Belonging and Difference Vayerah

On Wednesday night I listened to Ian Thorpe speak at a dinner in aid of my brother’s charity, the Jewish House. Ian talked about his experience as a world record breaking Olympic champion swimmer, who also struggled with mental health challenges. He gave a riveting account of the mental struggle to win an Olympic swimming race in the last few seconds after being behind. But more importantly, he touched on his experiences of coming out both as gay and as someone suffering depression.

Mr Thorpe did not elaborate on his experience of coming out. However, the need for acceptance by people we care about and a feeling of belonging among them, is so important to all of us. As I explored the Torah reading this week I learned that Abraham was also concerned about his social ties. Abraham had been instructed to circumcise himself as a sign of a covenant between him and God. However he was concerned that this act “would set him apart from his generation, in his skin and flesh. This might lead to him not being able to welcome guests anymore as they would stay away from him…” (1) This surprised me a little, because I had the impression of Abraham as the Iconoclastic outsider - champion of monotheism is a world of polytheism - who embraced his “otherness” (2).

On Thursday morning, I reflected on my experienced at the dinner where I sat among some 1000, mostly Jewish guests, who were there in aid of the Jewish House’s services for people in crisis, such as homelessness, mental illness, and domestic violence. While I on the same page as the crowd last night regarding support for the needy, I wonder how many of them agree with my interfaith work. When it comes to that aspect of me, do I fully belong? It is useful for me to keep in mind that Abraham combined otherness in pursuit of his vision and principles with caring about being connected to his community. Indeed, at the end of the night, one guest shared with me her belief in the spiritual validity of my work with people of other faiths. 

The combination of being accepted and being true to oneself is not always easy. A choice one needs to make is whether to hide some parts of ourselves or "come out". Abraham consulted his friends about the merits of going public about his next step in otherness and decided he would publicize his decision to circumcise himself  (3).

The flip side of this is accepting that sometimes there are communities that won’t accept you and might not even be worth belonging in. Abraham’s nephew, Lot, sought to integrate with the xenophobic society of Sodom. (In Jewish tradition, the wickedness of Sodom was primarily expressed in their cruelty to visitors or poor outsiders). Lot appeared to succeed when he was appointed as a judge by the Sodomites (4). This thin veneer of acceptance of Lot by Sodom fell away quickly when Lot showed his commitment to hospitality. An angry mob of Sodomites reminded Lot that he was an alien and threatened him (5).

It is not easy to accept the fact that some social connections are not working and one needs to move on. Lot was instructed by angels to leave Sodom before it would be destroyed and take him down with them. Yet, Lot hesitated, and had to be dragged out of Sodom (6). Lot and his wife were warned not to look back (7). It is important not to ruminate about what might have been. However the separation from Sodom was difficult for Lot’s wife and she turned back, perhaps in sadness about those left behind (8). The consequence of turning back for Lot’s wife is that she was instantly turned into a pillar of salt (9). 

It is entirely appropriate to seek closeness with one’s communities, even if there is not a perfect value alignment, but there are times when separateness is appropriate. In those cases, it is ok to be sad, but it is important “not to look back”.

Notes

1)     Toras Hachida, Vayera 5, p. 103, based on Midrash Rabba

2)     See Likutei Likburim by the 6th Lubavitcher Rebbe, R. YY Schneerson, who talked about the concept of Ivri as one is on the “other side” to the rest of society

3)     Toras Hachida, ibid

4)     Rashi to Genesis 19:1, based on Bereshit Rabba 50:3

5)     Genesis 19:9, as interpreted by Sacks, J. (2009) Covenant and Conversation, Maggid, Jerusalem, p. 112-114

6)     Genesis 19:16

7)     Genesis 19:17

8)     Pirkei de-Rabbi Eliezer 25,  in Torah Shlaima, 145, p. 812

9)     Genesis 19:26

Dis/Connect Between Lands and “their” peoples - Bechukotai

Recently, I joined a group of Australian born Muslim high school boys in watching a moving film called Before 1770, produced by Shaykh Wesam Charkawi. The film shows deep connections between Muslims and the land of Australia. We learned that “for hundreds of years, Aboriginal Yolngu and Muslim Macassans interacted. They married, traded, exchanged, [and] learnt from one another... The Aboriginal Yolngu have, to this day, preserved words, which were taught during the stay of the Macassans, [including the words] Allah and Muhammad” (1).

