Jewish appreciation of non-Jewish people’s spirit – the case of Joseph’s brothers’ guilty talk

In this post I reflect on Judaism’s teachings about how to relate to non-Jewish people with a new argument for appreciation.

I write this reflection in the Crown Heights area of Brooklyn, New York. I am here celebrating with all my siblings both my son’s wedding and my mother’s 80^th birthday. While walking around Crown Heights during my visit now, I have noticed an apparently pleasant and easy coexistence between Jewish people and blacks. This is different to what I remember.

When I grew up in Crown Heights, I heard a lot of historical stories about non-Jewish persecution of Jews, pogroms and blood libels. I also felt contempt, animosity toward and fear of our non-Jewish black and Hispanic neighbours. These feelings about people that we had little understanding of were also related to muggings, burglaries and even murder. A young Jewish man named Avrohom Eliezer Goldman was murdered mere meters away from my current temporary accommodation on Montgomery Street[i]. I attended his funeral in 1977 as a seven-year-old boy. I still remember the heart-rending recitation of psalms and the crowd. It was not easy for anyone then.

Putting aside judgement of our community at the time, it is a fact that with one exception[ii], as I grew up, I had a consistent sense of a generalised negative attitude to non-Jewish people. There was no basis for me to admire the virtues of non-Jewish people, their compassion or altruism or how faith might move them to such stances.

This week I learned something in relatively recent Jewish commentaries about the story of the Biblical Joseph’s brothers that supports a more respectful approach (for readers who want more details of the story, see [iii] below).

Years after Joseph’s brothers sold him into slavery, they met again during a time of famine when they sought to purchase scarce food in Egypt. However, Joseph’s brothers did not recognise him in the Egyptian viceroy he had become, but Joseph recognised them. In this role, Joseph had them thrown into prison, on false charges of espionage, a parallel to their depriving him of his freedom all those years earlier. After three days, he offered to allow all of them, except one hostage, to go home.

It is at this point of the story that Joseph’s brothers finally express guilt over what they had done to Joseph. “They said … but we are guilty, on account of our brother, because we looked on, at the anguish of his soul, yet we did not listen, as he pleaded with us. That is why this distress has come upon us.”[iv]

What led them to this epiphany at this particular time and not before, even during the three days of their imprisonment?[v] It was their reflection on the Egyptian ruler’s statement: “Do this and you shall live, for I fear God. If you are being honest [and you are not spies], let one of your brothers be held in your place of detention, while the rest of you go and take home rations for your starving households.”

The brothers thought: “If this man who is not ‘from our faith’ is moved by faith in God to show mercy for our starving families, who are strangers to him, whose suffering he did not see, should we not feel regret for the way we treated our own brother, whose suffering we did see, as he pleaded with us?”[vi]

Of course, Joseph was not actually a person of another faith. Yet, the fact that the commentary has the brothers acknowledging the way an apparently non-Jewish person’s faith in God guided him to compassion is a source text for greater recognition of the ways that non-Jewish people are moved to altruism. I hope it helps encourage greater appreciation by Jewish people of non-Jewish people.

 

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[i] https://www.nytimes.com/1977/06/14/archives/three-sought-in-killing-of-hasidic-rabbis-son.html

[ii] The case of Dama Ben Netina, a non-Jewish man who excels in honouring his father.

[iii] A summary of the story told in Genesis, Chapters 37-50.
Jacob had twelve sons but favoured his second youngest Joseph. He gave him a special coat. Joseph’s brothers were jealous of him and intended to kill him, but in the end sold him into slavery.

Joseph was taken to Egypt, where he was a slave. He was subsequently falsely accused of seducing his master’s wife and was thrown into prison. Directly, from prison he was surprisingly appointed to high office after interpreting troubling dreams for the Pharoah. As the second highest official in Egypt, Joseph – now with a new Egyptian name, Tzafnat Paneach - orchestrated a program of food storage to prepare for famine.

When all his brothers except for the youngest, Benjamin, travelled to Egypt to access some of the surplus food during the famine it was an opportunity for Joseph to meet his brothers. They did not recognise him, but he recognised them.

