If you type “bein kach u’bein kach” into a Hebrew-English dictionary, (and if you’re anything like me, you’ll first forget to set the language to Hebrew, getting a nonsense string of letters) you’ll get something along these lines: ‘anyhow’, ‘anyway’, or the most extreme—‘all the same’.
But because Hebrew is a Jewish language, and one opinion is never good enough, if you find yourself another dictionary, it’ll tell you that “bein kach u’bein kach” means ‘one way or the other’ or ‘either way’.
And if you translate it literally, word for word, you’ll realize that “bein kach u’bein kach” means ‘between this way and this way’, which is the definition I like best, which, in turn, brings me to the naming of this blog.
If I was being flippant, I would say I like the dichotomy all those definitions present, the way they seem so contradictory, all at the same time. If I was trying to be glib, I would admit to picking it partly because I like the shtickyness of a Hebrew blog name (why is it that Yiddish words always look preposterous when spelled out in English?) But the truth is, that’s not the only reason: as much as I stretched my brain (and I admit it, resorted to thesauri) I couldn’t find a phrase in English that encapsulated that feeling of, well, being between this way and that one. (In fact, the closest I came up with was “between a rock and a hard place”, and honestly, the connotations of that were way too negative for me. )
I know I’m not the first to talk about (and given time, gripe about) that feeling of in-betweeness (another word that isn’t a word that but should be—I see a disturbing trend developing here…). Reading other blogs, talking to my friends—the same general idea comes out: for some reason, a lot of my peers find themselves in limbo between two different directions.
And here’s the funny part: it’s not necessarily a bad thing. I’m not in the middle because I’m confused, or untethered, or simply lost. I’m there because I’m consciously, if cautiously, navigating the middle ground, in search of some sort of workable balance.
But whatever the reason, I’m still neither here not there, which means that decisions have to be made carefully, pros and cons constantly examined (and re-examined) and the thought process critically analyzed.
The whole process makes me think of Robert Frost’s “The Road Not Taken” (I’ve written way too many essays about it for the SATs—remember those days?) except instead of actually committing to one road , however less traveled, over the other, I feel like I’m frenetically alternating roads, like some sort of unstoppable Energizer bunny playing hopscotch (I honestly don’t know what prompted that simile).
And what’s worse, very often I don’t know why.
So I guess here’s my question: when navigating that middle ground, how do you know what you’re choosing is being chosen for the right reasons, and not out of convenience? How can you be sure you’re not lying to yourself?
I know this is heavy stuff to ponder, especially at the end of what I can only imagine has been a tiring week for everyone (oh yes, vacation can take quite a lot out of you,) but this has been on my mind a lot lately, and I guess I’m hoping someone out there will help me figure this out…
Intercision
5 years ago
4 comments:
see R' dessler's piece on bechira. he basically explains it to be the personal struggle point. this may be the feeling you are expressing or i may be missing the point
The Rambam does describe that a person should strive to live in the middle path (or Aristotle's Golden Mean) which does require one to constantly check the path they are taking. Sometimes it is worthy to look at the path behind you to see where you thought the middle was before to where it is now. but i believe the middle road that people speak about is more personal than objective.
I've actually read that Rav Dessler multiple times last year (seminary is awesome that way) and what he says about the nekudas habechira is absolutely beautiful--and relevant.
Same goes for the Rambam's idea of finding the shvil hazahav, although I'm definitely less clear as to the practical ramifications of that.
I have no problem seeing how these concepts apply to middos, or actions--I guess the issue is that I don't necessarily see how to apply these concepts to trying to find the middle path when it comes to hashkafah.
At that point, what becomes the middle ground? You're right--the process is absolutely personal, but my question is, how does each person go about deciding, for his/herself what that middle ground should be? How do you make sure you're not choosing things simply because you want them or they're more convenient?
I think this goes without saying, but just as a reminder - what is "middle of the road" today may be very different tomorrow. As you accumulate different life experiences (both the good and the seemingly bad) and learn to see things from other points of view, your own personal outlook is changed.
Hashkafa is remarkably fluid, for those who are serious about it. That is NOT to say that its normal to be "yeshivish" one day and "modern Orthodox" the next (please pardon the labels - it's just easier to get the point this way). The flexibility of hashkafa lies in the fact that people, the world, and Torah are not stagnant. Therefore, neither should they way they relate to one another.
It is specifically because hashkafa is so fluid that I wonder how one goes about defining it for oneself.
Again, I'm not that bothered by the complexity of the process, nor the reality that you have to be constantly defining and redefining who you are. What bothers me is that I'm not sure what the criteria for that process are, which makes it not fluid but haphazard, which is what scares me...
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