Monoculture

Driving across a beautiful bridge one morning this week, on the way to a Sydney Catholic Schools study day, I cracked the monoculture riddle.

It has been bothering me for years: the apparent justification of a monoculture in the Torah.

“If you do not drive out the inhabitants of the land before you, those whom you will leave over, will be spikes in your eyes and thorns in your sides, and they will persecute you upon the land.” (1)

A compelling counterexample of approval for a monoculture is in the Book of Esther. The villain of the story argues to the King: “There is a certain people, scattered and dispersed among the other peoples in all the provinces of your realm, whose laws are different from those of any other people and who do not obey the king’s laws; and it is not in Your Majesty’s interest to leave them.  If it please Your Majesty, let an edict be drawn for their destruction (2).”

Surely, if Haman (the villain in the Book of Esther) was evil then he must be wrong.

And, of course, there is a context. “This (guidance about dealing with the Canaanite population) is an exceptional Divine decree in a particular time and context that no human ruler has the right to apply in any other situation (3).”

However, no Halachic authority of any standing that I am aware of has advocated for ethnic cleansing or mass expulsions of any population anywhere in more than 1000 years. While these words above were not written by any major classical authority, they do reflect a common contemporary attitude by religious Jews.

Still, until that morning, the idea of characterising the “other” as a thorn in the side did not sit well with me.

A day or two later, I thought about the textual and historical contexts of the verse about the “thorns in your side” and I think it makes a little more sense.

The verses (4) prior to the “thorns” comparison are clearly about polytheism or idol worship rather than ethnic difference. Having polytheists hanging around the Israelites would blind their eyes to God’s guidance (5), just as bribes cause moral blindness to the eyes of judges (6). The thorns are a type of hedge that obscures one’s view and thus can be misleading (7).

The historical context is of a people trying to create a counter-cultural ethical monotheistic society around 1300 BC, in a world in which the religious norms of the time were polytheism and (according to traditional Jewish commentaries) decadent.

It has been suggested that everyone “does religion” as a way of managing uncertainty. Polytheists in 1300 BC apparently “did’ theirs by creating many gods that they could manipulate and hopefully do their bidding in exchange for some offerings, with a bit of ritual temple prostitution thrown in on the side.  

Along comes a crazy group of people who believe in an invisible God that sets the terms of the relationship between humans and Himself. This fragile idea had to be protected for the good of humanity and the purpose of creation with extreme measures. One of these measures was the execution of a social misfit ̶blasphemer ̶, about whom I wrote about before (8); the second was a temporary measure, monoculturalism.

King Saul failed to recognise that monoculturalism was an exception rather than the rule. The focus in his policy were the Gibeonites, whom “Saul had tried to wipe [them] out in his zeal for the people of Israel and Judah.” (9) 

The punishment for Saul’s discrimination was shocking. Seven members of his royal family were executed, then hung and left for months to publicise the severity of the crime of oppressing the stranger and reinforce the message that even royalty must be held accountable for such crime (10).

The Talmud’s discussion of this episode is worth quoting.

The Talmud poses the question: How could they have left Saul’s executed sons unburied all that time?  “Isn’t it written: “His body shall not remain all night upon the tree; but you shall surely bury him the same day” (11)? … It is better that one letter be uprooted from the Torah and thereby the name of Heaven [God] be sanctified in public. How so? As the gentile passersby would say: What is the nature of these people? They were told that these are sons of kings. And what did they do to deserve such a fate? They had laid their hands upon and caused harm to the stranger.” (12).

The Torah contains repeated commandments in the Torah that call for loving the stranger and never to oppress the stranger, which in modern terms would include members of minority groups. The punishment of Saul’s family and its interpretation in the Talmud makes a strong case to me that the Torah generally rejects monoculturalism.

 Notes

1)      Numbers 33:55

2)      Esther 3:8

3)      ArtScroll Chumash commentary to Numbers 33:55

4)      Numbers 33:52

5)      Ramban on Numbers 33:52

6)      Exodus 23:8

7)      Samson Raphael Hirsch on Numbers 33:52

8)      https://torahforsociallyawarehasid.blogspot.com/2012/05/outcast-offenders-understanding-and.html

9)      Talmud, Yevamot 79a

10)   II Samuel 21:2

11)   Deuteronomy 21:23

12)   The term used in the Talmud to refer to the Gibeonites here is complex, but I think the moral argument that I present here is accurate enough

After Bondi - Leaders’ self-care and service

It is 5 am in New York, and I can’t sleep. I awoke feeling highly alert from a disturbing, relatively mundane but vivid dream about feeling frantic and let down. Wide awake, I take a moment to reflect on what is going on for me these days.

