “Af al pi” means “despite it all” – and it forms part of Maimonides’ ultimate principle of faith, in Messianic redemption. It’s what Jews chanted on the way to the gas chambers.7 V’af al pi, sheyitmamaya, im kol zeh ani ma’amin…” “Even if he tarries, despite it all, I believe.”
The song Ani Ma’amin, “I (still) Believe,” has become the universal Jewish anthem of defiant hope despite unspeakable calamity, eclipsing even Hatikva in some respects.
It’s based on this passage from the biblical prophet Habakkuk:
When Jews who survived the Holocaust had a choice, to die or live on, the easy choice would have been to give up and die. But many tried to slip past the British blockade into Mandate Palestine on old, battered ships. 116 such ships succeeded, despite all the odds, and over 100,000 Jewish refugees were rescued. That one surviving ship, now standing proudly as a memorial on the Israeli coast is called the Af-Al-Pi-Chen. Despite it all.
I see myself as one of the legions of progressive “af al pi” Jews. We believe, despite it all. And we are kind, despite it all. We are not vengeful. We do not restrict, exclude, spit at, and humiliate people because they happen to be different from us. We do not ignore the plight of refugees, for we were strangers in the lands of Europe, and off the coast of Corsica and in the camps of Cyprus.
“To despair now would be a blasphemy.”
The 1973 Yom Kippur War, was, without question, at least until October 7, 2023, the most harrowing period of Israel’s existence8. A surprise attack on our holiest of days. Services were interrupted as sirens sounded and soldiers’ names were read off, calling them to their units. For several days, Israel’s very existence hung in the balance. The Egyptians broke through in the south. Syrian tanks were that close to cutting off the Galilee. Israel won this war, thank God, but the scars of 1973 still remain. Just weeks after, Elie Wiesel wrote a passage, an essay called “Against Despair.”
He wrote:
“We owe it to our past not to lose hope…That is the lesson Judaism teaches us: that one must turn every experience into a life force. One must not let the enemy impose his laws. The enemy wants us to be angry so as to let anger distort the image we have of ourselves? We will not let him. He wants us to open ourselves to hate and despair? We will not listen.”
“We owe it to our past not to lose hope,” Wiesel continued. ”Say what you may, despair is not the solution. Not for us. Quite the contrary: we must show our children that in spite of everything, we keep our faith – in ourselves and even in mankind, though mankind is not worthy of such a faith.”
“To despair now,” he concluded, “would be a blasphemy.”
In spite of everything. Af al pi.
And isn’t it strange how “af al pi” sounds like “Life of Pi.”
We can believe in a world where love can prevail, despite it all.
In spite of the fact, af al pi chen, that we have been the most persecuted people in all of history, we do not bully! In spite of the fact, af al pi chen, that we been denied basic human rights time and time again, from ancient Egypt to the Nuremberg laws, we do not deny basic human rights.
We project God’s love to all humanity and fight to protect the innocent from despots who seek to harm innocents. And we do this, even when God is silent – for if we do this, God is not silent.
My God is a gentle God. My God is a loving God. My God is a healing God. We need to promote a theology of inclusion, and we need to do it unapologetically, despite all our scars – maybe even because of them.
Too often in the past, we’ve ceded the field to those who cage children at the Mexican border and spit at women at the Western Wall. “Of course we want women’s rights,” they say, “but doesn’t normative Judaism forbid women from wearing a tallis?” Well, actually, no.
Too often in the past, we’ve allowed religious rigidity to blind us from basic injustice. “Of course we want equal rights for gays,” they say, “but doesn’t Judaism actually frown on that?” Well actually, no.
Af-al-pi means to believe in a world where love can prevail, despite it all.
The Long View
According to author Steven Pinker, the real story, right now, is also the better story. You can see it over millennia, over centuries, over decades and over years. Until 10,000 years ago, humans lived as hunter-gatherers, with no government or permanent settlements. In these ancient times, and well beyond, the likelihood that a man would die at the hands of another man, in the Amazon Rainforest or the New Guinea Highlands, was almost 60 percent. And then things didn’t get much better. Think of the horrific battle scenes described in our own Bible. It was mass carnage. Think of something that happened exactly a hundred fifty years ago in Gettysburg. Utter carnage.
In the 20th century, supposedly the worst, most warlike century of all time, 100 million people died in war. If the death rate of ancient times was applied to the population of the 20th century, 2 billion would have died. Throughout history, torture was routine, people were killed for the smallest crimes, tongues were cut out, hands were chopped off, and entire nations were enslaved. Your name didn’t have to be Jean Valjean to be sent to the dungeon for stealing a loaf of bread. Pinker speaks of medieval festivals featuring a popular form of entertainment: the practice of cat burning, in which a cat was hoisted on a stage and lowered in a sling into a fire, and the spectators shrieked in laughter as the cat, howling in pain, was burned to death. I saw the square in Madrid where the Inquisition did that to people. What fun! People were pretty nasty back then.
This was a much crueler planet just a few years ago. But homicide and violent crime rates have dropped significantly in our big cities, despite the continued danger posed by the proliferation of guns - and the unspeakable evil perpetrated by terrorists.
It doesn’t reduce the pain of so many victims to know this, but it does limit the capacity of Trump and his followers to claim that the country is “dying,” as Pinker himself has demonstrated.9
Each of us has plenty of reason to be bitter. Each one of us has plenty of reason to succumb to cynicism or despair. Each one of us has found him or herself abandoned and cast aside. Each one of us, like Pi, or Elie Wiesel, has come face to face with the certainty of death. Each one of us, like Israel in 1973 and again in 2023, has been caught by surprise by the cruelty of its neighbors.
And yet.