Joseph-Tzafnat - accused his brothers of being spies and told them that they would only prove their innocence if they brought their youngest brother Benjamin with them. After imprisoning them for three days, he released nine of them to return home with food to their hungry families but kept one, Simeon as a hostage to compel them to bring Benjamin.

When Benjamin arrived, Joseph contrived to have evidence of theft planted in Benjamin’s bag. This presented an opportunity for the brothers to demonstrate loyalty to Benjamin and complete their repentance for their betrayal of Joseph. When the brothers passed this test, Joseph reconciled with his brothers.    

[iv] Genesis 42:21

[v] Toldot Yitzchot and Maasei Hashem quoted in Tzeda Lederech by Yisocher Ben Eilenberg, in Chumash with 11 Meforshei Rashi

[vi] Be’er Hatorah and both in Chumash with 11 Meforshei Rashi

 

What do Jews wish for from Catholics?

My remarks on 24 February 2022, as part of the Synod of Bishops discussion at the Columban Centre for Christian-Muslim Relations, Sydney, Australia

Context

On 24 February 2022, a Muslim Academic Dr. Mahsheed Ansari, and I were invited to speak to a group of Catholics, including a bishop, priests, and others, about the attitudes and behaviour Muslims and Jews wish for from Catholics.  This was an extra-ordinary meeting. Often faith communities talk among themselves about how to relate to others but, on this occasion, the organisers, led by Reverend Dr. Patrick McInerney, went further and asked, “the others”. This is a variation on the questions often asked in Together For Humanity programs: “What do you want people of other faiths to know about yours?” and “what do you want to never hear said about your faith by others?”

The context for this meeting was that, in March 2020, Pope Francis initiated a global multiyear process related to the Synod of Bishops in October 2023. The theme is “For a Synodal Church: Communion, Participation and Mission”. Pope Francis has invited the entire Church to reflect on this theme. All Catholics were invited to take part in the diocesan consultation process to promote a sense of communion and journeying together (1). In Sydney, two non-Catholics were also included in this consultation. The following is an excerpt of my talk.

Concept

I felt daunted by the topic. My work is more about encouraging dialogue and understanding than about the specifics of the Catholic-Jewish dynamic. I am grateful to Rabbi David Rosen, a world leader in Catholic Jewish relations, who took the time to talk to me about this, and I credit him for some of the content of my remarks.

There is much to celebrate about Catholic-Jewish relations in recent years. Let us notice that the human family has come a long way from the time when the approach to religious difference was, “I am right, you are dead”!.

Papal and Vatican announcements, sermons and declarations express positive attitudes and sentiments that are important to Jewish people.

Some of the key elements of these have been:

1.    That Jews should not be blamed for the killing of Jesus.

2.    Calling for mutual understanding, respect for, friendship and brotherhood with Jews.

3.    An abhorrence of antisemitism specifically.

4.    An affirmation of the continuation of the divine covenant with the Jewish people, rejecting the idea that Jews have been cursed by God.

5.    Respect for Jewish interpretations of the Torah.

I want to call particular attention to the declaration that recognises the legitimacy of the Jewish faith as a way of worshiping God, that is not regarded as second rate because of our refusal to accept Christian beliefs about Jesus.

The significance of this point cannot be overstated. It is not for Jews to seek to influence Christian beliefs, nor is it reasonable for us to expect Catholics to embrace relativism. However, we could wonder how it is possible for Christians to respect Jews as fellow believers if Christians affirm the truth of the statement by Jesus “I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man comes unto the Father, but by me” (2). Does this not mean that Jews cannot find salvation as Jews?

On 10 December 2015, the Pontifical Commission for Religious Relations with the Jews issued an unprecedented declaration (3). In this document, the Pope addressed document addresses this problem as follows: That the Jews are participants in God’s salvation is theologically unquestionable, but how that can be possible without confessing Christ explicitly, is and remains an unfathomable divine mystery.  

This document also contains the following, inspiring sentence: ‘One can only learn to love what one has gradually come to know, and one can only know truly and profoundly what one loves’.

