Confessions of a Recovering Cynic

Maybe it’s our nature, a dark feature wired into our genetic makeup. Or maybe it’s our nurture — the naturally bitter byproduct of too many betrayals during our long exile. And sometimes, it comes from pain — when a teacher sends home your precious child with bruised feelings, or when the establishment you trust as an exemplar of your values turns out to be vulnerable to decidedly less exalted things, like money and status.

It’s no secret that cynicism comes with a high price. It’s like liquid nitrogen sprayed onto a skin tag or wart — the extreme cold freezes the unwanted skin and severs its connection to life. To grow, humans need warmth, receptivity to nutrients, connection to the source. Cynicism sucks away all those vital elements.

Still, as destructive as you know cynicism to be, it also brings a definite rush. When you manage to pinpoint — ideally in a witty, pithy turn of phrase — how a source of inspiration is just some shallow fluff, or a supposed role model really isn’t all that pure, or a person entrusted with authority doesn’t really have the answers, not only do you feel smart, you feel triumphant. It feels right: Jews aren’t meant to be naïve. We’re a smart, discerning people. The type of people who see holes and flaws.

But not all Jews are cynical. And you don’t even have to look too hard to find the ones still in growth mode.