We must never despair. For we are the instruments of God’s kindness and love, even when God appears silent. It is ours to share, to accept, to include, and to be vigilant in the pursuit of peace with our neighbors. To believe, despite it all. To be kind, despite it all. To be Jewish and gentle, to BE Judaism’s better story. And to be the world’s.
Af al pi chen. Despite it all.
Gandhi wrote in his autobiography, “After long study and experience, I have come to the conclusion that (1) all religions are true; (2) all religions have some error in them; (3) all religions are almost as dear to me as my own Hinduism, inasmuch as all human beings should be as dear to one as one’s own close relatives.” “I believe that all the great religions of the world are true more or less. I say “more or less” because I believe that everything that the human hand touches, by reason of the very fact that human beings are imperfect, becomes imperfect. Perfection is the exclusive attribute of God and it is indescribable, untranslatable. I do believe that it is possible for every human being to become perfect even as God is perfect.”
Pascal's wager is the name for an idea by Blaise Pascal. He said that it is not possible to prove or disprove that God exists and that when it comes to God’s existence, we are taking a big risk. Pascal thought it is better to bet that God exists, and therefore to live accordingly.
Without dreams, our lives are meaningless. Without dreams we are nothing. Cervantes wrote in Don Quixote, “Too much sanity may be madness — and maddest of all: to see life (only) as it is, and not as it should be!” See my sermon for RH 2021. I tried to imagine what was going through the mind of Cervantes when he conjured up Don Quixote's signature moment of chivalry and valor. How pointless it seems to fight windmills. Yet how courageous it was for Cervantes to flail away at the windmills of oppression and the scourge of the Inquisition. Don Quixote loses his grip on reality, but his madness is channeled into a moral and noble pursuit. Yes, we need the courage to march into hell for a heavenly cause; but that vision must be anchored in wisdom. If all we have is the pure oxygen of untempered faith, you are susceptible to fall into hands of a demagogue.
You can read a pdf version of Martin Buber’s classic book, “Eclipse of God,” here.
Here’s the original story: Catholic Scouts had discovered underground passageways which had been unused for many years under old buildings, and these could now serve as refuges from the Gestapo. At one point, nine Jewish fugitives hid here for four months without ever being caught. When I visited the shelter, I had the opportunity to see the emergency housing, fully equipped with a kitchen, bedroom, living room, radio, a small library, and oil lamps — evidence of a stunning experience. Meals could only be prepared at night so as not to attract the Gestapo’s attention, who would have noticed the smoke during the day. Food had to be supplied by friends who willingly gave up a portion of their rations to help those unfortunate people living for weeks in utter darkness. The following inscription is written on the wall of one of these underground rooms, which in some ways resemble the Roman catacombs: “I believe in the sun, though it be dark; I believe in God, though He be silent; I believe in neighborly love, though it be unable to reveal itself.” (trans. of original article published June 26, 1945 in the Swiss newspaper Neue Zürcher Nachrichten by an unnamed reporter writing from Cologne.)
In the creation myth of ancient Judaic mysticism, God creates the universe by a process dubbed tzimtzum, which in Hebrew means a sort of stepping back to allow for there to be an Other, an Else, as in something or someone else. The Judaic notion of a world of Free Will (Talmud Berachot 33b) is deeply rooted in this concept, in the understanding that in creating life, the Eyn-Sof, or the Endless One, subdued the omnipotent, all-embracing Divine Presence for the sake of the realization of the Divine Will that there be other beings (Etz Chaim 1:1:2.) Our world, then is the sacred space that the Great Spirit gave as a gift to us, a space in which to be as human as divinely possible, and as divine as humanly possible. A space to err, to fall, to believe, to doubt, to cry, to laugh. Our space, created by the simple motion of stepping back, the humble act of honoring the separate reality of an Other.
Rabbi Gershon Winkler with Lakme Batya Elior, The Place Where You are Standing Is Holy: A Jewish Theology on Human Relationships. (page 1)
Read one account of the origins of the “An Ma’amin” melody here. The "Ani Ma'amin" melody, born in the depths of suffering during the Holocaust, became a powerful symbol of Jewish faith and resilience. Its journey from a death train to synagogues worldwide exemplifies how music and spirituality intertwined to provide hope and strength during one of history's darkest periods. Today, the song continues to be sung in Jewish communities, serving as a poignant reminder of the Holocaust and a testament to the enduring nature of faith. Nine versions of this song can be listened to from the Jewish Music Archive at SaveTheMusic.com
See below for links on the Yom Kippur War and its significance:
Click here for a packet of articles from the Jerusalem Post from the fall and winter of 1973-74, taken from the collection, Yom Kippur Plus 100 Days.
When Leonard Cohen Met Ariel Sharon in the Sinai Desert (NLI); The story of how the Jewish-Canadian singer-songwriter ended up singing for soldiers and crossing the Suez Canal with the IDF during one of Israel's most desperate hours..
Israel Declassifies Massive Archive to Mark 50th Anniversary of Yom Kippur War. (see Golda's notes below)
In a guest column in the NYT on 10/29/24, Pinker disproved all of Trump’s claims, point by point and concluded, “None of this progress happened by itself. In the natural course of events, things get worse, not better, as benevolent conditions give way to disorder, disease and the worst of human nature. Progress is the dividend of human beings recognizing problems and mustering their ingenuity and will to solve them.”
You are certainly free to do that Joan. This essay was designed to offer an option for those struggling with faith. But there is no one answer. I welcome everyone to share their perspectives.
I found a lot of comfort and sensibility in your essay today. I also enjoy the way you bring all the events, writings and history together. It makes so much sense and provides abundant, thought-provoking information. Thank you Rabbi Joshua!