The main questions – as pointed out by Rabbi Rosen (4) - that arise now are: How have the unprecedented changes occurring within the Church, been implemented? Have they filtered down to the vast number of Catholic believers and changed the deep-seated, centuries-long negative attitudes towards the Jewish people?

We hope that these noble sentiments do not remain words on paper but are instead carried in the hearts of every Catholic, beginning with priests, schoolteachers and other people of influence, and then in the hearts of children and adults.

I acknowledge that many good actions are already underway. Together For Humanity has been invited to many Catholic schools to have dialogue with students and to build bridges in this way. I would not normally presume to offer advice, but since I was explicitly requested to share my thoughts, I offered the following suggestions about what can be done:

1. The teachings – including the Pope’s statement about salvation and divine mystery - need to be communicated widely in simple language that lay people can understand.
   
   
2.  The education and formation of priests is to be done in such a way as to advance these sentiments. This means that learning about interfaith forms a compulsory element of their education rather than an elective. 
   
   
3. The education and professional development of educators in Catholic schools is to be done in such a way as to advance these sentiments.  Again, as a compulsory element.  
   
   
4. Catholic schools are to be supported and directed to ensure these sentiments are successfully implanted in the hearts of students, and to allocate time and money as required to get this result.  
   
   
5. This means ensuring that Catholic students engage with Jewish people by visiting synagogues and Jewish museums, participating in cultural exchange programs with Jewish schools, and inviting speakers into their schools, such as those offered by Together For Humanity. We stand ready to assist and support Catholic churches, schools or other organisations to replicate or adapt elements of our programs as they see fit.

“God did not find a vessel to hold blessings … other than peace”. (5) I commend the Catholic Church for substantial efforts toward peace and brotherhood, and wish them every success.  My prayers are for peace for the entire human family, in Ukraine, the Holy Land - Israel/Palestine, and wherever this blessing is lacking.

Notes  

1)    https://www.catholic.org.au/synodalchurch

2)    John 14:6

3)    ‘For the Gifts and the Calling of God are Irrevocable' (Rom.11:29): A Reflection on Theological Questions Pertaining to Catholic-Jewish Relations, point 36, http://www.christianunity.va/content/unitacristiani/en/commissione-per-i-rapporti-religiosi-con-l-ebraismo/commissione-per-i-rapporti-religiosi-con-l-ebraismo-crre/documenti-della-commissione/en.html

4)    Rosen, D. Paper not yet published.

5)    Mishna, Masechet Oktzin, 3rd chapter

 

“Jewish Soul”, Is it a software thing? Yitro

The idea of the Jews being a “chosen people” (1) can motivate us in worshiping God (2) and service to humanity. I don’t think of it as me being better, or more worthy than virtuous people I know and admire who are not Jewish. However, there is a risk that the idea of being ‘chosen’ - if it is taken to mean that there is an intrinsic difference to the Jewish soul - can make some Jews feel less connected to, or to devalue their non-Jewish neighbours (3).

How we choose to understand ethnic identity can be compared either to computer software - that is installed and added on but not essential, or to hardware, in that we regard it as intrinsic to who we are (4). If it is software, the brotherhood of mankind is more plausible than if it is hardware. Jewish scholarship on this question is mixed and complex.  

Image by Steven Depolo, used under 
Creative Commons Licence 3.0
https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0

On the hardware side of the argument is the idea of a unique Jewish soul (5) which, according to a mystical perspective, is “a part of God” (6). However, this needs to be taken in the context of the belief that God is present in everything in existence. Even rocks, according to the mystics, contain a “divine spark” (7), although these “sparks” are deemed to differ between inanimate objects and different peoples (8). 

We should not overstate the concept of the “Godly soul” because, according to its chief proponent, it is quite marginal to the lived experience of the Jew. The day-to-day life of the Jew is an experience of an “animal soul” rather than a Godly one. It is this animal soul that is the true everyday identity of the Jewish person (9). The Godly soul is something “that has been placed within him” (10) but is not him or her (11). It seems more like an obscure “plug in”, than a core element.

