The Emperor’s New Clothes: Releasing Repressed Beliefs (Column 575)

With God’s help.

Disclaimer: This post was translated from Hebrew using AI (ChatGPT 5 Thinking), so there may be inaccuracies or nuances lost. If something seems unclear, please refer to the Hebrew original or contact us for clarification.

To my firstborn son Nahman and to my first grandchild Uriya (who is not his daughter),

whose conversation prompted me to understand myself and my project better.

For a long time I’ve noticed phenomena of cognitive doubleness: a person who, deep inside, thinks one thing, while on the conscious level thinks something else—and certainly acts as if he thinks something else. In this column I wish to describe this strange phenomenon in its varieties. As I will explain, this discussion also helped me better understand the goal I’ve set for myself on this site and beyond.

Deceiving the Mind on High

In Genesis 4 the Torah describes Cain’s murder of Abel, the punishment of exile decreed upon him, his fear that whoever finds him will kill him, and God’s promise to protect him. Then, in verse 16, the Torah writes:

“And Cain went out from before the LORD and settled in the land of Nod, east of Eden.”

On this verse, Midrash Aggadah (Buber) on Genesis states:

“‘And Cain went out from before the LORD…’—as one who deceives the Mind on high. ‘And he dwelt in the land of Nod.’ Since he acted deceitfully, saying, ‘My sin is too great to bear,’ therefore He forgave him only half the sin, as He said to him: ‘A fugitive and a wanderer shall you be in the earth.’”

In effect he deceived the Holy One, for his repentance was not sincere and complete.

Rashi there writes:

“‘And Cain went out’—he went out submissively, like one who deceives the Mind on high.”

By the very manner of his leaving he “stole the mind” of the Holy One.

Already in verse 9 such a deception is described:

“‘Where is Abel your brother?’—to engage him with gentle words, perhaps he would admit and say, ‘I killed him, and I have sinned to You.’ ‘I do not know’—he acted as one who deceives the Mind on high.”

He was deceiving the Holy One already there. It seems that what happens in verse 16 is just a continuation of that move.

Did Cain not understand that the Holy One knows? Whom is he fooling? I assume Cain understood this very well, and yet he tries to deceive the Holy One. A person can know something in his heart and at the same time act the opposite. It is not clear how tangible it is for him that he is acting under an assumption contrary to the truth, but he apparently convinces himself in some way that the Holy One does not know. Cain deceived himself first of all, and that is what enabled him to think he could deceive the Holy One. Perhaps the prophet Jonah, who flees from before the LORD, also deceived himself. Can one flee from before the LORD? We’re talking about a prophet, not a little child. But he managed to deceive himself and create within himself a consciousness as if one could deceive the Holy One. I suppose that deep inside they both knew all along that this was a false consciousness, but it didn’t stop them from living within that consciousness and acting by it through self-persuasion.

Examples

Years ago I saw an essay by Rabbi Shach in a book his grandson published collecting his essays on the weekly portions, in which he described the phenomenon of cognitive doubleness and used this midrash about “deceiving the Mind on high.” Rabbi Shach explains that this is a widespread human phenomenon: people can lie to someone who knows they are lying—and they too know that he knows—and yet they lie. They are in fact lying first and foremost to themselves. I think we all know such agreed-upon lies. By way of example, he describes a situation in which a yeshiva student strolls on Shabbat by the eruv wire and his hat flies out beyond it. He looks this way and that to make sure the Holy One is not watching (not people—the point is truly the Holy One), then slips out, grabs the hat, and rushes back in humming a jaunty tune. Does he think the Holy One does not know and does not see? He knows quite well that the Holy One sees, but in his conscious awareness he convinces himself that He does not see and slips past Him.[1]

This reminds me of a story I have told here before. As a child my father took me with him to his work at the Technion, where he let me play chess with a master. Needless to say, in all our games I was utterly trounced. At some point that master suggested I play against myself and said it is an excellent technique to improve. In such a situation I know all the plans of the other side and therefore cannot rely on mistakes or lack of attention on his (that is, my) part. I have to play optimally in every given position and force a win objectively (not rely on errors). I tried it, and I must tell you it’s as hard as the splitting of the Sea. Try it and enjoy. Again and again I found myself cheating (myself). I found myself playing as if I hadn’t noticed what the “other” would do (though of course I knew it by my spirit of prophecy), and—what a wonder!—“he” didn’t notice my trick (or I didn’t notice “his”), and I beat “him” (or “he” beat me). Incidentally, there was always one side I identified with: the color on the side where I was sitting. The other side, in my consciousness, was the opponent. In the terms of Column 81, one could say that the other side was “I,” whereas the first side was my “self.” In short, my “self” deceived me.

