American Mussar

21st century Jewish spiritual practice for an authentic and meaningful life

Is Kindness the Real Punk Rock? A Mussar Reflection on Honor and Equanimity

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Is Kindness the Real Punk Rock?

I’m a big fan of superhero movies. In last year’s Superman, there was an exchange that really stayed with me:

Lois Lane: You think everything and everyone is beautiful.

Superman: Maybe that’s the real punk rock.

For context, Lois was explaining why she wasn’t sure their relationship would work out. She liked punk rock, and he liked fun, positive music.

(Spoiler alert: by the end of the movie, they declare their love for each other.)

Comparing punk rock to seeing everything as beautiful is mind bending. But the more I thought about it, the more profound it is.

What Does It Mean to Be Counter-Cultural Today?

When punk rock came on the scene in the 1970s, groups like the Sex Pistols presented a style of music that was brash, offensive, and decidedly anti-establishment. It challenged social norms and pushed against accepted ways of thinking.

Today, the establishment and much of the surrounding culture can feel brash, offensive, cruel, and strangely enough, anti-establishment. Even sports talk media is dominated by personalities giving “hot takes,” statements designed to garner attention for their critical and negative content. Frankly, a lot of it is just talking crap without much insight or thoughtful reflection behind it.

That’s why Superman’s comment grabbed my attention.

Looking at the World with a Loving Eye

I think Superman’s point is that being punk is to be anti-establishment, and today that means to focus on the world with a loving eye. looking for the beauty instead of looking to find fault. It is very much like the mantra we use when we practice Honor – “Find the good in anyone.” 

Instead of looking to find fault, look for beauty.

In Mussar, this connects closely with the soul trait of Honor (Kavod). One of the mantras we use when practicing Honor is:

“Find the good in anyone.”

It isn’t easy to do, and it is decidedly counter-cultural. 

Striving to Be Human

Pirkei Avot offers a teaching that feels especially relevant:

Rabbi Gamliel used to say, “In a place where there are no humans, strive to be a human.” (Pirkei Avot 2:5)

The word strive matters.

It reminds us that being fully human isn’t always easy. It takes effort. It takes practice. It takes choosing our values again and again, especially when the people around us seem to be choosing something else.

Yet working to be more human—to be more compassionate, more thoughtful, more kind—is a wonderful goal.

Making Kindness Our Punk Rock

So I’d like to add something to Superman’s lesson.

Let’s make our punk rock acts of kindness.

We can’t control media personalities. We can’t control politicians. We can’t control the tone of public discourse.

But we can control how we treat other people. So lets lead with kindness. 

When we practice small acts of kindness, like holding a door or reaching out to someone having a hard time, it helps us practice kindness in more difficult situations. For example, if someone is annoying or offensive, practice in lower stakes situations helps us set a firm boundary in a kind and respectful way.

A Question for Reflection

In our weekly Mussar Community Gathering, we’ve been exploring the soul trait of Equanimity—remaining steady and grounded amid life’s ups and downs.

I find myself wondering about the connection between kindness and Equanimity.

Do acts of kindness help you maintain Equanimity because they align you with your values?

Or do they sometimes lead to frustration because you feel like a lone voice in the wilderness?

I’d love to hear your thoughts.

And perhaps that’s another way of asking Superman’s question:

What would happen if, in a world that favors rudeness, we chose kindness as our act of rebellion? Please share your thoughts below. I answer every comment.

AI Disclosure: AI generated the image, and I used AI to format my email newsletter into this post. 

How Much Space Should I Take Up? A Mussar Reflection on Humility

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How Much Space Should I Take UpHow Much Space Do We Take Up?

Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot about the space we take up in the world.

Not just physical space, but emotional and spiritual space, too — in relationships, in community, and especially in leadership. I’ve stepped into a role where people tend to look to me for direction, and that’s a gift. But it’s also a responsibility.

Because leadership isn’t about talking the loudest. It’s about knowing when to speak… and when to step back so others can rise.

The Question: How Much Space Should I Take Up?

This question sits at the heart of the Mussar practice of Anavah — humility. Alan Morinis captures it beautifully:

“No more than my space, not less than my place.”

I am in a new leadership position, a position that naturally invites me to take up more space. Some of it is appropriate. I am the spiritual leader in the community. However, there are many other leaders, including the Board and my clergy partner. My job is not to override them, nor is it to dictate to congregants what they should or should not think about politics or Israel. I view my position as rabbi as I view my position in the American Mussar community – guide and empower others on their spiritual journeys.

The running of the synagogue is a partnership. In fact, I try to be very careful about what I do and do not ask for, because congregants and volunteers will want to do what they can to meet my requests. I’ve experienced too many leaders who take up too much space, sending people running left and right to meet a flurry of requests. In fact, I’ve been that leader.

I’ve taken up too much space before. And I’ve also held back when my voice or presence was needed. Getting it right is a practice — a lifelong one.

Mussar Reflection: Where Do You Stand?