On the other side of the argument stands Maimonides (12). Repeatedly, he emphasises that it is an individual’s knowledge and motivations that are key to one’s spiritual standing. “Every person can be righteous like Moses” (13). “Every single person from all inhabitants of the world whose spirit guides him and whose intellect leads him to understand, to separate himself and to stand before God...to walk straight as God created him...he is sanctified [with the greatest holiness],“Holy of Holies”...” (14). 

A Chasidic master put it: “Holiness is not found in the human being in essence unless he sanctifies himself. According to his preparation for holiness, so it comes upon him from on High. A person does not acquire holiness while inside his mother. He is not holy from the womb, but has to labor from the very day he comes into the air of the world” (15). Indeed, whatever faults one might attribute to a non-Jewish idol worshipper’s soul would also describe our Jewish ancestors when we worshipped idols in Egypt, “with no difference!” (16). Clearly holiness is determined by behaviour.

Regardless of hardware or software, the idea of chosenness is linked to service (17). One form of this service is the role of the Jews in bringing an understanding of monotheism to all humans and uniting them in worship (18). This emphasises the importance of humanity as a whole, and sees the role of the Jewish people to benefit mankind rather than one of self-centeredness. This is because “all humans are cherished by God, and the Righteous of the Nations are precious to God without a doubt” (19). Furthermore Jews are urged to approach this concept with humility (20). 

I will end with a quote from one of the Rabbis, who, despite being aligned with the inherent differences approach, still strongly embraced love of all humanity. He wrote:

“The highest state of love of creatures should be allotted to the love of mankind, and it must extend to all of mankind, despite all variations of religions, opinions, and faiths, and despite all distinctions of race and climate. It is right to get to the bottom of the views of different peoples and groups, to learn, as much as possible, their characters and qualities, in order to know how to base love of humanity on foundations that approach action. 

For only upon a soul rich in love for creatures and love of man can the love of the nation raise itself up in its full nobility and spiritual and natural greatness. The narrowness that causes one to see whatever is outside the border of the special nation, even outside the border of [the people of] Israel, as ugly and defiled, is a terrible darkness that brings general destruction upon all [efforts at] building of spiritual good, for the light of which every refined soul hopes" (21).

 

Perhaps hardware or software does not matter quite as much as it would seem, as long as we can embrace all of humanity. 

 

Notes: 

I acknowledge Rabbi Hanan Balk and his essay referenced in the notes below as the basis of much of what I have written above. 

1. Exodus 19:5-6, Isaia 41:8-10
2. Targum Yonasan Ben Uziel to Exodus 19:6
3. Ohr Hachayim commentary to Exodus 22:20
4. Murray, D. (2019) The Madness of Crowds, Gender, Race and Identity, Bloomsbury
5. Zohar, Genesis 170, & 171, Kuzari, 1:41-43, in In Balk H., (2013) The Soul of a Jew and the Soul of a Non-Jew, p. 49, 
6. An Inconvenient Truth and the Search for an Alternative in Hakira, vol 13, http://www.hakirah.org/Vol%2016%20Balk.pdf 
7. Eitz  Chayim gate 5:2, Tanya chapter 1 and 2 by R. Shneur Zalman of Liady (1745–1815), and Nefesh ha-Ḥayyim sha’ar 1, ch. 4, by R. Ḥayyim of Volozhin (1749–1821)
8. Tanya, Shaar Hayichud V’Haemuna, chapter 1
9. cited in the discussion between the Lubavitcher Rebbe and Hilel students, cited in Balk, H.,  p.51 
10. With the exception of the extremely rare super saint or tzadik as defined in Tanya chapter 1
11. The text of the morning prayer Elokai Neshama, my God, the soul that you placed within me...
12. Tanya chapter, 29
13. Balk, H., (2013) ibid, see also his strong approach to the interpretation of the coerced divorce
14. Maimonides, Yad Hachazakah, Laws of Repentance 5:2
15. Maimonides, Yad Hachazakah, Laws of Sabbatical and Jubilee Years, 13:13
16. R. Simḥa Bunim of Przysukha, Kol Simḥa, Parshat Miketz, p. 47 and Mesharatav Eish Lohet, p. 228, quoted in Noam Siaḥ, p. 263. In Balk, p. 47
17. Ohr Hachayim commentary to Exodus 22:20, נשמות ישראל עצמם היו טבועות בקליפה ואם כן יהיה גר זה כאחד מכם באין הבדל
18. Targum Yonasan Ben Uziel 
19. Seforno on Exodus 19:5-6  
20. Seforno ibid
21. Chatam Sofer on Yitro, p. 38-39
22. Kook (Mussar Avikha (Jerusalem, 1985), p. 58, no. 10; Orot ha-Kodesh (Jerusalem, 1990), vol. 4, p. 405. In Balk p.54