I described a similar phenomenon in the past regarding Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav’s story of the Rooster-Prince. I showed that there too it is a person living and acting with a cognitive doubleness. In Column 199 I applied this analysis to idolatry. A person can know there is nothing to it and yet his inclination compels him to serve it. But when he does so it’s not merely practical behavior; he constructs within himself a consciousness that there is substance to it and that it can help or harm him (see Maimonides, Laws of Idolatry 3:6), even as at the same time, deep inside, he knows there is nothing to it. Is this conscious or unconscious? Hard to tell. There I also extended this to the law of “we coerce him until he says ‘I desire [to comply].’” The understanding that sin is generally accompanied by cognitive doubleness greatly helps to understand that puzzling law.

The story about Terah and our father Abraham (alluded to there in the column) is a superb example of this. The midrash (Genesis Rabbah 38:13) relates:

“Rabbi Ḥiyya, son of the son of Rav Adda of Difo: Terah was an idol-seller. One time he went out to a place and seated Abraham to sell in his stead… One time a woman came with a bowl of fine flour in her hand. She said to him, ‘Here, offer it before them.’ He took a stick in his hand, smashed all the idols, and put the stick in the hand of the largest among them. When his father came, he said to him, ‘Who did this to them?’ He said to him, ‘What can I hide from you? A certain woman came with a bowl of fine flour and said to me, “Here, offer it before them.” I offered it before them. This one said, “I shall eat first,” and that one said, “I shall eat first.” The large one among them arose, took the stick, and smashed them.’ He said to him, ‘Why do you mock me? Do they know anything?’ He said to him, ‘Let your ears hear what your mouth is saying…’”

Terah returns and finds all the idols in his shop broken. When Abraham tells him a splendid tale about a quarrel among the idols over the bowl of flour the woman brought—resulting in the largest smashing all the others in his wrath—Terah doesn’t buy it: Do they have the power to smash one another? Surely you haven’t forgotten that Terah the elder was a veteran idolater, and from this story it is clear he understood perfectly well that an idol can do nothing. So how did he serve them? What was he expecting? The correct understanding that was buried deep inside him does not contradict his conscious thought as an idol worshiper who expects results. He lives and acts out of a consciousness that he himself, deep inside, knows is nonsense. This is a wonderful example of cognitive doubleness.

Why is it so hard for us to understand this midrash about Terah? Why do we all laugh? Because our nature and the culture within which we operate have changed. Today we are incapable of understanding the thought that attributes reality to idolatry; and even if we hear about someone who worshiped idols, it’s clear that he truly believed in it. We cannot grasp that he lived with a cognitive doubleness—and that is precisely what the midrash about Terah comes to teach. This is what the Sages in Aggadah (Yoma 69b) call “the nullification of the urge for idolatry.” To understand this better, think about the sexual urge, which still exists among us (at least regarding a married woman, even if not regarding close relatives; see the gemara there). Unlike idolatry, in the context of sexual matters this phenomenon is familiar to us. People commit a forbidden act, and many of them are aware even at the time that it is not proper and not right. But I am certain that in the midst of the act many tell themselves stories that it is legitimate and not harmful (so long as no one finds out), and they act within a consciousness that, deep inside, they know is vain. The urge fashions for us a false consciousness, while within we in fact know it is false. Is this conscious or unconscious? I don’t know; probably something in the middle.

