There is a deep human urge to lose control. It first appears with Adam and Chava, who both claim they are not responsible for their actions—blaming anyone else but themselves. They want to be victims, powerless against external forces.
But the pattern repeats throughout the Torah and indeed in our lives. Mitzvah after mitzvah are all about making conscious choices and owning the consequences for those choices. We do not get to blame others for our own sins and omissions.
Indeed, in Vayikra 5, we are given special penalties for just being unaware of our surroundings! The Torah wants us to be mentally conscious and self-aware at all times, so that we can be in control of ourselves.
We are not supposed to give in to internal or external forces, and we are especially not supposed to consciously and purposefully put ourselves in a position where we have no choice but to lose our free will.
Alcohol is a frequent aid for those of us who want to lose control, by giving us the extra excuse of diminished capacity. This may not be alcohol’s sole advantage, but it certainly is a key unconscious allure. Alcohol allows our choices to take on the passive voice: “I don’t even remember the sequence of events that led up to that poor outcome. But I did not seek those outcomes, and I am surely not responsible for them! All I did was have a few drinks!”
Even on Purim, one recommended level of inebriation is the amount required to confuse the difference between two people, not drunk enough to lose control.
This is why we avoid excess drinking: for both Noah and Lot, alcohol led to diminished capacity, reversion to animalistic lusts, and single events that eternally tarnish their reputations. The alcohol is the gateway, the means through which people can follow their need to cut loose and plausibly deny whatever happens next.
This is why we also avoid other drugs, and avoid putting ourselves in a peer group (like b’nos Moav) that is determined to do bad things. In all these cases, the machshir, the early steps, led to the aveira.
It is also, in my opinion, why music at simchas needs to be much quieter than it has become in recent years.
Why do people love loud music? For the same reasons they drink too much: They can turn off their conscious mind and surrender to the music, to move and dance and gyrate with complete abandonment. It is impossible to think when the low bass drums make your entire body resonate with the beat. I think that is the point of the loud music—to stop thinking entirely, and just move with the music.
I believe such amplified music is anti-Torah, and unacceptable. David Hamelech showed us that dancing at a simcha should indeed be with all our hearts. But David did not give into the music (which could not have been very loud at all compared to today’s amplification)—he celebrated before Hashem and for His glory.
And it is for this very reason (on top of the obvious damage that loud music does to our long-term hearing), that I believe we should advocate music that is at such a volume that it does not tempt people into losing control to the music. If we want to dance with all our energy, then we should be able to do so consciously and responsibly.