Identity Formed Through Others' Stories and other Interfaith Insights - Webinar for the Sydney Jewish Museum

 

Vrbow, Slovakia, Synagogue ruin in 2008 

According to Rabbi Jonathan Sacks, history answers the question: what happened? While memory answers the question: who am I? To know who we are is in large part to know, and to remember, of which stories we are a part (1).  

One story that I am part of is the story of Jewish suffering. My maternal grandfather came from Vrbow in Slovakia that had a thriving Jewish community. My wife and I visited there in 2008, and saw the ruins of the big terracotta synagogue on the main street of the town. The shell of the building remains but the people are completely gone, either murdered by the Nazis or escaped. My grandfather never spoke about what happened there. 

Instead, my grandfather told us at the Passover Seder how he and a group of Yeshiva students danced on a shaky boat as they departed from Vladivostok during the war. In his haunting, deep voice my grandfather would sing the same song at the Seder that the students danced to on the sea. The song speaks of the Jews being persecuted in every generation, with our enemies seeking to annihilate us, and God saving us. 

The prophet Jeremiah tells us that Jews, in the aftermath of the devastation of Jerusalem and its people, would cry out to travellers when passing them on the road: “Look, and see, is there any pain like my pain?!” (2) I know that our Jewish historical pain is great and unique. Yet, if I want to understand and connect with others, I need to learn about their pain and their stories.

In 2001, I started on my interfaith journey, hearing the deep spiritual feelings, everyday anecdotes, religious experiences and personal stories of Muslims, Christians, and Aboriginal people (click here for one example) https://youtu.be/yyXCvOgx3mw. These interactions changed me and my identity. I now identify as both deeply Jewish and as a human being with deep connections to people of other faiths.

Hugh Mckay wrote that we are the authors of each other’s stories through the influence we have on each other, and the way we respond to each other (3). He says that these stories answer another question, where do I belong? My answer is with my Jewish community, as well as with my interfaith intercultural community with people like Mohamed, Calisha and many others Australian Muslims, Arabs and people of many backgrounds. 

My closeness and my work with Muslims has not all been smooth sailing. I sometimes had doubts about what I was doing. I was accused of siding with the enemy. On the evening of 15 December 2014, Sydney held its breath during the Lindt Cafe siege. My colleague, Lebanese Australian Shaykh Wesam Charkawi was praying for the victims on the steps of Lakemba Mosque. I stood beside him and recited psalm 23 in Hebrew. The next day we learned that two hostages were killed. That afternoon, I got an angry phone call from a stranger accusing me of being a traitor to the Jewish people.  

Negotiating questions of loyalty is tricky against a background of conflict. Some Arabic Australian teenage boys struggled with their learning about the Holocaust. I talked to the boys at their school. I was joined by three other men. The Sheikh, Wesam Charkawi, Peter Lazar, a Holocaust survivor and father Shenouda Mansour who is a Coptic Orthodox. The priest told the students that the Sheikh and I were his dear brothers. One of the students from that group asked Father Shenouda, “aren’t you a traitor to your religion by being friends with the Sheik and Rabbi Zalman?” Sheikh Wesam explained to the students that as Muslims, it was entirely appropriate to learn about the suffering of others, including the Holocaust. The survivor, Peter Lazar, then told his story. 