This same matter arises almost every time I speak about the modern shift in consciousness that prevents us from understanding how people used to think. My claim is that the halakhic attitude toward heretics and deniers should be directed only at those who are heretics due to their inclinations, not those who truly believe so. I argued that once upon a time this was the case, for belief in God was clear to all, and even one who did not believe in the depths of his heart still did believe. His sin and idolatry stemmed from inclination, and he acted in a false consciousness as if this were truly what he believed—but inside he understood it was not true. By contrast, today a person who does not believe typically has truly reached a different conclusion. Inside as well he has no other thought. Because of this change, we struggle today to understand the ancient state of affairs. We’re dealing with cognitive doubleness in a domain foreign to us. A person may believe in the Holy One deep inside but construct for himself a theory of unbelief—even of idolatry—and then live and act by it. This is not an absurd state. Indeed, this is what happens for many of us when we commit a one-off sin. The urge overcomes us, but in the very midst of the act we operate within a consciousness (we deceive ourselves) that this is really the proper act and permitted, although already at the time of the act it is clear to us deep inside that it is not so. The human being is a complicated creature (see also Columns 172–173 for the discussion of weakness of will).

My impression of the attitude toward the Haredi “great men of the generation” is always similar. I find that yeshiva men and scholars are generally very clear-headed and down-to-earth (I think to a greater extent than you’ll find in other communities). The jokes in the Haredi street about “the gri’sh Efrati,” and the like, testify a thousand testimonies that everyone knows how Rabbi Elyashiv (R. Yosef Shalom Elyashiv) arrived at his positions regarding reality (which he usually did not know directly). Rabbi Efrati, his faithful aide, spoon-fed him, and thus various directives and rulings were formulated and issued. And notwithstanding all this, Rabbi Elyashiv’s directives were regarded by the public—including by most of the cynics and mockers—as binding, as if they issued from the mouth of Heaven. The same holds for Rabbi Kanievsky, and others. Such people live with a magnificent doubleness: deep inside they understand how these directives are formed, yet at the same time it is clear to them as if they came from the Chamber of Hewn Stone and from the mouth of Heaven and fall under “you shall not deviate,” and therefore of course they obey with valor and devotion. Everyone knows who appoints the “great man of the generation,” but that does not prevent them from treating him and his words with sanctity and awe.

There are plenty of clips online showing how fixers enter the presence of the “great man of the generation,” typically someone around age 100 who can barely breathe, and they put into his mouth various statements and positions. If he insists on not approving them (and we have seen clips where he shows annoying lucidity and refuses), they continue and return again and again until they extract from him some version of the desired position. This immediately goes up on walls and bulletin boards and becomes an article of faith that issued from the mouth of the high priest in sanctity and purity (unless it is disqualified by the politruks, in which case it is fated to be archived—like the statements of Rabbi Edelstein discussed in Column 490). I assume it is no accident that Yated Ne’eman is careful to appoint “great men of the generation” at age 100 (ever rising), lest they, God forbid, be capable of forming positions independently (the poor souls—biology works against them. Once 70 or 80 sufficed, but cursed medicine serves the hands of the scoundrels and deniers by lengthening life expectancy). These are not merely lives in falsehood. This is doubleness. Inside, most Haredim know they are being played and that this is the situation; but in day-to-day conduct they truly live in the consciousness that it is not so. Fascinating indeed.

After the fact, one can offer justifications such as “the spirit of the LORD rests upon His holy servants,” etc., but in my assessment these are excuses. This is a clear example of cognitive doubleness.

Cognitive Doubleness in the Religious World

This brings me to an important point. The phenomenon of cognitive doubleness largely characterizes the religious world and even more so the Haredi world. A religious person is required to hold beliefs, some of which strike him as bizarre and incompatible with reality and common sense. He is told about providence and divine involvement in the world; about a tithe that always yields a response, and about tithing that enriches; about the goodness and righteousness of Jews and their special quality over gentiles; about saints who were killed for their Judaism (what is called “mistaken sanctifications”—see Column 215); about the idea that “everything is in the Torah” (though somehow we never actually see it); about there being no substance to the claims of biblical criticism—everything is the counsel of the evil inclination; about the sanctity of the Amoraim and Tannaim and of course the Rishonim, who can never err and could revive the dead; and so on and so forth—folk legends we got used to treating as pure truth and articles of faith, while deep inside our natural feeling is that there is nothing to it.

