Lord Get Me High

Bernie goes full 60s

Fresh from dismantling Yoily's faith in AI-driven halacha, Bernie leans forward with a glint in his eye that suggests he has something radical of his own to propose.

"You know what's fascinating about all our discussions tonight?" Bernie asks. "We've been treating halacha as if it's the end goal. Eden wants to streamline it, Yoily wants to automate it. But what if we're missing the forest for the trees?"

"I've spent my life pursuing logic, systems, things I can quantify and control. But something's missing. And I've started to see glimpses of it in places I never expected. Think about it: what was the highest aspiration in Judaism? It wasn't about whether your aluminum pot needs toiveling or what bracha to make on an Impossible Burger. It was prophecy. Direct communion with the divine."

I can't help wondering if anyone else has noticed that every person at this party is convinced they've discovered Judaism's missing essence. Prophecy, algorithms, neo-chassidus - a regular smorgasbord of salvations. Eden breaks my reverie with a snarky remark of her own. "Right," she cuts in, "because what Israeli Judaism really needs is more people claiming direct lines to God."

"You know," Bernie says mildly, "they said the same thing about Eldad and Meidad. Moshe wasn't impressed by that argument."

"True prophecy may be gone," Bernie continues, "but the yearning for divine encounter never ended. Look at the Ari z"l and his followers in Tzfat. They weren't just studying texts—they were actively seeking ways to approach the divine through meditation, through communion with nature, through focused spiritual practice."

I find it amusing that Bernie cites the Ari's community as his model for spiritual liberation. Those mystics layered their spiritual flights on a foundation of obsessive halachic precision. But he probably knows that.

"So what are you proposing?" The host interjects, taking another thoughtful puff. "That we all move to Tzfat and become kabbalists?"

"Not exactly," Bernie says, "though I appreciate the irony of you asking that while holding that joint. The Ari used meditation. The Baal Shem Tov used isolation in nature. Today, we have additional tools."

Bernie takes a slow sip of his Balvenie. "I'm suggesting we be honest about what works," he responds, half knowing he's pushing boundaries, half convinced he's onto something essential. "MDMA in controlled settings has been shown to create profound experiences of connection and transcendence. I'm talking about careful, intentional use, not recreational raving."

I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that a mathematician would propose replacing the messy dialectics of halachic debate with precisely measured doses of ecstasy.

"So after demolishing my AI solution as too mechanical," Yoily asks, "your big idea is chemical spirituality?"

"The chemicals are just tools," Bernie counters. "I'm talking about small communities dedicated to spiritual growth, using whatever methods work - meditation, psychedelics, intensive study of mystical texts. Some might choose to ground this in serious halachic practice, others might not."

"Like what Reb Shlomo's people tried in Mevo Modi'im," someone offers. "Or what they're doing in Bat Ayin."

Bernie brightens. "Exactly! Those communities have shown it's possible. They've created spaces where spiritual exploration isn't just permitted, it's the point. When they pray, they don't just go through the motions - they pour their whole selves into it. Music, meditation, farming the land - it's all part of the path to d'veikus."

"And you think modern Jews are going to develop the patience for serious spiritual practice?" Eden asks. "Most people I know can barely sit still for five minutes without checking their phones. Your mystic communities will empty out faster than a Carlebach minyan when the singing stops."

Bernie smiles. "On the contrary. This might be exactly what they’re looking for. Look at how many Israelis are fleeing to India for spiritual experiences. At least my version keeps the mysticism in the family."

I suspect I'm not the only one who sees the irony in proposing to solve our spiritual crisis by out-ashram-ing the Buddhists.