One of the principles of countering prejudice through conditions for the success of intergroup contact (4) is to have the sanction or permission from authority figures on both sides of a divide for interacting with people on the ‘other side.’ At Together For Humanity we always have Muslim, Christian and Jewish facilitators when we bring groups of students together. In this way it is clear that this contact is Kosher. Involvement by the principals and teachers is also very important. 

I sought this kind of sanction in writing from a Palestinian Sheikh, Ahmad Abu Ghazaleh. I asked him to write a rationale for working in interfaith from the perspective of Islamic sacred texts. He wrote a beautiful one page article that ended with a verse from the Quran that essentially said: “Allah does not forbid you to deal righteously and kindly with those who have not fought against you on account of religion and did not drive you out of your homes. Indeed, Allah loves those who act justly”. (5)

 

I wasn’t  too happy with this verse. I told the Sheik that the verse says Muslims should not be belligerent toward those who have not harmed you or stolen your lands. Which means that if one accepts the Palestinian narrative about Israel, then Jews are fair game. He is one of the most gentle and delightful people I know and he said in his gentle voice, Zalman, I can only give you what is written in the book, I can’t make it up.  

This Sheikh did an enormous amount of work for Together For Humanity, talking to thousands of children and teachers alongside a Jewish colleague, Ronit Baras. I count him among the people I am most grateful for having become part of my life. I needed to accept him as he is, and he has done the same for me. 

Notes

1) Sacks, J. (2019)  Covenant and Conversation, Deuteronomy, Maggid, Jerusalem, p. 223

2) Lamentations, 1:12

3) Mckay, H. (2014), The art of belonging, Sydney, p. 22

4) Alport, G, (1954) the Contact Hypothesis. 

5) The Quran, al-Mumtahanah 60:8.

Dis/Connection and Crown Heights Jews and Blacks - Vayechi

I walked toward the forest in St Ives, this past Monday, as I do most mornings, but this time tentatively. Australia is burning! A place that is usually a refuge for me, teeming with bird sounds, animal life and tranquility, now feels ambiguous, even somewhat threatening, possibly on the verge of igniting with deadly fire. Many Australians have lost their lives, many more their homes or farms and we have lost so many animals.

A week earlier, I walked toward another oasis of nature: Prospect Park, at the edge of Crown Heights, Brooklyn, where I visited my parents over Chanukah.  It is usually a calming walk and I often like to go when I visit. This time was different. Religious Jews were being attacked on the streets of New York, one had been murdered in a shop in New Jersey and another was stabbed at home in Monsey. I hesitated as I thought: was I safe? Would I be attacked? 

These two causes call me as I write. Living in Australia, I feel empathy with my fellow Australians. Their suffering and terror stirs my heart to compassion and concern. Yet, I am also a Jew from Brooklyn, and my recent visit is pulling my attention to the simmering situation there.

Navigating between our ties to, or disconnections from, various places is explored in my Jewish tradition. Our patriarch Jacob, born in Canaan, is said to have only truly been alive during his last seventeen years, living in exile in Egypt (1) where he finally found happiness (2).  Yet, his new home was not where he wanted to be buried, among the fundamentally different Egyptians (3), instead he insisted that his body must be returned to the Holy Land (4). Even when Jacob was alive, he considered it important that his family remain apart from the Egyptians (5).

This way of being in a place but not of the place (6), reflects my own experience growing up in Brooklyn, which came back to me on my recent visit. While I was there I caught up with a black friend from Sydney, Mohamed. I showed him around Crown Heights, starting with my childhood home. I showed him a large apartment building with black families near our old home, and reflected how, in the twenty years I lived there, I never learned the names of any of my black neighbours. This wasn't unique to me. This kind of disconnect from our non-Jewish neighbours was a common feature of growing up as a Chasidic Jew in Crown Heights. 

I find it hard to write about my old neighbourhood. It is simple enough to speak about my experience, to acknowledge that I was racist then, and felt fear and loathing of my black neighbours. It is also a matter of historic fact, that in 1991 an Australian Jew, Yankel Rosenbaum, was killed by a black man, part of a hateful anti-semitic mob. I will never forget the terror I felt in 1991 when I returned from Australia, to what felt like a war-zone, and came to be known as the “Crown Heights riots”. In 2020, another black man from Crown Heights is in custody for  stabbing a Rabbi in his home, over Chanukah. But there is so much more to this tension, both past and present, that is contested and sensitive.