The Haredim broaden the phenomenon because among them there are additional fabricated articles of faith beyond those we got used to. They speak of the holy spirit resting on rabbis and “great men of the generation,” and of their wondrous familiarity with worldly matters. There are miracle tales about Haredi continuity (Moses walked with a gartel and shtreimel and spoke Yiddish. “They did not change their dress”), for as is known, “everything that a seasoned student will one day innovate was shown by the Holy One to Moses at Sinai.” Every junior yeshiva fellow is clear about the parameters of “you shall not deviate,” but that doesn’t stop anyone from wildly expanding them without any basis. They, of course, contribute marvelously to society and it is perfectly clear that society must carry them on its back and exempt them from all civic obligations. Anyone who says otherwise is an anti-Semite and a denier. Within many of them there nests a natural and healthy feeling that all this is wicked nonsense—but that, of course, is the counsel of the evil inclination.

We all know everything and yet continue to obey and declaim these slogans with zeal and determination. The reason is that denial of these articles of faith (both the original ones, like Maimonides’ principles, and the fabricated ones that sprout anew in the religious world, even more so in the Haredi one) is a deviation from the path of our rabbis and forefathers. We’re told that common sense (= our inner consciousness and beliefs) is the counsel of the evil inclination to be overcome. So we all overcome—namely, we develop a different outer consciousness that we really(!?) believe in and live by. As is well known, where philosophy and reason end, faith begins. But all that time, the “heretical” thoughts of common sense peck within. That is the challenge, the mashgiach will tell us. We are engaged in an unceasing struggle between the religious consciousness shaped by tradition and society and common sense—what we feel within. We are repeatedly sold that reason is the counsel of the inclination, and that lack of reason is an ideal and not merely a necessary evil (a Christian conception of the unity of opposites, as Tertullian wrote: I believe because it is absurd).

Attitude toward Gentiles

As noted, this phenomenon is not unique to the Haredim. But it is rather surprising to discover it also regarding matters that need not be considered articles of faith (e.g., Maimonides’ principles). It turns out that in the broader religious public there are fabricated articles of faith as well—such as “the special quality of Israel” in its essentialist sense.

In my essay “A Gentile Whom Halakhah Did Not Recognize” I recounted an incident at the Hesder Yeshiva in Yeruham. A discussion developed in the dining hall in the presence of the students, the ramim, and the rosh yeshiva, and many students voiced a sweeping position regarding the nature of gentiles (with, needless to say, a sweeping generalization). They said there is no morality among them, and even if it seems you’ll find moral behavior there, it is like a pig that stretches out its hooves and says, “See, I am pure” (Yalkut Shimoni, Psalms 80:14). Once I recovered from the shock, I asked them: How many gentiles have you met in your lives? On what exactly are your words based? I told them I haven’t met many gentiles in my life, but among those I have met or seen in films or books, my impression is that among gentiles the distribution is very similar to ours. There are good and bad among them, smart and foolish, beautiful and less so—just like among us. The signs the Beit Yosef brings at the beginning of Even ha-Ezer to identify Jewishness—according to which Jews are compassionate, and therefore one who is cruel is known not to be of Israel—do not really stand the test of reality. Yet these students insisted and were certain that gentiles are wicked and that there is no truly moral behavior there. Why? Because it is explicit in the Sages, and as is known they possessed the holy spirit and their words must be eternal and correct in every situation in every time and place. After all, this is part of the eternity of the Torah (“This Torah will not be replaced”).

This was a formative experience for me. We were not at Vizhnitz or Ponevezh, but at the Hesder Yeshiva in Yeruham. These are young men who grew up within Western culture, well attuned to everything going on in it, watching films and reading books (not only the hagiographies of Sofer: “Even a child is known by his deeds…”), and yet they live clinging to slogans written thousands of years ago and see reality through them with total blindness to the facts. Perhaps it is only a desire to judge favorably, but I tend to think that deep inside they understood this is nonsense that stands no empirical test. Perhaps the typical gentile in the time of the Sages was like that (I doubt it, but I didn’t live then and cannot say for certain), but among us this is certainly not the case. Anyone who meets gentiles outside the pages of books and not through quotes in Rashi script can see this very clearly.