My initial response to the Bondi Beach Hanukkah massacre was a mixture of sadness and responsibility. I showed up for the bereaved and did what I could to address the challenge of Muslim-Jewish relations in Sydney and Australia. However, leaving Sydney and having a break from work with my family in New York has proved challenging some of the time. There is sometimes a sense of unreality about everything that is not the horror of what happened or the work that flows from it. At such moments, I feel alienated.

Creative Commons 4.0 image credit: 
https://www.mentalhappy.com/blog/holiday-priorities-dont-leave-self-care-off-your-list

On Friday night, my nephew, Chaim Kastel, a member of one of the bereaved families, talked at the Shabbat dinner table with my parents and other extended family, about the inspiring response of the Sydney Rabbis, about their service to the community, setting aside any differences or conflicts and rising to the challenge of caring for a community shattered by violence and tragedy. His words moved me to gratitude.

To all my rabbinical colleagues, I thank you and acknowledge your service. It is not easy or clear how to be there for others when you and your families are in pain. Thank you to my brother Mendel, working for the best outcomes for bereaved families and for culturally and religiously appropriate practices for the dead.  This is only a fraction of what you have done. I salute you, older brother, and I celebrate all the Rabbis for everything they have done and are doing.

For me, having (mostly and temporarily) stepped away from “the doing”, I feel a jumble of feelings that are hard to isolate. Anger, as well as sadness. I am not sure where my anger is directed. I have angry thoughts about God. It is ok to feel frustrated with God in the Jewish tradition, particularly in the Chabad school of thought. I will never forget the echoes of the Hebrew word for “Why?” (“Lamah?” “Lamah?”) echoing off the hills at the funeral of Mumbai couple Rabbi Gabi and Rivki Holzberg, murdered by terrorists. The question was posed by Rabbi Mordechai Shmuel Ashkenazi, (1943-2015, then Chief Rabbi of Kfar Chabad, Israel). We don’t accept the argument that human atrocities are just the choices of humans. Our theology teaches that God is present in human events, even if he “hides his face” (1).

I feel drawn to the complaint of Moses after he sent to Pharaoh to solve the problem of the suffering Hebrew slaves. At first, Pharaoh’s response to Moses’ efforts was to make life even harder for the slaves by removing their supply of straw that they needed for building but demanding that they still build as much as before, and when they failed to do the impossible, they were to be beaten (2). The Israelites expressed their annoyance to Moses who then turned to God with the complaint, “Why – (Lamah) have you done bad to this people? And why did you send me (3)”.

The Lubavitcher Rebbe wrote that regardless of God’s response to Moses – that things would improve – the fact that the Torah records Moses’ complaint reflects a degree of legitimacy of that complaint (4). As Jews we are required to believe that God is good and that everything is ultimately for the best, yet we are allowed to cry out in pain about human suffering.

Moses’ complaint seems to have two parts. One was about the people’s suffering, and the second part was about the impact on him as a leader having been sent on a failed mission. Leaders often show great care for others, but we are still human. The pain of failure or the absence of hoped-for achievements is not only an experience in sharing the community’s pain; it also carries a personal cost of frustration and distress.

For me, Bondi was a nightmare that I dreaded could happen and was hoping could be prevented. The failure to prevent it does not make me feel guilty, but it weighs heavily on me as a personal disappointment.

The personal disappointment is a little embarrassing. “It is not about you,” chastises my inner critic. I agree that the suffering of bereaved families is more important than my feelings, and so is the greater suffering of the Jewish community in Sydney and other impacted communities. Yet, I feel what I feel and I am as worthy of care as anyone else. In addition, if I am going to be useful to anyone, I need to acknowledge how I feel and process these feelings.

I draw comfort from commentaries about Moses’ frustration at his involvement (5) in an apparently futile attempt to alleviate the suffering of the slaves. “If they were not going to be saved why involve me in this?” Alternatively, he complained about the timing of his mission when he said, “Why send me now if God is not ready to free the people at this time?” (6)

There are other commentaries that explain Moses’ complaint as being focused on the suffering of the people rather than on himself (7), such as his question, “If sending me was not going to help the people anyway, what was the point?” In other words, Moses had hoped that his mission would reduce the suffering of his people a little, right away. When this failed to eventuate, Moses asked why he was sent if there was no immediate relief. (8)

For leaders, it needs to be about both the people we serve and our own self-care and management. I hope that my colleagues and I do what we need to do to look after ourselves and our emotions. At the same time, along with my inspiring colleagues, I will be there for others and do what I can for a better future. Moses eventually saw the exodus come to fruition and also worked through his personal challenges.

 

1)    Deuteronomy 18:31

2)    Exodus, 5:6- 5:21

3)    Exodus 55:11

4)    Schnneerson, Rabbi MM, Likutei Sichos Vol 1, Shemos.

5)    Seforno, Bechor Shor,

6)    Ohr Hachayim, one explanation, the Netziv in Haamek Davar

7)    Ohr Hachayim alternative explanation

8)    Ralbag, Ibn Ezra, Chizkuni