Ultimately, this blog post is far too brief to fully explore the painful history or current dynamic between Jews and African Americans in Crown Heights. However, I want to at least take an interest here in the efforts to bridge the divide between the two communities (7). It is good to see role models of inter-communal friendship going to schools and engaging children in conversation. However, as someone who has been using this approach - going to schools as  Muslim-Chrisitian-Jewish panels modelling goodwill, for almost two decades, I have learned that this strategy, while valuable in its own right, needs to be part of a multi-faceted approach (8). One important element that research recommends is ensuring that participants in intergroup contact, in cases where there has been tension, are assured that this contact is sanctioned by authority figures on “their side” (9).

One suggestion I offer to my old community is to utilise religious education to guide children how to truly coexist, while also honouring our religious traditions of being separate. This is not at all simple, but it is eminently doable. It could begin with discussion of behaviour, such as the halachic principle of supporting needy and sick non-Jewish people, not only Jews, as part of 'the ways of peace' (10). It should involve exploration of what it means to be truly ethical in our ways of thinking and behaving toward one non-Jewish or black neighbours, to strive to make them so “beautiful” that G-d Himself would be proud of us (11). The children might be invited to ponder how it came to be that so many Egyptians deeply mourned the death of a Jewish man, Jacob (12). Perhaps, as one commentary suggested, throughout the years Jacob lived in Egypt, he spent time sharing his wisdom with wise Egyptians (13), not just hanging out with his Jewish grandchildren.

Eventually this discussion arrives at the question of identity. Who are we as Jews and human beings? G-d created humans with a common ancestor to prevent discord (14) based on beliefs in superiority (15) or ideas of purer lineage (16).

As for me, like people of various faith backgrounds and none, I must turn my attention to the needs and suffering of my fellow Australians at this difficult time. 

 

Notes:

 A big thank you to my learned and skillful editor, my son, Aaron Menachem Mendel Kastel. 

1)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, 81, p. 1724. 

2)     Lekach Tov, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:28, note: 81, p. 1724. 

3)     Old Tanchuma, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 47:29, 114, p. 1730, "they are compared to Donkeys and I am compared to a sheep..."  

4)     Genesis 47:29-31.

5)     Midrash Hagadol, in Torah Shlaima to Genesis 46:34, 188, p. 1700. 

6)     See also Likkutei Sichos, Vol. 20, pg. 235-242 and especially pg. 241.

7)     https://www.wnyc.org/story/attacks-against-jews-crown-heights-stir-old-fears-and-new-dialogue/

8)     Halse, C (2015), Doing Diversity, report on research project, Deakin University, https://www.education.vic.gov.au/Documents/school/principals/management/doingdiversity.pdf.

9)     Alport, G. in Pedersen, A., Walker, I., & Wise, M. (2005). Talk Does Not Cook Rice: Beyond anti-racism rhetoric to strategies for social action. Australian Psychologist, 40, 20-30.

10)  Talmud Gittin 61a. See Rabbi Jonathan Sacks' elaboration of this concept in The Home We Build Together, Continuum Books. See also statement in the Talmud Gittin 59b. That all of the laws of the Torah are for the sake of the ways of peace.

11)  Kedushas Levi, end of parsha Vayechi, Sifrei Ohr Hachayim edition, Jerusalem, p. 116.

12)  Genesis 50:3.

13)  Rabbi Moshe David Vali, Ohr Olam, Genesis Vol. 2, Hamesorah edition, p. 464.

14)  Talmud, Sanhedrin 38a.

15)  Rashi ad loc.

16)  R. Yosef Hayim (1835 – 1909), better known as the Ben Ish Chai, in Ben Yehoyada, ad loc.