I tend to think that when these young men see a gentile they understand he can be a good person. But they grew up and were educated in the light of sacred books, whose authors possessed the holy spirit, and one who deviates from them is a heretic and a reformer—Heaven forfend. Therefore, together with a good understanding of reality, they continue to maintain a imagined and false consciousness as if all good gentiles are pigs stretching their hooves. The alternative is to conclude that there are statements in the Talmud that are not necessarily correct—and certainly not eternal. That’s plain heresy, Heaven forfend. To escape this, it’s better to repress; best of all is to live with doubleness. I believe, and am fairly sure, that if and when they arrive in a gentile environment they will act as good people who understand well the reality around them. These slogans won’t even occur to them. But if you force them to say something explicit, perhaps even then they won’t let a statement pass their lips that the Talmud errs or is not relevant to our times. That would be heresy, Heaven forfend. So the sayings about the pig and its hooves will surface.

Again and again reality proves hard, recalcitrant, and annoying. For some reason it refuses to conform to our theories about it. One way we deal with this is to live in doubleness: to keep selling yourself the “articles of faith” in which you were raised (never mind their source), to declaim them with enthusiasm and firmness, while functioning in the practical world in a manner wholly different from what they assert. I think this is also related to the distinction between theory and practice discussed in Columns 356, 507, 517, and more. Note that in the doubleness described here, actual conduct is in fact the correct conduct, but alongside it there is a false consciousness which, in this case, we do not live by (and good thing too)—we only proclaim it.

Seeing the Future

The penny dropped for me this past Shabbat, when I heard from my son Nahman, who was talking with my granddaughter (the delightful Uriya), that she said she wants the Temple to be rebuilt. When he asked her why, she explained that then all the gentiles would be our slaves. Of course there are supports for this in the Prophets and the Sages, and throughout the religious literature over generations. For example, in Yalkut Shimoni, Remez 499, you will find that every person of Israel will have 2,800 slaves. No less. You’d better start preparing duty rosters and task lists. It’s not easy to employ such a number of slaves.

Is that true? Is that even a proper state of affairs—that each of us would have thousands of slaves? See here for an emphatic “yes,” plus a heartfelt prayer for the swift realization of this thrilling vision. I just picked this poor example, because it’s what I found now. You know as well as I do that there are thousands more. Does anyone among us truly believe this? Does anyone truly think it ought to be so? And if it ought not, will the Holy One create an utopia of an unworthy state? Is this really the utopia we yearn for? I found on the same site a charming attempt by someone named Daniel Vlas to reconcile the matter: they will be our slaves in the way we are “slaves” of the Holy One—not by coercion and bondage. They will simply want it, because they will suddenly understand how much better and loftier we are than they. What fun! See also here. Tasty morsels of “the redeeming Torah.” Well, are you convinced? I’m not really. Could it be that this simply won’t be—that this is a mistake? Is that not an option? There are also sources in prophetic verses, but of course they can be interpreted in many ways, further or closer to the literal sense. We cling to the slogans on which we were raised and proclaim our belief in them, but deep inside I am quite sure troubling doubts peck (the counsel of the inclination, of course).

The Source of It: Frustration and Need Create Consciousness

In my judgment these utopian hopes did not arise because someone was persuaded that this is the correct interpretation of the Prophets or of such-and-such a midrash. We know very well how to propose creative interpretations for verses that do not seem reasonable to us. Therefore, I assess that the source is entirely different. Over generations in which the people of Israel were persecuted by the gentiles and felt small and attacked, it is only natural that they would comfort themselves by nurturing hopes for a utopian state in which their persecutors would be their slaves. This is perfectly natural—but of course unconnected to reality, neither factual nor ethical. I can imagine parents telling their suffering child that all those wicked gentiles who torment them will one day be their slaves. Frustration creates a comforting consciousness that gradually turns into a claim of fact. And even if deep inside we still know there is no real basis to it, the external consciousness has a life of its own. Thus too anyone killed in a terror attack becomes a saint, because—so they say—he was killed for his Judaism (cf. “mistaken sanctifications”). Thus too “the saints of the Holocaust.” Why? Because it is comforting. It is hard to live with a pointless, useless death that benefited no one.

