Car Journeys from hell: Can we enjoy life without guilt?

Have you ever turned around and felt that guilt is far too dominant as a basis for religious life? I believe it is a product of the compartmentalised book mindset I discussed last week. The following story is a case in point from one of the most awkward car journey moments I have ever had:

It happened about four years ago; two of my friends and I were in a car with a particular rabbi, animatedly discussing an issue that bothered us about our responsibilities in Jewish outreach. All three of us were very passionate about the subject and enjoyed the opportunity to address these issues with someone older, wiser and more experienced. But at one point the rabbi stopped and turned to us with the following question: Well, we've discussed that topic - now what's everyone been learning - do you have a sefer to learn from or a D'var Torah? 

The three of is froze, awkwardly. We stayed silent for about thirty seconds. Slowly, I produced a book that I happened to be carrying and started reading, agonisingly, for about ten minutes. It was awkward, painstaking and completely artificial. The rabbi smiled indulgently whilst the three of us sat there feeling mildly humiliated and guilty. The subtext was clear: "You're frum, you should be discussing words of Torah. If you aren't, you're not doing very well are you?". The perfect guilt trip and an illuminating window into the minds of our teachers.

This story has stuck in the mind as the thing that irritates me most about how most informed and educated people understand religious observance and their inability to see it holistically. 

But I must approach this with a degree of humility. Perhaps I am not correct; perhaps every action I do does need to be based upon an underlying basis to be considered appropriately religious, a means to an ends. It may not be enough to enjoy something and I may think along these lines as a form of self-legitimisation. But it raises lots of questions:

For example, even in the minds of those who associate with the 'Modern Orthodox' mindset, is personal development a religious end in itself or only inasmuch as it makes me go to shul more, pray with more concentration or learn more Torah?

This week's parasha reminds me of this point. On the one hand, we have the golden calf - condemned as the deceptive intermediary between man and God, preventing the pure relationship between God and His people. In sermons this is often extended to all material goods and pleasures - be careful not to make them into a golden calf. But it is also interesting to read the ornate descriptions of the mishkan and the garments of the Kohen that surrounds this parasha. I know the discussions surrounding the relationship between the two but what if people forgot to make the link between lofty elevation of divine service and the nice shiny looking objects? They might have had an off day and then it's cow time again. Shouldn't that be avoided too?

 Sanctify the mundane for holy purposes but don't let it escalate - a very thin line. It leads me to something I have thought about a lot recently: Does Judaism require me to link everything I value directly to God or not? Could I gaze at the garments of the Kohen, for example, dazzled by their splendour and enjoy their beauty or would I need to say - Wow, what an amazing creation of God's? 

It is the question of whether God can or should be found in the immediate situation and experience you are encountering even if it is not directly linked to Him. Is it enough to be happy, interested, joyful or grateful? Are these positive, life enhancing sensations inherently Godly? Because personally I think that if they are not, the 'means to an ends' doesn't work very well and guilt will prevail. And if they are they should be discussed far more. 

You see, when you go off to work or university thinking that the primary expression of being religious is the active involvement with a gemarah or a positive fulfilment of commandment x or y then the following scenario will occur time and time again, and it has nothing necessarily to do with the great appeal of the outside world or its temptations: 

You start by happily thinking along the lines you have been taught: Look forward to the mincha, to the learning later, to the providing of a parnassah for your family. But then you find that you begin to enjoy other things. Things that don't seem prohibited but that don't seem obviously religious. Maybe it is the work, the social interaction with colleagues or just being involved in a Jewish society at University... 

 Then a little gremlin taps you on your shoulder saying: Shouldn't you be learning? Are you doing this for the right reasons ie. so that you can sustain something else which is actually important? Yes, that makes this important by extension but it doesn't feel that way. It becomes a competition for attention between 'you' as you see yourself and 'you' as you are supposed to want to be. Some would call it cheshbon ha nefesh. Others would say it's a lifetime guilt trip. Something's gonna give and guess what? It's rarely the thing you actually enjoy.
 And somewhere along the way, the music starts to fade. Because God is only found in the 'other' thing.

In future posts I would like to link this discussion to the topic of 'Shleimut' or 'completeness' found in the writings of medieval and early modern Jewish writers linked to an ideal of personal development very similar to that found in renaissance thought.