Matisyahu’s Twitter bomb is making the rounds. He shaved. He announced it with a photo and one of the most vaguely expressed personal statements he has ever issued. The argument now is over whether or not he dropped being a Hasid or being religious all together. The tweet is ambiguous – probably deliberately so.
The man is an artist, not a philosopher, though anyone can be either at the drop of a pin. The drooling over the revelation that Matisyahu, the most popular Jewish musician of the past decade, might not subscribe to his own work anymore is emotionally and factually stunning. But only our knowledge of the man’s story should be hooked in for a plot twist – not our own stories.
I remember the reaction from the Kiruv crowd back when I was in Rutgers University in the mid-2000s, when Matisyahu broke out. His presence was a God-send. Now, there was a public image with a black suit the outreaching Rabbis could point to. It was suddenly a proven possibility – a cool (and accepted) Orthodox Jew.
That strategy is dangerous. To draw in any non-religious or less religious Jewish individual to greater observance that way is dangerous. The strategy relies on emotion and not the intellect. It leverages shock and mood, and counts on religion to anchor the spectrum of joy and fear. In this case, love and sentimentality are the weapons of outreach. And they work – temporarily.
Not that it is true in all cases, but becoming more religious or more traditional in a specifically Chassidic way likely is founded on a strongly emotional journey. Intellectuality can be there just as well, or even precede the lifestyle shift, but coming in via an emotional rollercoaster is common. Without implying Matisyahu is definitely a case study, his entrance to the frum world via Chabad makes this topic an elephant in the room for me.
Take his own words from earlier, “My journey to discover my roots and explore Jewish spirituality—not through books but through real life. At a certain point I felt the need to submit to a higher level of religiosity…to move away from my intuition…”
Now, emotions have oscillated again. If he has dropped any element of his religious devotion, practice or belief, it might very well be because his emotional connections have tired. Emotions, just like in any relationship, need constant engagement and sudden refreshing. No marriage works well without that element – neither does the much more abstract relationship between a person and God.
The Kiruv movement will not be citing too many Matisyahu songs over the spring semester on American campuses. They are not going to put his image on flyers or Facebook event pages. And that is a good thing. While Matisyahu works on his own religious feelings – his personal right and a private journey – Jews should not let the thoughts (and especially the feelings) of any one person determine the course of their own religious journeys. With a world out there to absorb, it is too much to expect any single individual to imply to you something is or is not there. Matisyahu is no more important or Jewish than anyone else going through a long period of religious self-discovery and self-doubt.
That is the message the world of outreach can now send off to students on campus. There is intellect, patience and individualism to every personal journey. This is not a battle to be fought with emotions alone. And trust me, there will be more men in black.