This reminds me of my dear mother’s jokes, may she live and be well, about “swans and quail and fish” in the Sabbath songs. We sing of those pieces of meat as if it were a supreme intellectual and spiritual experience. One who listens from the side might die laughing—or at least tear out their hair in bafflement. She would always claim that poor Jews in exile dreamed for generations of a piece of meat for the Sabbath meal, and in their eyes eating swans became the desire of the soul and a sublime spiritual delight—practically the realization of the vision of redemption and the world to come. It’s a bit like something I once heard the Tur wrote (I don’t know where): that in the world to come every Jew will have a candle and a quill to write. Admit it: that’s a bit different from the world to come imagined by a middle-class Jew today. So who is right? Probably neither. These are all fantasies that develop in response to frustrations of our present condition. Our utopias are reflections of our present. There is no problem with that so long as we do not turn it into factual estimates of the future, or into worthy values and norms—and certainly not into articles of faith that everyone must accept and that anyone who doubts them (and follows common sense, Heaven forfend) is following the counsel of the evil inclination.

Once these comforting delusions are committed to writing and sanctified, they become canonical. Then people forget their source and cling to them as to a great spoil. Thus articles of faith are created ex nihilo (not necessarily all of them, but in my estimation not a few). In such a state, a person may know deep inside that this state will not come to pass and should not come to pass, but he continues to declaim that every Jew will have thousands of gentile slaves—because it is both written and highly comforting. What’s the harm?! Thus my granddaughter is educated on a factual and ethical oddity of a utopia in which she will have thousands of gentile slaves—even as she lives in modern Israel and at the moment those who bother her are mainly Jews (my slaves, incidentally, will be hundreds of thousands of Bibists). Wonders of canonization. Like the general attitude to gentiles, the utopias we build for the time to come are apparently remnants of hopes that developed in ancient times. And so we live today in doubleness: deep inside it is clear to us this will not happen and should not happen, but in the revealed consciousness and on our lips the words are borne as if they had just now descended straight from the mouth of the Almighty at Sinai. Pelginan dibbura (we split the statement—rather than granting credibility), and all is well with the world.

In the same way, if one wishes to cement the halakhic authority of the Talmud, the counsel is to explain to us that the Amoraim possessed the holy spirit and could revive the dead. We’re speaking of Jews in Iraq 1,500 years ago and more—wise and righteous, presumably. But in all likelihood they were human beings like you and me, capable of erring—and unfortunately they exercised that ability more than once. But how shall we create loyalty to what is written in the Talmud? To say that it is a framework accepted by force of public acceptance—that this is probably the truth—is dangerous and not very persuasive. Therefore we need stories about the holy spirit and reviving the dead, about people who cannot err, and the like; then we will all obey with joy and gladness. Before, we saw that frustrations determine facts. In this case need determines the fact—but in both cases the “fact” becomes, with the passage of days, an article of faith. The ought determines the is.

The Emperor’s New Clothes

Whatever the source of doubleness—and as we have seen, it can have various sources—the question is how to deal with such doubleness. Is there a way to overcome it? How can a person clarify to himself what he truly believes and thus rid himself of the false consciousnesses that accompany him? Beyond that, is the claim regarding doubleness not paternalistic? I am here diagnosing what people really think deep inside, when externally they assert very different claims, and on what basis do I determine this? It seems to me the answer lies in Andersen’s tale you all surely know, “The Emperor’s New Clothes.”

Without retelling the whole story: a mass psychosis is formed in which the naked emperor is not really naked. He is clothed in splendid garments, and whoever does not see them is a fool. The sages certainly understand that splendid garments befitting a king are there and see them with their eyes. Everyone, of course, aspires to be considered wise and recoils from being identified as foolish, and therefore they praise in chorus the emperor for his wondrous garments. Gradually the consciousness penetrates deep inside, and now it even seems to them true. More time passes and everyone is convinced this is indeed the case; a deep inner conviction is formed that there are splendid garments there—and what is more, I actually see them (at least so it seems to me; or perhaps not? What do you mean?! Of course, of course. Merely the counsel of the inclination). Remember: the alternative is that I am a fool—or a heretic, if you like—and that, of course, cannot be.