So I’m asking myself daily:

Where is it mine to act — and where is it mine to step back?

Some days the practice is stepping forward.
Other days it’s creating space for someone else to shine.

How about you?

Where in your life could you take up more space — or less?

Let this be a gentle invitation to notice the size of your presence. Not to shrink, and not to dominate — but to stand in the right-sized space that’s truly yours.

Your Turn

Where are you practicing this balance in your life?

Please share below. I try to answer every comment.

And if you’d like more Mussar reflections like this one, subscribe to the American Mussar newsletter

When 9/11 and Elul Collide: A Mussar Reflection on Life and Death

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9/11 and Elul Mussar reflection
Photo by Richard Fullbrook on Unsplash

When 9/11 and the 18th of Elul Fall on the Same Day

This morning, during my daily Psalm 27 meditation, I was struck by something unusual: September 11th coincides this year with the 18th of Elul.

Elul is the Jewish month of contemplation and reflection before the High Holidays. The 18th, meanwhile, corresponds to Chai, the Hebrew word for life. And of course, September 11th is the anniversary of the attack on the Twin Towers in New York and the Pentagon.

Contemplation. Life. Death. All on one day.

Sometimes my writing leans toward clarity. Today, it feels more like poetry. Because this year, the convergence of these two dates stopped me in my tracks: 18 for life, 9/11 for loss.

Holding Life and Death Together

It has already been a difficult week. Just yesterday, a teenager in Evergreen, Colorado, shot two classmates and himself. On the same day, conservative podcaster Charlie Kirk was assassinated while speaking on a college campus, his killing broadcast across TikTok.

And yet, on the other side of the ledger, there is life: Elizabeth Tsurkov was released from captivity in Iraq.

We are grateful that more people were not hurt in Evergreen, and still devastated knowing how many were traumatized. We grieve violence in our politics and feel the danger of what may come next.

Contemplating life and death is unavoidable. But Mussar teaches us not to immerse so deeply in sorrow that we lose sight of blessing.

Mussar Soul Traits for Days Like This

When I looked at the Mussar Center’s list of middot (soul traits), two spoke to me:

  • Self-Control (Perishut) – not giving in to despair, rage, or hopelessness.

  • Strength (Gevurah) – the courage to hold grief, while also making space for gratitude.

These traits remind me that even in dark times, we are not powerless. Mussar offers a path to respond with balance—feeling the weight of loss while still reaching for life.

Your Turn

Which traits speak to you today? When the world feels heavy, what inner qualities do you lean on to steady yourself?

I’d love to hear your reflections in the comments below.

—Rabbi Greg

Finding Awe During Life Transitions: A Mussar Perspective

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awe during life transitions
Photo by Andrew Ly on Unsplash

I have a lot of change in my life right now.

Change is inherently stressful. Even good change—like moving to something exciting or meaningful—can stir up anxiety, disorientation, and overwhelm. It turns out that moving is consistently ranked among the top of life’s most stressful experiences. And right now, I’m deep in it.

In the middle of these changes, I came across a teaching by Rabbi Tali Adler on this week’s Torah portion that helped me shift my perspective. It reminded me of the importance of Awe—Yirah—as a spiritual anchor during times of change.

Two Prophets, Two Responses

Rabbi Adler compares Moses and Balaam—both prophets, both people who could perceive the Divine directly. And yet, when faced with something unexpected, they responded in very different ways.

Moses sees a bush that burns but is not consumed. He turns aside with curiosity. He listens. That moment of awe-filled attention changes the entire course of his life—and ours.

Balaam, on the other hand, encounters a talking donkey (which, yes, is objectively wild), and responds with anger and violence. He can’t make space for the possibility that the world is different from how he expected it to be. He misses the miracle right in front of him.

Rabbi Adler’s insight? Balaam couldn’t access awe—because he was too attached to his expectations. His certainty closed him off to the sacred in the moment.

Mussar and the Middah of Awe (Yirah)

In Mussar, Yirah isn’t just awe in the sense of standing before a sunset or a mountain. It’s a soul-trait, a way of orienting ourselves to the mystery and grandeur embedded in everyday life. It’s what allows us to see that there might be more going on than we can immediately understand.

Right now, as boxes pile up and my routines unravel, I’m trying to remember that. That beneath the stress of moving, there’s a sacred opportunity—if I’m willing to notice it.

It’s not easy. Yirah doesn’t mean pretending things aren’t stressful. It means approaching the stress with a spiritual posture of curiosity rather than judgment. And it begins with a small but powerful shift: the intention to be open to wonder, even here.

An Invitation to You

I know these are stressful times for many of you as well. We all have moments—big and small—where life veers off the expected path. The middah of Yirah invites us to ask:

What might be sacred about this moment, exactly as it is?

So let me ask you:

Have you ever had a moment of unexpected awe or possibility when you chose curiosity over frustration?
I’d love to hear your story. Feel free to reply or leave a comment. Maybe together we can help each other recognize the burning bushes hidden in plain sight.