This outstanding film helps address the alienation that some young people feel from the place where they live. One of the issues that Muslims tell me is important to them is the degree to which young Muslims in Australia feel or don’t feel a sense of belonging in this country. There is a narrative out there that equates being Australian to being white, being of Christian and Anglo heritage and adopting a set of secular, cultural norms relating to modesty and drinking for example. If a young person accepts that narrative then the choice to identify with Australia can also seem like a betrayal of his or her religious identity. This film appears to separate the choices young people need to make between: connecting with the place of Australia and its long history on the one hand; and identifying with contemporary Australian society on the other.    

Let us put aside the broader question of how people with diverse beliefs and cultures relate to each other in the present and continue with the idea of feeling connected to a place and its history. Are places significant or merely a meaningless platform on which the real drama consisting exclusively of people plays out?  

In my tradition the relationship between a people and a land comes up in the reading this week. The Jewish people had an obligation to allow the land to rest for one of every seven years. In this week’s reading the Torah describes the consequences for the Jews of their failure to meet this responsibility, among other sins. “I will scatter you among the nations...Then, the land will be appeased regarding its sabbaticals. During all the days that it remains desolate while you are in the land of your enemies, the Land will rest and thus appease its sabbaticals (2).

The imagery of this verse is of a land that is resentful toward “its people”. The land is appeased only when the debt to it/her has been paid (3). It fits with a contemporary perspective about an exhausted, polluted planet earth-mother whose patience with her wayward human children is running out and her wrath is soon to be unleashed. This idea resonates for me when I walk in nature near my home, in the shade of nature’s abundant trees and the combination of its quiet and birdsong. The earth deserves care and respect rather than being exploited carelessly.    

It was disappointing to me to read the most popular Torah commentator, Rashi’s, interpretation of the verse above as referring to appeasing God rather than the earth (4). While that might make sense from a literal perspective it removes the opportunity to engage our imagination with the image of an aggrieved living land. However, I was pleased to find a supra-commentary that insisted that Rashi actually did embrace the idea of the land being appeased (5). (5). I was delighted when I found further proof about Rashi’s view in his own commentary on another verse in Chronicles where he is explicit about the appeasement of the land itself (6). The view that the earth itself is appeased is also supported by other commentators (7).

More controversially the relationship between the holy land and the Jewish people is interpreted as being expressed in profound loyalty between the land and “its people”. The Torah states that as part of the process of the Jews being exiled, God “will make the Land desolate” and “your enemies will “desolate [as a verb] upon it” (8). This is interpreted to mean that no other nation that occupies this land will ever truly thrive on it (9). “They will not manage to build walls or towers on it… as the land will not receive any nation or tongue… the land will not welcome anyone until her chicks return to her” (10). (Of course, these types of teachings can make it harder for religious Jews to truly listen to Palestinian narratives of loss of a thriving life on the land. This important and painful discussion is beyond the scope of this blog post.)

Returning to the group of boys at the beginning of this blog post, I can appreciate various ways that connections form between people and places. We are embodied spirits and our bodies exist in places. Our wellbeing is enhanced when we feel connected to where we live and care for those places. Having spent a few more sessions with the boys since we watched the film I trust that they will develop the connections between themselves, their place and accurate understanding of and positive connections with their multicultural, multi-faith diverse fellow inhabitants of this blessed country.

Notes:

1.   https://www.before1770.com
2.  Leviticus 26:33 and 34
3.  Chizkuni on this verse
4.  Rashi on 26:34
5.  Mizrahi, on Rashi 26:34, he explains that Rashi’s intention in shifting toward appeasing God is that ultimately, once the land itself has been appeased, the land, now reconciled to her people, seeks to appease God’s anger about how the land was worked during the Sabbatical year
6. Rashi on 2 Chronicles, 36:20
7. Chizkuni and Abrabanel, on Leviticus 26:33, Metzudat David and Metzudat Tzion on 2 Chronicles, 36:21
8.  Leviticus 26:32
9.  Rashi on Leviticus 26:32 based on Torat Cohanim/Sifra Bechukotai 6:8, 
10. Bchaya, on Leviticus 26:32