So, a good Jew who senses there is no divine involvement in the world, or that the “great men of the generation” do not really express exalted wisdom—what is he to do? If he admits it, he is a heretic or a fool who follows his inclination. Therefore he convinces himself it is not so. After a time he already sees the world through these false glasses, and then he stops noticing that deep inside he does not truly believe it. It is merely the counsel of the inclination (again: vested interests). After all, none of us wants to be a heretic. “Are you wiser than Maimonides or R. Akiva Eiger?” asks the Steipler in his book Hayyei Olam.[2] Granted, there is also a question whether you are wiser than Spinoza and Einstein, or than Dawkins, but it does not really interest us (and even if it does, we are ready with the answer: they followed their inclination—interests).[3] Thus baseless and irrational theories become an unfalsifiable truth and pierce from mouth to heart within.

That is the process by which it happens. How do we get out of it? Back to the story of the emperor’s new clothes. The end of the story, as of the psychosis, is the cry of a naïve and “foolish” child: “The emperor is naked!” Silence falls over the crowd. Someone dared to voice the words of heresy aloud. Remember: by now everyone is in a state of inner conviction. It is not merely fear of consequences (heresy), but things that seem to all of us a blatant falsehood. And lo and behold, the words actually penetrate. Suddenly everyone understands that the emperor is in fact naked. What happened? Was something new revealed to them? Some fact they had not noticed? Did the child give them therapy and change their consciousness? Not at all. He merely spoke the truth in a clear voice into the world’s air. Suddenly some dormant string—still within—stirred in everyone. It began to vibrate, and suddenly resonance was formed. Those inner strings in everyone began to vibrate at the same frequency. Suddenly a mass sobering occurred, and everyone changed their perceptions at once.

You understand this was not truly a change of perception. Nothing new was created. Rather, what was long hidden inside simply came out. If it were not in there somewhere, the change could not have happened—and certainly not all at once. The child’s cry toppled all the walls of repression, erased the doubleness and the shells, and suddenly everyone lived what they had always known deep inside: the emperor is naked. In the columns mentioned above I explained that a similar process happened to the king’s son in the Rooster-Prince story, and I shall not return to it here.

Here you will find the answer to the two questions I raised at the beginning of this section. How do we know what is true? In a place where a single cry causes a sweeping change, that was probably always inside. This is also the way to bring about the change and clarify what, in truth, we believe: to listen to those cries and examine within ourselves what we truly believe. To try to ignore slogans that common sense is the counsel of the inclination. The secret of the charm in those “heretical,” “mistaken” conceptions is that they are not mistaken. The “inclination” manages to sway us to them and demands such a stubborn and unceasing struggle simply because it is not the inclination. It is what we truly think.

Incidentally, from here you can also understand that the fact we possess a correct inner consciousness does not belong only to the deep unconscious. Otherwise there would be no place to level accusations for sins committed out of cognitive doubleness. A person who acts with the consciousness that this is the truth is ostensibly coerced. But it is a fact that the ancient idolater who acted out of cognitive doubleness is indeed called to account for what he did (in this he differs from one who will worship in his time—apparently the result of a true belief in idolatry). The charge against one who sinned out of a false consciousness stems from the demand upon him to listen to what is within—and if he does not do so, he is not utterly coerced. The doubleness, of course, is a mitigating circumstance regarding punishment, but it is not coercion.

On Faith, Heresy, Change, and Liberation

After I framed my son’s conversation with his niece in these terms, I realized this is a process I myself underwent. For years I accepted claims solely because this is the faith and the tradition, and whoever thinks or says otherwise is mistaken. I accepted them because it cannot be that Maimonides, or Rav Ashi, or Rabbi Ḥaim Kanievsky erred. And again, this was genuine conviction, not from fear—at least not in the simple sense. I truly was convinced by all this—or at least so I thought. In recent years I understood that this is doubleness: people like me who know the truth all along, but “the heart does not reveal to the mouth.” They do not dare admit it to themselves, and certainly not to say it outwardly.

