Psychological observation

For a week in August, my family found itself in the midst of a culinary quandary. Two guests were staying in our house: my Jewish orthodox and completely kosher 17-year-old cousin, and a Russian graduate student in psychology who also happened to be an anorexic and ate only at night.

For me, the visit was a period of psychological observation. Each of our guests had her peculiar routine. The anorexic would wake up around noon and immediately go down into the basement, where she had stored her two 10-pound barbells (which she always carried with her in her luggage). The next hour would be spent in intense exercise, followed by two hours of jogging. Then, she would go for a swim or play some tennis. A few hours of work would take her through to 11 p.m. Only then did the real activity begin. Of course, by this point, she had worked up a real appetite and was looking ravenously in the general direction of the refrigerator.

Her meal was by no means a small one. Although she was a complete vegetarian and avoided food containing even an ounce of fat, the eating ritual continued for hours, encompassing every variety of fruit, vegetable, and condiment. In short, she was nowhere near starving herself. She had been suffering from anorexia for years now and, through her odd routine, had found a way of controlling the problem so that the condition was no longer life-threatening.

As for my cousin, she would begin her day much earlier. The morning was spent in various devotional practices the nature of which I cannot undertake to explain. Then it was breakfast time. She had brought with her from Boston to our house in New Jersey several pots and pans which were the sole cookware she could use to cook. Ours were not kosher. Naturally, the meal was preceded by a whole litany of prayers. The products we offered her were all carefully inspected in case we were trying to slip anything by her. The same process took place at every meal, while she monitored the time that passed between when she ate milk and meat.

One day we took her into New York City. When it came time to eat, we had to find a kosher restaurant. We passed by several, but apparently they were not kosher enough. We spent an hour just looking for a place to eat. When Friday came around, she left our house for two days to spend Saturday with an orthodox friend. Our house was not sufficient for the high holy day.

The stage is now set for a comparison of our two guests. The first possesses what is widely diagnosed as a pathology. But the most pathological elements of her anorexia are under control. What is left is simply a collection of strange fears and peculiar habits that make for an eccentric but relatively healthy human being.

Now, let us examine the second case. Religious orthodoxy, at its worst, can be every bit as life-threatening as anorexia. There are commonly cases where religious beliefs prevent people from undergoing life-saving medical procedures. These beliefs contribute to the launching of holy wars throughout the world. However, most people's religious beliefs, including those of my cousin, are not so pathological. In her case, as with our other guest, they are manifested as a collection of odd habits and rituals that a normal human being would find highly inconvenient and completely unnecessary.

Religious orthodoxy could be categorized under some definitions of mental illness--but it never is. We tend to view religious beliefs as intellectual convictions rather than psychological conditions. And yet, how different is religious compulsiveness from psychological compulsiveness? Most compulsions do involve the desire to stop yet religious compulsions do not. The believer is completely convinced that he is indulging in a rational act. But then, so are many paranoid schizophrenics.

While our anorexic guest was afraid of gaining weight, our orthodox guest was afraid of the Jewish equivalent of damnation. Why one distortion of reality is any more pathological than the other is a question to which I have no answer.