A Palestinian In The Synagogue - God Cares About “Goyim”

Last night Munzer Emad, a Palestinian man told his story at a Sydney synagogue. I felt grateful to be present, because I this was the first time I had seen this dialogue in a Synagogue in my community in St Ives. Munzer spoke from the heart, and his Jewish audience engaged with his story, despite the fact that “it was very difficult to listen to”, as more than one audience member reflected.  

Rabbi Gad Krebs, who initiated this encounter for his community, reflected on his own journey that led to last night. Around the year 2000, the Rabbi, then a much younger man, was, by his own admission, very right wing politically. The Rabbi told us that he was greeted by a stranger with a pronounced Arabic accent, in Hebrew, while watching the Olympics on a big outdoor screen in Sydney’s Darling Harbour. The two men engaged in conversation. The Arabic speaking man initially said he was Egyptian, but later told the Rabbi that if he had told him where he was really from that would have been the end of the conversation. He then shared that he was actually a Palestinian from Gaza, and that previously whenever he had disclosed this fact in a conversation with a Jewish person that ended the conversation. Rabbi Krebs did not run away and instead continued the conversation. The two men lost contact, until a recent chance meeting when Rabbi Krebs and Munzer met, and after a while Gad realised that Munzer was the stranger he met in 2002.

Munzer is a softly spoken man. He argued passionately for connections between people. He argued that, although humans were not meant to fly or swim, we have beaten nature to do both of these things. On the other hand, despite being wired for connectedness, we override our nature in order to be fragmented. He reflected on the way that groups in conflict dismiss each others experiences and deal with the other as an enemy. He shared a surprising anecdote about the time he was around ten years old and Israeli soldiers marched through the street where he was playing; he felt confused and angered by their forceful presence. He threw a soccer ball at an Israeli soldier. The soldier smiled shyly and threw the ball back. A glimpse of the soldiers humanity that did not fit the narrative of this young boy. But a little connection happened anyway.

As a teenager, Munzer was mistaken for one of his brothers who was very active in throwing stones, so Munzer was taken into custody. When Munzer was interrogated, he was blindfolded. He asked his interrogator to remove the blindfold and make eye contact. On Sunday night he got much more than that, his generous spirit was mirrored back to him by his receptive audience.

I don’t think religious texts are key to war or peace, there are other significant drivers that I think are more central, but they are not irrelevant either. The day before Munzer’s talk, I was confronted with a text that seemed to suggest that God does not care about non-Jewish people. Thankfully, there is usually more than one way to read a Torah text.

Moses told the Israelites that “when you look up to the sky, and behold the sun and the moon and the stars ...you must not be lured into ...serving them. These the LORD your God has set aside for all [the other?] nations everywhere under heaven” , but as for you [the Israelites], the LORD took and brought you out of Egypt... to be His very own people (1).

This has been taken to mean that God has set the nations up to worship the stars, and it is only the Jews whose worship is important to God (2). This seems wrong, surely God would not lead people astray (3). As an Assyrian Bishop told me the other night, in his church they don’t pray that God should not lead them into temptation, because surely God would not do that. Instead they pray not to be tested by “trials”.

A story about this text is an early example of the influences of interfaith contact on interpretations of text. A group of Jewish sages were tasked by King Ptolemy to translate the Torah. When they got to this verse they modified the translation to say that God set aside the sun, the moon and the stars to provide light to the nations (4).

Further commentary suggests that the planets are so valuable for all the nations, that they can never be destroyed, and this presents the risk of them being worshipped (5).  Alternatively, the nations of the world might believe in a fragmented concept of the universe, so they see the sun and moon as being more important than earth. However, the Jewish people are invited to think of earth as central, as it is the place where humans worship God (6) and make ethical decisions. Such decisions include to deeply honor and cherish all human beings regardless of ethnic or religious identity. This was the invitation Munzer extended to his audience. It was glorious being part of a room that transcended the divide between the Jewish and Palestinian peoples, and filled with such warmth and goodwill.

1)    Deuteronomy 4:19.

2)    Talmud, Avoda Zara 55a.

3)    See Torah Temima to Deuteronomy 4:19, notes 41 and 42.

4)    Talmud 9b.  

5)    Chasam Sofer on Vaetchanan.

6)    ibid.