Again and again I write here that people’s behavior indicates what they truly think. Do they think prayer heals, or medicine? Does the Holy One respond to prayers, or not? Do Jews truly have a different constitution than gentiles, or not? Were the sages of the Talmud fiery seraphs who could revive the dead and knew all the wisdoms of the world, or ordinary people? Is all of science contained in the Torah, or… not really? And many more baseless beliefs to which we became accustomed and which turned into articles of faith. What helps greatly to live in this doubleness are the familiar excuses: this is the counsel of the inclination. “Hishtadlut” (effort) is only due to human weakness (or a commandment), but of course it does not have any effect (others have propagated more sophisticated theories: it does have an effect, but only thanks to fulfilling the commandment of hishtadlut, the 613th commandment according to Maimonides). These mantras imprison the truths we all know within and cause us to deny them—truly deny them. Not only in outward speech, but also toward ourselves. We tell ourselves we are simply weak and therefore cannot live by the truth and the proper norms. Thus they push us to declare declarations and internalize them, and to deny what we all knew—and still know—deep inside.

In Column 63 I noted that branding someone a heretic is a substitute used where there are no arguments. This means that in many cases the inclination that captivates us is precisely the inclination to obey tradition and not our inner consciousness (common sense). What is presented to us as “faith,” precisely that is the inclination that clings to us—and from it we must free ourselves. Whereas the “heresy” presented to us as the counsel of the inclination is sometimes precisely the real thing. If it were not the real thing, one who rebukes me ought to use arguments and show me it is an error, rather than scolding me for being a heretic who succumbed to his evil inclination.

At some point I came to the conclusion that we need some child who will say the words out loud and clear, and perhaps that will free in many people the feelings imprisoned within. I thought that perhaps if I serve as that child crying the words aloud, it could release these repressed truths and crumble the shells of authority and tradition that forced them in and do not allow them to come out. It will dissolve the excuses about weakness and inclinations and cause people to understand that these are not “inclinations” but their true beliefs. Faith does not mean living by slogans against common sense, but exactly the opposite. Faith is what is inside, not what is said outside. Faith does not begin where reason and intellect end; it is required by them and bound to them.

I won’t hide that so far the success is very partial. It is hard to release such deep repressions and go against such powerful forces. People entrench themselves in those consciousnesses that to me are false, and they attribute their inner feelings (doubts) to inclinations and weaknesses. Yet I think that in these very years there are indeed processes of liberation (as part of our freer generation, for good and for ill), and I hope this will yet happen more broadly. Authority in such matters is a confining and oppressive thing, not a liberating one (I have often noted that authority regarding matters of fact is a simple oxymoron; see, for example, Column 568). It does not help us overcome inclinations but prevents us from understanding what we truly believe and from acting accordingly.

[1] I assume some will say that this yeshiva fellow did not really believe completely, and therefore perhaps he thinks that the Holy One truly does not see or does not care. For my purposes here it is merely an example.

[2] Incidentally, in my eyes this book is a veritable summit of the Lithuanian wonder that amazes me every time anew. The Lithuanian yeshiva fellow is a clear-headed person, sharp in his halakhic learning. When he arrives at the realms of thought (hashkafah), he becomes a fool who devoutly declaims baseless mantras. Truly at the level of a kindergartener. The gap in people’s intelligence between their work in lomdus and their work in thought is one of the more sublime Lithuanian wonders in my eyes. You should have seen the finest fellows of the “Neot Yosef” community in Bnei Brak, of which I was a member—lions and men of shields. A delight to speak with them in learning. Some are roshei kollel and others ramim in yeshivot, or simply good fellows from the ranks. And all these lions sit on Friday evening at the talk of some visiting mashgiach who chatters nonsense to death, as if they were witnessing the revelation at Sinai. None of those who would not let you utter a learned word without attacking you even considers raising a question or doubt. Each time a silence was cast there such that even at Sinai—when the birds did not chirp—it was a polyphonic cacophony by comparison.

[3] As to the claim itself, see Column 247 and elsewhere.